And after the Super Bowl, the mayor of the losing team's city had to pay up, sending the mayor of the winning team's city 15 pounds of a delicacy his or her city is famous for. Better fire up whatever type of grill, steamer or fryer one might use to cook that delicacy, Winning Team's Mayor. Hey. Hey. I'm not talking to you. Yes, you are. You'll do whatever I say. Hold your breath. I'm not holding my breath. The winning team was the... Now here's how this is going to work: you're going to take me to three R-rated movies a week... And then Uncle Marshall got an idea. It was not one he was proud of in retrospect, but desperate times... Oh, no. Somebody wet their pants. No, I didn't. Oh, really? Who's everyone gonna believe? I'm a grownup third-year law student at Columbia and you're just a little pants wetter.