I'm miserable. I'm depressed. I'm down and out.
This was supposed to be payback. This was supposed to be justice.
How could you do this to me, lucky orange-and-blue Polo shirt?
After the final field goal Saturday night, Auburn rushed the field and the final score was called. I was speechless, and it had nothing to do with my war-torn vocal cords.
Everyone stood around, stunned, waiting for someone to tell us it had all been a sick joke.
A half-hour later, some guy in a red shirt who had an ID badge hanging around his neck told me it was time to go home.
"Not yet," I rasped.
I eventually did leave the stadium, only looking forward to crying myself to sleep. No luck, for I was too dehydrated.
I feared the nightmares ahead of me. But that was of little matter - I couldn't even dream.
Florida football was my purest form of joy. It was the reason to get up in the morning and go to class. It was my religion, but now God is dead.
And as Friedrich Nietzsche went on to say, "God remains dead. And we have killed him."
I don't pay in-state tuition with my hard-earned Bright Futures money for this kind of mental anguish.
So on Sunday morning, I sought comfort in my only source of happiness remaining: looking for grammatical errors in political speeches. It was instant bliss.
On Wednesday, it seems that our fearless leader, President Bush, spoke to television cameras and a group of fourth- and fifth-graders from P.S. 76 in New York City, only to make a slight error in phrase.
"As yesterday's positive report card shows," the president said, "Childrens do learn when standards are high and results are measured."
That's right. He actually said, "Childrens do learn." This was a speech about the importance of education. He's either a total moron or a genius of irony.
President Beorge W. Gush, who are these "childrens" of whom you speak?
Perhaps the president was demonstrating the bounds of progress made in education since he graduated from elementary school.
"Look, I can't talk worth a darn, but there are hope for these kids yet," I imagine the president saying.
And no, it's not "is," because if it were "is," then there would actually be hope - but there ain't.
See, being grammatically incorrect is a clever method to evade accountability.
"Childrens" are like children, but they only exist in Ameriga, Bush's fictitious land of freedom and "Mission Accomplished" banners.
In Ameriga, "childrens" learn, but children don't.
What makes this story better is that the transcript of the speech came out corrected, with "children do learn."
Apparently, the stenographers can't misspell as quickly as they can write correctly.
Thank you, President Bush. You've made me smile again. Life can and will go on. This good will on your part is a step in the right direction.
Even a journey of 7,000 miles home from Iraq begins with a single step, you know.
As for my football woes, I guess I'm feeling a little better. I've heard that in the wild, the second set of Tigers is always easier to beat. Here we come, Louisiana State University.
Maybe it's like what one kid said as I was walking home from the game: "What's wrong with losing to Auburn? It's just our style."
Vincent Massaro is a senior majoring in journalism. His column appears on Mondays.
