Since we remain tangentially on the subject of den Vinteren død,
that black streak bisecting the screen? A clear road. Je sais, je sais, low-hanging seed pods, but I don't host the most thought-provoking site 'round town.
Now, onto vastly more important things.
Let's pretend the season stopped there.
& that the last dozen never started? Anyway, a quarter of a century ago, & I still have my ticket stub. Hibernating in the past doesn't bother me save when it comes to this bloody arena. 5-11s & 4-12s should be rendered unto McKay.
New Orleans @ San Francisco: The most brick-meet-head bit about these irresistibles vs. immovables is the reheated rehash browns (the other kind, though that might explain some things), of defense + running = victory parades from too many talking hairpieces. Even Phil Anselmo knows NOLA is Barcelona, pass, pass, pass, ZOMG Nawlins only nabs 27/game on the road contra 41/dome. That's still a prorated 436 points, you dumb fucks. Saints 27-20.
The Fucking Broncos @ The Fucking Patriots: 20/20 isn't always hindsight. Safeties sprinting into the box & sprinting back out @snap had more than one pal cranial scratching, if I had any pals. Sure, Tebowmania makes Zombie Al Davis proud, but mad bomber redux won't be enough 'cause Champ-no-more & The Chopped Livers will be joining Ike Taylor on the march to Madame Le Guillotine. The Fucking Patriots 38-24.
Planet Hooston @ The Fucking Ravens: If, if, if. Not you, Columbus. If Schaub, Then Win. Rowdy Yates isn't Clint, nor very rowdy, but doesn't need to be. What needs to be for the home side is the hope that the Good Fu Manchu shows up. I hope not, but know better. The Fucking Ravens 20-13.
The Fucking Giants @ Green Bay: Number 4 has retired from retiring, so stow away your oh-seven delusions, you arrogant fucking burg, there won't be any ill-timed wounded ducks littering the winter Wisconsin skies. Packers 31-19.