As I may have said here before, I consider myself to be a guy with pretty conventional tastes. Like most Americans, I prefer my beer cold, my TV actresses hot, my sportstalk radio callers angry and stupid, and my mosques built a respectable distance away from Ground Zero.

But still, it happens occasionally where a matter comes along that finds me standing way outside the lines of popular opinion. Take the “Twilight” saga. Everybody loves these movies … except for me. Most of my friends and family are riveted by them, to the point that I’m nervous about a rash of divorces happening and couples realigning themselves along the Team Edward/Team Jacob factions. But honestly, I’ve seen one of these movies once, and all I remember thinking was that if I wanted to see boring, pasty-faced teenagers staring at each other in silence I’d go down to the mall and visit Hot Topic.

So it happens sometimes, even to Mr. Mainstream like me. There are times when I find myself going against the grain, walking into the wind, swimming against the tide or doing something metaphorical against some other allegorical thing.

And such a thing is Brett Favre.

In the last six years I’ve spent writing about football on the Internet, I’ve probably done a hundred or so jeering, sarcastic, critical pieces about the Ol’ Gunslinger. Which is about a 10:1 ratio of wiseassy columns-to-phony retirements, a record I think actually demonstrates amazing restraint on my part.

But the more I’ve written them, the more I’ve realized I’m way outside the conventional wisdom here. America has spoken. And while the American public doesn’t agree on much, we have made it clear we as a nation are in love with Brett Favre. The same Brett Favre that I’ve always considered to be nothing but a narcissistic, self-obsessed tool is looked upon as a national treasure by most of the country. And this is a fact I’m struggling to make peace with.

There’s an episode of VH1’s “Storytellers” where Bruce Springsteen talks about his only No. 1 hit, “Blinded by the Light.” But the hit wasn’t his, it was the cover version done by Manfred Mann in which they changed the lyrics “Cut loose like a deuce” to “Cut loose like a douche.” And as the Boss says, it wouldn’t have been his choice, but who is he to argue with the tastes of the American listening audience? And that’s how I feel about Brett Favre now. The public, the media, the rest of the NFL, Madison Avenue … they all love this self-promoting selfish buffoon. So who am I to say they’re wrong?

So I officially surrender. I’ve had it with trying to lead the loyal opposition to the Brett Favre Party. I’m throwing my full support being the Mississippi Riverboat Gambler and endorsing his candidacy as the most beloved athlete in all of sports.

And it actually feels good. The fight for me is over. Now I can relax and float along with the current of mainstream media opinion instead of killing myself like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn and then die.

Take Tuesday for example. The old Jerry would’ve railed against the ridiculous dog-and-pony show that was Favre’s teammates flying to Mississippi to talk their quarterback out of his latest phony retirement no one believed in the first place. I would’ve torn ESPN a new one for tracking their progress and showing us live the helicopter shots of his SUV driving back from the airport to rejoin the Vikings after he closed the curtain on his most recent performance of Bayou Hamlet.

But no more. From now on, I’m taking the easy way. The football media way. I followed the updates on the Brett Favre jet the way a kid watches the local news track the progress of Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve. Not because I’m buying his act, but because I don’t have the strength to fight it any longer.

A while back on D&C, Gerry Callahan was talking about how he always wondered what it would be like to live in North Korea. To have a Dear Leader who was above reproach and whom no one could question. Well we have one in America, and he’s currently leading the Minnesota Vikings.

I used to get frustrated with the hero worship Brett Favre got from the networks. For instance, the fact that he never gets called anything but Brett Favre, like its one word. As if referring to him as merely “Favre” would diminish him, like calling Superman “Man.” But I’ve learned to give myself over to it, willingly.

I used to dread the annual offseason faux retirement speculation. The teary press conferences. The wall-to-wall coverage of Brettfavre’s every move. The press leaks about how he played through some injury or another. The vague statements about not knowing what he’d do next. The reports about him getting some kind of surgery. The exclusive interviews where he’d say he’s going back to Mississippi to talk things over with Deanna to decide what to do next. The odd little stories that would come out about how Deanna has renewed her health club membership in Minneapolis for another year and he feels like he could play until he’s 50.

I used to, but I won’t any more. I’m throwing my arms around the whole bizarre Brettfavre assclown media circus and clutching it to my loving bosom. Remember how John Madden would fawn over Brettfavre every time he took a snap? Well compared to me, Mr. Tough Actin’ Tinactin is going to sound like Ron Borges tossing verbal grenades at Belichick. The Peter Kings, Jon Grudens, Phil Simms and Troy Aikmans of the world may genuflect in Brettfavre’s presence. But what I’m prepared to do is flat out hagiography.

Why? Because I’m sick of the fight and it’s just going to be much, much easier for me to capitulate. To say what the football press says. He’s not just a quarterback, he’s a football player. When Brettfavre puts his whole organization through this annual “Will He or Won’t He?” debacle? He loves the game. When he holds the Vikings over a barrel and makes them kick in an extra $3 million annually, plus incentives, to unretired? He’d play this game for free. When he shows up four weeks into training camp and into the starting QB job? He loves his teammates and he’s just one of the boys. And when he throws a gawdawful pick to cost his team a trip to the Super Bowl? Well, you’ve got to give him credit, he was just out there trying to make a play.

So I’m all in. I’m hopping on the Brettfavre Love Train and riding it until the day he finally hangs it up for good, if it ever happens. For as many fake retirements/unretirements he wants to give us, I’ll be along for them all, buying his act and worshiping the Ol’ Gunslinger every step of the way.

And when I say that, I’m ever bit as sincere as Brett Favre is.