Son, do you know why I pulled you over?

I observed you going through a post-Super Bowl loss period experiencing little to no sign of outward remorse or crushing sadness. One might even go as far as to say you displayed borderline joyous behavior.

These are serious charges, son. As serious as losing a Super Bowl. When I see you prancing about all willy-nilly like it don’t mean nothing, you force my hand. I’m taking you in.

But first, we gonna have us a little chat. Now, they let you play this game so I know at one point somebody sat you down and told you what’s what. In the off-chance you forgot, allow me to refresh:

The game is life. This game is more than life. Life has plenty of rules so you know the game has even more. The game has so many, I don’t even know most of ‘em. But I do know first and foremost it’s serious business and everything hinges on wins and losses. I’ve ruined men’s health and livelihoods and not given it second thought. But failing at the game? That what haunts me. I lost Super Bowls and turned to alcohol and hard drugs to keep my mind from thinking on it. Turns out those substances don’t mix well with HGH. It resulted in a few assault charges that I’m trying to keep on the low, but the experience as a whole made me a stronger man because I learned to confront my grief head-on, like a defenseless receiver.

I knocked the piss out of my grief. And I let every one know I did it. I didn’t just do it because it’s the law; it’s the right thing to do. People were grateful because they felt right to view the game as a serious business because I did too. They see you not torn up about it, what are they supposed to think? That it doesn’t really matter? Can’t be having that.

We’re gonna take a little ride down the station. I’m gonna let you clear your head in the grief tank and by tomorrow you’ll be carrying on like your loved ones were cut down before their time. Sorry about them, by the way. HGH… [Shrugs]

FACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!

Has they-ahhh evah been a more-ah tortchahhhhed fanbase than the LEGENDARY FANS OF BAWBBY V NATION?!

(dips)

I had a bad feeling about this game! WE AWLL DID! When you ahhh a Bawston fan, you can spawt trouble comin’ round the cornah! Like when a pack of Rawxbury dahhhkies comes sweeping into town because it’s payday and they need to buy Keno tickets! WE CAN SMELL THEM COMING A MILE AWAY, BECAUSE DAHKIES SMELL LIKE CHICKEN AND PISS.

(visits Hoosiers gym because he loves white people)

THAT is why we didn’t travel to Indy for-ah this Supah Bowl! We KNEW that something wasn’t quite right, and that’s why we were-ah smahhht enough to stay away! No fanbase has evahhhh dreaded a game like this one, nawt since we had to beat back that cunty Tebow! I have lettahs to prove it! NAME ME ONE OTHAH FANBASE THAT CAN SENSE A LEVEL XXVIII(B) CAWKPUNCH GAME LIKE THAT! I am a hahhhdened veteran at this! I am bettah at taking lawsses than any othah sparts fan, even if that intentional grounding call was faggot shit! I AM BETTAH AT MANY THINGS THAN YOU, INCLDING TRIVIA, EDDIE MURPHY’S MOVIES, AND LOSING GAMES.

(also better than you at writing angry 1,000-word missives to editors in the dead of night)

Do you know what it’s like to experience missing out on a Fahhhhhth Supah Bowl becawse of some bullshit David Tyree catch, and then to experience the same thing five year-ahs latah? YOU DO NAWT. Don’t bawthah trying to tell me you do. STAWP. JUST STAWP. Fahhh Dunkin’ Donuts Nation to go out like this – to a hated bunch of fags from New Yark! – is the cruelest blow of all! THE FIRST THREE SUPAH BOWLS MEAN NOTHING NOW!

(stalks around on street corner wearing oversized Bruins jersey)

And Brady? Brady is NAWT ONE OF US. You see, we BAWSTON people stick close to our own! We ahhh born here, and then we go to school in Greenwich, and then we move to LA, and then maybe we die here-ahhhhh! WE’RE JUST THAT LOYAL. No othah town is like this! So when Brady is hangin’ out in Santa Bahhhhbahhhhara and fackin’ some undawcumented non-Mass resident, we get suspicious! WE KNOW SHIT IS FACKED! Tawm Brady is gawnna have to win us ovah again! Don’t tell me that wasn’t a shitty pass to Welkah! WELKAH CATCHES THAT BALL 150 TIMES OUT OF 100! I blame Glamour-ah Boy Brady fahhh fahhhgetting his roots! And I blame Bernahhhhd Pawllahhd! WE AHHH THE ONLY CITY THAT HAS HAD OW-AH PLAYERS HURT BY ANOTHAH PLAYAH!

(pisses on nearby lamp post)

I fackin’ hate awll of you right now! It’s a good thing I’m so good at accepting hahhhtbreak! I’m gawnna go fack an Indian chick and slap the dawt off of her head! WE NOW ONLY HAVE ONE MAJAH SPARTS TITLE AND THAT IS A CURSE! Even if we had won, we know that it wouldn’t have been prawpah revenge for Super Bowl Farty Two! NO ONE DENIES THIS! BAWSTON WAS IN A LOSE-LOSE SITUATION! You can’t pawssibly get that! I FEEL THE GHOSTS AND THEY SMELL LIKE OLD PUSSY!

Our excitement over the fallout from the Super Bowl has plateaued, with the only items of note today being Brandon Jacobs telling Gisele to shut up, Kurt Warner stoking tedious “Is Eli a Hall of Famer yet?” discussions and Greg Jones’ mom appearing less than thrilled about her son’s on-field proposal to this white woman. While we wait a few days before the Bucs decide to already fire Greg Schiano, we’re left to make more fun of our own, preferably at the expense of our favorite anti-football poetry enthusiast, Peter King. Watching Super Bowl postgame interviews, I noticed PK shoehorning himself in the camera shot like an everyday me-first GLORY BOY. At first, I wasn’t sure why I found the image funny, but then we realized that his bewildered expression lent itself well to Photoshops, and that was all the inspiration we needed. Laughable face, PK has it.

‘Shops after the jump. As always, you’re encouraged to add your own in the comments, whether you be an Elite 15er or not.

“Um, Brett, your dog took my seat again.”

“Those nuggets are coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE”

“One triple hazlelofty nugmet memeacchino, pronto, or Seattle will hear of this!”

[NFL Ministry of Culture]

Sentry: Authorized visitor in Sector 23819. Open cell!

Guard: Opening cell!

[Cell door opens, pained groans emanate from within]

Roger Goodell: Are we awake?

M.I.A.: Uggghhhh… where am I?

Goodell: I’ll ask the questions.

M.I.A.: This is bullsh*t. You can’t hold me. I have rights. People will find out about this. They’ll -

Goodell: Subdue the prisoner.

[Guard chokes her with NFL-branded nightstick]

Goodell: I can do as I please. Tell me, Ms. – ahem – Arulpragasam, is it? How was a performer of your artistic integrity or relevance able to gain entry to the most important and tightly controlled entertainment spectacle in the world?

M.I.A.: Madonna invited me.

Goodell: Liar.

M.I.A.: She did. Ask her.

Goodell: LISTEN, I WILL BULLDOZE SRI LANKA RIGHT NOW. YOUR HOMELAND WILL BE A PERMANENT PRO BOWL SITE IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME THE ANSWERS I WANT.

M.I.A.: Fine. Me said me was Jessie J.

Goodell: And they believed you?

M.I.A.: ‘Course. No one actually knows what Jessie J. looks like.

Goodell: Hmm. Clever girl. I’ll give you that much. Such a waste of potential.

M.I.A.: What are you going to do with me?

Goodell: All in due time. First, I must know: what did you hope to achieve through your vulgar display of terrorist agitprop?

M.I.A.: Me was, like, making a message about the neo-imperialist dogma that permeates the kult-cha.

Goodell: Neo-imperialist dogma. I see.

M.I.A.: It’s somefing you could never understand.

Goodell: I suppose that’s true. Immaterial, but true. For, you see, it is not my job to understand. Rather, it is I who must make you understand.

M.I.A.: Understand what?

Goodell: THE FCC DOESN’T LIKE BAD WORDS, NAUGHTY GESTURES AND EXPOSED NIPPLES! IT’S THE ONE THING THAT CAN STOP TOTAL WORLD DOMINATION AND SYNERGISTIC BRANDING OPPORTUNITIES

M.I.A.: I don’t care.

Goodell: Oh, but you will. SEND HER IN!

Selena Gomez: Sup grrrl. U look maaaaddd kewt!

M.I.A: OH NO

Selena Gomez: I’m in luvs and it’s like a luv song.

Goodell: Once you have succumbed to her mental programming, you will become pliant to our every suggestion. You will apologize for ever sullying the Super Bowl Halftime Show. You will hawk Pepsi on every inch of your body. You and J.Lo will sell Fiats until the day your children die. You’ll put out an critically acclaimed album about the 18-game season. YOU WILL CONVINCE BRITISH PEOPLE TO CANCEL THE OLYMPICS AND PROCEED WITH ORGANIZING A LONDON SUPER BOWL.

Selena Gomez: And I keep hitting re-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat re-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat re-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat re-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat

M.I.A.: MUST RESIST

Selena Gomez: Re-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat DISSSSSNEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY

- The new sensation sweeping Troll Nation: Bradying, which involves people adopting Tom Brady’s sullen pose of defeat from the Super Bowl. Busted Coverage already has some submissions from readers. I prefer @matt_T‘s approach (above) of just Photoshopping him into existing memes and funny situations, but that’s me.

- Of course, there can be no Bradying without its more pious and less fun cultural ancestor, Tebowing. A Colorado family made a gigantic Tebowing snowman, which, if there were a just God, would spring to life and crush them for worshiping false idols.

-A woman interviewed at the Giants victory parade said the Giants player she was most looking forward to seeing was “SANCHEZZZZZZ!” It’s funny because Mark Sanchez doesn’t play for the Giants and whatever team Mark Sanchez plays for isn’t gonna have a Super Bowl parade on account of having Mark Sanchez. Also, as an adult, she’s probably too old for Sanchez anyway.

- Steve Weatherford was also playing a drum during the parade, because as we all know from when he brought 100 Shake Weights to Jets training camp during “Hard Knocks” a few years back, Steve Weatherford is one zany punter bro. Perhaps the zaniest. Coming for you, Chris Kluwe!

- Ricky Williams has announced that he’s going to retire to free up time for Ewok Village.

This means Michael Vick and Santonio Holmes will have to fetch a scale to figure out how they’re going to parcel out future “NFL players using marijuana” punchlines. Sam Hurd gets a cut, of course.

- An online pawn company looking for cheap publicity delivered 900 pounds of Butterfingers to Boston’s Copley Square in honor of Wes Welker being all droppy and stuff. More dickish to taunt Welker or not just give them to Vince Wilfork?

- Even though Maria Menounos doesn’t have anything to do with sports, we always have to hear about how she’s a Boston fan. Apparently she made a lost a bet on the Super Bowl and had to wear a Giants bikini, which is whatever, but I enjoy how hard this guy is laughing at her in this photo, so it makes the Klearinghouse.

Images via SI and Yahoo!

If you love lumbering Ivan Drago dance party and insane amounts of audio distortion, I’ve got just the video for you. If only we knew Gronk liked to dance with shirtless guys so much, we’d have recommended he hang out with Vince Young more.

[Holds nose while crediting Barstool]

Disney World? Eli been had Disney World. This time, he’s going for the gusto.

In other “Eli is the little slugger made good” developments:

Oh ho ho! Disarming bit of self-deprecation or calculated remark to draw a prized new endorsement for Eli?

“Slowly maturing. Experiencing weird changes. Uncomfortable in his own skin. Eli Manning is. That’s why he uses the Lil’ Bastard’s First Shaving Kit.”

And so we begin our sad lurch into the off-season, where the best hope for news beyond the future of Peyton Manning is draft speculation and player misdeeds. Lucky for us, a nice example of the latter has already come our way. Here’s the report from TMZ minus the half dozen unnecessary ellipses:

Denver Broncos running back Knowshon Moreno was arrested for drunk driving in Denver earlier this month and in an ironic twist of fate, cops say the license plate on his ride read “SAUCED.”

Police say Moreno smelled like booze and when he performed poorly on a field sobriety test, they arrested him for DUI.

First losing his starting job to Willis McGahee and now this. Oh please, Tebow, deliver your teammate from his dependency on alcohol and police-baiting license plates.

The Steelers have hired famed shouting homeless person Todd Haley to be their next offensive coordinator. Because that’s a reasonable move from a team that forced out Bruce Arians because his play-calling was too pass-happy.

It’s a curious call as few can tell the dynamic of the relationship Haley will have with Ben Roethlisberger. Will Haley constantly berate The Ben on the sidelines or will the two be comfortable enough together to tool around the South Side for potential date rapes? Time will tell.

“Hey big guy, from what I’ve heard, you got in a bit of trouble for getting rough with the ladies. I know what that’s like. Most of ‘em like it that way anyhow. They say they don’t, but they do. It’s all a game. These chicks, man, they ain’t nothing but trouble. Fella can’t tell where the line is these days. This one time I was crushing beers, and this little thing asked if I she can get me another. I yanked her by her hair from behind the bar to the back seat of the Camaro. Later I find out she tried to press charges. Can you believe that?

You know what? I think we’re gonna along all right, you and me. WHAT? THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN LOOK ME IN THE EYE, FAGGOT. THE F*CK YOU THINK I AM?! YOU’RE BUMPED DOWN TO PRACTICE SQUAD, STAT. WE DON’T PLAY EYE FOOTSIE IN THE HOUSE OF HALEY!”