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.

Vince Young: You know, it’s been hard for me to come to grips with it, but I’m happy for what you’ve done with this team. I’m a competitive dude and I’d love to be out there on that field with a chance to shine on the big stage. But the time was right for you, man. I give you a lot of credit sticking around as long as you have.

Kerry Collins: …

Vince: I mean, who knows what’s gonna happen? Maybe you’ll win it for us this year and you’ll ride off a champ. Maybe even if you win, you stick around for a few years. Either way, you’ve shown me I’ll get mine once the time is right.

Kerry: …

Vince: Yo, man. Something wrong?

Kerry: There ain’t a stiff enough drink to deal with you flapping your big ugly fucking jumbo tar baby lips.

Vince: The fuck you just say to me? Fuck you, you racist piece of shit. I dare you to say that again. I fucking dare you.

Kerry: And if I catch you and your jigaboo friends trying to get that bandwagon fuckwit Snoop Dogg to do a Super Bowl song for us, I’ll get my gun out of my special locker room and spray your meager shit-for-brains all over the walls and play with it.

Vince: Mike, you hearing this shit? This guy is just fucking off.

Mike Heimerdinger: Not my purview, Vince.

Vince: Not your purview? YOU’RE A COACH. Do something before I break my foot off in his ass.

Heimerdinger: You’ll have to take it up with Fisher.

Vince: Coach! Man, you got to hear what Kerry just said to me. He said -

Jeff Fisher: I know, Vince, I know. I believe you. Kerry uses racial epithets. LenDale is a gloating cockhog of a situational running back. Chris Johnson is a high-stepping little shit, too. Haynesworth stomps on people. Vanden Bosch has three servers full of kiddie porn at the team headquarters. Courtland Finnegan kicks pregnant women for his jollies. Rob Bironas plowed my wife. THE KICKER! And I go randomly skydive rather than prepare for opponents.

And you know what? That’s the way it’s going to be. ‘CAUSE. I. DON’T. GIVE. A. FLYING. FUCK.

[Pumps fist]

You know how long I’ve been coaching this goddamn team? Do you? 14 of the most miserable years of my fucking life. I took over when the team was in Houston, back before Bud Adams moved the Oilers and their history to this backwater, pissant, podunk, shitheap in the shadow of Dollywood. People hate the Colts for their skipping town, but at least Indy stole the history of someone who actually did something and not the fucking Oilers.

The only reason people don’t call me a choker is because no one gives a shit about Tennessee. And they shouldn’t. I don’t give a shit about Tennessee. That’s why I respect Kerry. He’s just hanging on for that ring, doing what he has to. That’s gonna make all this bullshit worthwhile. After that, you, Tennessee, the NFL — you can have coaches that are interested in being classy. I tried that shit. Being classy and $5 will buy you a poke with your mom.

So, why don’t you sit your prima-donna, score-of-8-on-the-Wonderlic, bust-of-a-first-round-pick, suicide-hotline-code-blue, dipshit-sidearm-delivery ass on the bench and maybe YOU might get a ring too for being nothing but a drain on my goddamn time.

Vince: …

Can I at least take my shirt off?

Fisher: …

Fine.

“A Boy Named Kerry”

Kerry Collins’s country music career continues to bubble on the stove (via Shutdown Corner) as he works with established songwriters to help him write his own material:

Life hasn’t always been a string of wins and cheering fans for Collins, who completed rehab for alcoholism after public embarrassments in the late 1990s such as a driving-under-the-influence arrest and a bar scuffle with a teammate.

Although his personal life is now as solid as this season’s won-loss record, he mines those dark days to find creative inspiration.

For instance, the song I Don’t Need the Whiskey Anymore, about a man who trades his alcohol addiction for an addiction to a woman, contains his favorite line that he’s written: “I still get intoxicated but my head ain’t quite as sore.”

Hmmm.  Not bad, not great.  I find booze a little less frustrating than women, but to each his own.  Still, since things seem to be progressing slowly, we thought we’d write Kerry his own song. 

Kerry, you’re welcome to this.  Just thank Kissing Suzy Kolber in the liner notes.  And give us 98% of all royalties.

Nashville skyline warm like cheers I’ve barely known,
Things is nice ‘n easy now, but it’s been a long time findin’ home.
Lived once as a Giant, and I’ve hardly been a Saint.
Journeyman they call me, a franchise QB I just ain’t.
But ’sperience counts for somethin’; get hit enough, you learn to duck.
I know now to trust Bo Scaife, I’ll only buy a Chevy truck.

Long drive from Topeka, where I dried the whiskey outta me.
Longer drive from Thirty-Five: big game, bad memories.
Sure, I dropped the ball a lot; yeah, I rode the pine.
Maybe had some racial fights and got cut four different times.
But this old vet’s a survivor, I ain’t here to sing the blues.
Take a look at this picture, and tell me who’s still in the news:

[chorus]

Eh, it sounds better with steel guitar. And no black people in the audience.

Titans quarterback Kerry Collins, in addition to being an alleged racist, is quite active in his personal correspondance. His frequent letter-writing to corporations and other organizations have become the stuff of legend in the inner circles of the NFL. Such was the case with this particular letter, written in 2005 to a popular fast-food restaurant.

Two of the elder franchises, each with a massive and surpassingly obnoxious fanbase, take on some Southern teams with followers made complacent by early success and NASCAR. Homefield advantage is on the line in each conference, even if all four of these teams are assured a first-round bye anyway and we all know at least one of them will be upset in the divisional round. Still, let’s pretend we’ll got a lot of NFL Playoffs chalk, so WHO YA GOT?

Oh no, it’s true. The government knows if you did and they’ll lock your ass up if you try to vote.

Says right here on this flyer I have. No, you can’t have a copy. I need this one. Look, it might not even be safe for you to be at a polling station. You’re lucky I tipped you off before you went in there and tried to cast a ballot. Government will snatch you right up and put a lien on your house.

I’m gonna level with ya, because I know what these scumbags are trying to do and it’s not right. I just don’t want to see another honest, hard-working black person fall prey to their oppressive tactics. Heck, it probably doesn’t even matter. Barack is up so far in the polls, there’s no way he can lose. Polls practically decide the election. This whole voting thing is some pro forma nonsense. The presidency was decided weeks ago.

What’s that? You’re never spoken out of turn? Never in your whole life? How’s about jaywalking? Taking more than one sample at the grocery store? Undressed someone with your eyes? Lied about your weight on a government-issued ID form?

Still no?

Oh.

Okay.

Well, here’s a sample Democratic ballot. Uh, did you know McCain became a Democrat yesterday? And Obama is a Republican? True story. Anybody who says otherwise is a dirty racist who’s only out to trick you.

C’mon John, call him a skirt-chasing jigaboo just once and you’ll have this thing locked up!