I’m just about that action, boss.

Except when it has to do with the two big issues in the NFL these days.

Deflate-gate and Marshawn Lynch’s (lack of) oratory skill.

I remember when the two weeks leading up to the Super Bowl were super boring.

Sure, there was always a bit of drama, like when Irving Fryar’s wife stabbed him in the leg before getting stabbed by the Bears.

Or when Falcons’ defensive back Eugene Robinson was arrested for soliciting a prostitute mere hours after he received the Bart Starr Award for best character in the NFL. Now that’s bad timing.

But nothing — and I mean nothing — can compare to the lunacy of the past two weeks.

Let’s start with Deflate-gate.

In case you were in a medically induced coma for the past 10 days, here’s a recap:

Eleven of 12 footballs the New England Patriots used in the AFC Championship game against the Indianapolis Colts were below the minimum inflation guidelines set by the NFL.

Meanwhile, all the Colts’ footballs were just fine and dandy.

The Pats denied they had anything to do with anything, saying the weather or some rogue locker room attendant or ancient aliens doctored said footballs.

Press conferences flowed like Gatorade, each one more absurd than the last.

The Pats launched an internal investigation and concluded no wrongdoing on their part.

That’s pretty handy.

Next time I forget to buy milk when I go grocery shopping and my wife calls me out on it, I’m just going to crumple up the list and say, “I launched an internal investigation and found milk was not on the list, therefore I am cleared of no wrongdoing.”

That should work.

No one with two brain cells to rub together believes the Patriots in this matter. Their credibility is non-existent thanks to a questionable history.

The Pats cheated. Everyone knows it. I don’t care anymore. Shall I say my interest has since “deflated.”

Let’s move on.

And what have we moved on to?

Seattle’s broken chatterbox Marshawn Lynch.

He doesn’t like to talk to the media. We get it. When he is forced to speak, he says stuff like “yeah” and “thanks” and “I’m just here so I don’t get fined” and “I’m all about the action, boss.”

For some reason, the media still wants to hear what he has to say, even though he has nothing to say.

Lynch has taken his act a bit too far. If he would just answer questions in cliches, the media will leave him alone.

But now he’s like a carnival attraction. Everyone wants to know what nonsense will spill from his mouth.

At least it will be over soon.

Except for the six-hour pregame show.

I’m not just about that action, boss. Just play the game.

Mike Kilroy is a staff writer for the Butler Eagle.