Don't worry, Skins fans. It's not all doom and gloom today.
Yeah, your favorite team crapped the bed against a horsemeat team, embarrassing itself and its owner (were said owner capable of feeling shame). And they also embarrassed you. When you're in a strange city, wearing your Skins stuff, people are going to look at you with pity, like you're a diseased orphan wearing rags.
You can try to explain that you're wearing the clothing ironically, but the lie won't conceal your pain. It stinks to be a Skins fan now. From head on down, the whole stinkin' thing is rotten.
But despite all that, things aren't so terrible if you stop to think about it.
Three weeks in and it's over. There's no sense getting worked up over the games anymore.
This isn't like last season where you watched every stinking loss down the stretch, as the team limped home after having tantalized you with a 6-2 first half. This isn't like a few seasons ago where you thought the team would be able to rally around the loss of Sean Taylor and run the table to eek into the playoffs.
This is like last year's 49ers game. Over and over and over and over again. They're meaningless games between mediocre teams with only draft position to be decided.
So think of the Sundays you have free now. You don't have to watch every stinkin' second of every stinkin' game to watch the latest check-down throw or run that ends in a flop near the line of scrimmage.
You've got time to spend with your kids: take a walk, visit a pumpkin patch, do whatever makes them happy. ('Cause watching the Skins ain't it.)
Oh, sure, you'll still want to occasionally check the score on your phone, but appreciate the gift Snyder, Vinny and Zorn have given you.
There's no illusion of competition, and they've just freed up 13 more of your Sundays.
True, there's nothing quite like a football Sunday, but look at it this way: If you still need your fix, there's always a different team's games. Those Ravens look like they're pretty good, hon.
Heck, at this pace, you've probably got the next three football seasons off, too. So enjoy your new-found freedom, and be sure to thank Danny the next time you see him. (After you punch him in the crotch, that is.)