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ARE YOU READY MEN?

YEAH!

THIS IS OUR TIME!

YEAH!

THIS IS OUR HOUSE!

YEAH!

THEY HAVE COME INTO OUR HOUSE!

YEAH!

THEY DID NOT WIPE THEIR FEET ON THE MAT THAT WAS PROVIDED TO THEM, DID THEY!?

NO!

THEY SCORNED OUR OFFER OF A COOL REFRESHING BEVERAGE!

YEAH!

THEY TALKED ABOUT THEMSELVES FOR 20 MINUTES WHILE WE FAILED TO GET A WORD IN EDGEWISE!

YEAH!

AND WE HAVE METHODS FOR DEALING WITH GUESTS OF SUCH ILL TEMPER, DON’T WE?

YEAH!

YOU KNOW WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO?

YEAH!

WE’RE GONNA HIT ‘EM IN THE MOUTH!

YEAH!

AND WE’RE GONNA HIT ‘EM AGAIN!

YEAH!

AND WE’RE GONNA BLOODY THEIR NOSE!

YEAH!

AND WE WILL NOT OFFER SO MUCH AS A DISPOSABLE PAPER TOWEL TO STOP THE BLEEDING!

NO!

AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO?

YEAH!

WE’RE GONNA GIVE UP A 70-YARD PASS ON THE VERY FIRST PLAY!

YEAH!

WE’RE GONNA BE VERY HAPPENSTANCE IN OUR TACKLING!

YEAH!

AND THEN WE’RE GONNA STOMP THE SPREAD!

YEAH!

LET’S GET IT IN HERE….PLUS FOUR ON THREE….READY…ONE TWO THREE!

PLUS FOUR!

Oooh, je ne sais quoi. Loogit you, Miles Austin. Very good, you mental midget football functionary. Bob Costas must now know if you know the meaning of several other French idioms that New York Times writers are prone to drop in the middle of trend pieces.

Savoir Faire? You know that one? Huh? Do you? Do you? Stammer some more for me, why don’t you?

Joie de vivre? That means lust for life. You know you sang that song? That’s Iggy Pop, you goddamn simp. If it isn’t Iggy Koopa, you wouldn’t know, would you?

What about esprit de corps, huh? You wanna step into the Costas Chalet and throw down some French? You best be ready to rouler, mon ami.

That ended up being one hell of an entertaining game, which is nice, because for a while it seemed like it was going to be nothing else but one long procession of slurping from Troy Aikman and Joe Buck every time Jason Garrett threw a challenge flag. I wonder why they weren’t whipped into the same sort of sexual frenzy when Garrett pathetically tried to fire up the crowd on a third down later in the game.

“I say, come now, sporting observers. Don’t make me cling a fork into my wine glass to gain your attention.”

Oh man, and did you guys see Roy Williams goofy simpering face after he got stripped by Malcolm Jenkins? I don’t care if the Cowboys held on to win; any coach who didn’t march over and dropkick him in the balls for that needs to be fired on the spot.

“Sheriff? So declasse. And be so kind as to remove the commoner’s prefix from the proud Garrett family name, won’t you?”

Dallas handed New Orleans its first loss of the season last year, which is about as compelling a storyline as you’re going to get for this game. Well, except that Jason Garrett has launched the Cowboys to the most masterfully orchestrated two-game winning streak in league history. The problem for the newly competent Cowboys is that they’re running up against a Saints team that seems to have put its early season malaise behind it.

There are reports saying Tony Romo could be back in time to play on Christmas Day for the Cowboys. Oh, what a holiday miracle it might be for the league leader in smiles to bounce back in time to cost Dallas its fifth or sixth victory of the season in classic December Dallas style.

Besides the chance to see the ol’ Double-J seethe outwardly, I need the Giants to win to make sure the goddamn Redskins won’t be tied for first place in the NFC East. “IT’S OKEE IF DONOVAN THROWS TWO PICKS A GEEM, COOCH, HE’S A WINNER! DEANGELO HALL WAS THE STEAL OF THE LAST FIVE YEARS!”

The Giants have been playing pretty well since getting pantsed in back-to-back weeks by the Colts and the Titans in September. The Cowboys, meanwhile, are in full-on meltdown mode, which delights me to no end, but is somewhat bittersweet since it also means no late-season collapse.

Okay, enough half-hearted analysis. Here’s a big tittied model in a Giants jersey:

Ah. Much better.

[Ignores game entirely so as to watch video on loop for the evening]

And if people didn’t get their rageboner satisfied by the previous post, here’s my Designed Rush feature at SB Nation. Feel free to tear it to shreds over there.

Dez Bryant: clearly not burdened with carrying AT&T’s nation-wide network

Cowboys rookie receiver Dez Bryant has so enamored football pundits that he has almost single-handedly vaulted Dallas into the role of preseason NFC favorites, even though they have pretty much the same weaknesses they had before and Wade Phillips is still the coach and don’t we go through this every year? In what is either evidence of looming rookie intransigence or, more likely, that Dez was quick to learn that no one cares what Roy Williams wants, news has come out that Bryant is refusing to carry Williams’ pads during camp. This is a horrible violation of The Rookie Code, which states that first-year players happily submit to hazing and subjugation on penalty of bitchy comments to the media about their commitment.

As usual, the media is fixated on the controversy but not the underlying issues behind it. KSK, as always, is better informed and better attuned to the interests of its audience. Here, then, are some actual reasons as to why Dez Bryant will not carry Roy Williams’ shoulder pads. Surprisingly, fewer than half have to do with being the son of a prostitute.

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They blew up Tixas Stadium today. They loaded it up with explosives and once again made it one with the same Earth to which we will all one day be consigned. It had a field crown like you wouldn’t believe and a hole in the roof so the faithful in the stands could see their God and vice versa. It was the home field of five Super Bowl champions and two other conference champions.

In other words, YEEEEE HAAAAWWWWWW I WANNA HAVE SEX ON TOP OF THOSE SMITHEREENS!

TR: HURRRRRRR Hey Brett I bet Aikman fondles my nuts like this the entire game.

BF: Awshoot thatainno meadyahumpin yobigolhushpuppy. Datdere loftyfeller gunnacuponolBrittfar’s gibletslikeuhprickerinthefield, itellyuh.

Welcome back to American Top 10. I’m Casey Kasem.

Before we continue with the countdown, let’s take a moment… and travel back… to December 28, 1996.

Beavis and Butthead Do America was the number one movie at the box office.

On the charts, Toni Braxton held the top spot with the scintillating and sultry “Unbreak My Heart”.

And “America’s Team,”… the Dallas Cowboys… defeated Brad Johnson and the Minnesota Vikings 40-15… in an NFC Wild Card game.

One week later, Michael Irvin is accused of holding a gun to a 23-year-old woman’s head while teammate Erik Williams and another man rape her. An incomprehensible act of evil.

13 years after that, Dallas has been raped in the playoffs… again and again.

And we couldn’t be happier.

All God’s children hate Philadelphia. That much can’t be disputed. But this streak… is too delicious to snap. Plus, we know, the Eagles… will blow it anyway.

Remember, friends: Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.

Except the Cowboys’ star. I wouldn’t touch that thing if it were branded on Jessica Biel’s ass.

D.C. has experienced snowfall of greater than half an inch, rendering the entire region hopelessly ground to a halt. What this means for you, dear reader who resides in places less weather wussy than I, is that I have nothing better to do than live blog the Saturday night game between the Saints and Cowboys. It’s actually a fortuitous development, what with the Sunday and Monday night games being bloody backroom abortions.

And for those of you bawling that you don’t have NFL Network, be advised that the league is simulcasting the game on NFL.com (not to mention any number of the other, less officially sanctioned online feeds you could find) so there’s no excuse for you not to be able to follow along (unless you’re not snowed in and actually have things to do, in which case you can get stuffed).

If extending their perfect record and contributing to another Dallas collapse weren’t cause enough for celebration, Saints fans this week finally identified the mysterious swamp rat spotted rooting for them in the game against the Redskins. For whatever reason, this was an important goal for Who Dat Nation. Frankly, I would have just guessed it was Sweetums.

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