NEXT YEAR

I'm still hurting and a little stunned by the Vikings loss on Sunday. And I do mean Vikings loss- the Saints had very little to do with that win. For the Vikings to have had 5-6 turnovers in a road playoff game, and still be in it down to the wire is a testament to the Saints not being for real. It's yet another heartbreak as the Vikes melted down at the end of regulation. It's too bad Favre made a horrible decision at the end, because now all the haters get to say "told you so" and gloat for a year. The Vikes wouldn't have been there without him. Live by the sword, die an agonizing death by the sword, or something like that. I'm proud Favre was a Viking, and I thank him for an incredible ride. The multiple horrible calls by the officials in overtime didn't even bother me that much. The Vikings had already cost themselves the game through fumbles and interceptions. Bad calls are just icing on the cake that is the continuing torture of bleeding Purple.
Tuesday was the Jeopardy! online test. I was physically and mentally prepared. I hadn't drank in a month, I hadn't smoked for a week, I was ready to go. The familiar sounds of Tony's Lullaby (the Jeopardy! countdown music was written by Merv Griffin for his son, and has earned him an estimated $70 million in royalties) played as the last 30 seconds counted down to the test. The first two questions were The Scarlet Letter and the Coen Brothers! I thought I was home free. The test was surprisingly easy, and right after the test I thought I had done pretty well. Then I started going back over the questions in my head and realized that I had missed a minimum of 12 fucking questions! That's not going to cut it, especially with an easy test. The 3-4 fairly easy questions I blew are probably the margin of making the cut. I'll have to wait another year, and my window of accumulated knowledge vs. quick retention is passing. Every year it's a little harder to pull up files quickly from my brain. Getting old truly does suck.
So within 36 hours, two of my biggest dreams in life were killed for another year. One, I have no control over, and one I control completely. Both came out the same: tantilizingly close, but no cigar. It's not how many times you get knocked down that matters though, it's how many times you get up.......