I have been informed, condescendingly, that New Year’s is the only holiday about flipping the calendar. Yeah OK; going from December 31 to January 1 pales in significance to flipping the narrative (Columbus Day), flipping off the calendar (Pats at home in AFC Championship), and Everybody Better Love Jesus Day (Good Friday, Easter Sunday, July 4, the start of hurricane season in the Caribbean…).

Gimme a good mass hysteria day, like in 1999 before that Y2K crap fizzled. That moment came and went, and 2018 was a blur on the apocalyptic continuum we’re in—where an opportune “meh” is an affirmation of life.

Via postimages.com

So yeah, folks who think this date is not a big deal: you have my warmest “Ah feel ya” + ?. So glad you came.

New Year’s Eve is the Neapolitan holiday. It’s a great time for a party (chocolate), being with loved ones (vanilla), and feeling out of place (strawberry). Putting pistachio instead—now THAT should be a New Year’s resolution.

I’m not a fan of the New Year’s resolutions. It’s like this (puts on typing gloves, the setting on “blowhard”). Personal change is what’s important, not the date. In fact, you can start anytime, even today, December 31. Or January 2^nd, 3^rd (“tomorrow for sure”)… Yes, inertia; the “confidence” that you can flip a switch anytime while, in the meantime, doing the same stuff: not exercising, smoking, drinking, being loud, narcotic-ing, shutting out relatives, antisocializing on the Interwebz, laughing at friends, eating SPONCH! by the pallet, maintaining a vodka-only freezer space, shunning children, kicking back to enjoy a loooong seethe about personal and world affairs… You know, forsaking the good stuff in the name of self-improvement. Tch, please.

2018 did provide many opportunities for self-improvement. A Super Bowl win gave Eagles fans a chance to turn down the drama, and the loss gave Patriots fans a chance for humility, joining all the other fans in appreciating the otherworldly playoff ride of Nick Foles. Again, chances for self-improvement.  The #Pauls picked Baker Mayfield and became a regular NFL franchise after firing Hue Jackson. Hue hit the ground running in Cincinnati to increase the Bengals’ playoff chances—he was like a kid out there!

Via Eexxulansis / postimages.com

On the domestic front, Puerto Rico faced the reconstruction of the worst natural disaster in [grits teeth] U.S. soil. Look, I’m not gonna badmouth anybody. The electrical grid has held, cannabis patients are being certified like [snaps fingers], and you can get The Chronic for chronic social ailments like sobriety, folding laundry, and sympathy texts after a death in the family. In fact, I will raise a toast to the Social Contract: as long as the Government sustains a steady supply of weed and WiFi, We The Populace will procrastinate on that whole “mass upheaval out of goddamn dignity” stuff.

But there were big changes in 2018. The Ravens got the shit end of the playoff scenarios last  year, and this year became HAWT late thanks to Lamar! and a great defense. I like them against Real Chargers FC, a 12-4 wild card (in the presumably weak AFC). DeAndre Hopkins is the best receiver in football, hands down. If you think otherwise, please explain it to me like I were a little girl:

Via @MoxyHeart / postimages.com

Frank Reich III, the presumed sloppy seconds to weasel genius Josh Daniels, should be head coach of the year. Andrew Luck looks great, last night’s derpy pick-6 aside, and the Colts are nasty on defense and offensive line. I wouldn’t mind them going to the Superb Owl, and Adam Vinateri’s beard warms my old guy heart. Indy could take on either the Pats or Chefs in a shootout, I think.

As for the Titans, thy were #TeamRandom all season. The playcalling was neither conservative nor effective. The resourceful wins were a prelude to blowouts, the win against the Pats seemed fluky, and the injuries exposed a lack of depth unseen since the first printing of Stuff White People Like. And the chatter about Mariota’s lack of toughness got a bit much. A bit much. See, Mariota suffered a nerve injury on Week 1 and lost feeling in his throwing hand for several weeks afterward. He still played—what a [sexist term], indeed. Then, Mariota was hit on the first half of Week 16 and did not feel the right side of his body. Let’s have a look at the Tits offensive line:

Via postimages.com

I’m no doctor, but bones heal much easier and predictably than nerves, and the risk of nerve damage from a contact sport is also higher. At least that’s what I’ve learned from watching Quidditch—POINT IS: the “not tough” implications are totally out of line. The Titans exercised Mariota’s fifth-year option for 2019, which brings me some peace for 2019.

Also getting some peace, fired head coaches! Oh, worried about the plight of the modern NFL coach? The day-to-day aggravation is over, as is being held accountable to fans and team officials who know squat about football. Hell, fired coaches should get broadcasting gigs to badmouth the team that fired them WHILE collecting their checks for not coaching them. Sweet spite: may you aleays be the steady hand during the storm.

Adam Gase finagled a good term in Miami out of making Jay Cutler seem adequate in Chi****. Steve Wilks can always say he was in a bad situation, so can Vance Joseph. Bowles—I think every Jets fan was fed up. Mike McCarthy is getting buzz in the interview circuit, which provokes a smirking smh. Ay Miguel, you lost that NFC Championship in Seattle, the Kaep Niners owned yer ass, and you let the Jints walk all over yer 15-1 Packers IN LAMBEAU. Dirk Koetter is on the short list to a 2019 bar trivia question. And Marvin Lewis–the true shocker firing, though Schottenheimerian choker playoff CV.

In the NFC, the Seahawks sucked early, then not overtly. The NFC East remains the eyesore allegedly demanded by the TV masses. Alex Smith’s broken leg happening exactly 33 years after Joe Theismann’s is too freaky to deal with, the Giants devotion to Eli is cute AF, and Adrian Peterson can still dish out punishment. The Rams – Chefs MNF seemed to signal a new era of offensive play. RAMMITTT won 54-51, and Jared Goff peaked. Then they went on a bye and Baby Buster has been on the reins at QB ever since. The Saints looked invincible, but the Bears are scary.  If work, family, God, or country need me on the first two weekends of January, they can all get bent.

Finally, it’s been a wonderful year at DFO. Aside from the dynamite list curated by Su Excelencia Señor Weaselo, it’s heartwarming to see, in posts and comments, diverse folks united in their commitment to reject good taste. And hate on the Commissioner plus cover the occasional World Cup WHICH WAS OSOM. This still makes me lose it:

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What a lead-in to an NFL season when it seems any playoff team can win it all. Except Dallas or NE. Please God, no.

It’s New Year’s, you brilliant reprobates! We all deserve a drink.

Via postimages.com DONT BAN ME AGAIN POSTIMG OK?