In the annals of people who are funny without intending to be - think George W. Bush - Brett Favre is a certain first-ballot Hall of Famer. I mean, really, can't you see Frank Caliendo donning fake whiskers and adopting a grizzled countenance, going, "I'm in, I'm out, I'm in, I'm out." Can't you just picture it?

Favre must be a barrel of laughs during Happy Hour - "I'll have a vodka and tonic. No, wait, make it a bourbon on the rocks. Hold on, hold on, I changed my mind. Give me a beer. Uh, never mind, you know what? I'm good. Just bring some more of those Buffalo wings!" By the time he's done ordering, Happy Hour is over and drink prices have tripled.

The latest kink in the tale of Favre's almost pathological refusal to reach a decision and stick with it came Sunday, when he revealed that he had agreed to a request from Green Bay Packers GM Ted Thompson that he sit out "a couple of days" in order to give the team a little breathing room in their attempts to reach some sort of accomodation with the former league MVP in his (maybe) quest to (possibly) play again. Or maybe not. It's so hard to decide.

The thing that makes this latest development so funny - unless, of course, you're a fan of either, A) The Green Bay Packers or, B) Sanity - is the quote attributed to Favre in his interview with Sports Illustrated. He said, and this is an actual quote, as hard as that may be to believe, "I don't want to be a distraction to the Packers."

That's a little like Madonna saying, "Well, I haven't slept with everyone." They both presumably mean what they're saying, but the significance of the statement is dwarfed by the past behavior.

The Favre retirement saga is now officially the longest-running comedy skit in history, last week surpassing Saturday Night Live in length of engagement as well as tiredness of the act. But the sad part of the whole messy affair is that the man who is arguably one of the top five quarterbacks ever in NFL history is going to be remembered for a long, long time as a carnival sideshow, a sad joke who couldn't see the forest for the trees.

He has become 42 year old Willie Mays, stumbling over third base in a Mets uniform, unable to recognize that it's time to saddle up and ride out of town.

Eventually, say maybe when Favre reaches Frank Gifford's age, perhaps people will think of the Super Bowl winning quarterback or the three straight NFL MVP awards or the nine Pro Bowl selections when his name comes up in conversation, rather than the guy who became a national sports punch line; a man who couldn't make a simple decision.

It will certainly take a while, but for his sake, hopefully it will happen.

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