SAN DIEGO -- By now you're probably sick to your stomach from reading about this Super Bowl. I know I am. So I'm going to make it easy on you. You don't have to read this column straight through. It's got no continuity anyway. (Neither would your writing after a week of listening to the body-numbing Dan Reeves; if he's your after-dinner speaker, it'd better be one great meal.) It's a reprise of the Super Bowl week, one of those montage deals TV gives you as the credits roll, with either Frank Sinatra or the Blow Monkeys -- depending on the age of the coordinating producer -- singing in the background. You can read some now, some later, some during commercial breaks in the game. Or you can sign up for our layaway plan and finish reading it in 1994 with no surcharge.

For those of you in a real hurry because you're spending most of the morning writing questions to submit to Dexter ("Ask Mr. Wizard") Manley for his next news conference, let me give you the pick now: Washington over Denver, 28-24, because life's tough and you can never have enough amigos.

Now, maestro, if you will . . .

Super Bowl XXII is being televised in 59 countries, including Nicaragua. I'm assuming since we give them so much humanitarian aid that by now all the contras have cable dishes. But are we going to ask the Sandinistas to be on the honor system and not watch, or are we installing pay-per-view boxes in Managua?

Ollie: Appreciate your concern, but not a shred of evidence Broncos spied on us. Wish you were here.

Apropos of the Redskins' antichicanery devices, their 13-man formations and the misnumbered jerseys, Mark May said none of the offensive linemen participated in the subterfuge: "Nobody wants to change shirts with the Hogs -- not even the other Hogs."

More trickery: May and R.C. Thielemann did, however, switch nameplates at Wednesday's interview session. They reported snagging 10 media types -- six calling Thielemann, "Mark," four addressing May as "R.C.," a case of felony mistaken identity as any major dude will tell you. Wagging his finger, Thielemann said, "Some naughty reporters didn't look in their press guides." On Thursday, May switched nameplates with Raleigh McKenzie, but suckered only one media type, and the jury is out whether to score the goal since he was with Japanese TV.

In one of the 75,000 stories about John Elway this week, one of the Denver policemen who is an Elway bodyguard said he was humbled by his job because Elway "means so much to this team and to the whole country." I know I spend a few minutes each day thinking about Elway and his well being, and I sleep better at night knowing others do the same.

So you think you did all you could to get a Super Bowl ticket, huh? Well, in Denver a woman named Linda Kirchner painted her body blue and her horse orange and rode nude through a downtown plaza on a 25-degree day to win tickets from a radio station. What did you do, eat a can of dog food? Big deal.

Quick, name the Broncos' No. 2 running back.

Gene Lang.

(Nope. Me either.)

Heeeeeeerrrre's Dexter: "I'm like water. I'm irresistible. Water can cut a rock. I'm like a rock, too." Make up your mind, Dexter, because if you're a little bit solid and a little bit liquid, you're back to being a grapefruit again.

Sheikh, call your service.

Here's one from Elway: "We've got to stymie them on the line of scrimmage." And Alfalfa them, Spanky them and Buckwheat them, too, o-tay?

Dave, say hi to Lily: "I used to be 6-foot-7, but now I'm 6-6 1/2," Dave Butz said this week. "Too many goal line stands."

More Butz (on his longevity in the NFL): "I've just been given a great body that can take punishment and give it out -- and believe me, it's better to give than receive."

Still more Butz: By now Butz's bizarre superstition about running over an already dead animal on his drive to RFK is an old story in Washington, but reporters here were fascinated by it, and cajoled Butz to tell and retell it. Butz has always steadfastly maintained that his prey has met its maker long before it meets his tires, but in describing the pigeons he bagged prior to the Redskins' home playoff game against Minnesota, Butz conceded, "They might have still been warm." And thank you so much for sharing that with us.

Denver's Rulon Jones said, "We usually think if we can stop the run, we can win. Not this game," implying an anxiety about the Redskins' passing attack. But Denver's Karl Mecklenburg said, "I'm not overly concerned about their passing game. I think their running is what we have to worry about." We'll be glad to wait while you guys get on the same page.

Have you ever seen Joe Gibbs and Dan Reeves in the same room? They look alike, they dress alike, sometimes they even talk alike, you could lose your mind. You've never seen them with Patty Duke either, have you?

Get hip: In California the earthquake they're waiting for is commonly referred to as "The Big One." But the one that truly terrifies them, the really big one, is called "The Ed Sullivan." And from Amigo Mark Jackson, "A St. Luke's Pass," defined as a pass thrown too slowly, giving a defensive back enough time to measure the wide receiver for a hospital gown.

Speaking of the Amigos, how's this from Jackson about fellow Amigo, Vance (What Do You Mean Take My Hat Off, This Is My Hair) Johnson: "Don't believe anything Vance says. At least half of what he says isn't true." With amigos like that, who needs enemigos?

And still more Amigos: The Vance got the ultimate Super Bowl Week question the other day: If you were an animal, what animal would you be?

"An ostrich," The Vance declared. "Because it's very graceful and very fast."

It was quickly pointed out to The Vance, a wide receiver, that an ostrich has no hands.

Perplexed, The Vance demanded, "Is this a trick question?"