Because of my much-publicized bedside promise to a dying Brain Piccolo, I rarely watch broadcast or cable TV programming. Enduring old Bill Cowher press conference reruns actually seems more appealing. I mean, come on, how can we legally permit I.Q.-insulting shows like “How I Met Your Mother” to inflict irreparable damage upon millions of unsuspecting innocents. Look at what it’s done to Tiger. And Rich Eisen.

But, I’m admittedly hooked on FOX’s Fringe, a modern-day X-Files chronicling hush-hush fringe science experiments. Why watch that? Because sooner or later we’ll no doubt see a Cincinnati Bengals episode. Hey, there’s my Bengals way up there, top shelf, just to the right of six jarred Kalahari pigmy heads, and Michael Jackson’s vagina.  

Go ahead, Google, Yahoo and Bing your brains out … very little if any serious, insightful Bengals coverage. Why? Because to this sad generation of sports germulists, the Bengals are Benson Burners of boiling, bubbling alien urine—not to be written about, talked about or acknowledged in any way.

I mean, here’s playoff-bound Cincinnati, a legitimate Super Bowl contender, going up against the 10-2 Vikings, and the biggest Bengals’ news has been Chad being fined AGAIN for a sideline antic? Hell, even Tom Brady’s little demon-seed got more pub.

So, note to sports media (yes, that’s 90 percent of you frozen Klondike Bars at the NFL Network). First, hire a team of linguistics. They’re not the BINGghouls (you listening, Marshall Faulk ... cuz, hey, Bengals fans could have a field day with YOUR last name). Secondly, we beg of you, stop saying, “brings to the table” and “at the end of the day”. Please? Or we will kill you.   

(The above does not apply to pros like Solomon Wilcots, Merrill Hoge, Ron Jaworski.)

Hold the presses. I just received the next Fringe script. Plot: Bengals implanted with mutant Bret Favre stem cells, morph into conjoined Carson Palmer twins, team doubles its passing YPG. Walter wets himself. Peter does a full-body sniff on a slumbering Olivia.

Considering what the BINGghouls bring to the table, at the end of the day—Cincinnati 21, Minnesota 17.