I woke up Sunday morning, looking at the schedule with three of the Little Brother, Red Headed Step Children NYC sports teams on the docket. 1 team starting their season, 1 team with their back against the wall trying to make it to the Stanley Cup, and 1 team entrenched in mediocrity trying to make a miracle push to the playoffs. And I knew exactly how it was all going to unfold. EXACTLY. Not a shred of a doubt in my mind. I knew it, you knew it, they knew it. The whole world knew it. Because those teams and their fans are doomed for all eternity.
I dont know why I even bother anymore. When you know precisely what is going to happen, and - SPOILER ALERT: its not great! - whats even the fucking point of doing this? "Hey you guys wanna watch The 6th Sense, Bruce Willis is dead the whole time." "Lets fire up Game of Thrones Ned Stark gets his head cut off right away and all your favorite characters get massacred in Season 3 at a wedding." WHATS THE FUCKING POINT?
Steve Cohen please fucking hurry. The ultimate irony would be if I kill myself during this Jets season and never even make it to the Steve Cohen era of the New York Mets.