I don’t think there’s ever been another team in history that’s generated more buzz with a win over the Texans than the Jets have this week. And with that newfound swagger they’ve decided to poke the bear as much as possible in advance of their Kris Jenkins dubbed “Super Bowl” against the Pats. Metal Gear Rex did his best Lane Kiffin impression and Kerry Rhodes pulled a near-Anthony Smith. There were even pointless Twitter fights involving Rodney Harrison, who someone needs to remind is no longer on the active roster.

Can Rex’s dirty chimichanga play well enough for the J-E-S-T to pull one out? Or will the Pats receivers decide not to drop seven passes this week and run away with it? Either way, Rex is at Scores by 5 p.m.

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Radio host: Uh oh. Looks like we call a from Chinatown Jack. This guy, he’s crazy, he’s off the wall, always bringing the passion. C’mon, bring that passion Jack.

Chinatown Jack: [Reading from notebook] Thanks for having me on, Sports Talk. I listen to your show and it’s great, it’s great, but unfortunately each week it’s polluted by the nonsensical ramblings of Paul from Staten Island, always flapping his gums about Quantrell Bishop this and Quantrell Bishop that. Let me tell you something: This year the ‘Skins got Brian Orakpo. He’s like Quantrell Bishop if he kept his beatings on the field. Did you see the preseason quarterback pressures this guy had? Guaranteed all-pro for the next 15 years or else I’ll pull a Bree Olsen.

Sarah Schorno: Jack, what the hell are you doing? Are you on the phone again? Goddamn it. What’s wrong with you? Get to bed!

Chinatown Jack: [Cups hand over phone and lowers voice] Can you believe these diptards in Vegas putting the over/under on Orakpo sacks at 4.5 for the season. It’s like they want to make me an obscenely rich man four times over. But then the cowards pulled it. Smart, because Orakpo’s putting up five sacks of Elisha in the first quarter, easy. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Orakpo bought a second apartment in the G-men backfield. Orakpo is gonna change the face of the game. Orakpo is gonna bring us together as a people. Orak-

Schorno: Jack!

Chinatown Jack: [Sticks hand over phone, whinces] All I want Paul from Staten Island to do is take a last good long look at his precious Elisha because, come Sunday, WE’RE GONNA TELL COOCH TO END HIS CAREER! Then we’ll fire up the bandwagon! It’s been long in coming! You’ll see!

Sunday again, Sunday again, jiggity jig. The early frame is highlighted by the twin bill of four playoff teams from last year, the Panthers-Eagles and Falcons-Dolphins. This being Week 1, there are no truly inconsequential games, just horribly lopsided ones. Let’s look at the remainder of the slate of, what? Football? Yes, glorious, glorious football.

As a Whitlock-approved bonus, here’s the Uncle Rico Jeff George tryout tape after the jump. Does your team need a quarterback capable of throwing behind uncovered receivers running slant routes? Line starts over there, guys.

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Berman only forced his “nobody circles the wagon like the Buffalo Bills” shtick on the audience once, so we, the people wasting part of a Saturday evening watching the Hall of Fame induction, should feel fortunate, even if he bragged how Wilson voted against every franchise’s attempted relocation (except, y’know, his own). Then again, Wilson said he was blown away by the inherent American quality of a block of people in wheelchairs breathing OXYGEN during the parade in Canton this morning, so that feeling may not hold up.

To everyone else out having a life, don’t even bother getting laid, because you can’t give it like The Ben. THE BEN TRAIN TO SEX TOWN IS SOMETHING YOU MAKE BRAG ABOUT UNTIL YOU CALLS IT THE RAPE LATER. THE BEN KNOWS HOW TO MAKE A GIRL PEW!

Consider this your open thread for the induction ceremony and possibly the Hall of Fame Game on Sunday. There’s a chance I’ll be home. If I am, we’ll have ourselves a live blog. If not, try to breathe OXYGEN like those proud American wheelchair people.

For all the readers who hate my onslaught of homerism on KSK and want to see me get my comeuppance, today may be your lucky day. Because there is no ending to the Steelers season that could be more embarrassing and soul-crushing than losing a fourth straight AFC Title Game at home to the shithead Ravens. 0-16 wouldn’t be as bad. Losing the Super Bowl, while immensely disappointing and painful, wouldn’t be as bad. Ravens fans can explain a loss away by saying where they got was a lot further than a rookie quarterback and a rookie head coach should have taken them. Steelers fans have no such fallback. Well, they can always complain that that Palamuuluu guy wasn’t totally healthy.

But with great risk comes great reward. The Steelers can go 3-0 this season over a hated rival and 2-0 against them in the playoffs. For all the talk of how promising Flacco looks, Ray-Ray, Terrell Suggs and Bart Scott are all free agents this year. Their best receiver, Derrick Mason, turned 35 yesterday (Why weren’t Ravens fans celebrating his birthday? Quick guess: He’s not white). This could be the Ravens’ best chance for a while.

I’d love to be here to live blog it for you (that’s a lie) but I have to brave the crowds in D.C. to hit the bar on the Hill. So enjoy the bloodbath in open thread form. And, hey, the only home win in an AFC Championship Game in the Cowher era did come against a Harbaugh brother.

Why is Phil Simms the only guy in that booth still doing the headline games?

Today we already were assured that we get our Marmalard-Cutlerfucker showdown next week for the AFC West crown (also known as the team that gets to lose in the first round to the Colts). Now we get the second of our one-seed Ro Sham Beaux, with the Painthers traveling to the swamps of Jersey to face the now-shaky Giants. With Brandon Jacobs returning, Elisha’s search for his Plax may not be as frenzied. Though if Identity and Theft can gash the New York defense like Tashard Choice could, it’s not going to matter much.

However, if the Simpsons has taught me anything (and it hasn’t), the best moment to come is when the Steve Smiths have a reanimated altercation over who gets whose grave. I can’t wait.

“Excuse me, I’m Steve Smith.”

“Steve Smith, Carolina Panthers?”

“My mistake.”

Giggity.

With apologies to Kige Ramsey.

The first of the homefield advantage deciding games of the day highlights the early frame, even though NOBODY WANTS HOMEFIELD! THEY MIGHT AS WELL THROW THE GAME! Believe it or not, this is only the third time this year the Steelers have played in the 1 p.m. slot. It almost makes me forget how annoying it is to try to get out to the bar for the early game when you’re already hungover. I hope LenWhale’s not being too premature with his Super Bowl ring plans. The pinky ring request shouldn’t be a big issue with fitters already dealing with his sausage fingers.

Elsewhere, the Buzzsaw travels to Massholia to face a bunch of Pats fans who are on the edge of their seat about seeing whether Mark Teixeira will sign with the Red Sox the team can make the playoffs. Awful nice of New England to try to neutralize their own weather advantage by playing the Yule Log in the stadium.

Also, Marmalard strives to keep his season going long enough to see Cutlerfucker end it during the late game.

I have a feeling that since my fantasy playoff fortunes are hinged on the Saints putting up huge numbers on the Lions (starting Brees and the French running back) the Lions will probably be feisty and keep it close, only to blow it in the waning minutes in what will probably be a 24-20 final.

It’s the last game ever in TIXAS Stadium, and as much as I’d like to go on about how much I dislike the 50-foot crown in the center of its playing field, reader Brian had to go and send me this indelible piece of Bawlmer trashiness, the annual singing of “Crabs for Christmas” by David DeBoy and Da Hons. I know the citizens of Baltimore are fond of wearing their innate tackiness as a badge of honor, but I really think it’s them daring us to test chemical weapons on them.

Brian advises us on some highlights to skip to:

1:43: You get to see some kind of crab mascot shuffling around in the back of the hall. Obviously he is your local sex offender who’s been allowed to dress up as a STD and palm it off as community service.

2:08: We get the entire “Crabs for Christmas” ensemble in all its glory. The Honfest pageant winners and the man on the electronic keyboard who puts the Creep-o-Meter right through the roof. Between this guy and the Crab mascot, the pedophiles are beginning to amass inside this shithole of a hall. Also, notice the lifesize Fathead sticker of Elvis on the wall behind the electric piano. Never understood Balwmer white trash’s fascination with the King, but this makes it a tell-tale sign of a Dundalkian White Trash gathering. Seeing Elvis present on the wall is as tell-tale as a cross burning at a KKK rally.

3:40: “The Chrisssmas Whisshle” – enough said…

Oh, but the Cowboys won’t be denied their stake in the battle to be the biggest cornball shitheads, as this week brings soft focus remembrances of a football stadium infused with grating quasi-religious hokum.

No, it’s a meteor hole. C’mon God, this is your last chance!

(Okay, in the spirit of fairness, here’s Ben Roethlisberger, Brett Keisel and Justin Hartwig singing a holiday song called “Neutered Balls.” Goddammit.)

Courtesy Deadspin Weekend (click it or Maj will throw a Redskins-losing-to-the-Bengals-sized fit) is Cowboy Chris “getting in the head” of Ed Werder for the ESPN reporter’s habit of spreading lying lies that aren’t true about Dallas. Shouldn’t Mort really be the target of that sort of heckling? One day Cowboy Chris will track down the Dallas Deep Throat in an Arlington parking garage (Texas instead of Virginia this time, I guess) and get the answers he wants.

Just as the Giants were poised to be the team in the NFC East to collapse down the stretch thanks to an asinine controversy, the wheels are coming off the ‘Boys bandwagon by virtue of the usual assortment of T.O. backbiting and ineffectual coaching. Not quite as hilarious on its face as Plaxico shooting himself in the leg, but it has a heart-warming familiarity to it, like a chestnut of a holiday song.

But no, say Cowboy fans! It’s all an ESPN-manufactured controversy!

T.O. would never throw one of his own under the bus! Just like Peyton Manning would never cast all the blame on his linemen when the Colts lose. Careful, though, Dallas fans. Here’s what happens when reporters fight back.