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Who wants to eat some ice cream?

Hey guys, TMG made sense this time. He promised. And brought ice cream. Kind of.

This is the Patriots secret laboratory where Belichick tries to fry up his crazy recipes for victories and dastardliness.
This is the Patriots secret laboratory where Belichick tries to fry up his crazy recipes for victories and dastardliness.
Alan Crowhurst

It’s that time of year again, boys and girls, and by again I do of course mean ‘for the first time in a long time.’ November is settling in, December is around the corner, and the cold chill of victory is seeping into our bones. Plenty of pundits began the year drawing pictures of us in parkas and bundled in blankets, warm as could be for the commercial holiday season but we have confounded their expectations. We are dangerously close to hypothermia and we love it. We want to eat more ice cream so we can keep this feeling going.

Our main challenge now is that we face a lot of smart teams, smart coaches, in our remaining games. They know better than to approach us with warm clothing, they know we will likely send them home in an attire that would make their grandmothers proud of their modest sensibilities. Instead, they are going to try to attack our ice cream.

Monday night’s foe in particular is preparing to do just that. They have plenty of film. They know just how our tongue curls around the frozen globes of bliss; they know just when we like to nibble on the cone; they know when we like to order bowls with lots of sprinkles and when we want to order waffle cones with plain vanilla scoops; they know how we lick. What’s worse is that they are insidious.

The New Orleans Saints are evil, but in a silly, wacky, 1950’s Batman campy kind of a way. They would say ‘POW’ while kicking our knees and expecting us to drop our cones. The New England Patriots, on the other dirty hand, are wily AND smart. They won’t buy explosive chocolate chips from ACME, they’ll just try and buy plenty of the Panthers favorite flavors and spread out a buffet for us. Their plan won’t be to steal our ice cream or set up a mildly metaphorical cake walk for us, they’ll just wait for us to eat too much too fast and get a brain freeze. Then they’ll strike. All we have to do is pace ourselves, eat slowly, and top generously. We can do this, and if we do start to freeze, can somebody please tell Cam that pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth will help?