Sweet ass spelunking Jesus, those were not good times. Call me a reactionary but I’m here to call for the head of Coach Joe Gibbs. Some say it’s sacrilege to utter such opinions in the District of Columbia, but most certainly realize that this shit has gone on way too long. Dennis Hopper’s character from Hoosiers could have done a better job preparing his team for a game after sucking the ethanol out a hippy’s gas tank. The Redskins don’t have the personnel necessary to compete for a title but they sure as shit shouldn’t be losing by 45 to anybody. For the love of God, even those teal-clad ball-garglers managed to keep things interesting. They found a way to put the ball in the endzone even after Ronnie Brown got hurt, but all you can do is shrug your fucking shoulders spread your cheeks wide for Belichick’s stubby little captain to make you a man? Fucking shit, man.

If Joe Gibbs had coached the 1980 Olympic hockey team we’d all be speaking Russian. Da.

If Joe Gibbs had coached the 1971 Marshall Thundering Herd the town of Huntington would have wished they’d been on that fucking plane.

If Joe Gibbs had run the Boston Celtics Franchise he would have traded Bill Russell for an old white point guard to run the second team and pre-game Bible study.

If Joe Gibbs had the mount on Secretariat he would have pulled in the reigns after the first 1/8th mile.

If Joe Gibbs were the President of the United States…well actually things would be about the same, except that Kim Jong-Il would have blueprints of every nuclear reactor in America.

Yep, I’m still pretty fucking pissed. Offense can’t function without an “NFL quality” line? Fine, get beat. Defense can’t stop Tom Brady? Fine, get beat. Nobody calls Randy Moss for pushing off? Yeah it sucks, but fight back. Instead of bending over for the Patriots why not call Sean Taylor over during the next timeout. Here’s what you do–give him some earplugs, convince him that any whistles he hears are his imagination, and tell him that the next play isn’t over until somebody is in traction. At least then we wouldn’t be the the NFL’s newest prison yard bitch.

Hey Joe…uh, where you gonna run to now, where you gonna run to?

Yeah, Mexico. You should totally go hide out in Mexico for a while.

And now for Mr. Belichick…

A lot of people want me to lay into heartless football coaching machine, but what’s the point? Doing so would be counter-intuitive, it just serves to feed the beast. What I really don’t understand are all of the emails I’ve received about how I shouldn’t bitch about the Pats running up the score, which is especially odd because I don’t really remember doing so.

Here’s where I stand on the issue, Brady is a dick, Gibbs is a pussy, and Belichick is an asshole.

Yeah, they’re assholes for leaving their starters in after the Skins started to sit defensive players, but we’re pussies for letting it happen. Should Brady be throwing deep jump balls to Randy Moss when they’re up 42 in the fourth quarter? It seems pretty ridiculous, so why not get them to stop? Instead of going up for the ball why not just keep your feet and flip that country motherfucker on his head?

Now that’s football.

I can’t even begin to properly articulate how upset I was by yesterday’s Redskins game. I believe my post-game analysis went something along the lines of, “Fuckyouintheassyouoldasspieceofshitcoach!” Since then I’ve had some time to think about things, but that’s really just pissed me off a whole lot more.

Joe Fucking Gibbs couldn’t manage a Wawa, let alone an endgame scenario in the NFL. He was botching timeouts like he was playing the role of Herm Edwards in the worst biopic since Alexander. All day Aaron Kampman was running through the Skins’ backup right tackles like they were a turnstile yet with the game on the line an injured Todd Wade was out on an island. How about leaving a fucking tight end in there to help out? That was positively Spurrierian. And how about that play call on 4th and 2?! Nothing says “I’m a spineless shell of my former self” like a calling a zero-yard swing pass to the running back when you need a first down to extend the game. Even Jesus himself is having a hard time loving Coach Gibbs this morning.

How many more second halves can the Gibbs/Saunders tandem fuck up before Washingtonians start to answer Big Daddy Drew’s prayers by booking one-way tickets to the 14th Street Bridge? One, maybe two if we’re lucky.

Yet by the end of Sunday’s late games my vitriol began to subside. You see, the only thing that can make a Redskin fan forget their team’s incompetent failure is a Dallas Cowboys loss. Call us pathetic (hey, fuck you!) but the next best thing to a Redskins victory is a painful Cowboy defeat. So call me Peter King (again, fuck you) if you must, but today I am slurping on the coiffured nuts of Tom Brady, and I’m not the only one who might be ready to label him a hero.

Yeah, it feels good to dance.

video via the Flying Sandos Mottram Brothers

Irrelevant aside: If you like Jay Z or Jews you should check out this video.