Two teams that will not win the Super Bowl this year are the Oakland Raiders and San Francisco 49ers. I am sorry to say this, but I fear it is true. Recent evidence strongly suggests that neither the Raiders nor the 49ers will survive the first round of the playoffs. They both went into a tailspin at the end of the regular season and are now forced to go on the road and be flogged in hostile stadiums full of violent enemy fans. That is what happens to teams that go into the playoffs on a losing streak.

The fact San Francisco racked up a 38-0 win against New Orleans will be worth about one point to them against the Packers in Green Bay. They would have been favored by three or four, if they hadn't turned into jelly against Dallas (and St. Louis, for that matter), which cost them home-field advantage -- but they will be five- or maybe six-point underdogs at Lambeau Field, and they will lose by six.

If this doomsday talk sounds familiar, remember that the last two teams I croaked were the Broncos and the Colts, and that was back in Week 7, when both were still contenders. Hell, the World Series was still going on, and my boys from Arizona were about to punch out the Yankees. Of course, I also predicted, back then, that the 49ers would stomp Cleveland in the Super Bowl, and that wild beasts would destroy Los Angeles on Halloween. ... Ah, well -- even Nostradamus had bad days. Nobody is right all the time, especially not on predictions 500 years into the future, but Nostradamus kicked ass in Big Games ... they say he won four out of five, and that is tall cotton when you're betting on the Playoffs.

	This scene of Dick Jauron getting doused won't be repeated soon if the Good Doctor has any influence.

But what the hell? Let's give it a whirl. Anything not worth going out on a limb for is probably not worth doing. So here it is:

The Bears will win it all. They will ambush the Rams for the NFC crown, then humiliate Pittsburgh in New Orleans. This is the wisdom I get from Michael, my man on the Football channel. He speaks to me through the ocean and the ether, if I've been a Good boy -- and on the numbers he ranks with Nostradamus. I am a profoundly Spiritual person, on some days, and chickens squawk in egg barns all over the country when I'm winning.

Things are different when I lose. I am the one who squawks, then, and chickens die by the thousands. But not always. On most days I get mixed results, anyway, and when that happens I feel schizoid. If the 49ers somehow manage to beat the Packers in Green Bay, for instance, I will be happier than I will be if Michael is right, and that is very possible. On any given Sunday, San Francisco can beat any team in the League.

My friend Harry Dean Stanton is predicting a 49er upset. "They have done it before, in the north country," he told me. "I remember one time when they went up to Minnesota and beat the crap out of those Purple people. They had snow piled up about eight feet high on the sidelines. It was below zero outside, and the 49ers came out wearing short-sleeve jerseys. That cracked those cheese-eaters' nerves before the game even started. They were pitiful."

"Yeah," I said. "I remember the game -- but that was when Joe Montana was in his prime."

"Exactly," he replied, "and Jeff Garcia is better than Montana -- that's what his numbers say."

	Rich Gannon and the Raiders are rolling in the wrong direction as the playoffs begin.

"Heehaw," I sneered. "The numbers also said it was mathematically impossible for three domestic jet planes to crash into the World Trade Towers and the Pentagon on the same day."

"Those swine," he muttered. "When I saw that, I got the Fear." And then he threw a glass of whiskey on some people sitting next to us in the Buffalo Club.

"I did it because they are foreigners," he told the manager. "They were talking about bombs."

"So are we," I reminded him. "What if some strangers threw whiskey on us?"

"I would have them killed," he snarled. "They are swarthy, and they have bushy hair."

Indeed. And so much for Hollywood, eh? That town is full of bigots like Harry Dean. They will make your life miserable, if you let them.

As for the Oakland Raiders, I would personally like to see them beat whoever they play in the first round, if only because that would send them into Pittsburgh for another ugly showdown. Pittsburgh is Always fun, no less than San Francisco at Green Bay, now that you mention it. Many teeth will be loosened in that game. The 49ers are faster and slicker, when they're clicking, but the Packers have a knack for protecting their own turf. They are 12-0 in recent playoff games, and Brett Favre has won the last 30 consecutive games at home when the temperature is 34 degrees or below ... That is hard Mojo to beat, in the snow, and the odds are about 66-1 against our seeing a SF-Chicago rematch this year. ... But if my people can win at Green Bay, they can win anywhere. But don't bet the rent on it. The secret of winning it all is to come into the playoffs on a roll, and that ain't happening in the Bay Area.

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It is happening in Tampa, however, and never mind that stupid loss to the Eagles' practice squad last week. Warren Sapp was on the bench for that game -- but he will be like a beast with five backs in the rematch. We will see a lot of "Bays" in the playoffs, but none of them will go undefeated.

The reason I have picked Chicago is that I hope my endorsement will Jinx them, as it has with the 49ers. That is the Fan in me talking, the geek who believes in Voodoo.

I told you I am a Spiritual man, so take that for what it's worth -- and remember, beware of the urge to double up when you're losing. That will lead to having 700 pig bladders dumped on your front yard by the Yakuza, and nobody needs That.

OK, and Happy New Year from the Waterheads in the Emergency Room. May the rats never be on your back.

Dr. Hunter S. Thompson's books include Hell's Angels, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72, The Proud Highway, Better Than Sex and The Rum Diary. His new book, Fear and Loathing in America, has just been released. A regular contributor to various national and international publications, Thompson now lives in a fortified compound near Aspen, Colo. His column, "Hey, Rube," appears each Monday on Page 2.