Festivus Maximus

There's a happy kind of feeling in the air around Bmore these days.  The Baltimore Ravens of the National Football League once again - for the fourth year in a row, and they are the only team who can make that claim! - are in the playoffs, which is sort of like the Iowa Caucuses, only without the Gingriches and the Santorums and the hilarious Bachmanns. 

All around the town, people are wearing purple, buying bumperstickers and swizzle sticks with the Ravens logo, and wearing their Ravens jerseys to work.  These days, you can get a mani/pedi from a nail tech wearing a #20 Ed Reed jersey, an oil change from a Jiffy Lube guy wearing a #52 Ray Lewis, or an indictment from a judge with a #27 Ray Rice jersey under his robes. 

The lawn in front of Federal Hill, where a Union encampment kept watch on our fair city during the Civil War to ensure that the locals didn't go Rebel, and the lawn in front of City Hall are being painted up with the official Ravens logo.  You need a huge stencil to do this, although a couple of kids with Krylon spray paint and huge Sharpies could probably spruce up your front lawn for you if you asked nicely.  Tell them you want it to look like this:

 And that is the cannon that the Union army kept pointed at the downtown area all during the War Between The States, following the Baltimore Riot of 1861, which is re-enacted almost every week by young volunteer history buffs.

Next to the cannon are three heavily-guarded Ravens cheerleaders.

But there is a certain feeling in the air that is only being felt in twelve towns around our nation - towns ranging in size from Green Bay WI to New York NY.  The playoffs are here.  Happy Festivus!