Fuck you Tecmo Super Bowl! This is the last time you will let me down. I believed you! I trusted in you! You guaranteed me a win. Patriots 24, Giants 21. That’s what you said, right? RIGHT? How the fuck could you do this to me? How could you be so wrong? I bought a square. Patriots 0 Giants 4. What was the score with less than two minutes left in the Super Bowl? Patriots 14, Giants 10. I had the REVERSE! I had $1500 coming my way! You promised me the Gaytriots would win in! You promised! But where was your prediction that the Giants would perform one last drive to deliver the biggest upset in football history, Tecmo Super Bowl? Where was that? I fucking hate you. I want to let you know that I poured out the remainder of my Captain Morgan bottle on your cartridge and lit it on fire. That’s right. You’re out of my life, Tecmo Super Bowl! OUT! Never again will I listen to your shitty predictions. Never again will I take your word for a Super Bowl outcome. $1500. Gone. That would have covered my hotel room in Miami this spring break! Fuck you Tecmo Super Bowl.

On a lighter note, HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! Fuck you Patriots! 18-1. How does that feel? Eat it Tom Brady! Eat it like you eat Wes Welker’s cock in the locker room! Fuck you Belicheat! What a perfect finish to the season. No more cocky Patriots pussies shoving their 19-0 bullshit in my face. How does the salt taste, fuckfaces? HAHAHAHA!