If NFL keeps politics on its menu, it’s toast

not yet. The NFL is a private business, like a diner, only larger, with lobbyists and stadiums built for NFL owners with billions upon billions of dollars squeezed from taxpayers who can’t possibly afford game tickets.

Rather than argue about the Bill of Rights, can we return to the NFL diner for an open-faced sliced turkey sandwich with gravy, or a feta-spinach omelet?

Unfortunately, several customers have already walked out. Doris has spent the morning pushing her pro-life agenda.

“I will never step foot inside this restaurant again!” says a man wearing a strange fuzzy pink hat. “I came here for breakfast, not to be lectured to!”

And Stella is busy, too. Her feet hurt, but she walks over to another table and takes care of a family stopping for an afterchurch brunch.

The mom orders the salad. Dad orders the steak sandwich. The older kids, high school students, ask for pancakes and eggs.

“Are you in college?” Stella asks the kids, who tell her no, but they’re applying.

“Well,” says Stella, “I really hope you don’t think you can use affirmative action and claim Native American ancestry. Because affirmative action is racist and those who say otherwise are racists too!”

Then Doris comes running up shouting, “Abortion kills babies!” and Jerry the cook gets into it, yelling across the sizzling grill.

“My daughter shouldn’t have to use the same restroom as some 6-foot-tall transvestite!” Jerry says. “OK?”

All the customers get up and run out the door.

“Haters gonna hate,” say Doris and Stella.

“Don’t impose your political values on me!” says Jerry. “I have rights, too. I did my time! I’m a dad!”

The dad who just wanted a steak sandwich stands at the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you!? All I wanted was a steak sandwich! Can’t a man have a simple steak sandwich?”

He’s the last one out. Word gets around and in a few weeks, the restaurant closes.

It’s what happens in business, when businesses forget what their business is.