THEY’RE STILL LOCKED OUT! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!! FUCK A TREE STUMP! OH FUCK ALL!

Oh God. Oh man. Oh God. Oh man. Oh God. Oh man.

WHY? Why is this happening? Why can’t you people just… UNNNGHHHHH I’M SO ANGRY I WANT TO EAT A BUNNY! They’re aren’t gonna agree, are they? They’ll just keep moving the deadline back and back and back and NOTHING WILL CHANGE GAHHHHHHHHH. They’re gonna keep doing this until they break off again and everything goes to shit and WHERE IS THAT BOX OF POWDERED TIDE BECAUSE I NEED TO MIX IT WITH BLEACH AND DRINK IT.

YOU! YOU, YOU GINGER-FACED FUCKHOLE! Why can’t you get your fucking bosses to just… fucking… AGREE?! Is it that goddamn hard? Just distract them with cigars and high praise and middle-aged blonde hookers who are hot to a really old rich guy but not that hot to ANYONE ELSE. Just tell fucking Jerry Jones there’s a planeload of free pussy waiting for him on the tarmac. He’ll go! Ralph Wilson gets distracted whenever his PC makes a beep because he thinks it’s a GHOST talking to him! FUCKING DO SOME COMMISSIONING, YOU IMPOTENT BLEEDING CUNT! Peter King says you can stop racial conflict but I ain’t seen you stop SHIT! YOU FUCKING SUCK WHALECOCK!

And you! You John Witherspoon-looking motherfucker! I’ve been on your side the whole time, I tell you. Every commenter at Florio’s site is hurling poorly veiled racial invective at you and christening you with all kinds of horrible, Bernie Goldberg-approved nicknames (Duh Smith! So funny!). But I didn’t do that because I know the players are getting fucked. But now shit is getting REAL and I need you to fucking FOLD. I need you to take whatever piece of shit deal is sitting there and hold onto it like a burn victim clutching the morphine drip. I know it sucks but MY LIFE IS IN DANGER NOW AND I CAN’T AFFORD COMPASSION. FUCKING TAKE THE ROOKIE WAGE SCALE AND GET ON WITH IT BECAUSE I’M NOT GOING TO MAKE IT.

AND YOU! YOU DICK! You and Silver and Freeman and Schefter and Mullen and the rest. QUIT PLAYING GAMES WITH MY HEART! It was a good day. It was a bad day. The owners have leverage. The players have leverage. Terry Bradshaw is dead. Terry Bradshaw is ALIVE. THIS IS AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER AND MY HEART IS NOT BUILT TO WITHSTAND IT, NOT GIVEN THE AMOUNT OF GROUND MEAT PRODUCTS I CONSUME. You are actively fucking with me, the way you constantly take Albert Breer’s excellent reporting and repackage it into a more digestible and disreputable form. Why do I even read you? YOU’RE A WEST VIRGINIAN!

I can’t listen to actual NFL news that isn’t about the lockout anymore. People start talking about where Plaxico Burress will go and who Andy Reid will be dumb enough to trade Kevin Kolb away to before realizing in Week 6 that Mike Vick is only built to withstand a five-week season and I can’t listen to it BECAUSE I KNOW IT’S BULLSHIT. It was bullshit before, but it’s even bullshittier now, because NOTHING has fucking happened yet. All it does is remind me that football is in danger and it’s like seeing my own child suspended over a hotel balcony with Troy Williamson holding his ankle and I know the child will fall because Troy Williamson drops everything because he’s Troy Williamson and he is EVIL.

YOU WHORES. YOU GAPING, PURPLE-ASSHOLED WHORES. You are slowly draining my will to live with your endless dithering. Just… fucking DO SOMETHING. Don’t give me this whole “it has lots of moving parts” bullshit. LALALALALA I AM DEAF TO THE LEGAL AND LOGISTICAL REALITIES OF YOUR DISPUTE. Deep down, I am just a braindead asshole who wants your complicated process fixed in an impossibly simple manner so that I can resume sitting in front of my TV drooling like a fucking idiot and taking whatever bullshit you shovel into my face. I beseech you to stop bickering amongst yourselves and start abusing me for money and attention like the absolute lackey I know I am. I’m here! I’m a complete sucker! MILK MY MONEY TEATS FOR ALL THEIR WORTH! I WILL OBLIGE!

You want an update on the NFL lockout? Here’s my update: KISS MY DICK.