THEY’RE STILL LOCKED OUT! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!! FUCK A TREE STUMP! OH FUCK ALL!

Oh God. Oh man. Oh God. Oh man. Oh God. Oh man.

WHY? Why is this happening? Why can’t you people just… UNNNGHHHHH I’M SO ANGRY I WANT TO EAT A BUNNY! They’re aren’t gonna agree, are they? They’ll just keep moving the deadline back and back and back and NOTHING WILL CHANGE GAHHHHHHHHH. They’re gonna keep doing this until they break off again and everything goes to shit and WHERE IS THAT BOX OF POWDERED TIDE BECAUSE I NEED TO MIX IT WITH BLEACH AND DRINK IT.

YOU! YOU, YOU GINGER-FACED FUCKHOLE! Why can’t you get your fucking bosses to just… fucking… AGREE?! Is it that goddamn hard? Just distract them with cigars and high praise and middle-aged blonde hookers who are hot to a really old rich guy but not that hot to ANYONE ELSE. Just tell fucking Jerry Jones there’s a planeload of free pussy waiting for him on the tarmac. He’ll go! Ralph Wilson gets distracted whenever his PC makes a beep because he thinks it’s a GHOST talking to him! FUCKING DO SOME COMMISSIONING, YOU IMPOTENT BLEEDING CUNT! Peter King says you can stop racial conflict but I ain’t seen you stop SHIT! YOU FUCKING SUCK WHALECOCK!

And you! You John Witherspoon-looking motherfucker! I’ve been on your side the whole time, I tell you. Every commenter at Florio’s site is hurling poorly veiled racial invective at you and christening you with all kinds of horrible, Bernie Goldberg-approved nicknames (Duh Smith! So funny!). But I didn’t do that because I know the players are getting fucked. But now shit is getting REAL and I need you to fucking FOLD. I need you to take whatever piece of shit deal is sitting there and hold onto it like a burn victim clutching the morphine drip. I know it sucks but MY LIFE IS IN DANGER NOW AND I CAN’T AFFORD COMPASSION. FUCKING TAKE THE ROOKIE WAGE SCALE AND GET ON WITH IT BECAUSE I’M NOT GOING TO MAKE IT.

AND YOU! YOU DICK! You and Silver and Freeman and Schefter and Mullen and the rest. QUIT PLAYING GAMES WITH MY HEART! It was a good day. It was a bad day. The owners have leverage. The players have leverage. Terry Bradshaw is dead. Terry Bradshaw is ALIVE. THIS IS AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER AND MY HEART IS NOT BUILT TO WITHSTAND IT, NOT GIVEN THE AMOUNT OF GROUND MEAT PRODUCTS I CONSUME. You are actively fucking with me, the way you constantly take Albert Breer’s excellent reporting and repackage it into a more digestible and disreputable form. Why do I even read you? YOU’RE A WEST VIRGINIAN!

I can’t listen to actual NFL news that isn’t about the lockout anymore. People start talking about where Plaxico Burress will go and who Andy Reid will be dumb enough to trade Kevin Kolb away to before realizing in Week 6 that Mike Vick is only built to withstand a five-week season and I can’t listen to it BECAUSE I KNOW IT’S BULLSHIT. It was bullshit before, but it’s even bullshittier now, because NOTHING has fucking happened yet. All it does is remind me that football is in danger and it’s like seeing my own child suspended over a hotel balcony with Troy Williamson holding his ankle and I know the child will fall because Troy Williamson drops everything because he’s Troy Williamson and he is EVIL.

YOU WHORES. YOU GAPING, PURPLE-ASSHOLED WHORES. You are slowly draining my will to live with your endless dithering. Just… fucking DO SOMETHING. Don’t give me this whole “it has lots of moving parts” bullshit. LALALALALA I AM DEAF TO THE LEGAL AND LOGISTICAL REALITIES OF YOUR DISPUTE. Deep down, I am just a braindead asshole who wants your complicated process fixed in an impossibly simple manner so that I can resume sitting in front of my TV drooling like a fucking idiot and taking whatever bullshit you shovel into my face. I beseech you to stop bickering amongst yourselves and start abusing me for money and attention like the absolute lackey I know I am. I’m here! I’m a complete sucker! MILK MY MONEY TEATS FOR ALL THEIR WORTH! I WILL OBLIGE!

You want an update on the NFL lockout? Here’s my update: KISS MY DICK.

We haven’t done a gamebook in ages, so let’s bust one out for last night’s epic Viking BYEFAIL.

-The Land Baron had at least two balls that should have been picked off last night, and Cutlerfucker had a couple lousy passes as well. Here were some of the more delightful excuses Jaws and Gruden deployed to explain those horrid throws. 1. “It’s cold.” 2. “It’s a slick ball.” 3. “There’s dew on the turf.” No, really. Jaws said that. There was a great deal of dew on the turf, you see. Because the game was obviously being played at 8AM in the fucking morning. Listen, you two fuckhead apologists: When Purple Jesus Xenu fumbled the goddamn game away last night, I didn’t hear anyone attribute the fuckup to dew on the turf. And do you know why? Because everyone would have said that excuse was pathetic and stupid. God, I hate you both so much.

-A couple weeks ago it was, “eye discipline.” This week’s Jaws Essential QB Trait was EYE MANIPULATION. Very, very important that you manipulate the eyes. Ultra-important. If you can manipulate the eyes, you can make them do anything. For example, I enjoy telling my eyes that if they don’t loan me $5,000, I won’t bother to visit them next Christmas. I mean, I really lay it on thick. They’re helpless to resist such callous manipulation.

-Jaws has a cadence when he talks. He starts low, THEN HE GETS REALLY FUCKING LOUD. AND. TALKS. IN. STACCATO. BEATS. He’s like a System of a Down song, and man do I fucking hate that band. “You see Brett Favre going deep down the middle to Shiancoe… EXPLOITING THE SEAM. FILLING IN WHERE THE LINEBACKER WAS. JUST. PITCH. AND. CATCH.” I hate this so much, I want to kill baby monkeys. You have a microphone, Jaws. It already allows your voice to be projected to millions of people at once, in perfect clarity. You don’t need to talk louder. It’s like my mom trying to use a cell phone. FUCK YOU, YOU BIG HEADED LIPFLAPPER.

-Jon Gruden refuses to call any football team a “Team”. It’s always a “program”. “When they brought THIS GUY, Jay Cutler, into this program…” Holy underwear. Hey Gruden, this is not Boise State you’re covering. It’s not a program. The head coach isn’t sneaking into players’ kinesiology class to make sure they’re in attendance, or speaking at booster lunches, or covering up frat house rapes. It’s not a fucking program. It’s just a team.

-How the fuck does Jay Cutler see out of his helmet? He pulls it down right over his eyes. He looks like a member of Suicidal Tendencies. That didn’t stop him from tearing the Vikings apart last night, but still. Between the helmet and the bangs, the guy has a fucking blast shield over his eyes.

-Once again, we find that no broadcaster on Earth is content to merely address Brett Favre by his last name only. No, no. It always has to be his first and last name. “When Brett Favre throws the ball…” “When you have a Brett Favre on your football team…” “That’s what Brett Favre does for you…” Cockstirrers. You mentioned Favre literally every ten seconds last night. At that point, you can use pronouns. You really can. “He” will work just fine. I’ll know exactly whom you’re referring to. It’s not like you noticed anyone else on the fucking field.

-Jaws mentioned that Favre has audibled a grand total of ten times during the course of the season, and explained this away by saying, “That’s just not part of Brett Favre’s game.” O RLY? Oh well, that’s cool. Good to know that adjusting to a better play isn’t in his repertoire. “What’s that, coach? There are nine in the box? Well, I would audible to a quick slant, but that’s just not part of my game. What, coach? You want me to throw a screen pass? Sorry. Also not part of my game. I can fumble though. Would you like me to fumble? That’s totally in my game.”

-I can’t watch any IBM of UPS ad without hearing the phrase “supply chain” 9,000 times. “Okay, here’s your supply chain…” No, asshole. I have no supply chain. I supply nothing. I suppose, in your magical world of buzzing economic activity, I also sell widgets. First of all, you’re going to have to grease the local politicians for the sudden zoning problems that always come up. Then, there’s the kickbacks to the carpenters, and if you plan on using any cement in this building, I’m sure the teamsters would like to have a little chat with ya, and that’ll cost ya. Oh, and don’t forget a little something for the building inspectors. Then there’s long-term costs such as waste disposal. I don’t know if you’re familiar with who runs that business, but I assure you it’s not the Boy Scouts.

-I’m not sure Peterson will ever stop fumbling. Fucking idiot. THIS WAS YOUR HEEL TURN, BITCH. THE ONLY THING YOU DO ALL DAY IS LAY THE BALL ON THE FUCKING TURF.

-I have nothing else to say. My favorite team has decided to eat shit and lose three of four, and will almost certainly now end up getting trashed by Aaron Rodgers two weeks from now in the ultimate act of revenge. Goddamn fucking cocksucker cunt.

I have a smoke alarm in my home to prevent my family from burning to death in the middle of the night. I also have a carbon monoxide alarm, lest someone in the house pull a Vitas Gerulaitis. I have yet to have an unreasonable amount of smoke or carbon monoxide set these alarms off. But they go the fuck off anyway, usually when the battery is run down and needs to be replaced. And this always, ALWAYS fucking happens in the middle of the night. The fucking thing will go off at 3AM, and I don’t know what the fuck it is, and then I’ll wake up trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, then the alarm will buzz again, then I REALLY won’t know where the fuck the sound is coming from, and by then I’ll be wide awake and mega pissed, until I finally track down the source of the noise and am then unable to go to sleep again for the rest of the night. Happened last night. These things are the fucking tell-tale hearts of emergency signaling equipment.

You listen to me, smoke detector manufacturers of the world: I FUCKING HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS. I hope you all die in fires your shitty products failed to detect. It’s 2009. Find a fucking way to build a fucking alarm that doesn’t run on a 9-volt battery, that only beeps when there is a real big fucking fire, and that doesn’t emit a high-pitched squeal that ruptures my fucking inner ear at o’dark thirty. YOU FUCKING DICKSMACKS. I fucking hate you. I FUCKING HATE YOU. I WILL SMASH THESE FUCKING ALARMS WITH A GODDAMN RUBBER MALLET.

You know what? I hope there is a fire. I hope my home burns the fuck down, so that I can finally get some use of your piece of shit products. I bet the thing doesn’t even successfully detect a REAL fire. I bet it only goes off when you’ve left a fucking Pop Tart in the toaster for too long. I bet you specifically engineered these things to cause me nothing but pain and suffering and BLIND, DEATHLY ANGER. DIE. DIE FOREVER IN A WHITE HOT BALL OF SEARING FLAME.

Anyway, the Meast! Lots of great candidates out there this week. Darren Sharper. Carson Palmer. Dallas Clark for that kickass TD grab. The Jets’ o-line. But your Meast this week is CEDRIC BENSON!

What a weekend for pothead Texas running backs. Benson crushes his old team, and Ricky takes it to the house three times. Well done, you flaky little shits!

As for your Least, again, no shortage of candidates. Delhomme. Jeff Reed. Delhomme. Dan Snyder. Delhomme. Frankly, Delhomme is an honorary co-least every week. He’s like the RSTLNE they give you in the Wheel of Fortune bonus round. He’s a throw-in. We’re going with Matt Cassel. Ninety yards against a pretty lousy Chargers defense. Can we say he blows now? He does! HE BLOWS!

Oh, so NOW you decide to sign, you fucking cockrut? Only now, because you were too fucking old and lazy to actually bother with training camp, you stubbled assgazer? I am supposed to be relieved that you finally “changed your mind”, you fucking douchetender? Oh, thank God you’re here! Thank God the man who had a worse passer rating than T-Jack and Gus Frerotte combined last year, AND threw more picks than both of them, is now in the fold! Huzzah! Another triumphant playoff loss to the Eagles is all but assured now!

Say, this is funny. Remember two weeks ago, when Brett Favre told Lofty Peter King just how devastated he was that he had to say no to the Vikings? When really he just was just lying right through his fucking bumpkin teeth because he didn’t want to bother to do things like get into shape or learn the playbook? That was fun. And I’m crazy excited for the press conference later today, when he explains that he changed his mind when really, he didn’t want to bother to do things like get into shape or learn the playbook. BUT THAT’S BRETT FAVRE FOR YOU. HE JUST LOVES THE GAME TOO DAMN MUCH.

YOU MASSIVE SHITBURGLAR. NOW I HAVE TO SPEND A WHOLE GODDAMN YEAR PRETENDING TO WISH YOU WELL WHEN, IN FACT, I HOPE YOU FALL OFF YOUR PORCH AND HAVE YOUR THROAT SLASHED BY A BEER BOTTLE. I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU FUCK.

Look, I get that the Vikings have a real problem with the QB position. But really, does anyone think the ultimate solution for this team is a 39-year-old pick machine who confesses to having a tired body and doesn’t actually want to do any of the hard work involved with playing the position successfully? That’s what makes Favre so fucking annoying. “Fuggit. I’ll jusgeddoutdurr anthrowitaroun.” This guy has been in the league for years and years, and he still somehow thinks he doesn’t have to do any of the shit everyone else has to do to win games. He’s quarterbacks the way Steve fucking Spurrier coaches.

The fact of the matter is that Brett Favre doesn’t actually love football. Say what you will about Peyton Manning, but that guy genuinely loves the football: studying tape and all that shit. Favre doesn’t. He just loves being a football player. He likes running out having people scream his name and all that shit. That’s all. And that’s fine. I don’t begrudge any man that right. But I don’t want to hear about how he’s coming back for the love of the game. If he loved the game so much, he’d work to NOT FUCKING SUCK AT IT WHEN IT COUNTS. Just the kind of player who fits into the Vikings organization. I hate that I root for this goddamn team.

It’s gonna be a long year. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

My favorite team is going to sign Brett Favre in the coming days, or weeks, or months, or however long it takes that fucking asshole to milk the publicity machine to his satisfaction. It’s going to happen. Debating whether or not it will is a complete waste of fucking time. When it comes to the Land Baron, speculation always becomes reality.

It’s fitting that it would come this. For years and years, I have fucking loathed Brett Favre with every fiber of my being. He is the single most self-aggrandizing piece of shit who ever walked the Earth, the most blatantly phony human being in America this side of Bobby Bowden. Say what you will of openly douchebaggy people like Matt Leinart or Spencer Pratt. At least there are no illusions when it comes to those gents’ intentions. Everything about Favre – from his style of play to his carefully cultivated everyman image – is complete bullshit, and everything about the man is tiresome, to the point where bitching about him being tiresome has become an even more tiresome enterprise than whatever it is that makes him tiresome to begin with. Not only am I sick of this dipshit, but I’m sick of being sick of him. And I resent that everyone is so tired of hating him, that I’m beating a dead horse by still hating him.

I have always argued that pro athletes should play their respective sports as long as they damn well please, because it’s still a kickass job even if you aren’t all that good at it anymore. So I don’t begrudge Favre his right to play football, even if it’s for the Vikings. What I do begrudge is the fact that this asshole NEVER WANTED TO FUCKING STOP PLAYING TO BEGIN WITH. He knew the second he rererereretired earlier this year that he’d try and get his release so he could play in Minnesota. This whole myth perpetrated by Peter King that, “I don’t think even Brett Favre knows what Brett Favre is going to do” is the most insulting pile of shit I’ve ever heard. That fuck knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing, and anyone who says otherwise probably spends all day licking radiators.

Make no mistake, when the Vikings end up signing Favre, it won’t be the final piece in some kind of championship puzzle. It’ll be the nothing more than the final nail in the coffin for Brad Childress. It’ll be the last act of a desperate coach who has spent the past three years wasting an otherwise talented roster on unimaginative schemes and an abject failure to produce anything of note at the quarterback position. This asshole had three fucking years to cultivate a decent QB for this team. Three. A fucking lifetime in NFL years.

Instead, he insisted he could develop Tarvaris Jackson, who can play the position somewhat decently only when there is nothing important to play for. Jackson was drafted by Fran Foley, the onetime Vikings personnel director who was immediately fired after the Jackson draft, for warning his secretary there would be a coming “bloodbath” (his word): a mass firing of scouts and team administrators. Foley traded two third-round picks to select Jackson, whose predraft grades (most pegged him as a late round pick to rookie free agent) immediately made his selection the equivalent of the Raiders’ Michael Mitchell pick two weeks ago.

The Vikings could have made any number of moves in recent years to give Jackson competition, or to outright replace him. They had a chance to trade for Matt Schaub. They had a chance to draft any number of other QB’s. They could have traded for Jay Cutler, regardless of whether or not you found his price too exorbitant. Instead, they did virtually nothing until trading for Sage Rosenfels earlier this year. It’s an indictment of just how poorly prepared Jackson is that Rosenfels, who averages one interception for every 20 fucking pass attempts, represents a colossal upgrade at the position.

And now, only now, after time and again fucking up the QB situation, does Childress feel urgently compelled to seriously upgrade the position. And how is he going about it? By making late overtures to an erratic 39-year-old journeyman with half a bicep. Hey shitbox, you already have an erratic journeyman on the roster. Do we really need fucking multiples of them?

I’ve heard arguments in the Minnesota media that, while Favre almost certainly offers no January promise for the Vikings, that his presence will at least make the coming season more interesting. Well, you know what? I don’t want my team to be fucking interesting. I want my team to fucking WIN. I’ve seen this team do the interesting thing before, with Denny Green and Randy Moss and all that shit. It was fun. But ultimately, it ended up going to shit.

Interesting teams don’t win it all in the NFL anymore. If you want to win a Super Bowl, you’re better off being the most boring fucking team alive. Look at the Steelers. They change coaches once every two decades. They never sign big name free agents, particularly those “he’s the final piece!” type free agents. They don’t do any of that shit. They keep things running smoothly, and then they go win titles. And they don’t sign players I fucking despise.

That’s the biggest dagger of all in this whole shitshow. That seething hatred I have of Brett Favre is part of who I am. It’s ingrained in my very being. When I die, my body will turn into nothing but solid black ash. I won’t go to Heaven. I won’t go to Hell. I’ll simply stop existing. Not a trace of me will be left, on this plane or any other. But, even then, I assure you I’ll still find a way to fucking hate Brett Favre.

And now, as a final, personal FUCK YOU to every Viking fan like me who ever wished him dead, that fuckface is now going to make it so I have to root for him. I actually have to cheer when he goes and does something good. And that makes me hate his fucking guts all the more. Because now I’m supposed to buy into all his bullshit.

That fucking fuck.

Well, fine. If that’s the way it has to be, then so be it. I’ll root for you in a Vikings uniform, Favre. But just know that I will hate every goddamn minute of it. Just know that never has loving a sports team been more exposed as a thoughtless, irrational, singularly idiotic pursuit than in this coming instance. Just know that I will fucking hunt you down with a goddamn bow when you end up fucking us in the end. And you will fuck us. Just know I’m far more excited by the thought of you getting booed at Lambeau than the thought of you being cheered at the Metrodome.

Just know that your new head coach is an incompetent, arrogant fuckwit who couldn’t place an order at a Sonic drive thru without fucking it up and triggering some sort of biochemical attack.

Just know all that before you sit down for your little powwow with Brad Childress, Farvaro. You fucking pussyflap. Oh, I’ll cheer you on, you fucking Hollywood redneck cockpuller. I’ll pull for you every step of the way, you miserable shit volcano. I’ll cherish your token three good games during the season that make Collinsworth flood his pants, you blood-soaked pantyliner.

I’ll do all that that.

But I’ll never stop hating you.

Fuck you.

Worried you may have contracted the deadly swine flu that is fast becoming a GLOBAL PANDEMIC THAT WILL MOST CERTAINLY KILL US ALL IN A LANDMARK EVENT THAT HISTORIANS WILL MOST CERTAINLY END UP NAMING “THE PORK DEATH”? Well, it’s important you know the symptoms, symptoms matching those of the recent victims seen above. And here they are.

-Coughing
-Sneezing
-Snorting
-Willingly spending more than 6 hours drinking in a piece of shit Landover parking lot
-Gender confusion
-“Dancing bowel”
-Appearance in old Visa commercial
-Going from bitching about Art Monk not being the Hall to bitching about Joe Jacoby not being in the Hall (“He was greet on Sundees!”)
-Loves of pretzels, dancing (Maj only)
-Spending six hours discussing some stupid fucking golf outing you had
-Yellowheads
-Cranial gout
-Harris Teeter VIC card
-Waxy discharge
-Muumuu
-Double cheeks
-High school class ring
-Obvious hair transplants
-Monogrammed clothing
-Muddy saliva
-Dave and Buster’s game card
-Subcutaneous chocolate deposits
-Hypochondria
-Cauliflower eyelid
-Mild fever, some lightheadedness
-Affection for piece of shit team that will never win anything again ever, so fuck you

PROTECT YOURSELF. I suggest buying two surgical masks, Saran Wrapping your entire body, ionizing your home, burning the dog, and never living near any stupid fucking Redskins fans, like I do.

Ready to hear the meaningless phrase “best team to never make the playoffs” thrown around for the next five decades, particularly by Bill Simmons? Ah yes, those New England Patriots, excuse me, “Greatriots” fans are outraged at being screwed out of a playoff spot, especially after beating all those tough teams from the West divisions! And, as with anything related to Boston sports, it’s more than an injustice. IT’S THE GREATEST FACKIN’ INJUSTICE OF THEM ALL! NO ONE DENIES THIS!

And now we get the disgusting spectacle of watching two .500 teams fight it out for an undeserved playoff berth in the AFC West. The Patriots should be going to the playoffs, it’s a disgrace that they’re not.
Posted by Richter December 28, 08 07:33 PM

Yes, yes! That’s it! Cry. CRY THOSE BIG FAT TEE-AHS! Bitch like the constant complainers you always are and always have been!

NFL is a crock….letting teams in with a 500 record, really makes the playoffs more exciting, right?
Posted by Don December 28, 08 07:39 PM

Oh, God! Yes! More! I love it when you try and make it sound like everyone else finds your team endlessly compelling. How about a conspiracy theory?

If Wes Welker can get fined for making Snow Angels, why shouldn’t Brett Favre get find for throwing the most blatant interception in the history of the NFL, even if he does lead the league in all-time interceptions?????
Posted by Rich P December 28, 08 07:42 PM

That’ll do! Yes, Favre threw that pick specifically so you wouldn’t make the playoffs! And can we blame a black person for the whole thing now?

Nice job GAFFEney dropping the TD angainst the Colts. It cost us the season
Posted by Angrypatsfan December 28, 08 08:01 PM

STUPID DAHKIE! WELKAHHH WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT BALL!

This hate-on in my pants could very well burst my jean seams, I tell you. And how about using this occasion to completely dismiss Tom Brady?

The NFL is building a mediocre sport by letting teams with worse records go to the playoffs over real contenders. Does the NFL really think those playoff games with horrible teams will be exciting? *yawn*

Great season, PATRIOTS! Congrats for making it exciting to watch. And to Matt Cassel for giving us hope. I wish you the best ~ Brady can sit out and get married in Costa Rica next season, for all I care. I’d prefer to see Cassel lead a healthy team and return us to the playoffs! Happy New Year!
Posted by product19 December 28, 08 08:01 PM

I agree with you, GREATRIOT fans. WHAT HAS TOM BRADY DONE FOR YOU LATELY? I love it when you pretend to be the most loyal and intelligent fans in the nation, when the truth is you’re just a bunch of whiny, fair-weather fucksticks who think the goddamn Heavens revolve around you, and who overreact at any goddamn thing that happens.

But surely, some of the GREAT fans of CELTIC NATION appreciate the incredibly good fortune they’ve had over the past few years, and are ready to keep everything in perspective when it comes to this whole Tom Brady business, yes?…

TRADE BRADY!
Posted by Mark December 28, 08 03:24 PM

I would sign Cassel long-term; trade Brady for future needs …. let Tom and Gisele get on with their lives. Brady will never return to what he once was … yet he will never be forgotten in NE !! I wish him well …. his name is GOLD in New England Sports History !!
Posted by Tommy D December 28, 08 07:44 PM

It’s true, Tom! You will never be forgotten in Boston fan’s hearts. Except for right now.

For one last excerpt good dose of haterade, we turn to the always reliable Barstool Sports for enlightenment:

Honestly there needs to be an asterix next to this year’s Superbowl Champion because they didn’t go through us and we’re as good and as hot as anybody in the league right now. And 11-5 should get you in the playoffs every single year. That’s how the founding fathers intended it to be. It’s just not fair that the Cardinals, Eagles and either Broncos or Chargers will be in the post season and we won’t. The league has to take a hard look at this and figure out a solution to rectify this problem. And I’m not talking about for the future either. I’m talking about right fucking now! I don’t know whether that means declaring us the winner of the AFC East or creating a new playoff spot or what? But rules are made by human beings and human beings can break them when they spot an injustice and this is a friggin injustice. Seriously if the NFL wants this post season to be taken seriously then Goodell has to figure something out. If not this will just be like when the US boycotted the 1980 Olympics games. It will tarnish the entire competition because everybody knows they didn’t beat the best of the best. Is that what the country wants?

Yes, I believe so.

And you know why? BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT’S WHY. FUCK YOU AND YOUR GODDAMN MELODRAMATIC BULLSHIT. FUCK YOU FOR THINKING YOUR LOVE FOR YOUR TEAM IS SOMEHOW BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE’S. IT ISN’T. FUCK YOUR TOWN, FUCK YOUR HISTORY, AND FUCK YOUR MOTHERS. YOU AREN’T SPECIAL. YOU’RE JUST AS FUCKING STUPID AND IDIOTIC AS THE NEXT GROUP OF FANS AND DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING FORGET IT.

DIE.

I played in five fantasy football leagues this year; I didn’t make the playoffs in any of them. I bought the magazines and everything, did the research, had discussions about certain players with my friends. And now, All my minutes of waiver wire shopping and proposing shitty trades to Rob Iracane seem to have gone for naught, and so now I’m out $200 and wondering why I didn’t just roll those fantasy mags into a bonfire and throw myself on top of it.

Some people think fantasy sports are just glorified gambling, while others have said that such practices run on websites actually infringe on proprietary information of the NFL. Fuck those people, I say. They’re overlooking the greatest injustice of all: that fantasy football can make somebody like me, a guy who does nothing but watch football, feel like a total football idiot.

Football is, now more than ever, my life. I’ve watched more action in 2008 than I ever watched in the 80s, 90s, or aughts…combined. I write about it, I think about it, I study it. How the fuck could I be so bad at this? Why can’t this just be like sex, where I could just stay drunk the whole time and receive insincere compliments the next morning?

The prime issue might be that I just pour hours of prep into my draft board and then, once that process of picking my cadre of statistical fuckups is over, I take the rest of the fall off. In other words, I run my team exactly the way Mike Brown runs the Bengals. Maybe I should hire a general manager, too.

So now I have to watch everyone else in the leagues I FUCKING RUN AS COMMISSIONER chase that virtual championship, while I sit idly by with my dick in my hand and think of new rules that will fuck everybody over next year. Did you fucks even pay your league fees? I hate this shit.

Oh, but congrats to everyone that made the playoffs in their leagues. I hope you choke on each other’s cocks.

I’ve vaguely hinted at this before, but I think it’s time to put subtlety aside and bust open the haterade officially.

Michael Wilbon is a fucking HUGE douchebag.

Yeah, I know he’s probably the most well-liked person in the industry. That’s great. Good for him. It must be because all the other journos are in awe of his breathtaking casual arrogance. This guy is the Reggie Nelson of sportswriters. Is there nothing on Earth Wilbon cannot simply dismiss with a wave of his hand? Found “No Country” lazy, did you, Wilbon? Well, then it must be so! I thought I was watching “Meet The Spartans”, it was so half-assed! Charles Barkely hated it too, so he must be right! You know him a little bit, right Wilbon?

But hey, what do I know? I’m just a sports fan. And, as you know, if there’s anything Wilbon hates in this world, it’s the common sports fan. Do you like the NFL Draft? Well, Wilbon thinks you’re a fucking simpleton. Thought Wilbon was a little cold about Sean Taylor’s death? Well then, you’re obviously one of these braindead homers who doesn’t understand the principal tenets of journalism. You’re obviously just some Pollyanna who never likes to see his team criticized. There’s no in-between at all! Are you a blogger? Oh, then you obviously are some horrible, predatory rumormonger. You aren’t fit to play act with heads on sticks like a real reporter!

I used to think it was cute when Wilbon called everyone knuckleheads at PTI’s signoff. Except it isn’t a joke. He really DOES think you are a knucklehead, and that you, Joe Sports Fan, are nothing more a beer-swilling retard who is incapable of making decisions for yourself. I bet you liked “No Country For Old Men,” you lazy fucking sheep. Michael Wilbon can’t express his disdain for you highly enough.

Well, I’ve had enough. Wilbon’s gotten a free pass for too long. You’re going right on the douchebag list, Mikey, right between Simmons and that dude from Maroon 5. Am I surprised you’re a preening asswipe? Not in the least.

I’m just kidding, of course. I do not wish you Patriot fans a Happy Valentine’s Day. Unless this is the day your girlfriend decides she’s had it with you and the 500 empty tins of Kodiak you keep leaving around her apartment. I don’t wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day at all. But I will wish you a happy “Eat A Fucking Bowl Of Dick” Day. Or a “Get Run Over By A Fucking Cement Mixer” Day. Or a “Get Your Klan Rally Petition Rejected By The Board Of Commerce” Day. Or a “YOU FUCKING LOST” Day. Or a “Why Don’t You Take A Job As A Commercial Fisherman And Fucking Drown 500 Miles Off The Coast Of Nova Scotia In A Fierce Nor’Easter?” Day.

I hope you choke on rose stems. You fucking losers.

And, while we’re here, let’s tear that Simmons mailbag apart.

One gigantic disclaimer before we get to the collection of post-Super Bowl e-mails: I would have included more Giants-related e-mails if I had received more coherent ones — 99 percent were of the “Hahhhhhhhhaahahahahaa! You suck!” or “18-1!!!!!” variety.

Yes, because no one from New York is creative at all! Such an unimaginative town! What do they do there, sell insurance? It would have been far preferable if New England had won, and Patriot fans could have taunted the world with more florid taunts, such as, “FACK YOU, YOU FACKIN’ BRAWNX IMMIGRANTS! WHY DON’T YOU GO GET A FACKIN’ GREEN CAAAAAD!” Yes, if you root for a non-Boston team, you are nowhere near as gracious or poetic in winning. Maybe if you had been more fawning of the Patriots in victory, Simmons would have deigned to publish you.

Let’s play a game. How many emails did Shitbox have to comb through to get dogshit like this?

Of course, I have no pity for the Patriots, but I DO feel for their great fans.

I’m guessing 300. But wait! There’s douchier!

I really do feel for Pats fans after that loss — I still think this year’s Pats are easily the best team of the modern salary cap era. If you need proof of that, consider the fact that after Plaxico Burress made what became the game-winning touchdown, the single thought in the head of every Giants fan watching the game was “Oh God, Brady has 35 seconds and three timeouts.” I’m not sure there has ever been a team that has caused more doubt in the minds of the opposing fans than these Patriots.

So true! Great teams don’t even need to close out games! The mere fact that other teams’ fans consider the possibility of them coming back to win is all the reason anyone needs! Why even play the end of the game WHEN FANS MAY HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT THE OUTCOME? Crazy!

Finally…

What are the odds that Asante Samuel’s dropped INT at the end of the game will replace Buckner’s bungle as the worst play in Boston history? That was devastating on a level far surpassing anything I’ve seen in all my years as a Boston sports fan. If he ever wears a Pats jersey again, it’ll be too soon.

Allusion to ’86 Red Sox loss? Check.
Boston fan playing up his emotional devastation to invite your pity? Check.
Throwing longtime, outstanding player under the bus? Check.
Desire in me to choke this person with a hockey stick? Check.

Fuck your Valentine’s Day, Patriot fans. I hope you get the runs.