The epic Bill Belichick-Jim Caldwell blood feud is renewed in this, a contest bound to be sorely lacking in superlatives about the quarterbacks involved. But there are so many other intriguing storylines aside from the obvious QB comparison. Is it Laurence Maroney or is it Joseph Addai who is more generally useless? Can Austin Collie’s grittiness unseat Welkah’s on this grand primetime stage? Will Caldwell ever forgive Dwight Freeney for not employing his many spins as a running back at Wake Forest? Why won’t we ever give the Meast to Peyton?

These questions and more will be quickly brushed aside in favor of dick jokes, soft porn and making light of the reinforced stereotypes in that “Precious” movie.

Our resident Steelers fan is taking the night off to watch the game at a bar with his Steeler friends, but we’ll still have gay mafia quorum here at the live blog, as we pull our weekly stunt of spending as much time typing and reading comments as we do watching the game. Should be fun. The way I look at it, I’m not drinking alone if I’m chatting on the Internet with other people who are drinking. It’s what Kyle Orton would want.

Curse these likable Saints!

You know how I know that New Orleans won’t win the Super Bowl this year? Because it would be way too acceptable to the average viewer. Of all the teams that could possibly contend for a title this year, the Saints are the only one (OTHER THAN MAH STILLERS, A-COURSE!) that I would be perfectly content with them getting a championship.

And the likable team never wins titles. NEVER! Sure, on occasion the MORE likable team will win a Super Bowl (viz. SB XLII) but never an entirely likable one.

Look at ‘em, likable little bastards. Breesus leads the league in likability and skipping passes on water. Even with Jeremy Shockey on the roster, I have a hard time hating them (no small feat). Even knowing a Saints title would force more Archie Manning on my television, I can’t say I would be all that troubled by the overall prospect of it happening. I’ve never had a bad experience with a Saints fan. I mean, I’m sure they’re all raging Cajun dickholes when they get in LSU mode, but for whatever reason, when they don the Saints gear they become halfway tolerable, which is the highest compliment I can pay a fan of a franchise other than my own. Most importantly, of course, the Saints have never won dick, so it’s not like their fans could get all that cocky afterward.

And that’s why the Saints are doomed. DOOMED, I SAY!

You must have some really pivotal fantasy starters in this game (they better be on the Eagles) or else we need to look into some kind of live blog addiction intervention for the lot of you. This game will not be good. It will not be entertaining in the least. Don’t say you weren’t warned. I’m only tuning as a sick form of self-abnegation and to see whether Dan Snyder will dispatch his stormtroopers to cudgel the first poor sap dumb enough to stick a sign in front of an ESPN camera that suggests the team should be sold. Six Flags in PG has been an internment camp for such foolhardy fans for the previous three years. Somehow nobody has noticed.

The Broncos have the opportunity to put themselves three and a half games up on the only other team capable of giving them viable competition for the AFC West crown. But what’s so good about handing a potentially crippling defeat to a division foe without it being augmented by extreme personal rancor? WE WANT PATHOS! You ruined our favorite personal rivalry, McDaniels. THAT WAS YOUR WORST CRIME OF ALL! FATSIS THINKS YOU, SIR, ARE A BOORISH TYRANT!

After all, Jay Cutler was the perfect foil for Philip Rivers; the overwrought sub to Marmalard’s domineering (and abstinent) dom. Now, not only is Cutler removed from the equation, but in his place is the most even-tempered proxy ever. How can anyone, even Rivers, hate the Neckbeard? He’s just a sloppy looking affable drunk (unlike Cutler’s surly drunkeness) who game manages teams to minor success.

It’s just not the same to have Rivers’ nemesis sulking it up in another conference. It’s like making The Joker fight Aquaman. Sure, in the end, one of them still dies, but where’s the dramatic conflict?

“Whatever. I don’t care. Pink binkie is all the friends I need.”

Remember that big offseason fight that Rex Ryan had with Channing Crowder? Of course you don’t, because everyone stopped paying attention to the Dolphins weeks ago. “BUT REX DIDN’T FORGET! HE’S GONNA HAVE LINEMEN DRIVING AT THEM KNEES, STOCKARD CHANNING!”

But Rex also needs to know his rookie is ready to rebound from his disastrous performance against the Saints.

I MEAN, REALLY READY!

Oh loogit, little Nacho (his actual Rex-imposed nickname is the much more unfortunate Sanchise) is Twitter-humming the Monday Night Football theme. He hasn’t been this excited since his first date rape at USC. Good thing he doesn’t tell any jokes on his feed. It always weirds me out when Spanish-speaking people write out laughter as “jejejejejejeje” online.

Aaron Rodgers aaron rodgers aaron rodgers aaron rodgers. Aaron Rodgers aaron rodgers aaron rodgers aaron rodgers? Aaron Rodgers. Aaron Rodgers, aaron rodgers aaron rodgers aaron rodgers.

AARON RODGERS AARON RODGERS!

Aaron Rodgers aaron rodgers, aaron rodgers aaron rodgers (AARON RODGERS!) aaron rodgers! Aaron Rodgers?

Aaron. Rodgers.

Fantasy owners in possession of Felix Jones or either starting defense have to be licking their chomps and lubricating their fists at the prospect of the forthcoming points SPLOSION. And that must be the way because I will not stand for this game being anything but an overblown comedy of errors, where turnovers abound, Marty B is mic’d up and irate people in the overbooked Party Pass sections in the new Cowboys stadium turn to mob violence to exact revenge on the muckety-mucks who heap disdain upon them from their fancy “seats” with “views of the field”. But these raging Dallas untouchables don’t count on the cage dancers being heavily armed and trained by Mossad. Just when it can’t get more bizarre, out come the C.H.U.D.s.

Oh, Colts and Dolphins, you’re just one of those contests that was so much more interesting before everyone figured out how to stop Miami’s gimmicky bullstein. Besides, the Dolphins don’t matter when it’s high time for the Pierre Garcon breakout game! You know it. I know it. It’s gonna be just like Mario Manningham with the Giants last night.

Or not. But we’ll try to look surprised when DFC and Reggie Wayne get open when they should be double covered.

All right, kidlets – we’re firing up the Kkakemobile (”It’s the only car that needs a windshield wiper on the INTERIOR!”) and cruising down the HOV lane of the Dick Joke Expressway (formerly Matlock Expressway). I don’t have an EZ Pass, so you humps gotta pitch in for tolls.

Our regularly scheduled Monday night live blogification returns, with us streaming to you live vulgarities and inappropriate jokes to bolster your viewing experience of what will undoubtedly be two massive blowouts between divisional foes. First up, you might have seen it scrawled on Bill Simmons’ masturbation journal that the Dreamboat is back (we can’t confirm Simmons’ report that his dick is even tastier now) and Brady’s bringing cuddles (and even more kids!) with him. This should be a doozy. How ever will a Patriots defense gutted of old useless automatons like Mike Vrabel, Tedy Bruschi, Rodney Harrison (who’s still talking trash about Patriots opponents even though he’s a studio analyst now) and Richard Seymour manage to stifle a supersimplified Bills offensive strategy devised by Alex Van Pelt? Surely they cannot hope to try. Lay down your arms, fellas.

Our latter Mike & Mike narrated lop-sided contest features King Philip the Laserfaced GOING ALL PHILIP RIVERS on the Tom Cable’s band of overweight quarterbacks and savagely beaten coaching staff in Raidervania. Will Tila Tequila follow up on her promise to get all the battered women of the world to show up and protest (only to be raped again by Raiders fans)? Let’s hope so!