Get away from me, you Packer-loving crack addict


Had a really odd thing happen earlier today.

So I was driving home from Los Angeles, and I stopped at a roadside McDonald’s for a beverage. While waiting on line I spotted a man, probably about 70-years old, wearing a Packers baseball cap and Packers long-sleeve shirt.

Now, Houghton Mifflin, the publisher of my upcoming Brett Favre biography, was kind enough to print up a ton of Gunslinger postcards for me to hand out, place on windshields, etc … etc. And I keep a bunch in my car, just in case. Hence, having seen the man, and presuming he’s a big Packers fan, I walked out to the Prius, grabbed two postcards and returned to present them to him (important point—I wasn’t thinking sales. I truly wasn’t. I just thought he’d find it cool).

Anyhow, by the time I reached the eatery he already outside, in the front seat of his truck. So I approached and pointed. He looked at me, sort of sighed and gave a dismissive wave. The window was closed, so I mouthed, “No! No! Packers!” and held up the cards. He glanced, seemed to notice the Favre image, grimaced, and—once again—dismissed me with his right hand.

At that point, standing alone in a McDonald’s parking lot, I felt like a crack addict begging for change.

The next time I see a crack addict begging for change, I’ll give him some.