*cry*

We're all a little Left Shark.

This is a shark shirt. You probably want to talk about the shark.

Forget it.

Now we’re going to talk about our feelings.

Why, Pete? You’ve got the BEST RUNNING BACK IN THE NFL and you PASS THE BALL FROM THE 1 YARD LINE? We had glory in our hands, and it slipped away, like when you've got to sneeze and it vanishes suddenly.

Sure, Marshy says he’s “not surprised” by the dreadful awful call, but that’s because he’s NOT SURPRISED BY ANYTHING. He, like all geniuses, exists on another plane. We’re not invited. That complete indifference to EVERYTHING, combined with an almost metaphysical alignment of all other aspects of the game IN SEATTLE'S FAVOR, is precisely why Marshy would have been an ideal candidate for the duty of plowing that ball past nothing more than a pretty okay defense and solidifying a victory that would’ve meant FREE BEER FOR THE PERSON WRITING THIS instead of just a flood of beerless tears.

Pete. I’ve forgiven you for that USC stuff. But this … ugh, you know what? You didn’t act alone. You're taking the blame, which is big of you, but a certain offensive coordinator was complicit in this soul-shattering poo-fest, too. Darrell, I just want you to know that two of the people cheering for your team were on crutches. CRUTCHES, DARRELL. [Editor's note: We're not sure how that's relevant but she's got crazy eyes, so we're just gonna let her get this out of her system]

No, it's okay. I'm okay.

Because Vegas is saying we’re gonna do it all over again next year. And Vegas is never, ever wrong about anything. So when we reconvene a little older, a little wiser, and possibly with a QB who can claim to be just a tad more consistent (but sexier than ever) next year in another temperate stadium where nobody would actually want to live but visiting is definitely fine, we’re gonna be ready.

Back to top