My online sportsbook of choice, Bodog Life, is known for some of their rather unusual prop and future bets. Now I’ve made no secret of my fondness for wagering on American Idol results, and any other stupid shit that can make daily life more entertaining and profitable. So when I learned that Bodog was offering odds on the first NFL player to wind up in cuffs this season I was intrigued. Then I looked at their list, a list that fails to include even one token white guy! Apparently Bodog feels that the only guys worth mentioning in the same sentence as “NFL player arrested” are black, and some of them don’t even make the slightest bit of sense.

Chris Henry, Bengals: 4/6

Well yeah, obviously. If we were just betting on whether a player would get busted or not in the next year I’d be all over this, but if it’s just the first guy to get arrested then I’ll need some better odds.

Pacman Jones, Cowboys: 1/1

Fair enough, but again, the odds are a joke.

Tank Johnson, Cowboys: 2/1

Shit, Tank lives in Texas now. If he gets caught with another cache of handguns and assault rifles he’s going to be nominated for a seat on the state senate. Of course there’s still a decent chance he could get pulled over for driving while black again, but they can’t actually charge him with that (outside of Mississippi).

Ray Lewis, Ravens: 5/1

Ever since Ray watched his buddies kill that guy and got caught obstructing justice he’s been a model citizen. Thanks, Jesus!

Steve Smith, Panthers: 5/1

As far as I know, Steve Smith has never been convicted of any sort of crime (and no, punching a teammate in practice is not going to get you arrested any time soon). What I do know (thanks Wiki!) is that he was raised by his mother, a drug counselor who taught him to stay away from that shit. As an adult he’s been a dedicated family man who has partnered with fellow Carolinians Dell Curry and Jay Bilas to form Athletes United for Youth. Oh, and most recently he began interning at Morgan Stanley’s Charlotte branch. HIDE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN!

Kellen Winslow, Browns: 6/1

Kellen’s record is cleaner than Brady Quinn’s jersey, and if being a douchebag was an arrestable offense in Ohio the whole state would be be on lockdown.

Randy Moss, Patriots: 10/1

Sure, Randy has had some off-field issues in the past, but what jury would ever convict a guy of bumping a traffic cop or getting blazed “once in a blue moon?” Besides, as long as he’s playing in New England nobody’s gonna fuck with him. Unless of course he has a bad game, in which case Tommy’s buddies on the force will waste little time planting crack all over his person.

Ricky Williams, Dolphins: 15/1

Seriously, leave the poor fucking guy alone. Ricky’s never been behind bars because there ain’t shit wrong with a little bit (or a lot) of weed. Ricky, who suffers from Social Anxiety Disorder (like half of the blogosphere), once told ESPN that, “Marijuana is 10 times better for me than Paxil.” Frankly he must have been high when he said that, because marijuana is at least 100,000 times better than Paxil. Sure one gives you the munchies and cotton mouth, but the other one makes you fat and impotent. If anybody should be arrested it’s those cockbags in the pharmaceutical industry (except for whoever developed Xanax, that shit’s alright).

So who does belong on this list with guys like Henry and Pacman? Chris Mottram at the Sporting Blog lobbies for the inclusion of master drunk driver Jared Allen and cokehead Matt Jones, but why stop there? Surely there are more white guys worthy of inclusion on such a list, not to mention all of those mysterious Samoans.

Please include your picks for players (of any race) most likely to get arrested in the comment section.

Oh, and Dennis Northcutt is officially off the board.

But what if you combined crackers AND soup?

What flubby’s Sunday funny missed in its NFL commercial breakdown was the preponderance of Chunky Soup ads readying to bombard our sets during the bullshit TV timeouts between a kick return and the start of an offensive series. Sure, it’s soup that eats like a meal, but only if that meal is served in a prison mess hall.

Unlike Kirk Van Houten’s cracker company, Campbell Soup has seen fit to abandon the family market and target middle-aged single guys. So they ditched Momma McNabb and (I guess) Casey Hampton’s mom in favor of LaDainian Tomlinson’s helmet cam. Because nothing makes me hungry for soup like intercutting shots up a running back’s nose with flashes of Norv Turner.

You Been Blinded provides footage of LDT’s Blair Witch-esque making-of video.

LaKneeInjury, ever the student of history, is mindful but unconcerned with the Chunky Soup Curse. You as fantasy owners should not be so foolhardy.

/attempting to coax other owners to let him fall to pick no. 6.

NOTE: Before reading the entirety of this post, please understand that there are some slightly NSFW-ish images that follow. Are they good or bad NSFW? Both? Only one way to find out, bitches!

(more…)

The best division in football, right up until Donovan McNabb gets hurt, Eli Manning returns to mediocrity, Jon Jansen gets Jason Campbell killed, and the Dallas Cowboys are smote by a just God.

WASHINGTON REDSKINS

A Few Fast Facts About the Redskins
- Right now Sean Taylor’s killer is being brutally raped. And if he isn’t, he certainly should be.
- Redskins fans have been so used to Joe Gibbs and his penchant for deflecting criticism from his players that Jim Zorn’s willingness to criticize rookies for being out of shape and call his offensive line’s performance “soft” has everybody in a tizzy. It’s going to take a while to get used to a coach who doesn’t run his team like a sermonizing grandfather who thinks everybody is fucking blind.
- Contrary to unpopular belief, Chief Zee doesn’t wear “red-face”.

Vegas Over/Under For 2008: 7.5

Verdict: Over. Sure they’re coming off of a 47-3 loss that had me screaming like Buzz Bissinger on a PCP bender, but hey, it’s just the pre-season, right? right?!?! FUCK ME LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL! GOD DAMN IT REED DOUGHTY, IF YOU COULD HEAR YOU MIGHT NOTICE THE WIDE RECEIVERS TRAMPLING PAST YOU! AND WHY THE FUCK DOES OUR LINE LOOK LIKE THEY’RE WEARING FUCKING ROLLER SKATES?! So yeah, Super Bowl or bust!

NEW YORK GIANTS

A Few Fast Facts About the Giants
- Kate Mara never thought she’d miss Jeremy Shockey’s constant attempts to shove his hand down her pants, but she totally does.
- Michael Strahan won’t really come back for $8 million and “a few kind words,” but if you throw in an enema administered by his ex-wife’s sister then you might have yourself a deal.
- David Tyree is from Montclair, New Jersey, otherwise known as the home of one Peter King. Also, he’s still not a very good football player.

Vegas Over/Under For 2008: 8.5

Verdict: Under. Osi’s done for the year, Strahan isn’t coming back, and the secondary blows without a pass rush. But hey, at least they have Eli and his equally unstoppable Citizen EcoDrive. They’ll finish below .500 and Coughlin will probably kill himself before the season’s over.

DALLAS COWBOYS

A Few Fast Facts About the Cowboys
- Roy Williams is actually worse than Reed Doughty.
- Tony Romo finds himself more and more intellectually stimulated by Jessica Simpson every day. Just another example of how spending time in Dallas will make you dumber.
- Wade Phillips is intent on teaching Adam Jones how to be a good teammate. In return Jones is going to teach Wade how to eat the one thing on which he’s never indulged. Pussy.

Vegas Over/Under For 2008: 10.5

Verdict: Over. Yeah, I guess they’re pretty good. But they’ll figure out a fun new way to fuck up the playoffs.

PHILADELPHIA EAGLES

A Few Fast Facts About the Eagles
- The Reid family went with Mormonism because they thought Christian Scientists had too many pesky rules. Apparently praying to Jesus to get you high doesn’t work nearly as well as a few fistfuls of Vicodin with an OxyContin chaser.
- Donovan McNabb finds Jimmy Rollins’ ideas intriguing and he’d like to subscribe to his newsletter.
- DeSean Jackson is like Usain Bolt without the size, strength, precision, and speed. But he’s still going to fuck up everybody’s shit.
- Everyone knows that Brian Westbrook is versatile, but did you know that he once fucked his girlfriend in ten different positions in one night? While he’s perfectly capable of lining up in her slot he’d rather come out of her backfield.

Vegas Over/Under For 2008: 8.5

Verdict: Under. Andy Reid will finally throw Donovan McNabb under the bus, and Brian Westbrook will realize that there’s no real point in trying anymore.

At last, head fieldmaster “Gentleman” Mike Nolan has named me, J.T. of the family O’Sullivan, the starting quartered-back of the San Francisco Footballing Fourtyniners. No doubt that he was swayed by the best slugging arm this side of the Northwest Territory.

Top of the world, ma!

Blithely and skillfully did I upend the inimical roustabout Alex Smith from his prized station. Having weathered a few haymakers, some more pepperpots and the old calaboose did the lumbering giant go down, rendering him a pile of bustable materials. Back to the train yards with you, good sir.

Now quartered-backing is the bailiwick of J.T. O’Sullivan. I am proven suitable at commanding a squad of able-bodied marauders. Together we will sock our opponents in the area of their visage until such point that their verticality is compromised.

Ho!

My boisterous nature got the better of me, as it is wont to do. The scourge of vainglory is known to inflict men of great stature ever and anon, and inflict it has this great O’Sullivan. These bouts are often cured by beating myself about the face. In fact, let me quell this on the spot.

And… wait, whoa there!

You, halfbacking fellow, why do you appear beset by panic? What news this day?

The opposing teams have been permitted to wear masks of metal over their facial areas? How then are the haymakers to connect? This bedeviling product of flimflammery has thrown the proverbial pandawrench into the gears of the great footballing machine! This age of industry is not the great boon that the newspapers say.

No matter. Haymakers will be thrown. The scion of industry will be bested, along with the foes of the Fourtyniners. No obstacle will stop us from traversing long units of measurement en route to pummeling their offspring and womenfolk.

Ah, there is the vainglory again. We must remedy this at once!

And one aaand -

Ouf.

Aaaaaahhhhhhh

This is a pretty funny video, except it is marred by a small– yet bothersome– error. I’m willing to suspend belief in order to be entertained for a little while. For example, I was willing to accept the premise that John Travolta and Nick Cage could just lop off each others faces, swap them, then keep having crazyass fight scenes. Hell, I even made it through “Boiler Room” even though they asked us to believe Vin Diesel passed the Series 7. But this sketch pushes even my generous boundaries of credulity. I mean, a black Packers fan? Are you kidding me??? What kind of wacky science fiction is this?

[ warning: may be NSFW ]

But other than that, this is wholly typical of my weekly NFL viewing experience. Cold beers, simulated fellatio, even a little watersports. Except I would never sit on a sofa that small with two other guys. Seems a tad gay for my tastes.

It’s time you and I had a man-to-man talk, Jamal Lewis. You’ve been on my fantasy team for quite some time now, Jamal. We’ve had our ups and downs since I took you in 2005, even after you went to jail for four weeks the previous season on what was technically setting up a drug deal. I knew you were a hard, downhill runner, which is odd because I always thought the football field was a relatively level structure. But I digress.

Jamal, don’t you fuck me in the ass like you did in 2005. I had the number one pick going into that draft. Did I run off with Corey Dillon or Curtis Martin, motherfucker? Hell, no. I stood by your broken-down ass because I FUCKING BELIEVED IN YOU. And how was I rewarded for my undying faith? Three shitty little touchdowns. And way to give me that one 100-yard game on the last week of our season. That really solidified my 1-11 finish. Cocksucker.

And here we are again. Did you think I was going to throw myself onto Michael Turner like some floozy? Shit, no. EVERYONE on the Browns’ offense is ranked at or near the top five in their respective positions–except for you. You turn 29 this season. You run behind the best line in the league. I KNOW you have another 1,200-yard season in you, you big fucking loser. You can do it, buddy!

Here’s Brady Quinn wearing tights and practicing one of the many positions he is required to learn as an “open bottom” at the local steel mill’s weekend raves. Keep those hip UP, young man. It’s the only way you’re gonna be able to fit a industrial strength curling iron inside your body cavity.

Zak Keasey is drooling at his computer AS WE SPEAK.

YES! I knew it! I knew staying in Denver after I got cut would pay big dividends. Oh, thank you, DNC. Thank you so very much. Finally, this town’s gonna be flooded with girls who are WILLING to have abortions!

Nice!

I can’t wait. For four whole days, I am gonna be surrounded by some seriously desperate independent feminazi poon tang. These chicks have been marching and canvassing and protesting all year long. Something tells me they’re ready to vote for some Travis Henry Cock to help wind down! It’s got the highest THC content of all!

Best of all, I don’t even have to TRY and convince these gals to go and get scraped! Hell, they can’t wait to get pregnant, then spin on over to the Baby Dispatch Clinic and get it all on video for their Master’s thesis art project at Oberlin. AWESOME.

Sure, most of these chicks are over 150 lbs, and old, and have short hair, and wear fanny packs. IT’S WORTH THE TRADEOFF FOR ONE KICKASS RU-486 PARTY, I TELL YOU! GET ME SOME PLASTIC SHEETING FOR MY CONDO FLOOR! All I have to do is tell them how hard it is to be a black man America today, and their lily-white, open-minded asses are MINE! Shit, I’ll wear a goddamn Obama mask if they want!

Finally. No more getting laid, then sitting around happily oblivious for six weeks, only to have the girl come knocking at my door talking about, “Hey, you’re gonna be a Daddy now, Travis. You have responsibilities. THIS IS MY BABY AND MY CHOICE!” God, what a bunch of tightasses these Denver chicks are. “I care about family!” Pfft. Whatever, Hitler lady.

No more trying to convince them. No more punching them in the tummy and hoping for the best. No more pretending to “sleepwalk” with my trusty wire hanger. No more calling Rae Carruth for advice. FINALLY, SOME CHICKS ARE IN TOWN WHO KNOW HOW TO FUCKING PARTY! THEY CAN’T ALL BE LESBOS!

I’m telling you, this town is gonna be Shangri-La for bareback riding enthusiasts the world over. I heard Larry Bird is even showing up! I’m gonna slip so many past the goalie, you’d think it was the goddamn NHL All-Star game. Just call me Alexander Inbitchkin!

I BETTER CALL WILLIS MCGAHEE!

Marcus: LaDainian, LaDainain, LaDainian, do sit for me a moment. I hope the day finds you well. Please, have a profiterole. They’re as good as original sin.

I have taken your specifications and implemented them into the Air Force 1s. I think you will agree it is a masterstroke on par with the Dancing House and that new chicken sandwich at McDonalds.

LaDainian Tomlinson: Yeahyeahyeah, but is it fresh?

Marcus: In a minute you will have the chance to take them into your own hands. First you must know that despite the spare schematics you gave me, this was no small challenge for me. I toiled for hours while I could have been to the Gossip Girls DVD. The kids at the maquiladora, in particular, had a devil of a team sewing your initials in the heel. Many lost fingers. They’re a pain to clear off the floor, you know?

Anyway, te presento!

Tomlinson: They look nicest when you hold them like a waiter holds a salver.

Marcus: Oh yes, I agree. The pastel. The white croc upper accent. Very gustatory. The alimentary system is practically engaged through your feet.

Tomlinson: Which part of the alimentary system gets the girls wet?

[Door flies open]

Philip Rivers: Ya betta ask someboddddaaaayyyyyyy!

Rivers: “Oh, loogit me: I’m an injury prone running back with fancy shoes and fitted hats that still have the label on them.” GET BACK TO PRACTICING YOU LIMPDICK HOBBLEBACK!

Tomlinson: So you like the shoe?

[Rivers grabs the pair and hurls them out of a window, they hang in the air for four and a half minutes before coming to rest draped over a phone line]

Rivers: NO, I DON’T LIKE YOUR COCKDAMNED SWISHY NIKE SWOOSH SHIT! AND FUCK THAT EXTRA POWDERY BLUE ACCENT! It looks like the 18 rooms in my house my high school sweetheart wife had painted for my kids. Those fuckers are supposed to be confined to the servant’s quarters until they’re 12 and she knows it.

Tomlinson: Doesn’t mean you need to be barging in on my private shoe unveiling. This was reserved for me, Marcus, and 34 of the freakiest underaged girls he could find.

[34 underaged freaks cower in the corner]

Tomlinson: See what you did?

Rivers: Unless one of those overpriced moon boots can cure a torn knee ligament we got ourselves a bit of an issue, Mr. Backfield Receiver.

Tomlinson: I thought you rehabbed those. Like, you had Nate Kaeding scrapbook the whole thing.

Rivers: Not mine, Scroter Rooter. We got a raping, ‘roiding linebacker with a loose wheel that stands to jeopardize our whole season of redemption. Where you are during all this? Farting around with a bunch of faggy sneakerhead bottom twirlers.

Marcus: Actually we have a number of styles that can be of some assistance to those ailed by such infirmities.

Rivers: WHO ASKED YOU TO SPEAK, BUMFORD? HUH? WHAT? HUH? FUCK YOU!

Tomlinson: I think he just tried to give you some useful information.

Rivers: An easier way to hit Antonio Gates in triple coverage? Ways to yell at the crowd without attracting media scorn?

Marcus: Not exactly. But these shoes may help your rapacious friend.

[River snatches the box away and charges out of the door]

Tomlinson: Can those shoes actually do that? Cause you might need to slide a few my way.

Marcus: Oh heavens no. Though I imagine this Merriman fellow will a touch displeased when the shoe doesn’t deliver on its promised properties.

Tomlinson: A touch displeased? The only way Shawne’s displeased is if it’s just one touch.