Hate restores us. Hate focuses us. Hate keeps us warm at night and spoons us if we so desire it. And no time is hate more powerful – more necessary – than the postseason, when those we despise are so close to getting what they want. I don’t get what I want, so f*ck those guys. There are countless reasons to hate anyone. Some of which you might not be aware. Or been made to realize that they are worthy of scorn. Well, you came to the right place. Allow us to guide you to the darkest recesses of the soul, where the streets run dark green with bile and everyone knows your embarrassing nickname.
The first problem I have with writing about this sorry sack of shit team is the title: ”Hater’s Guide to the Postseason.” With the Chiefs, it ought to be called “Hater’s Guide to Teams Who Should Be at Home Jacking It While the Real Men Take the Field”. If the league truly wishes to reward divisional success—which Roger Goodell assures us is the case—then a team that finishes 2-4 in its division should never get into the playoffs over a team with an unblemished divisional record.
As bad as the Chiefs are, their fans are far, far worse. They try to make themselves feel less like the redneck misanthropes they truly are by manufacturing this cock-and-bull story about how the team ISN’T named after Native Americans. The entire city clings to this fantasy that team is named after former mayor H. Roe Bartle, who was supposedly nicknamed “Chief”. Really? And are supposed to believe that Arrowhead Stadium is named after former city planning and zoning commission chairman Murray R. Arrowhead?
Oh, and here’s the team’s original logo…
I don’t think that’s the f-cking mayor wearing a loincloth and brandishing a tommy-hawk. I’m not going to wade into a debate about the use of Native American sterotypes and imagery by sports teams. But at least the Redskins own up to their use of racial stereotypes, unlike the gutless Chiefs and their delusional fans. Er, on second thought “gutless” is a poor choice of words when discussing Kansas City:
Yes, Kansas City is a wasteland. They are fat because of their beloved KC-style barbecue—which generally tastes like Slim Jims soaked in ketchup. Memphis bbq, on the other hand, is far superior. That’s right Kansas City, the one thing you think you do well– the thing that you pride yourselves the most upon—is done far better by a city full of illiterate disability recipents and crackfiends. Congratulations, KC you fail at everything.
If you want to antagonize a Chiefs fan, remind them of one of the biggest chokes in the history of the playoffs. The Chiefs were actually pretty good in 1994, landing the AFC’s top seed. So of course they lost their first playoff game to Jimmy Harbaugh and the Colts, 10-7 in a botched proctological examination of a game. Steve Bono threw three picks and Lin Elliott blew three makeable field goals, including one in the closing seconds. To date, it’s one of my favorite games ever. I still think about Marty Schottenheimer’s expression at the end of that game whenever I need a good laugh.
Truly a city of imbeciles
So we’ve established the Chiefs can’t win at home in the playoffs even when they are good. And this season they’re downright shitty. They’re the worst 10-6 team in the history of the league. I guaran-damn-tee the Chiefs lose to the Ratbirds Sunday. So enjoy it while it lasts, Chiefs fans—you’re on the road to the Super Bowl. Unfortunately, Derrick Thomas is driving. BOOSH!!!
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