I’d hoped the karma would change. Russell’s home for a reunion, and we went to Joe’s place with UJ to eat some pizza, drink some beer, and watch the Browns. And, for a time, the wheel turned, and the Browns sprinted to a 14-0 lead. But then the wheels came off, Cleveland collapsed, Perplexed Pat Shurmur absorbed it stoically, and the Browns fell to the Giants in embarrassing fashion, 41-27.
Next Sunday I won’t be able to watch the Browns. Thank God! I can’t bear the agony of watching the Browns fumble and stumble and bumble their way to another disaster. In fact, here is a partial list of things I would rather do than watch the Browns right now:
* Repeatedly Taser myself
* Listen to the Cher recording of Half Breed play continuously for 18 days
* Chew aluminum foil
* Serve as the personal laundry attendant for long-term residents at the National Senior Citizen Incontinence Institute
* Dip my face into a bowl full of glass shards
As Colonel Kurtz would say: “The horror!”
