While America crumbles around you in waves of Lena Dunham scented downy filled boy shorts, there is still hope. There is still football. Men battling men for victory in a contest that we gladly place above politics, crappy primetime network television, and sex with women with obvious forehead contusions. Brutal hits over the middle are our safe space. Don’t get within ten feet of Tom Brady or be flagged, naturally.

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You need to get the NFL Sunday Ticket if you don’t already have it. The next few weeks in particular are going to be stressful, what with Tom Hanks and LeBron James apologizing for manhood. You need this. This is your emotional concussion protocol. Gobble up football until you’re in a blissful coma. It’s the better meth.