I want the Pats to finish their perfect season. 19-0.  I want them to get all the glory and accolades that come with it. All the kudos. All the ego strokes. All the women throwing themselves at anything even loosely associated with the team. I want them to feel like football gods.

‘Cause nothing prepares you for your own demise like believing your own hype.

Not to mention the greying veterans who’d love to go out Elway-style. Junior Seau is almost 40 for Pete’s sake. Teddy Bruschi is almost 35 and was almost dead just a few years ago.  Rodney Harrison’s 35.  Plus there’s a host of role guys who are 35 or older.  At least a few of those guys will be looking to ride off into the sunset with a pretty, pretty ring and a record that will probably live on for at least another three and a half decades.

Or they’ll look to cash in on the Patriot’s success - couldn’t other teams make use of an aging football god for a mere $11.2M per season?

Soak it up, Patriots.  Crush the Giants and rub the glory all over yourselves like baby oil at a naked chick wrestling event.  Get all slippery in your greatness.

Then strap on your cleats and pads, and we’ll see you next year.

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