The game: Bills at Patriots
The beer: Samuel Adams (The) Vixen Chocolate Chili Bock Lager
The result: Win, 49–21
The commentary: I’m cheating with this picture as it was not actually taken during the game, or even on game day, but rather the following morning as G. snuggled her loveys and fought sleep with every inch of her little body (a battle she eventually won in fussy fashion). At the time I was certain those eyes could see a thousand years into my future. I am madly in love with her.

Fitzpatrick? Still not the bearded droid Bills fans are looking for. Stevie Johnson though? I’ll take that guy! I understand why the refs had to throw the flag on his HAPPY NEW YEAR display but it’s not like he wrote MY BROTHER’S GONNA SHIT or anything. He might lack maturity but he seems like a good guy, I don’t know. Belichick simply has not drafted/developed a young wide receiver since the team started not winning Super Bowls, so I’ll be pleased if he uses this year’s picks to stock the defense with cyborgs after outbidding the rest of the league for Johnson.

Lately there’s a lot of backlash against local media hotheads who cannot stop criticizing the team. I understand it since Notable Fucktards A, B and C latch onto any available negative angle while refusing to acknowledge a bright side. However, these clowns have a point. There really is no redeeming quality with this defense: Wilfork does a fine job but rarely dominates; Mayo either isn’t talented enough to blow plays up or isn’t being used correctly; Chung, when healthy, is a superstar when measured against Sergio Brown and Matthew Slater. Then, because Belichick’s draft résumé from 2006 to the present is more luke-warm water (McCourty, Mayo, Maroney) than fire (Gronkowski, Hernandez, Mankins) with way too much ice (Meriweather, Darius Butler, Chad Jackson), no hotshots with limitless potential are in place to come in off the bench. I have been spoiled rotten for ten years since the Tuck Rule—sustained success, heightened expectations and so forth—yet I do not overstate their weaknesses.

What keeps the team competitive year after year, of course, is consistent excellence from the quarterback and the head coach: Brady is still playing out of his mind and Belichick’s in-game adjustments the past few weeks have been outstanding. It’s possible to see the brilliance as well as the flaws unless you’re some kind of apologist homer; ergo, I like my boys against anyone. Who’s with me? How about six-time all-pro tight end and veteran NFL analyst Randy Cross, who chucked self-respect in the gutter on Sunday and observed “Like the old Road Runner cartoons, you heard ‘beep, beep’ and the Patriots were gone.” (That, my friends, is why a man with thirty-five years of playing and color-guy experience gets paired up with a stiff like Don Cruiqui week after week to announce games that have no significance. Also, Randy, it’s more of a “meep” sound.) They won’t always come back, particularly against the likes of Baltimore and a healthy Pittsburgh in the playoffs, but I’ll take my chances on Brady stringing together a few hot starts when it counts. If not? Then Kyle Arrington, Julian Edelman and Ron Brace will make opponents pay!

God bless the New York Jets. For three years we Patriots fans have been waiting for them to implode and this perfectly average 8–8 finish (more degrading than 7–9?) is extremely rewarding. They’ll be back, sure, but so long as Keller and Holmes (if he’s still around) keep not being targeted then they will accomplish nothing. I’m the only one who still thinks Sanchez is pretty good—it’s not his fault the offensive line sucks and he’s being asked to throw fifty times a game—but if I’m wrong then look out, fat boy, because your team might actually suck. Speaking of rival quarterbacks, I love ESPN’s James Walker’s take on reports that free agent Chad Henne would love to return to Miami: “Anyone up for a Henne vs. Matt Moore quarterback battle in training camp? I doubt the Dolphins are.”

In other AFC East news, I can’t believe that Brian Schottenheimer (the one asking Sanchez to chuck the ball and absorb huge hits every other play) and Bill O’Brien (who does nothing except yell at players in an effort to get television exposure) are head-coaching candidates, even though I called it three weeks ago. Whoever hires them will get what they deserve: a search for a new head coach in 2015 after three consecutive losing seasons. But what’s the alternative? Brad Childress or some diddling college coach? God save the NFL.

A. and G. dozed on the couch while I paired the bock (I didn’t think I liked that style… maybe drenching it in chocolate is the answer) with some corn chips and chili con queso, followed by a chocolate chip cookie. That’s what happens when you haven’t been to work in ten days and won’t return for another two. A. called the vixen on the bottle “scary.” I call her flavor country. Care to guess what I have in my refrigerator for the playoffs? Not a thing! Yet.

Up next: The Patriots must survive a harrowing bye week that no one enjoys, except for people who’ve been meaning to hang window blinds for a month. Next week? Bring on the fucking Steelers. Cheers!