Once more, friends; once more, we’ve buttoned up our Darren Daulton jerseys, held tightly to each other, and traveled ‘round the sun. Once more, we wind up here, at this Thanksgiving table together, asking solely through fearful glances, “What’s happened?”
Looking back at this page one year ago, we can only scoff with condescension at the fools we were. Such hope. Such anticipation. Such arrogance. How the cruel world didn’t snatch us up and break our backs between now and then is beyond understanding.
It’s 2018 now. We can’t eat the romaine lettuce. The Eagles’ Super Bowl victory has proven to be, as we’d all suspected, a collective fever dream, projected on the wall of our minds.