The game: Falcons at Patriots
The beer: Anderson Valley Fall Hornin’ Pumpkin Ale
The result: Win, 23–7; Cowboys win, 40–10
The commentary: I thought the death blow was coming for us all. Given the reasons I listed last week, none more so than “watch your ass,” I suspected an overabundance of Steelers, Panthers, Titans and, yes, Cowboys enthusiasts (since no one took the Chiefs) would be dragged into mediocre depths. Instead the weekend played out as an overdue correction—no losses, no eliminations… even though Craig didn’t register a pick. We’re down to twenty if he’s out. I’ll have a word with Commissioner Rico about that.

A fifteen-minute timer designed to wake me after a Super Bowl LI-II halftime power-nap? These are the innovations I create for myself. Falling back asleep minutes into the third quarter? Not so much. I missed nothing except for the possible end of the Falcons’ short run of success. And the Pats? Their first signature had-em-all-the-way win of the season. “Maybe, just maybe, there’s the one you need.” DVR is wonderful.

A different year, a different scarecrow and a different attempt to use distance and scale to keep G. young and small. It won’t work forever. Drag.

Up next: Remember, “Frankenstein” refers to the scientist and not the creature. Happy Halloween!