Guys and gals, all of your predictions are wrong and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for even trying to predict the future, especially for entertainment.
This year is a no nonsense, buckle up and strap in, all serious business no whammies type of season.
If your head isn't in a 20-0 season then you are wrong, because that's exactly what's going to happen.
When you wake up on February 13th, fighting the wine coolers, nacho cheese, and a bloated stomach, you will phase into a suspended state of reality.
Did that just happen? Am I dreaming? The Cardinals won the SB! No f'in way!
When you recover from too much excitement, you check your phone to confirm.
Search: Superbowl winner
The .1 seconds of loading feels like almost 3 seconds, gulping the air in grueling anticipation of eternal waiting.
The answer is clear. The winner of the SB: Baltimore Ravens.
What? How could this be?
You soft pace turns into a unexpected exercise session.
No, no. That's can't be right. Let me check it again.
The same result. The heartburn burns greater.
They lost to the Ravens? The preseason champs? How did I not remember that?
Another check sends you into deep despair. There it shows, right on the screen. Ravens defeated the Arizona Cardinals 27-23.
You rack your brain, trying to find meaning in all this blasphemy. You check the score again and the numbers unfold from your deep unconscious.
I know that score. I sent that game to the depths of Hades! How could this happen a second time?
You check to confirm the score to see if your mind was playing tricks on you, only to discover an even worse fate.
Before anger could overtake, a voice calls to you. You wake up again in the middle of the night and sit up in your bed like a demon possessed.
Your significant other trembles in fear and asks if are okay.
You tell her you're fine, just a bad dream. That Cardinals lost the Superbowl and it messed with your head.
"I'm sorry honey," she says. "Everything will be fine."
You relax from the comfort of her voice and the bed underneath. The covers smother you with soft hugs. She puts her arm around you as you drift back to sleep.
As the lights in your head fade away, she turns to you, "honey?"
"Yes, dear?" You say.
"Who are the Cardinals?"
Your heart stops and the nightmare begins.