Seriously, it's time to go. With all the recent in-fighting - The anger towards Retailguy, JH, and battles with Bobblehead and the inconsolable Tarlam!, this Packerrats season has just stretched on to long and I'm quite frankly tired. Half of Packerrats is on my ignore list, including me. I've done everything I've set out to do. Multiple incorrect predictions, a string of pointless photoshopped pictures re-posted until they've become annoyances (some just the first time), a collection of dog references and pictures that have become trite, and finally just plain lousy football knowledge and commentary, makes me realize that my time has past. Plus, I have multiple sprained knuckles in my dominant typing hand, blisters on my fingertips. The game just isn't as exciting as it once was. I feel no desire to put in the off season work to prepare for next year. And where is the challenge? No skilled nemesis on FYI, no fun in the Romper Room, no interest in the Garbage can. I feel sort of like a veteran of the Packers - that guy can retire at the pinnacle of his career. Similarly, I can retire having reached the absolute depths of internet blogging depravity - an achievement in it's own right. There are no tears, no looking to the heavens. No unretirement will follow and I won't try to maneuver my way into blogging on a Vikings website. I've run out the string, jeopardized my job, alienated myself from my family with my on-line addiction, and generally created ill-will wherever I go. With a Packer victory and championship, there is really nothing left to live for as a fan, so it's time to put down the playthings of childhood and become a man. There are jobs to be done around the house: A toilet needs unclogging, a picture re-hung, a child deloused. These are the things that will occupy my retirement. I'll miss the camaraderie of Packerrats, the love, the hatred, the little spats over Favre's weasel and Crosby's FG percentage from 53 and 1/2 yards. The amount the defensive backs' head was turned towards the ball - the knife edge between super extra-crispy defensive back stardom and Bushesque derision. The use of -esque. I'll miss that too. It's so Mraynrandesque. There is sadness in my heart as the moment of my leaving approaches. Perhaps one tear - just one - for my home, my friends, at Packerrats? Not a chance.