Chancellor Woodson, board of trustees, faculty, staff, thank you for the opportunity to speak today. It’s a real honor to be here.

You students are doubtlessly aware of my heroic athletic exploits with the Wolfpack. From what I understand, learning about about my legacy is a required part of freshman orientation. I can only pray that my shining example helped to inspire you through the rigors of your time here at NC State. Now, some so-called experts claim that when I was here, I never beat shit-ass Maryland, but those are lies of the worst sort and they are propagated by heathens and charlatans. Pay them no mind.

The purpose of my visit is not to dwell on my glorious past. Rather, it is the future to which we will turn our attention. For me, the future will continue to be sanctified and storied. For you, the road ahead has yet to be defined. For some, that road will be level, well-marked and lead straight to a blessed life. For others, it will be disastrously rocky. You will lose you way, careen down an embankment, smash your face on the dashboard and, should you survive, be lucky enough that you can suck enough trucker dick to fetch a ride back to town. This second option is what I can the road of the non-believer. You don’t want that one.

I agreed to come back when I heard that North Carolina had banned gay people. Later, I found out it was just gay marriage the state has banned, but by then I was told that my flight was not refundable. There’s a handy lesson, kids: do your legwork. It pays off. Nevertheless, true to my word and my principles, I stuck to it and still showed up. For that, I can feel the satisfaction of carrying out a job that is asked of me. Also, I can collect the $300,000 honorarium that the university is contractually obligated to furnish me with. The rewards you reap in life will likely, well, certainly, be not as handsome, but that does not mean you too should not follow through on your commitments.

Faith. Family. Football. It is these three abiding themes that have come to define who I am. As you graduates venture out into the world, you will soon discover the overridding themes that will one day explain who you are. For example, there are the teammates, coaches and executives who rely on my immense talents to guide the fortunes of the San Diego Chargers. For them, it is Faith, Family and FREELOADING. Why do any of the messy work when you can just count on one guy to do it all? WHY ELSE WOULD YOU JUST LET ALL MY RECEIVERS AND TINY DARREN LEAVE THE TEAM? RYAN MATHEWS IS SATAN’S RANKEST QUEEF AND I AM CURSED WITH HIM BECAUSE OF INCOMPETENCE.

There are many passages from the Bible from which I draw guidance and inspiration, in particular, the ones about not spilling your seed upon the ground or men laying down with other men. But I will close today with a quote that will deliver blessings unto you:

“And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”

HAHAHA THAT’S RIGHT, LIBERAL ARTS EDUCATION SINFAGS! Ya betta ask somboddddddddaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!

Plucked by a Reddit user from the festering recesses of 4chan is this mosaic of Philip Rivers that is oddly, crudely fascinating in all the ways that can be applied to Marmalard himself. That they used our favorite Rivers pose is a nice bonus.

I’d like to believe that Marmalard would want this in a museum, if only those weren’t institutions that catered to godless fornicators, polluted as they are with intellectual curiosity and STDs. That and Laserface would want the curators to yell at visitors while they look at the image, possibly even pulling a few aside at random to let them know they aren’t good enough to be in its presence. If at all possible, it should be suspended in air, not attached to a wall.

“I’m on Team Sweater Vest, ’cause he’ll put a stop to the gaying up of Christian America. Oh, and he might create jobs or something, ’cause all them out-of-a-job abortionists are gonna need a new line of work. WHAT? HUH? WHAT? LOOKS LIKE A PLUNGE IN COAT HANGER STOCK!

See, ol’ Timmy Tebow only coyly hints at his politics. He doesn’t have the big brass ones that I do to come out and say it. For all we know, he’s one of them closet gays. When I was his age, I was already married with four kids. What’s he doing? Paling around with his fake country singer beard and getting all fancy at Hollywood parties. Shoot, I’ll bet that boy had so much Clooney in him on Oscar night that he could taste that salt-and-pepper hair.”

[Glass case of emotion flies open]

Ya betta ask someboddddddddddaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy

You listen up, assembled agents of the liberal media. I got something to say.

I wanna let everyone know that Kris Dielman was a warrior. A protector. He protected me and that’s the highest calling a man can pursue. Sure, sometimes Kris messed up and a guy hit me, which is the only reason I ever throw interceptions. But I never blamed him more than once, because I knew he was trying his hardest. He did real work, something you media sound-byters wouldn’t know anything about.

Some of you may call him a quitter ’cause he’s leaving the game since he had a bad concussion. That’s a fair assessment, but him being a quitter doesn’t negate all the times he gave Laserface the time he needed to let loose a majestic float down the field to my legion of gargantuan receivers. We’d stand there and watch the ball float together. I could trace the trajectory of the ball in his eyes. Then he’d meet my glance and I’d call him a NO-GOOD EYEBALL UNDRESSING ME FAGGOT. Those were the days.

Oh geez. Here I go.

IT’S NOT FAIR! WHY’D YOU HAVE TO LET ANDREW BREITBART DIE, LORD! YOU TOOK HIM BEFORE HIS TIME! HE WAS JUST TRYING TO PROTECT US FROM THESE LIBERAL FEMINAZI MEDIA SCUM! NOW THE HEATHENS ARE TRYING TO RAILROAD RUSH AFTER HE CALLED A SLUT A SLUT. GIVE ME THE POWER TO UNDERSTAND, LORD!

Oh sure. You’re gonna make a big fuss out of King Laserface getting all weepy eyed in front of the cameras. That’s just like you to punish a man of true convictions. Well, I don’t care. Chuckle your godless chuckles. WHAT? HUH? WHAT? YOU’LL BE JUDGED IN THE END!

Oh yeah, Dielman. Great guy. I’m sure we’ll sign another fat-ass, though.

Watch as the NBC flunkies openly grouse that this game wasn’t flexed to Patriots-Broncos. “It could have been us showing viewers what Tebow would look like if he were right-handed! Who am I supposed to hype in this game? Ray Rice? SNL doesn’t devote sketches to him.”

Anyway, after sucking for the vast majority of the season, ruining your fantasy team and leading the NFL in interceptions (Josh Freeman derped his way to the top spot last week), Philip Rivers has gotten his float together the past two games, throwing six touchdowns and no interceptions. There was also a fumbled snap that the defense recovered for a touchdown, BUT THOSE AREN’T PASSING STATS! WHAT? HUH? WHAT? That said, those two performances were against the Jaguars and the Bills, so a granule of salt for reason, please. Ray Lewis returns for the Ravens, which will be a nice opportunity for announcers to ignore that Baltimore’s defense has been playing better with God’s Linebacker out of the lineup. Oh, and Terrell Suggs will probably continue to rep Ball So Hard University, the sketchy sister school of Ball State.

The Chargers, last seen squandering a half dozen chances to redeem themselves by stopping Tebowmania, have lost six straight. One would assume that to be sufficient ineptitude to get Norv Turner fired, but it’s sometimes difficult to gauge how beholden a franchise is to the sweet, sumptuous strains of losing.

By firing Jack Del Rio, the Jaguars proved more daring by being willing to cut ties with an inept coach. That’s because they had other, more critical ties to establish, like links to SOOPER SECRET PAKISTANI MOOSLIM TERRORISTS with new owner Shahid Khan. Besides amusingly whipping retards into xenophobic frenzy, KHHHHAAAAAAANNNNNN is notable for his conspicuous Iron Sheik mustache. Were the NFL scripted by 1980s Vince McMahon, Tebow would have indeed been drafted by his hometown Jaguars, only for Khan to purchase the team and bench Jesus Baron indefinitely, thus setting up a rivalry that ends with Tebow hulking out and pinning Khan at the base of The Statue of Liberty.

The Florida Times-Union today made printable Khan mustaches for Jags fans to wear to the game. A cute sentiment until a few dozen rednecks decide to pair them with turbans.

Don’t forget to also take a glance at The New Yorker‘s latest foray into low culture in the form of this profile of Jon Gruden. The piece portrays Gruden as an obsessive student of the game who spends inordinate time poring over game tape only to shuck all that cumbersome insight off once he enters the booth to transform into a wild-eyed fluffer jackal.

Ensconced in his lair in Tampa, far from the “Monday Night Football” cameras, Gruden can sound shockingly negative. He is forever judging players who don’t or can’t excel—“slapdicks,” he calls them, or, more familiarly, “slappies.”

“THIS SLAPPIE SLAPDICK GABBERT, I CAN’T TELL IF HE WANTS TO SLAP THE DICK OR PLAYFULLY PAW AT IT. MY QUARTERBACK NEEDS TO EXHIBIT PEEN POKING INTENSITY!” Despite a few colorful anecdotes about Gruden, it’s Jaws who steals the show with this tragicomic outtake:

When it was Jaworski’s turn, he issued a stern proclamation. “Call me crazy, but I’m really excited for Tyler Palko tonight,” he said, and a roomful of skeptical sports producers erupted in laughter. Jaworski had given himself the thankless task of building up the Chiefs, praising them as much as he could without putting his own credibility at risk. Perhaps viewers would buy into the idea, however far-fetched, that Palko would emerge as the night’s underdog hero. Later that day, as Jaworski was making a cup of coffee in the ESPN bus, he tried the line again. “Call me crazy, but I’m excited about Tyler Palko,” he said. He exhaled. “I’ve got to sell this,” he said to himself.

Please remake Glengarry Glen Ross just for Jaws.

The late games today give you an excellent excuse to go outside and enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. Marmalard and the Chargers bring their unexpected suckiness to Chicago, where an long lost sulkfaced nemesis awaits, in what is probably the most interesting matchup in the late slate, unless the revival of Chris Johnson continues for a second week in Atlanta.

San Diego @ Chicago ???
Tennessee @ Atlanta ???
Arizona @ San Francisco ??
Seattle @ St. Louis ?

Like I said, no one will think you’re a bad football fan if you just turn off the games and head outside.

Should you be one of those many, possibly every, soul who enjoys Marmalard being irate at each and every one and failing all over, then this was a harvest feast of delectation for you. After Marcus McNeill went down, so too went down Laserface. On damn near every dropback. Still, the Raiders herped and derped around long enough in the second half to make a comeback a reality. But the Chargers were unbowed in their collapse. Vincent Jackson got turned around and seemed completely at sea during the final interception to seal it. That launched a Rivers hissy fit to out hissy them all. Pity the six children waiting at home for float daddy.

Thursday night football, everyone’s favorite late-season tradition that is only available to that percentage of the nation that gets NFL Network, returns with a classic AFC West turnover fest. Carson Palmer has thrown three interceptions in each of his two appearances since inspiring the Raiders to mortgage their future in a way that shouldn’t be allowed post-Wall Street bailouts. Meanwhile, current NFL interception leader Marmalard floated two pick-sixes to the Packers a week after his “worst day ever” Romo-esque fumble in a Monday night loss to the Chiefs. That should be sufficient to get you to ignore “Community”, “Parks & Rec” and “Always Sunny”, right?

The most glaring weakness of the Thursday night games, of course, had been the disastrous NFL Network announcing team of Joe Theismann, Matt Millen and Bob Papa, who were mercifully and gloriously dispatched in the off-season. Now we get Brad Nessler and Mike Mayock, who are respectable replacements. Even if sitting through Mayock pronouncing Philip Rivertttthhhhhhhhhh for three hours is likely to wear on the ears.

As I watched the pregame show for “Football Night in America” on Sunday, I fully expected the crew to dramatically shift course from the “Tim Tebow is a born winner” refrain to the more reasonable “Oh right, Tim Tebow can only lob knuckleballs in a general direction, which isn’t a desirable trait for a professional quarterback.” But that didn’t happen. Tony Dungy and Rodney Harrison both faulted the entire Broncos team for the blowout against the Lions, and Harrison pinned additional blame on the defense for “allowing 45 points.”

Um.

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