If only the Broncos had just gone ahead and traded Kyle Orton to the Dolphins, things might be somewhat better right now. Tim Tebow would have started right out of the gate for Denver – no fuss, no billboard bullsh*t. He would have sucked and probably would have already been benched by now. And the Dolphins would be marginally better at quarterback. Even if Orton had been injured as Chad Henne was, at least then Henne would be starting tonight instead of Matt Moore. Big deal, you scoff. WELL IT IS! Matt Moore makes Chad Henne look like Aaron Rodgers. This will not be fun. You remember that game last season between the Bears and Panthers where Chicago won 23-6 even though their starting QB, Todd Collins, completed 37.5 percent of his passes, threw four interceptions and had a QB rating of 6.2? Probably not, and you shouldn’t, but here’s a pertinent fact: MATT F*CKING MOORE WAS THE OPPOSING QUARTERBACK.

It’s all up to super cray-cray wide receiver Brandon Marshall to live up to his promise of a quarter and a half of amazing output before he does something derptarded and gets himself tossed from the game. Knowing him, he’ll punch a woman or something, but we’ll get to experience the shocking and disturbing moment together.

Brandon Marshall: This ain’t something I would ask of just anyone. But we’ve been together a long time now. I feel like we’ve developed something of a close bond. Hell, you might be the only real friend I have in this world. Heh. “Might.” Listen to me. Can’t even be honest with myself. You are my only real friend. Probably the only one I’ll ever have. Of all the people who claim they know me, care for me, who else but you could I count on for anything like this? The other day I sat out back in the Olympic-sized hot tub and thought on it. Skipped practice. Ignored calls from my agent and my coach. Didn’t eat any meals. Stared at one tree. At the end of the day, I had a ton of bug bites and one conclusion: that you, yes you, are the only one who understands.

This is serious.

I’m wearing a suit.

Sadie: …

Brandon Marshall: I know what you’re thinking: “I’m a dog. This is a lot of responsibility for me. I’m not sure I’m up to this.” Lemme tell you: you are up to this. No one’s ever been more up to anything the way you are up to this right now.

Let’s talk about the way you think about a bouncy ball. You fixate. You obsess. To you, the universe is contained within its shape. Everything outside of it is nothingness. It’s as though God put all creation inside this one object. For you to obtain it is to more or less obtain the world entire. Plus, it feels good to chew on.

The way you think about the ball is the way I think about beating up my wife. Ooohhh yeah. Felt my pupils dilate when I said that. Now, whereas you, a dog, want your fixation in any form its available, mine is not so easily satisfied. Man is a complex beast. I’m not sure why we’re burdened with this complexity. I wish we weren’t. Such is life.

In my mind, I see it. I hear it. In incredible detail. My fist making sodden thumps against her body. The screams. The rush of adrenaline. My wife, who I love and I love to strike. It’s almost real the way I picture it. But something’s missing. The difference between a base fantasy and a fantastic reality. She staggers into the kitchen dazed and pained, seeking relief. She spots a phone. At last, a means to escape. She starts to dial. She may not be free yet, but someone will soon be coming to her rescue. And then: the phone is ripped from the wall. Is it me? It could be, but that would be too easy. No, it’s the dog. Why the dog? BECAUSE THE BEATING IS MEANT TO BE AND IT’S PROVEN RIGHT THERE BECAUSE EVEN AN UNTHINKING ANIMAL ACTING ON INSTINCT IS BENT ON KEEPING THE BEATING GOING.

And that’s where you come in, Sadie. In one simple act, you can make the universe complete.

Sadie: …

Brandon Marshall: All right, Sadie. Have it your way. It makes me sad that you see things that way.

Looks like I’ll have to save all these milkbones for my dog arms. Yes! Dog arms! For you see, before your very canine eyes, my arms transform into dogs. Slender attack dogs under my control. Dogs that carry out my every whim, no questions asked. When I ask them to rip phones from the wall, they do it. And they don’t get worms in their intestinal tract that cost me money to remove. They are the pets I should have always had. I have new friends now!

[Makes dog shadow puppets on the wall while barking]

Brandon Marshall: Aw damn damndamndamndamndamn! These Bob Ley, Josh Barr, Outside the Lines gotcha-reporters are trying to bring the hammer down on me, only cause I maybe roughed up my girlfriend, like, a couple dozen times. Like Larry Fitzgerald and Randy Moss never been accused of this! It’s practically a rite of passage for big play receivers. Plaxico beat on his girl a bunch and it wasn’t until he shot himself in the club that he got in trouble. Even bad receivers be gettin’ breaks. Matt Jones would have to chew off a baby’s head on camera before he gets suspended. And they’d probably only give him a game. Why are they all ganging up on me? Why am I always the victim?

You gotta help me out. How do I kick this? You been going through heat with this for months and you still got a career. Let’s get some advice, man. Anything.

Chris Brown: The fuck you talking about?

Brandon Marshall: Nahnahnah. Don’t front. “I need you boooooo. Gotta beat you boooooo. And your face’s all over the wall tonight. With youuuuuu with youuuuu with youuuuuuu” That shit. You know who you is. Busted up Rihanna. Damn near cratered her face. I’ve seen the pictures. Gruesome shit. If I’m not mistaken you landed the 3-2-3-4 combo. My hook needs work so I usually stick with the jab and the straight. Anyway, you know where I’m coming from. You wanna grab some McDonald’s and talk it out? I mean, you definitely look like you beat on some girls.

Chris Brown: I think you got it flipped. That’s that pretty boy singer, not me. It’s common first name matched with a common last name. See that dude over there, he’s Kris Brown too.

Brandon Marshall: Aw, fer’real? [Stomps toward Kris Brown]

Look, man. We need to talk about this woman hitting thing. How come you got out of it so easy? What’s the secret?

Kris Brown: Dude, the secret is that I’m not that Chris Brown. I’m even not black.For fuck’s sake, we don’t spell our names the same way.

Brandon Marshall: All right. I get it, I get what you’re saying. You change your skin tone when you want to beat up on white bitches. Hey, no worries. I respect the technique. My assault game is not that evolved. But it’s a little amateurish to change your name to something so similar, like nobody’s gonna pick up on that. Give people credit.

Kris Brown: I’m not Chris Brown, the entertainer, I’m Kris Brown, the kicker.

Brandon Marshall: Kick ‘em, punch ‘em, slap ‘em with a clothing iron. Don’t matter to me which way you throttled ‘em. I just need to know how you rose above.

Kris Brown: All right.

[Breathes into hand over his mouth]

How’s this: you issue a half-hearted public apology and eventually she takes you back or the public and media forget about it entirely within weeks?

Brandon Marshall: It’s worked for me before.

Kris Brown: Great. So you’ll be fucking off, then?

Brandon Marshall: Yes.

AND THE CYCLE OF

VIOLENCE IS RENEWED!

Brandon Marshall seems like a nice enough guy, and he probably has plenty of friends around the league. But after yesterday he might very well be the most popular player in the league amongst his colleagues. Because fuck, who doesn’t love a guy who not only talks back to Joey Porter, but one who undresses the big moufed asshole with such extraordinary precision.

“Joey Porter is one of those guys who, when you’ve got one of those guys that talk a lot of trash and just want to talk about people or put people down, they have their own insecurities. His insecurities, I don’t know, but he’s definitely one of those guys who, you know, all those muscles are popcorn muscles, he’s soft.”

Marshall went on to describe Porter’s bones as being “filled with marzipan” while his cartilage is “nothing but pretzels.” Of course the young wideout wasn’t done yet.

We hear stories floating around the league all the time about him you know, in night clubs dancing with his shirt off like a girl…

Whoa there, Brandon. I know taking your shirt off in the club is a pretty douchetastic move, but please, try to think of the feelings of others who will hear your words. Right now Vince Young is locked in the bathroom crying his eyes out into his Hello Kitty washcloth!