[From the FanPosts. This describes my feelings as well. -Joel]

I'm a noob and still getting my feet under me when it comes to the most appropriate way to share my stream-of-consciousness perspective when it shoots out of the wormholes of my brain. I posted this originally as a comment, but I think it is better shared as a fanpost. Just wanted to say that I think this place is great and thanks to all the admins who make it possible. I wish I had discovered AP a long time ago. It's sort of like a church for the afflicted. Except that Tebow isn't allowed in this church. Here's to not allowing him in the playoffs as well. Here is my experience with the most yo-yo-like of seasons I can remember (my affliction going back to 1987).

0-3. I’m covered in a pile of exploded knee ligaments. Despair. Binge drinking. There is no God.

4-3. Suck it Rivers.! Home games against the Dolphins and Broncos await! Back from the dead! All hail the Zombie Chiefs!!! Binge Drinking. There is a God.

4-5?? Double you tee eff? Next 4 games are a prison shower scene. Binge drinking. There is no Dana. Only Zuul.

4-7. We’ve been cast down with the Sodomites in Shawshank. Must rid house of alcohol. Drinking the vanilla extract. God is a golden boy QB for the Broncos. Life is pain.

5-7. Leave me alone hope. You are the tease of all teases. Jets and Packers are coming. Winter is coming. Scotch is coming.

5-8. Glug glug glug glug glug.

6-8. What’s all this then? Dolphins popping champagne? Remaining schedule lines up well? Hope, I didn’t know what I was saying. Come back. You had me at hello.

Saturday afternoon – Orton, you jackal! Suck it Tebow! Sexy Dexy! Bowe! Orton, you complete me! Driving! Kick to win it! Coming for you Tebowner! Fat man’s arm. Wrong side of 50/50. Fast man’s catch. Fat man’s leg. The Raiders no less? Darkness. Hope is not a good thing. It is not the best of things. Hope is a dangerous thing. It’s got no place here. I’ve got no place here. Chargers getting violated. Insult. Injury. Can’t breathe. Jack, Jim, Johnnie, Jose, I need you.

When I wake up in the driveway in 9 hours, perhaps perspective will come. Perhaps I will see that being alive in week 16 was virtuous in itself given our injuries and the political turmoil of the front office. Perhaps I will see that the draft brings new hope and an offseason of rehab will bring renewed commitment and discipline and maybe even a QB without bipolar tendencies. But right now I am dizzy from this cruel, unrelenting roller coaster. Right now I must get dizzier. Right now there is only the release of temporary amnesia. And I must forget, quickly. Hope, the money’s on the dresser. You did a job on us all.