I’m sorry, Peyton Manning, about your sudden collapse in the fourth quarter of your Monday night game. It was as if you, Peyton Manning, were sabotaged by 2005 Peyton Manning, who then opened a wormhole and instantaneously replaced you with himself. Where were you when 2005 Peyton was in the game? Did you get something to eat? I don’t know much about time travel, but I bet it would make me hungry.

I feel bad for you, Peyton Manning, because the other teams in your division are actually good now. It’s bad enough that you’re living with the burden of being a decent human being off the field, Peyton Manning, but now you have to carry your team without a running game or defense. It’s like, you were so busy acting like a football player that could carry his team…and now you actually have to BE one. It’s like that one Kevin Kline movie where he becomes president and then bangs the chick from Ghostbusters. I remember the name of his character, but not the name of that movie, for some reason.

You have so many endorsements and reputable friends, Peyton Manning, and I only have one of each. But I get to do lots of other cool stuff. I can drop in pass coverage in games and then drop my nuts on some random woman’s chin afterwards. If you only knew the anonymity that came with being a 6-foot-4-inch bald guy. You know what those great clutch players have that you don’t? Real simple–STDs. I don’t know what tainted pussy does for the competitor in me, I don’t ever question science. Or answer questions about science.

So…yeah…if you ever want to tag-team some human resources girls sometime…I’m on the cell.