BRFL, post-virus apocalypse.

I'm not having fun.

And you probably aren't either. 

Scuttling down the alley to the liquor store at noon, wearing a mask. 

Sleeping 10 hours a day. 

Spraying down tomatoes with Lysol, then eating them.

Caring deeply about inane posts on Facebook from people you barely know. 

Sad. 

Don't even talk to me about "social distancing". 

You're supposed to stay 6 feet away from everybody when you're not at work, but if you're an essential worker you can jump into a pig-pile like it's fourth and goal from the one. 

Nutty.

But, hey, we, the BRFL membership, have bigger fish to fry. 

We have to figure out how we keep our beloved league going through "these difficult times" (tired of hearing that much?). 

Fear not, Brothers and Sisters. 

The Commissioner is hard at work. 

Actually, not. 

The Commissioner works doing lot of shit that his insurance company would take a very, very dim view of. And then he goes home and crawls into his safe, quiet place and thinks dark thoughts until the booze takes over and he "falls asleep".

 But that's not your  problem. That's the Commissioner's problem. For the Commissioner there are twelve steps. Or something. But YOU deserve better.

So.

Soon's the Commissioner can figure out whether we're at stage 1 or stage 4 or whatever the fuck they are talking about on the news (which comes on alarmingly late according to the Commissioner's Happy Hour Schedule 2020) we'll be scheduling our pay-out blow-out. If there is to be no college football season this year (shudder) well...I don't know what we'll do. Ritual suicide? Not ruling that out. But the more pressing issue is that we are two parties down right now. HIstorically speaking. We haven't recognized CCS for his 2018 win and we haven't crowned Q for an impressive 2019 campaign. 

So party we must. 

And party we will.   

Until then, never forget what an asshole Dabo Swinney is. Never. Forget.

And enjoy a few of my favorite things.

Yours sincerely,

Jimbosuke,

Commissioner for Life.