"Tackling the Weekend Without the NFL" (by Dave Larsen and Gary Libman, Sept. 23) prompted these thoughts: The thousands (millions?) of people griping and moaning about the NFL players' strike are a sad commentary on the mental and emotional makeup of these culturally and sensually insensitive dullards.
I like to watch pro football, too, but the last time I looked there were many other, and arguably more enjoyable, things to do on Sundays and on Monday evenings. Such as a leisurely hand-in-hand stroll through the park with your lover, listening to "The Fountains of Rome" and "The Pines of Rome" by Ottorino Respighi while sipping a glass of rare brandy, looking at a Van Gogh print while contemplating the Master's tortured thoughts as he painted the masterpiece, listening to your young daughter laboriously practice the simple clarinet exercise for the umpteenth time and enjoying every misplayed note, reading the love sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning with someone you love, gazing languidly into your lover's eyes over coffee, or just lying on the grass staring up at the limitless blue sky while pondering what we're all here for and what it all means.
Unfortunately, the football-crazed zombies who are on a permanent pigskin high from September to January are completely oblivious to and unacquainted with such fulfilling pleasures. February to August, too, for that matter. What a pity.
LANNY R. MIDDINGS