A plea:

On the day of love, I offer a universal olive branch to everyone reading this. But mostly to a certain group...

Many of you need to consider the future of yourselves, your families, and your ideals. It's been three generations of failure, incompetence, and broken hearts. Now is the time to rethink all you've ever known. Now is the time you should jump ship...or bandwagons. Come! Join me on the Jordan Love bandwagon!

I say this out of fear. How long until, after a long day of work, you crawl into bed, look over at your significant other, give them a good night's kiss, and begin to utter your feelings for them. But you can't...

"I lo..."

Your spouse sees the dead look in your eyes as you stare off into the distance. They're not happy, but they understand and pull up the covers. They know the Bears suck. You remember all the times Jordan Love and the Packers beat your ass. The precision throws and the end zone dimes in dub after dub. The way he picked apart your defenses game after game. And the consistency of doing it for fifteen years. You'll never be able to tell your family that you love them without Vietnam flashbacks. The thought of uttering that man's name burns your brain and emotionally stunts you. And so your children grow up, never hearing you say how you really feel because you always think of Mr. Bad Man III.

Do you know who else never heard their parents say "I love you"? Me! And now I'm a 34-year-old unemployed virgin who still lives in his parents' basement. I'm on the verge of a third suicide attempt, have no desire to fix myself, and I'm madly in 10 with a stuffed animal. But at least I know what a HoF QB looks like! But I am only one possible future. There are so many more, but there's one, in particular, you should fear.

Your children will be in college or high school by the time the Packers think about changing QB1. Meanwhile, you're on the sixth draft bust in a roll. 24-61 since you were born. How long until they throw off the shackles you've forced upon them?

One day, your child will come home. They're having a bad day because the Bears lost again, and other parents stopped watching the team in Gary, Indiana lose. But not you. You're an embarrassment. For supper that night, you've planned a traditional Bear meal: crappy, ketchup-less hotdogs from Portillo's and homemade bratwurst. The brats used to bring your children happiness, but the weight of your football despair has wrought havoc on your cooking skills. The passion is gone, and now they remind your offspring they hate you. Out of anger, they retort at the worst thing you ever hoped to hear:

"I'm sick of sucking, mom and dad. I'm a Packers fan!"

The child's mother drops to her knees and wonders where she went wrong. She knows where she went wrong. She then stops being introspective and begins to yell at her child. The argument rages for some time.

But dear old dad gets off the couch. He's known this could happen for years. In fact, he even considered joining the bandwagon a decade ago and understands. But he couldn't. He remains silent and walks over to the Tesla Brand Robotic Bartender that comes standard with every Neulink implant.

Neulink killed three million people five years ago. Rather than admit defeat, Elon burned everything he owned down. But the bartender is still functioning. Dad asks for a whiskey, which the bartender instantly pours on the floor. It's Bears branded, so it only works between March and August, and we're already in the bleakest part of football season for Bear fans: mid October. Dad just stares at the whiskey on the ground and realizes it was actually bleach. The robot couldn't even get that right...

The argument behind him comes to a crescendo, and little Mitch/Justin/Caleb/Archie/Bahb storms out. He's going to college in Wisconsin. But he's not alone. Your daughter has agreed. The apple of your eye, Georgia/Yoko/Justina/Mackquelliegha-Rifle puts on the green and gold jacket that her loving boyfriend, Romeo, gave her and spends the night with her friend, whose parents relocated here from Door County.

All of this because you couldn't say "I love you" without thinking about Jordan Love.

The house falls quiet, and the only sound comes from the TV and WGN news. Their top story tonight is about the speech the 117-year-old Virginia McCaskey gave the media after another embarrassing loss last weekend.

"Lick my lips."

You think to yourself, "I should have listened to Shuck."

- Shuck, who Jordan Loves you all.