Christmas is a time for being stressed out by relatives, with alcohol your only merciful bulwark against madness. Or throwing them the Coach Haley holiday greeting. Already faced with that, you expect us to work too? Not so long as we have good seasonal content to recycle. Feel like bitching? Just be thankful you’re not in Sweden, where those blond assholes go nuts for a stupid cartoon with Donald Duck in the jungle.

Also, George Michael died. No, not that one. Or that one. This one. D.C. mourns its machine.


[Cutlerfuckerville]

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome playoffs!
Come this way!

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome playoffs!
Playoffs, yay!

[Meanwhile, on forbidding Marmalard Mountain]

[Sounds of packages being floated against the walls and cracks of thunder]

Look at them, all those Jays down in Cutlerfuckerville with their warped warbling. Droopy dregs of humanity with hangdog faces and vaginas where their penises should be. How I loathe their chokery and undeserved 4th seedery. So content are they in backing their way into the playoffs. So oblivious to the fact that the bitching hour is close at hand.

But you see, My Tiny Darren, we’re gonna steal their precious packaged playoffs right out from under their droopy sulkface noses. AREN’T WE?! FUCK AND YES WE ARE! There’ll be no Hochuli to stop us this time! No. Nothing stands in the way of King Laserface’s ascent to the top of the world! SADDLE UP YOU POCKET POOCH IT’S RIDING HIGH TIME!

Oh wow, the playoffs are coming. I’ve never experienced the magic of the postseason before, especially after we screwed the pooch the last two years. I’m like Tony Romo without the smiles.

Oh! What’s that clatter? Must be Santee Claus. I would know coming from Santa Claus, Indiana. I hope he brought me the unearned sense of accomplishment I asked for!

Hey! You’re not Santee! YOU’RE NOT SANTEE AT ALL!

Don’t touch that! That’s my division title! It’s mine! Give it!

Where are you taking me!? IIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Settle, settle, widdle inferior quarterback. You’ll have more time to enjoy your Christmas figgy pudding and doodazzlers once I’ve eliminated you from playoff contention. AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN TOUGH TITTYFUCK YOU TRAGIC SULKFACE THE CLOWN! THEN I’M GONNA COLD RAPE THE COLTS IN THE POSTSEASON, JUST LIKE I DO EVERY YEAR! I HOPE THE VOLEKTRICITY IS READY! WHAT? HUH? WHAT? FUCK YOU!

[And that's when Marmalard's shriveled boner grew three sizes that day]

A Merry Playoffs to All, And May You All Get Stabbed in Your Sleep By a Marlinspike!

Ya betta ask somebodddddaaaaaayyyyyyy!