To whomever may be listening: it is imperative that you put a stop to the NFL lockout. The consequences of a prolonged work stoppage are more dire than you could ever begin to imagine.

At the time the lockout commenced, it was thought that the worst that could occur was perhaps that a full season of the NFL would be lost, stripping billions from the economy and leaving tens of thousands of wage workers, whose livelihood depends on NFL games, without a source of income. While these did in fact happen and are unfortunate, it turns out that they should be the least of your worries.

What fools we were. Had only we heeded the warnings of warrior-priest-hierophant Mike Florio. For it was he who prophesized that without the steadying guidance of the NFL, its erstwhile players would engage in untold acts of violence and mayhem, leaving only heaps of corpses and leveled towns in their wake. His words were met with swift and unstinting ridicule at first. But it wasn’t long before the world witnessed the realization of his doomsaying.

As the months passed, petty episodes of violence and isolated fits of malevolence worsened into full-scale acts of terrorism and anarchy. We underestimated the civilizing force that the ownership and coaching staffs had on these beasts. Even players once thought to be utterly moral and God-fearing transformed into rapacious monsters. With my own eyes (before they were later ripped from their sockets by Patriots corner Devin McCourty) I saw Tim Tebow and Larry Fitzgerald bite through the jugulars of an entire district of schoolchildren. They wouldn’t even settle for ripping their throats out with their hands. They had to use their teeth. If only my mind’s eye could be blinded as well. I don’t wish to see those images anymore.

Even as the violence escalated, military and civilian leaders were unconcerned about the threat, despite Florio’s continued pleas for sanity. After all, what match were a few hundred genetic freaks against the National Guard or, if needed, the rest of the Armed Forces? Of course, it wasn’t only the Pandora’s box of drug use and violent crime that was thrown open by the lockout, it was all kinds of conduct unbecoming of the league, specially sex. Antonio Cromartie and Willis McGahee could have increased the size of their fighting force tenfold on their own. When the players didn’t wish to risk their own bodies to topple the government, they had at their disposal a vast legion of unhinged fanboys willing to put love of Adrian Peterson above their own family and country. A regular human shield would have been effective enough on its own, but one so fat and blindingly pallid turned out to be immensely more impenetrable.

It is tragic that we lost the great Florio during the early stages of this struggle. He was betrayed by the very owners whom he wished to fellate one-by-one before expiring. It was not long before the players seized control of the government and all the resources that came with it. Again they were undone by their untamed animalistic urges. Jared Allen caused meltdowns at a dozen nuclear facilities only because he liked the sight of the explosion. A few players – gritty and deceptively fast ones, preached for order by Tweeting #SMH – but they too were cut down. One piece of Wes Welker’s body flies in front of every state capital as an example to traitors.

Now all is left is The Resistance. Who knows how long we will be able to hold out? Our supply of diversionary white bitches runs ever thinner. Once that cache is exhausted, we may be forced to live out our days in seclusion underground, only emerging to feast on the ample amounts of food that these uncontrollable behemoths waste daily on a whim.