Every Packer fan in the Cheesehead Nation is fully aware of this—which means that it won't be a necessarily good week.
It's not like the week will be intolerable for cheeseheads, or anything, just uncomfortable. You probably don't want to cut one off in traffic this week.
It's not like the cheesehead will go postal on anyone—no, cheeseheads are content with just shooting deer; it's more like how you would feel if you had to eat celery all week. Only celery. And nothing else. For every meal. All week. You'd do it, but you wouldn't be happy about it.
What will be on every cheesehead's mind all week just is how much they hate the Bears. This is a fact. So I thought I'd put together a few of the countless reasons why we hate the Bears to relieve some of the gnawing angst we all feel this week. Here are five reasons we Packer fans hate the Chicago Bears:
1. They are from Chicago.
Nothing good comes out of Chicago. Never has. In fact the only good things to come out of the entire state of Illinois were Abraham Lincoln and Ray Nitschke. Even Santa Claus hates Chicago. He hasn't been there since 1947. And if you are on Santa's bad side, and you live outside of the state, you will get Chicago Bear jerseys and paraphernalia for Christmas. It is worse than getting coal.
2. Dick Butkus
Some of this isn't necessarily Dick Butkus' fault. It is the media's. Because somewhere down the line, the media decided that Dick Butkus was a better linebacker than Ray Nitschke. It certainly wasn't the NFL. For when both Butkus and Nitschke were playing ball, it was not Butkus who was named by the NFL as the best linebacker in the NFL's first 50 years, but Ray Nitschke.
Butkus was a monster. Because a man possesses inhuman bestial qualities, however, does not make him the better linebacker. The main differences between Nitschke and Butkus are that Nitschke would tear your head off, whereas Butkus would tear your head off, then eat it. Nitschke would knock you silly with a broken leg; Butkus would knock you silly with his mother's broken-off leg.
Nitschke played with his heart; Butkus played with his teeth. Vince Lombardi could speak English to Ray Nitschke and Ray would follow orders. George Halas would have to speak in grunts and gutteral noises to Butkus because Butkus could not speak human language, and then have Butkus follow the smell of meat.
Sure, it might be true that Butkus ate some five or six players from opposing teams, but he certainly was no Ray Nitschke.
3. Al Capone/Geraldo
It is common knowledge in Wisconsin that Chicago people come up north to Wisconsin for vacations. I "FIB" you not.
It's not that I blame them for wanting to get out of Illinois—any human-rights group would support such an exodus—but why do these people have to come to Wisconsin? They come up and start trying to boss everyone around, rubbing everybody the wrong way, acting like they own the place and try telling everyone what to do. But the cheeseheads just laugh at these clowns.
Well, this practice has been going on for quite some time; probably for as long as Chicago has been unbearable for even Chicago people, and they have needed an escape. Certainly, it was true back in the day when Chicago's most famous gangster—that is, who wasn't named Daley—used to come up north for some R & R. Yes, Al Capone used to head to Wisconsin for some time away from violin parties and tommy-guns.
Now this was common knowledge to the locals. But then Geraldo Rivera had to bring his entire production crew into the state, so he could open Al Capone's secret vault. It was a nationally-televised event, complete with all the extravaganza of a major promotion.
And what did the event produce? What was in Al Capone's secret vault?
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
So Al Capone and Geraldo made us cheeseheads sit through an entire broadcast of false promises, completely wasting out time. Unacceptable. Unforgivable.
4. Refrigerator Perry
During the Bears' championship years in the 1980s, the Packers were not intimidated. In the first game of our yearly series back then, we had the Bears where we wanted them. We had the lead late in the game. We were stopping them at the goal line.
But then, desperately needing a touchdown to win, Mike Ditka pulled out the Fridge card. He moved 800-lb. tackle William 'The Refrigerator' Perry into the backfield. Nobody could believe it. They called signals, the ball was snapped—and sure enough they gave the ball to the Fridge. All he did was lean forward which tilted the earth just enough for him to get into the end zone. The Bears dodged a bullet, while Packer fans had to swallow a very bitter pill.
Well, the next time we met later in that season, the teams faced an identical situation in the final moments of the game. We had the lead. They had the ball on our one-inch line. But they couldn't get it in; they couldn't score.
So what does Ditka do? Well, the huddle breaks, and there he is lined up in the backfield again—Refrigerator Perry. So the Packers tighten up, figuring they are not going to get burned twice on this. Everybody knows who the ball will be handed to, right? Sure enough the ball is snapped, McMahon goes over to hand the ball to Fridge, but instead of handing him the ball, he FAKES it to him! McMahon then passes the ball into the end zone for an easy score, the win, and another bitter pill for cheeseheads to swallow.
Well, that pill is still there.
5. The '85 Bears
Granted, the 1985 Bears were a good football team. In fact I would bet Dick Butkus' mother's leg that there hasn't been a better team suited up since then—and that includes any team Emmit Smith played on or anything the Nor-Easter blow-hards up in New England misinterpret as the Second Coming.
The '85 Bears had it all. Plus, they had Walter Peyton. There were no weaknesses on that team. McMahon had as fine and impactful of a season that a quarterback can have. He looked like Terry Bradshaw and John Elway rolled into one. The offense was unstoppable and the defense was unrelenting. Certainly one of the best teams ever.
But they were still the Chicago Bears.
The Bears were so good that they even put out a music video about how good they were. Wisconsin responded and put out their own song. About the Bears. A polka, no less. It is called, "The Bears Still Suck." It goes something like this: "The Bears still suck. The Bears still suck. They really, really, really, really, really, really, really suck."
No matter if they get to the Super Bowl and fall on their faces to the Colts, or just plain fall on their faces during the season, all Packer fans know this sentiment is constant.
Indeed, the song remains forever true in that, no matter what, "The Bears Still Suck."