Monday saw the further degradation of the once-juggernaut NFC Beast, as the Giants quickly lost patience with Brandon Jacobs simply running over the defense and decided to put the game in Eli’s hands. The Browns, with the Sharpie-scrawled helmets, a suddenly productive Braylon Edwards, Wildcat formation plagiarism and sans swole-nuts Winslow, shocked the world by intercepting all of Elisha’s poorly thrown passes that were forced into coverage. More troubling, however, was the absence of Suzy. We didn’t see her after the pregame. What gives, WWL?

Much as it troubles me to ever see the Browns win anything, the Gints definitely needed to be taken down a peg. A Giants fan felt the need to chat me up right before kickoff: “Tonight is a good night for sports. The Rays are curb-stomping the Red Sox and the Giants are about to throttle the Browns!”

Oops.
(more…)

I want a pony.

NOTE: Sadly, this photo is from 2004. But please, don’t let that get in the way of comedy.

I like football!
I do! I like it!
And I would play it in a boat.
And I would play it with a goat…

And I will play it in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a car. And in a tree.
It is so good, so good, you see!

So I will play it in a box.
And I will play it with a fox.
And I will play it in a house.
And I will play it with a mouse.
And I will play it here and there.
Say! I will play it ANYWHERE!

I do so like
football!
Thank you!
Thank you,
Dipshit Patriot fans!

[Theme to Naruto ringtone]

Eli: Hello?

Peyton: ‘Sup Dong Wong DeMarco.

Eli: What do you want, suckbutt? I’m trying to watch old episodes of Goof Troop.

Peyton: Heard the news? I’m coming to watch my lil’ brudda play in the big game. Need a quick pep talk? A cell phone plan? A credit card? Flood insurance? Tasteful decor for your living room?

Eli: What? I told you to stay away, Pey-Pey. You know how I play when you’re around.

Peyton: Can’t just let you tie the Manning Family Record for Super Bowl titles that easy. Gotta pay your dues. I had to wait a bit longer for mine.

Eli: You’re just gonna let Brady win? Is that it?

Peyton: That asshole already has more rings than I’ll ever get. What’s one more?

Eli: I’m gonna tell dad! He’ll set you straight, like that year he made you sleep under the sink when you put the milk back in the fridge with only half a sip left.

Peyton: Tell him all you want. He’ll be right next to me in a big Oreo costume. We’ll be walking up and down the aisles selling programs and beer. We move product, youngin’. That’s grown man business.

Then we’re gonna pass out masks of my face to Patriots fans at six bucks a pop. Ruin Romo had a good ring to it, so this’ll be Make Eli Cry. A whole stadium of Peyton faces staring you down. It’ll be like that scene in Being John Malkovich where everybody is Malkovich.

Eli: You know I don’t watch grown-up movies!

This isn’t fair! I want my ring like Peyton has! He won’t share his!MMMMOOOOOOMM!!!!

If you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won’t do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is the first in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

NFC 5th Seed — New York Giants (10-6)

[Raymond James Stadium]

Eli Manning: What is this shit? I thought the season was done last week. We played the Patriots, right? That was our Super Bowl. I actually tried and everything. I imagined it to be a really important squash game, with the loser having to pony up for all the POM Wonderful after the match. But we lost and that’s it, right? Then why the fuck am I stuck down here in godforsaken Tampa Bay?

Eli: Fine. Someone get open. C’mon. Plaxico, where are you?

Plaxico Burress: Wha-huh? Nah, man. It’s the playoffs. And I got no love from that drunk bitch last night in Ybor City. You’re on your own.

Eli: Shiiiiit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Wait.

No. It can’t.

It can’t be.

What the fuck is that?

Eli: Tiki! Oh, Tiki, my sweet prince, you’ve come back to me!

Ronde Barber: Actually, I’m -

Eli: No time for apologies. Just take the ball.

[Ronde runs the ball back for a touchdown]

Brandon Jacobs: The fuck you doing, man?

Eli: Don’t be sore, Brandon. You’ve done well as the feature back, but it’s back to the TD vulture role for you. Tiki has returned. And none too soon. I feel as though my bonhomie of the sport has risen anew.

Tom Coughlin: SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM

[Eli throws seven pick-sixes to Ronde on consecutive offensive snaps]

Tom Coughlin: SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM GET PEYTON ON THE PHONE!

Peyton Manning: ‘Sup numbnuts. Heard you’ve got yourself in a spot of trouble.

Eli: Hey snotbreath.

Peyton: Think I could interest you in The New Razor from Sprint?

Eli: Maybe. It would go well with a Citizen Eco-Drive Watch. How many can I put you down for?

Peyton: The ultra-thin, sleek design of the A900 by Samsung is enough to turn heads, but this phone is not just another pretty face. Coupled with the great features of the Sprint Power Vision Network, Bluetooth Wireless technology, and megapixel camera it is the perfect blend of fashion and function.

Eli: Yeah, well, Citizen has now gone high-tech with its new line of solar powered wristwatches. These new Eco-Drive watches will never need to have the battery replaced. And they come in a wide variety of styles for both men and women.

Peyton: That sounds like a right fine idea. Perhaps I could put it on my Mastercard. You know I have something of an ad campaign going on with them, don’t you know?

Eli: We all know about your stupid pep talks, Pey-Pey. Well, me and dad got this thing going with BankPlus. They’ve got 61 offices in 34 Mississippi communities.

Peyton: Holy shit. That’s it? You’re hawking a crappy community bank with dad? What’s wrong, the Honda dealership near the highway turn you down?

Eli: Credit cards are predatory, anyway, buttrash. They charge outrageous interest rates and they dupe college kids and the feebleminded by giving away T-shirts.

Peyton: Speaking of T-shirts, maybe you could be the next Snorg girl.

Eli: They get a squash shirt and we’ll talk.

God dammit, Toomer! Why did you have to catch that ball? Can’t you see what I’m trying to do here! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! I was THIS close to being benched, you asshole!

Everything had gone so perfectly! I was throwing pick after pick after pick. It was only a matter of time before Der Fuhrer over there finally blew his stack. I could tell. The tip of his nose had just turned deep crimson. That’s when I KNOW he’s ready to blame me for everything going wrong. The bench was there for the taking, dammit! I could have gotten my thighs rubbed!

God, it looks so nice over on that bench. Look at Lorenzen over there, holding the clipboard. Not a fucking care in the world. That looks so awesome. So warm. But noooooo, we had to go and win the goddamn game. Think I played clutch at the end there? My ass. I fucking gave that loss away. I had that loss in the palm of my hand. Instead, I had to fucking choke and go win the game. Dixie shit. This was a fucking must-lose for me!

I was one more turnover away from sheer bliss. I could’ve gotten out of this miserable rain and worn one of those bitchin’ shell jackets for the rest of the game. Ever try and throw a football in the cold rain? God, I just wish I could cozy up in front of a Duralog with a nice glass of mulled wine.

Instead, we’re 8-4. We could lose every game from here on out and STILL make the playoffs. Shit! Thanks a lot, rest of the NFC. Thanks for sucking harder than Ian McKellen at a Boys Club. I fucking hate you.

That is fucking IT, man. I’m not gonna take any more goddamn chances. Nothing is gonna keep me from getting demoted to third string and spending half my week on the squash court. Who are we playing next, Philly? Well, Sunday is your lucky day, Sheldon Brown. Because I’m lasering a good 24 passes right at your chest. And you better fucking catch them.

Because I’ve had it with this shit.