MNF Redux: Patriots 27, Ravens 24. Fuck.

I'm currently sitting in the ninth circle of academic hell (French theory/constant dissertation proposal revisions/ 60 papers that I have to grade "with fairness and justice" about low-riders, movie theaters, and John frickin' Baldessari), so this is going to be brief:

The Patriots have made a pact with Satan. This is the only explanation for this game.


I mean seriously. The picture above illustrates Tom Brady's night. They were behind almost the entire game. All of American outside of New England wanted the Pats to lose—desperately.
I don't want to hear how Tom Brady is the consummate winner, or that whole "champs pull these kinds of game out" spiel. That's boring and way too rationale. Too many things go right for the Pats at just the right time too often and, as anyone who has sat through Intro to the Romantic Poets knows (unless they dropped out like a sensible person), Faustian bargains are made by men of excessive pride and vanity. Gee, I wonder who on the Patriots fits that description?

Incidentally, I'm sitting at the library at USC right now working on a paper and the kid in the carrel next to mine made a five minute production of taking off his sweatshirt so as to not muss his hair. Like I said, ninth circle of hell.