The NFL's Celebration Of Damar Hamlin's Second Life, Sponsored By Shaq-A-Roni

[DAY 61] The problem with the Celebration Of Life, is that you’re the one on the easel.

The problem with the Celebration Of Life, is that you’re the one on the easel.

“Would’ve rated my COL five stars, but, I was like the one on the easel. So — OMFG — worst party ever!!!!! Jus’ sayin’. LOL!!!!!!!”

Seven days ago, a heart attack kills 24 year-old Buffalo Bill, Damar Hamlin, right there on ESPN. He is just as dead as your third great-grandmother.

We now know, that a minute or so later, #3 was resurrected; literally brought back from the dead.

Last week is a week in which Hamlin’s Go Fund Me account majestically swells from less than $3,000 to more than $8,500,000. It is a week in which macho men who play a violent game on a gridiron, bear witness to trauma, and are instantly reduced to a puddle.

Then, yesterday, in a Dickensesque transformation made possible by the Internet at its best, Hamlin himself, joined tens of millions of his fellow earthlings, in the easel-free, virtual celebration of his second life.

The party starts with the first play of the first quarter, when Bills’ kick returner, Nyheim Hines, runs the length of the field.

Fourteen seconds later, the Pats are down by seven, the crowd goes wild, and Bills’ head coach, Sean McDermott bursts into tears, as NFL Commissioner, Roger Goodell heads to the men’s room, bolts himself in the stall, falls to his knees, and says:

“Thank you, Jesus! As promised, your Super Bowl LVII V.I.P. passes are on your Ticketmaster App: one each for the Father, Son, and, Holy Ghost, respectively. See you in Glendale!”

As I write, Hamlin has been released from the hospital, returning to Buffalo.

Walking as he now does with those of us who get to die at least twice, Hamlin is the unwitting member of two clubs. As fledgling Founder of The Second Life Club (a name I invented seven words ago), I say: “Welcome, Damar!”

All of which brings me to our nation’s NFL Death Diet.

On Day 37 of my second life I publicly declared that food is binary.

The FIB Principle — aptly-dubbed, if I do say so — is simple:

“A carrot is life. Carrot cake is death. Choose life.”

That, and there are no berries in Crunch Berries, no fruit in Froot Loops, etc.

Since my death and resurrection on National Fried Chicken Sandwich Day, I am 90% of the man I used to be, which is to say, I lost 20 pounds in two months. In another month I will be 6’0”, 175 pounds, which is my target.

A subscriber asks: “Who is your nutritionist?”

Why do I need a nutritionist to eat a carrot? In my first life, my nutritionist was Ronald McDonald. In my second life it’s Captain Vegetable.

Last week is a week in which America goes to med school and we all major in cardiology. So, when they nominate you to supply the food for the Celebration Of Life, don’t show up with a Shaq-A-Roni!

“It’s the biggest one we make!” ~Shaquille O'Neal

Yesterday’s NFL story of triumph over heart attack was brought to you by our nation’s leading peddlers of sodium, sugar, and saturated fat.

You don’t need a nutritionist to know that John from Papa John’s, Mike from Jersey Mike’s, and Jack from In The Box, do not have your best interests — uh — at heart.

As my son says:

“Keep going to Jack In The Box and you’ll wind up Dad In The Box!”

Jack, John, Mike, Carl, and Wendy’s job is to sell you more and more unhealthy food. Yesterday they did just that. The congregants gathered in Hamlin’s set record ratings.

Coronary Artery Disease kills 1,000 Americans a day. No second life for them.

Inspired as I am by the marketing genius behind “Shaq-A-Roni”, heretofore I will call CAD “Mac & Cheese Disease.”

The drive-up is delicious. But, when we think “drive-up” and smile, we forget — the trauma center is a drive-up, too!

May it not be your last stop.