Shawne Merriman: I am find no good… in draft pick of Larry English

Reporter: Why is that? He isn’t expected to challenge you for your starting spot.

Shawne Merriman: I AM FIND NO GOOD…draft pick Larry English

Reporter: But why?

Shawne Merriman: DRAFT PICK LARRY ENGLISH…cause question to my footballhood

Reporter: Your footballhood?

Merriman: Basic nature of footballness

Reporter: Footballness?

Merriman: POSSESSING QUALITY OF FOOTBALLNICITY!

Reporter: How then will you respond to this impugning of your footballhood?

Merriman: LIGHTS OUT DANCE!

Reporter: Just doing the dance?

Merriman: RAPE TACKLE FIRST

Reporter: Then Lights Out dance?

Merriman: That is appropriate sequence.

Reporter: At what point do you think fans and the media will stop questioning your footballhood?

Merriman: AFTER RAPE.

Reporter: Rape all of them?

Merriman: ALL WHO DARE QUESTION! RAPE IS THE ANSWER TO ALL QUESTIONS!

Reporter: Uh, okay. Just to be clear, I’m not questioning you.

Merriman: But you asked questions.

Reporter: Yes, but that was questioning your motives, not your abilities. It’s not the same thing.

Merriman: YOU CALLED MOTIVEHOOD INTO QUESTION!? UNNGGGGAAAHHHHH!

Reporter: [Head darting around] Uh, technically, I guess, that is to say, I tried to get at the, uh, the … hey, anyone else around here that can control this guy?

[Door flies open]

(more…)

Josh McDaniels: This is disintegrating by the minute. What a disaster. My relationship with my starting quarterback might be strained irreparably. My star receiver almost got charged with disorderly conduct. And our new safety Brian Dawkins already got infected with Power AIDS.

[Phone rings]

McDaniels: Hello?

Philip Rivers: Ya betta ask so-

[Coughs]

Ahem.

Hey Josh! This is Chargers GM A.J. Smith. How’s it going, guy? Good to finally chat at ‘cha. Say, I couldn’t help hearing that you were trying to shop Cutler.

McDaniels: As a matter of fact, I have been. Whaddaya have in mind? This mean you’re interested in swapping with Rivers?

Rivers: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HO HO HO HO HO

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[Wipes away tear]

Ooooohhh Josh, Josh. That’s gold, man. That’s a shart and a half. Never knew you were funny like that. Cutler for Rivers? Sure, and then you can dip my wife’s tits in apple butter and scrape ‘em on your toast.

McDaniels: So what kind of deal are you trying to set up?

Rivers: Cutler for Tomlinson. Pretty even on team leadership. AND we throw in a 2nd round pick to sweeten the pot. ‘Cause 2nd round picks are the new 1st round picks.

McDaniels: Okaaaaay. That’s decent value, but why would you want another starting quarterback? And what would we do at QB?

Rivers: Here’s the thing: we got Merriman rehabbing, striving to get back in shape for the season, but the guy needs to work on the raping. It’s a real central part of his game. The problems with the knee have made it difficult for him to procure victims to force himself upon, and he really prefers to have his way with a quarterback. Now, we can’t use Rivers for that. Far, far too valuable. And Volek has language in his contract that forbids that. Sneaky Jew agent got us there. We keep trying to sign some practice squad scrub QB for it, but they inevitably get wind of what we’re trying to do before they sign a contract. Plus Cutler has that vulnerable-looking pout that really sets Shawne’s cockteeth on edge. It’s true, he has little teeth in his urethra. Pity the team doctor who discovered that.

McDaniels: And our QB situation?

Rivers: Hey guy, I can’t tell you how to run your team. Since you’re so adamant about having a guy you coached in New England, why not make a play on that Kevin O’Connell fella. He knows the McDaniels Way! Plus, wouldn’t the ultimate imprint on your era be rebuking Shanahan’s philosophy and pick up a feature back?

McDaniels: Dunno, man. Just doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for our club right now. Gonna have to pass.

Rivers: JUST SAY YES, YOU LILY-TESTACLED COCKTWEEZER! CUTLERFUCKER’S GONNA BE THE END OF YOU! HE’LL PUT THE SULKFACE CHICKEN WING ON YOUR CAREER! 38 COACHES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA, ALL THANKS TO THAT FROWNYFACE TEABAGGER! WHAT? HUH? WHAT? FUCK YOU!

McDaniels: Goddammit, this is Rivers, isn’t it? You little spastic piece of shit, quit wasting my time.

[Hangs up]

[Phone rings]

McDaniels: Hello?

Rivers: JOSH, pally. Lions GM Martin Mayhew here. Straight-up: all our linemen and receivers and entire draft for Cutler. We’re gonna let him run a one-man offense. We’re talking revolutionary shit. How’s about it? Let’s talk deal.

McDaniels: Fuck off, Rivers.

Rivers: STRADDLE SHIT, MCSPANIELS!

[Hangs up]

[Phone rings]

McDaniels: [Aggitated] Hello Rivers.

Rivers: Hi. This is Defense Secretary Robert Gates. We’re out of minesweeping dogs, so we thought we’d use your quarterback instead. ALSO, GET FUCKED! WAY TO RUIN YOUR TEAM A MONTH INTO THE JOB! IT TOOK NORV AT LEAST THREE MONTHS!

WHAT? HUH? WHAT? TWEET YOU! A helpful soul has forwarded us what can no doubt be the actual Twitter feed of Marmalard. And he’s already cussing. YOU LIED TO US, YOU MAINSTREAM MEDIA JACKALS!

Reporter: You came out strong on the opening drive, but then you didn’t get back into the endzone until you’re down big in the 4th quarter. What happened?

Philip Rivers: They simply made the plays you have to make to win these games, but gosh darn it if we didn’t give it our all. And you can’t turn the ball over in the playoffs, and sure as abstinence is the safest sex, that’s what we did.

But, you know me, clean-cut humble God-fearing Philip Rivers, I’m not gonna get all hot and bothered and let loose some profanity-strewn tirade. Nope. Just not my thing. We had a good run. All credit to the Steelers. Heckuva team they got there.

Our guys have nothing to be ashamed of. We could’ve hung it all up when we were 4-8. But we dug in our heels and made a dandy little run, didn’t we? What? Huh? What? We sure did!

Just came up a little short of the final goal.

Reporter: Thanks.

Rivers: Thank you.

Rivers: [Singing loudly to self] Ain’t nothing gonna break-ah my stride. Ain’t nothing gonna slow me down. Oh no…

[Door flies open]

Rivers: Ya betta ask someboddddaaaaayyyyyyyyy!

ASK THEM WHY I PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT! YOU PIGFUCKERS RUINED THE MARMALARD REVENGE/COACH-KILLING TOUR™ YOU KNOW HOW MANY T-SHIRTS I HAD PRINTED?! NOW I GOTTA SHIP ‘EM ALL TO WHEREVER THE FUCK MANUMALEUNA IS FROM! I EXPECT FULL REIMBURSEMENT FOR YOUR FAILURE!

Fuck you Norv! I want a cut of the retarded challenge clause in your contract. Fuck you, defense. YOU MADE THE FUCKING STEELERS LINE LOOK GOOD! THAT’S LIKE MAKING THE CUTLERFUCKER LOOK LIKE A CHEERFUL AMIABLE SOUL! IT’S APT BECAUSE HE’S A MOROSE DICKSMACK! Fuck you, Jackson. IF YOU MAKE AN INSANE CATCH ON AN OVERFLOAT, DON’T LET THE GROUND JAR IT LOOSE! WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS! Fuck you, –

Darren Sproles: Hey, this is coming from the guy who threw the pick on the first play after my long return.

[Rivers grabs Tiny Darren's megaphone and hurls it at the wall. It hangs in the air long enough for Antonio Gates to grab it just short of a first down marker]

Rivers: YOU’VE FALLEN FROM THE GRACE OF THE LASERFACE, TINY DARREN! Where were the big plays when we were still in the game, five dollar foot tall fuckface? Once I get the team to trade LaGroinInjury, you will be the one to fail me over and over again. Where the fuck is that useless sack of Vizio pixels?

[On field]

Tomlinson: You had an injury. Yet you got better. How is this possible?

Willie Parker: You try bike?

Tomlinson: I tried bike.

Parker: I suggest more bike.

Tomlinson: Okay.

Nice hat.

[Locker room]

Rivers: Why the full-fledged fatbottom fuck are you just sitting there!? No wonder we got our shit pushed the fuck around by those black and gold cockswirlers. No heart between the lot of you! NOR ARE THERE COCKS!

Wait. What is fuck is that, Chambers?

Chris Chambers: Camera.

Rivers: Why, to record your ongoing failure so you can jack to it later?

Chambers: That or you cussing.

Rivers: SON OF A SYPHILITIC TRANNY BITCH! I’ll lose my prized Chick-Fil-A endorsement. THEY LOVE THE CHURCHY ANGLE! AND THEY LOVE THE SOUTH! AND I GOT BOTH!

[Chambers runs off to reporters, Rivers lumbers awkwardly in pursuit]

Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood. Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood.

SCENE 1 — Anthropology Lab, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh

Professor: (studying printouts) Fascinating.  Tom, look at this.  (motions to graduate assistant)

The Steelers and Cowboys are the NFL’s two most popular teams.  I can account for the Cowboys’ popularity — Dallas is the nation’s 9th largest city, and for a long time it was the only team in the entire southwest United States.

Tom: Mmm-hmmm.

Professor: But I can’t seem to connect the dots on the Steelers’ fan base.  Pittsburgh’s population is just a little more than 300,000, and it has regional competitors for fans in Philadelphia, Cleveland, Buffalo, Cincinnati, Washington, and Baltimore.  I’d like to attribute it to the team’s massive success in the 1970s just as the steel industry failed, displacing fans across the country… but that simply doesn’t account for the numerous Steelers bars in every American city.

Tom: Mmm-hmmm.

Professor: It almost seems to be a pervasive, debilitating personality trait, in which seemingly intelligent people find ways to justify their fandom of a team they have little or no regional connection with, just because cheering for a team that tends to win more satisfies some aspect of their malformed personalities.

Tom: I see.  So, yinz watchin’ the Stillers on Sunday?

Professor: Wait.  You’re from Florida.  Your father is a 49ers fan.

Tom: (waves yellow towel) Here we go, Stillers, HERE WE GO!

Professor: NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SCENE 2 — The National Security Council War Room

Scientist: Mr. President, it’s worse than we imagined.  This pervasive personality disorder exists in every American city, and it spreads further every time the Steelers win.

President: What are our options?  Can we quarantine?

Four-Star General: Impossible.  We don’t have the manpower.

President: A vaccine?

Scientist: We’ve tried, sir, but Steelers fandom is extremely resilient.  And WAY douchey.

CIA Director: Why don’t we just stop the Steelers from winning?  Maybe a snatch-and-grab of James Harrison and Troy Polamalu?  Keep them in Guantanamo until after the Super Bowl?

President: We can’t take that chance.  I’ve got Pittsburgh in the office playoffs pool.

Four-Star General: Sir, I think it’s time we looked at eliminating Ground Zero of the problem.

President: You mean…?

Four-Star General: Yes.  I mean an atomic attack on Pittsburgh.  (pauses) Mr. President… are you ready for some football?

President: Fuck yes!  That place sucks!  (launches nuclear strike)

SCENE 3 — New York City, the following Sunday

Joey: Shame about Pittsburgh, huh?

Mark: Not really.

(they high-five)

Joey: Man, I am SO looking forward to watching Chargers-Steelers in a sports bar without a bunch of jackasses waving cheap hand towels and screaming at the TV.

Mark: Me too!

(they enter bar)

Zombie Fan 1: Nnnnggguhhhh… Kordell GAY!

Zombie Fan 2: Grrrrraaaaahhh… Fire Bruce Arians!

Zombie Fan 3: Mmmmugghhh… One for the… first finger on… second hand!

Joey: Fuck!  Those cockroaches survived!  Mark, we gotta get outta here!

Mark: Aw, c’mon, Joey.  The game’s about to start.  Besides, you gotta be impressed by dere loyalty.  Look, even all the Stillers chicks got jerzees on.

Zombie Fan 1: Damn… Neil O’Donnell… Gaaarrrrggh… Must continue to bitch… despite team’s success.

Joey: Mark, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?  You can’t really be serious about watching the game with these assholes, can you?

Mark: You better redd up that mouth, neb-nose.  My favorite aunt was a Stillers fan!  I growed up rootin’ for this tihm!  Kind of!  When they won!  I know all about dere great historih from before I was born!  I studded it on Wicker-peedy-er!

Joey: No!  They got you too!

SCENE 4 — The White House, Washington, D.C.

President: Hey, how ya like my jersey?

Chief of Staff: NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(dials emergency number)

Secretary of Defense: Hello?

Chief of Staff: Mr. Secretary, we have to re-schedule the inauguration for RIGHT NOW!  It’s about President Bush, sir.  We’ve… we’ve lost him.  He’s more dislikable than ever.

Secretary of Defense: I’m afraid it’s too late, Junior.

Chief of Staff: So that’s it, then.  This is how our republic falls.

Secretary of Defense: Not yet.  We still have one last hope.

Chief of Staff: Are you saying…?

Secretary of Defense: We better ask somebody.

SCENE 5 — The San Diego Chargers Locker Room

(a phone rings)

Marmalard: THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?

Marmalard strives to end Tony Dungy’s career a week after ousting Leatherface from Denver. Can San Diego take two games in San Diego in one year? Quite possibly, but Rivers floaters, Tiny Pocket Darren and a barely existent defense stand in their path.

Better win, Indy, or Pey-Pey’s gonna have to yell at some linemen like the true unselfish leader he is.
(more…)

If you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won’t do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

Success comes to the Laserfaced! Douse me in Tentacle Grape, for I have just fucked the Cutlerfucker back to his dimly lit room for some good slicing-myself-while-listening-to-Deb-Talan.

With mopey mope suicide girl Cutlerfucker out of the picture and Ratface Shanatan gone for good, The Laserface Revenge/Coach-Killing Tour © rolls on. Next up is Phoetus Manning and Tony Dungheap. You got one over on King Philip earlier this year. BUT THAT’S ONLY WHEN I WAS LETTING THE LEAGUE LAY ITS GUARD DOWN! YOU DIDN’T THINK I’D DIDN’T KNOW DENVER WAS GOING TO CHOKE, DID YOU? DID YOU? WHAT? HUH? FUCK YOU!

My gang of supersoldiers is running at full cream. 8-8 DON’T MEAN SHIT! WE’VE BEEN GIVEN LIFE ANEW! AND WITH LIFE COMES A DICK TO FUCK YOU WITH!

Tomlinson: flexflexflexflexflexflexflexflexflexflexflexflex

Rivers: Wellie well well wellington, three gimme touchdowns against a porous Denver defense and all of a sudden LaToeInjury wants to pretend like he’s the blue-ribbon bitch again?

YOU HAVEN’T DONE FORDYCE’S-INFECTED DICK ALL SEASON, MR. LEAN MEAT PROTEIN!

Just to spite you, I bought four Philips brand flatscreens yesterday and kicked over the Vizio display with your visored vagina all over it. AND IT STILL GAINED MORE YARDS THAN YOU!

The only thing keeping us in contention all year was this God-graced football cannon and My Tiny Pocket Darren.

He’s useful because he’s portable AND HE DOESN’T SIT OUT AFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAMES IN HIS PUFFY COAT ON THE BENCH LIKE SOME DETACHED OVARIES I KNOW!

I can see it now: Early February in Tampa. All the nearby hometown Alabamians will have hitchhiked into town to see King Philip’s coronation against the Shelisha who was too good to play here.

I’ll use my bonus money to get me a giant floating zeppelin so I can cast disdainful glances on my subjects. “Please, please, regard us,” they’ll cry. AND THAT’S WHEN I’LL GOLDEN SHOWER THE LOT OF THEM! THEY’LL BE SO PROUD THEY’LL TELL THEIR GRANDKIDS AND MAIL CARRIERS ABOUT IT!

I’ll be champeen of the world. They will not need to ask somebodddaaaayyyyy because they will know. BUT I WILL TELL THEM ANWAY!

YA BETTA ASK SOMEBODDDAAAAAYYYYYYYY!

Our long-awaited Marmalard-Cutlerfucker showdown was lacking in histronics or even a competitive game, but nbc was sure to show Jay in all his dour glory. You know, Tony Romo, for all his shower-collapsing antics, gets all the credit for being a December and January choke artist, but Cutlerfucker is every bit his equal in that regard, as Denver is 5-9 the last three Decembers.

After the jump is a little illustarted story to accompany the 30,000 shots of Cutlerfucker moping, with some bonus boobage for your trouble.
(more…)

Can Marmalard and his merry band of supersoldiers steal away a division title that looked unimaginable only a few weeks ago? For whatever reason nobody counted on yet another late-season Denver implosion to give them a shot, but here we are. The winner gets to host Indy next week, which means Pey-Pey will be mouthing off to the area hotel staff. Do you really want to subject them to that? My guess is Denver does not.