
Many people scoff at the idea that God can control the outcome of sporting events, or that He even cares. But those people are wrong. God does control the games, AND He cares a great deal. Today, He explains why He let the outcomes of Week 15 in the NFL happen as they did.
Hello my children. You know, the more that I think about it the more I like the idea of Festivus supplanting Christmas as the official holiday of the winter solstice. Sure, practitioners of this holiday don’t glorify me through song and prayer, but overall it has a lot more going for it than a tree and a fatass with some reindeer. While Frank Costanza’s holiday of choice isn’t steeped in history and tradition like Christmas, but it was the brainchild of a guy who spawned a Seinfeld writer. I’ll take that over some old Roman guys who decided to celebrate my son’s birth in the middle of fucking winter to appease the damn pagans.
That is why I am in favor of erecting Festivus kiosks in cities across America.

In the spirit of the holiday, I’m going to air a few of my grievances before we get to Sunday’s games.
1. Hey NFL, flexing the schedule is fucking bullshit and it’s doing more harm than good. What’s the matter, you couldn’t look into the future to see which matchups would be more compelling than others? Now I don’t expect you to have the kind of foresight that I enjoy, but it didn’t take Me to tell you that giving the Browns five nationally televised games was a colossally fucked up idea.
2. Hey Vinny Cerrato, stop making up fake stats for your joke of a fucking radio show in an attempt to make your personnel decisions look less retarded by comparison. And while we’re at it…Hey Larry Michael, quit being such a pathetic shill for Vinny. He can guarantee your employment, but I still control your everlasting soul.
3. Hey Pro Bowl, you are an affront to football as we know it. Hell, you’re an affront to Me. Go away and die in peace before I turn Hawaii into the world’s biggest magmakakke.
On to the explanations…
-While the Vikings of Minnesota were victorious I felt compelled to break the shoulder of defensive tackle Pat Williams. You see Drew was flying a bit too close to the sun after the judge put the kibosh on the NFL’s suspension plans, so I had to melt those wings a bit. I’m okay with the Vikings winning, I just want to see them struggle a bit. It’s like watching a kid masturbate for the first time, which is something I do quite often if you must know.
-The Jets of New York picked up an improbable win, but that was not a part of My divine plan. No, the NFL put the fix in on that one so it was out of my hands. What, you thought JP Losman was that terrible? Okay, he kind of is, but that’s beside the point.
-The Texans of Houston managed to upset the Titans of Tennessee because Unsilent Majority really needs to shut up about the latter’s record against the spread (UM: Duly noted).
Thanks, God!


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Fuck you god. I hope you die.
Dear God,
the only thing I ask for this year (since its almost over) is to win the pot in ONE pickem. Since this is the final week for submissions PLEASE let me win..No more suprises please.
How is magmakakke not a tag? That should become your “food metaphors” label.
Polamalu jacks someone up? Magmakakke. Brandon Jacobs implants your face in the turf? Magmakakke. Tommy beats his sister for fucking a dahkie? Magmakakke.
Fuckin’ Jeff Fisher cost my team a fantasy playoff victory this weekend by going for it on 4th down when down by only a point. One more Bironas field goal and I was onto the league finals. Asshole.
Seriously? Festivus kiosks?
Where is that? I think I’m going to move there.
Sacrilicious? Who are you, Emmit smith?
Dear God,
I don’t believe in you and don’t pray to you or anything. Is that why you made the referees deliberately make the wrong decisions?
You’re a douche. But then again, from your exploits in the Old Testament, that’s hardly a surprise.
Love Jay
God,
I’ve been playing fantasy football for 15 years, since I was a bookie in 5th grade running a league on paper with my fellow 4th graders. So many times, my skill and luck combined have taken me to the playoffs with the best team and best record, only to be upset in the first round by some You-damned fuck-stick who’s never played fantasy before. why do You torture me like so? I will be forever grateful for the undefeated championship season of 2006, but that was for pride and no money.
I ask You to shit on the Saints this week and then allow the Texans as well as Brian Westbrook to have the best games of their lives. I can’t take another You-damn failure in the championship, especially with a lot of money on the line.
Regards,
Fletch
Dear God,
YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF FUCKING EXPLAINING TO DO.
/lost in fantasy football playoffs thanks to Cutlerfucker, Housh, Barber, & ‘Skins D/ST
//cannot believe how many fucking game winning drives the Packers have given up in one goddamn season
///ESPN projects Westbrook to get me 48, gets me 9 thanks to andy reid’s hairy vag
Yo, VYS: His SON is having a birthday! You don’t think he has shit to buy and stuff?? Maybe a gift or two for some other people/angels? Dude, even God has to take care of Christmas business, is my guess.
Maybe God wants you to figure out some shit on your own.
I understand the whole thing about God being silent on war and pestilence and that stuff, yet be focused like a laser on whether Kurt Warner throws a touchdown pass. I do. Still, I just don’t understand how God can be silent as to the outcome of 13 whole NFL games this past weekend.
Was even God surprised about the Bengals beating the Redskins? Or is God trying to stay on Maj’s good side?
God,
I know it was you who took the heart out of Bawmre last Sunday. I apologize for saying you were dead all those years. How can I make it up to you?
hugh- i did not know that
Mary Beth, wrestle your father.
Dear God, no Festivus. That’s what all the Ravens fans in Baltimore called their march to the Super Bowl. That year of the playoffs effectively killed that term for me.
@georger: For me, 1990, swimsuit issue. I was 13. Perhaps the most important day of my life.
I’d like to challenge someone, anyone, in the NFL to the Feats of Strength, but aside from being a big, fat guy, I’m also a total pansy. Except I’m not as big a bowl of wuss pudding as Peter King, so I’ll take joy pummeling him as he sobs and curls up in a fetal position.
The fuck is a Vinny Cerrato?
The fuck is a Pro Bowl?
“It’s like watching a kid masturbate for the first time, which is something I do quite often if you must know.”
Remember me God? 1996 or so, Peta Wilson in Le Femme Nikita? That was the start of something special, and I hope you were there to witness the birth of a masturbatory dynasty.