Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Tank You Very Much

In the words of Dr. Smith, "Ohhhh, the pain." Our team is left depth-crippled by another buffoon. One good season and it all turns to shit. I have no problem with the decision. The Bears did the right thing. Cut ties, rid yourself of the cancer. It just sucks is all. "He is gone, and there is nothing that can be done about it."

Nothing good happens after midnight. My dad told me that a few times, and he was right. I never had that good of a time after midnight. Usually, I became quite tired. Even back in my teens and twenties, I was a party pooped pooper after 12 bells. I would usually be home or in bed by 1:00 a.m. at the latest. A square, if you must label me. Of course, I avoided being pulled over at 3:30 a.m. Obviously, I can't play a one-gap DT for the Bears.

Despite all this post-Super Bowl nonsense, I am looking forward to the arrival of my season tickets. Any day now. They come in two big perforated sheets. I get to carefully fold them over and tear them apart. Then I sort them out and hold them in a fan, like a deck of cards. I look at them and feel them. I get excited about the season. Did I just say this out loud?

To further ruin anyone's remaining high opinion of me, I find myself listening to the NFL channel on Sirius RADIO. I refuse to listen to local sports talk radio and anything with Jim Rome. Asshole talking to assholes. But I can't get enough of these NFL guys, Pat Kirwin, Adam Shine, Solomon Wilcots, etc. When it's not Howard Stern, it's this channel. I find myself chiming in with my opinions on the topic of discussion. Outloud and alone in my car. Is this bad? I think I need more rest.

One more season of "The Wire" before our HBO "sleeps with the fishes."

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