I just woke up. I remember something about Hoboken, a vagrant with a speech impediment and a Bills hat signed by Andre Reed, laughing at the bar as I came to terms with the supposed inevitability of a Bills loss, some masters of Dutch treats, Strongbow on tap, and friendship. The internet tells me that the Bills won a football game, but let's be real y'all ... that kind of nonsense fucks with our narrative and we all know that shit can't happen. Our narrative is sacrosanct. Our narrative is untouchable. It is rationally-developed and rock solid. Immovable. A thing with which one cannot, by definition, fuck.
Well, shit on a shingle, friends. Apparently pigs do fly.