Buffalo, NY—Following the Buffalo Bills latest playoff loss to the Kansas City Chiefs in the AFC Championship game, the Grim Reaper swept through Western New York and called home fifty-seven depressed Bills fans. While all had huge comorbidity issues like cancer, heart disease, and, of course, cirrhosis, it was the accompanying depression after the fourth straight playoff loss to the Chiefs that made the Reaper put these long-suffering bastards out of their misery.
A downcast Reaper said, “This year, I was hoping to sweep through Western New York and take out the one-before-I-die crowd. That’s a good group, and it would have been great fun to snatch these lives after this long-awaited victory—even the assholes among them who dip their wings in ranch and the Karens who object to “Mr Brightside” being played at Highmark Stadium because the song is about infidelity. Instead, I had to take out all these son-of-bitches reeling with gut-wrenching disappointment. It’s so sad. Not Ann Franke sad, but still sad.”
Buffalo and a handful of cities with professional sports teams: Vancouver, San Diego, Jacksonville, Columbus, and Charlotte have never won a professional championship. However, there are caveats with these cities—Charlotte can claim UNC’s six NCAA basketball championships. Columbus can cozy up to Ohio State’s nine NCAA football championships. San Diego is in Southern California, and except for the threat of burning to the ground, it is still beautiful, temperate SoCal. Vancouver is one of the prettiest cities in the world. Redneck Jacksonville is home to Matt Gaetz, but still, it wasn’t iron gray ten degrees the morning after losing to the Chiefs for the fourth time. Then again, fuck Matt Gaetz and Jacksonville. Oh, I forgot Memphis, but Elvis cancels all that shit out.
The futility of Buffalo teams and their fans, however, remains unmatched. The failure to advance to the first Super Bowl in 1966 after losing again to the Chiefs, 31- 7 in the AFL title game. The delay of game penalty that ended the tying drive in the 1981 divisional playoff vs. the Bengals after Lou Piccone picked up the first down. The Ronnie Harmon drop in ‘89 vs. the Brown. The four Super Bowl losses, Homerun Throwback, the Draught, Thirteen Seconds, Bass’ miss from forty, and now, the first down that wasn’t and the Kincaid drop. Let’s throw in Bernie Parent in ‘75, No Goal, the Brian Campbell delay of game penalty in ‘06, and another Draught. Death by a thousand cuts.
Drawing up something like a smile the Reaper became philosophical, saying, “As you can imagine, it’s tough keeping a positive attitude in my job with all the maiming and killing. At some point, I have to believe it will happen—one of these snake bit, pathetic teams will kick the door down, and a championship will come to Buffalo. You can bet I’ll be there when it happens—with bells on. Well, maybe not bells, but I’ll be there, all dark and foreboding with my scythe, and I’ll take out a giant swath of those happy bastards with my dark kiss of death. It’s that hope and belief that keeps me going.”
Next year—our year, begins on Thursday, September 5th with the NFL kickoff game.
