I, Bartman

After a long and painful emotional inventory, I have come to the conclusion that it is not the fault of the Cubs for the woes they encounter, the failures they achieve or the pain they force us to endure year after year. It is instead simply the fault of us. Yes, we the collective Cub fan are the single source and lone burning ember which ignites the inferno of madness that entirely consumes with great ease the hopes and dreams which we had built every spring training. There is no curse, there is no foul wind of misfortune. There is just positive thinking, and in a world where hopes are crushed and dreams are laughed at like so many sick kittens lost in a doberman factory, positive thinking is nothing more than a way to pass the time before the the dark falls. W must stop this lunacy post-haste, lest we all succumb to its most dangerous side effect...Cub-fan-apathy.
You have seen them, the apathetic fans. They are in every section, at every game. They keep score, emotionless, with the look about them of someone consumed by years of climing the peaks of first place, only to have gravity kick in and suck them back to earth like a lead balloon. They are beyond consolation, they are lost in horrific memories. Memories with names like Buckner, Bartman and Billy...the Goat, that is. They check off thier lives measured by the years added up since a Cubs Pennant. Most importantly, they have resigned themselves to the fact that there will be no more fanaticism to be denied, there will never again be a Cubs fan grace to fall from, be it a Mark Grace or otherwise.
I refuse this fate. I refuse to be sucked in so completely that I begin thinking the Cubs will go all the way in my lifetime based only on skills and fantastic management. They will need much more. They will need the fans to change the way they think. Beginning today, less than 5 hours after the NY Mets handed us loss number TWO in complete and utter disgrace, I have decided I shall do my part. From this moment on, My beloved Cubs will not have me to "curse" them with my positive thinking. From this moment, every win shall come to me as a complete shock, every loss will slip away barely noticed, and until the World Series tickets in my hand include the name CHICAGO CUBS in full color, I will refrain from my usual display of irrational behavior and drunken revelry. That, I shall save, for the Bears.
Oh Lord, I am SO screwed.