Request Line: February Done Me Wrong

February is not over yet and the main story after the Super Bowl has been on Peyton Manning’s alleged testicles. Every offseason is the worst, but this one started on an honest-to-goodness deep funk. Broncos fans may differ; I hope all their keys fall down a sewer.

Destiny toyed with the Steelers, and that Vikings loss was a crying shame.

The Browns and Ravens barely had one kind of luck, while the Bengals pray for divine justice–because they found none on Earth.

Cards and Seahawks salve their wounds while an inner voice ripples their souls with chants of THOSE Super Bowl Panthers beat US? #SMGDH

Giants and Titans promise coaching change, but their words are as empty as Satan’s grave. The Packers, like Lazarus, could only cheat death once–with Detroit getting The Horror.

And while the Lions and the rest of the league might have just as well stayed in bed during the season, dejection is Heaven next to the emptiness of Nothing Until The Hall of Fame Game.

The NFL just up and went away, leaving fans adrift like an empty lifeboat wading out to sea, or a scorned lover without WiFi. It is just so tough to love a league with so many thieving ways, but its charms mesmerize and make fantasy feel like vitality. In the end you end up broken down, but also longing for your heart to be stomped and shredded again by your team, your joy and sanity flung away like so much clumps of Santa Clara turf. That ain’t love they say to you, but it’s better to get burned looking for light than forever being in the dark.

But where there is pain there is a shimmying inside, something that must get out to take that pain away. That is hope fluttering about, the kind that whispers to San Diegans “Let’s see what happens”. Even Raiders fans, during the most trying and heartbreaking times, can always look forward to a more diverse market and supply of narcotics.

Hope never, ever, leaves us ***DISCLAIMER: Not Applicable in St. Louis; those poor folks know exactly how that trapped bird felt upon gazing upwards and seeing a sliver of light, climbing with complete resolve to fly away until being smacked on the head thanks to that vain and dumb brat Pandora closing that goddamned box***. So St. Louis, let The Blues draw out your pain into a cathartic “The only Ram I need is the metaphorical pickup with which I will not literally run over Stan Kroenke’s spindly and discolored moustache and every side of his cheatin’ face”. So I hope them and all NFL fans enjoy some blues as well in these cold and dark, desolate times. Here’s my offering:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obEFlt1ELD4

Yeah, The White Stripes. Did you just guffaw? Oh, only a derisive *snort. Sorry. Well then, you know the drill: pick your favorites and post youtube links of some heart breaking, bone shaking, soul chilling blues. Or, if you feel so inclined, just bitch about your team’s lack of good transition tag options–but with deep sentiment and artful self pity, if only for the sake of the theme.

Many thanks to Rikki-Tikki-Deadly for having me in this week’s spot and for putting together the playlist. Albert Collins banner via here.