I never realized I wanted to put a fucking bullet through my head.

It never occurred to me that I wanted to drive a fucking stake through my heart.

But by the time I realized I wanted to, Brett Favre had already done it for me. Or maybe Ted "Faggot" Thompson and the rest of the Packers management did it for me.

But whoever's to blame, Brett Favre held up a green No. 4 jersey for the cameras yesterday, and it was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen.

The New York Jets.

I was in New York at the time. I should've been glad Favre was coming there. But my trip was temporary. And as will be Favre's. He'll be there, what, a year? But why? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU PLAY 16 YEARS ON ONE TEAM AND THEN YOU HAVE TO PLAY FOOTBALL SO GODDAMN BAD YOU GO TO ANOTHER TEAM?

Favre is everything to Green Bay. He's everything to Wisconsin. You know that. It's no stereotype. We wear cheeseheads and masturbate every Sunday to Brett Favre throwing touchdowns and even interceptions.

Green Bay is nothing now. Maybe it was nothing before, but it's like double nothing now.

I went to the NFC Championship game last year. I've lived in Green Bay my whole life, but had never been to a Packer game. My cousins flew in from Arizona to see the game. I mean we were going to the Super Bowl for fuck's sake. There was no way we'd lose to the New York Giants. I had no doubt in my mind we would win. So we got some tickets from some scalpers for $500 and off we went. I got really drunk at a pre-party at Brett Favre's Steakhouse, it was really cold out, but I'd get frostbite to see Brett Favre.

And then we lost. We fucking lost. Heartbreak. 3 points away from another Green Bay Super Bowl. One of my cousin's walked away immediately as the game ended, pissed. Me and my other cousin sat in shock on the bleachers in the freezing cold for at least an hour.

Eventually, after many self-therapy sessions, I got over it.

Then Favre retired, crying throughout the press conference. It was truly a sad sight for anyone in Wisconsin. Another bullet through my heart.

I tried to look at the bright side. I'd seen Brett Favre's last game ever. Surely that was something to be proud of.

Then he got an itch. And not from Deanna's vagina. An itch to play football. Of course you're going to get an itch to play football. It's all you know. You've been playing year in and year out, giving everything you have and never looking back. You prick. It doesn't mean that you come back a couple weeks before training camp and cause a bunch of drama, causing Packer's fans and other football fans to hate not only you, but the Green Bay Packers, everyone who works for the Green Bay Packers, the New Yorks Jets, Chad Pennington, Aaron Rodgers, football in general, Arena Football, love, little puppies, and food. Not that it's all Favre's fault either. Or maybe any of his fault. The very team that would be nothing without him turned his back on him.

Everyone loses. Fuck everything ever.