Disgusted. This is the first match in my life I didn’t finish watching. Command-DEL sent it right where it fucking belongs.

I fully realize we’re on the back foot with injuries, and we’re about to come away from the end of another long and grueling campaign with nothing to show for it. But that is not an excuse to fuck off on the pitch like you just don’t care anymore. If we play this way against Fulham, we deserve to lose. And further more, the fucking Spuds deserve third place more than we do at this point. They are, in their own ridiculous way, fighting tooth and nail to claw their way up the table. Arsenal are sitting back and watching the remainder of the season just happen to them. I can’t even believe I’m actually writing this, and it breaks my heart. I’m actually considering not watching the final match.

I have never, ever been this upset with Arsenal. Most other teams would be thrilled with third or fourth place in the Premiership, I understand. But, this is Arsenal. Victoria Concordia Crescit, anyone? Our harmony has been upended and victory is nowhere to be seen. Arsène Wenger has some serious work cut out for him this summer if he’s to restore either. Good fucking luck trying to do it with one, perhaps two signings, Professor. And you just know that’s all we’ll get. Chamakh is nearly a lock, and we’ll see one perhaps two other names, if we’re extremely lucky, that no one has ever heard of. “Ones for the future.” I’m telling you right now, that it’s not good enough. I’m getting a little bit tired of waiting for the future. I’m getting a little tired of hearing the blogosphere pundits tell us how wonderful we did this year considering all the injuries we sustained. Tell yourself that when John Fucking Terry is holding the silverware over his head and kissing it with lips still moist from Mrs. Bridge’s DNA.

Wholesale changes are in order. If they don’t happen, we’ll see yet another fruitless season rife with injuries. I hope to sweet fuck that I’m entirely wrong about that.