All I wanted for Christmas was for Tim Tebow to lose by three scores at home to one of the worst passing defenses in the NFL. And yet, despite a game result that finally matched Tebow’s statistical mediocrity (the kindest possible word for his performance), it’s still not enough to silence the pro-Tebow vote. DAMN YOUR FAITH!!! (In Tebow, I mean.)

Well, to hell with the pro-Tebow vote. They can blame the offensive line or God all they want; I’m going to tune them out by looking at these picture of Sad Tebow while I hum “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

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I wish no ill upon the Bears; Chicago is a wonderful city that has provided me with many good times. And I have nothing against Jay Cutler and his stupid sulky face. I hope his concussion isn’t serious, because his interceptions give me great pleasure from week to week.

Bears fans, on the other hand, can go piss up a rope. This gallery of Cutler suffering brain damage is for every Facebook status I read over the last couple of weeks that said “BEARS!” instead of “Ugh, we really didn’t deserve to win that one.”

Enjoy.

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Hooray! It’s the mailbag! And it’s also April Fool’s Day, which means that I was very tempted to write an introduction to the mailbag, then put a picture of donkey porn under the jump and answer none of your questions. It would have been a lot more fun and saved me a couple hours of work, but I didn’t do it.

…OR DID I?

No, I didn’t, but you should be warned that there’s some pixelated nudity below. Technically safe for work, but not as safe as that picture of a dog humping a tiger.

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I don’t particularly care whether or not the losing team in the Super Bowl races out to midfield to shake the hands and grab the dicks of the winners. Lack of sportsmanship nonsense provides nothing but fodder for the sanctimonious sports media news hole. We jumped on Belichick’s snub two years ago because it was yet another knifetwist after the Patriots Super Bowl loss. What irks me is the double standard shown by the same moralizing commentators who heaped scorn on Belichick for racing off the field, while for Peyton Manning they supply only fawning remarks about his competitive spirit and willingness to defer the spotlight to the Saints. BS – they’re both spiteful asswipes who hate to lose and don’t want the opportunity for more photo ops of them displaying dejection on the playing field. I don’t care if Belichick did it with a second on the clock or that Peyton did some make-up sexting with Drew Brees later to atone for it. The principle remains the same.

Also:

Mmmmm-MMM! Here, try this. It’s delicious! No, it’s okay: there’s plenty for everyone. This feast will last all day, my friends.

(By the way, everyone I watched the game with was rooting for the Saints, and we were all actually disappointed at the Colts’ red zone failure with 55 seconds left. We were really savoring the desperation.)

[image via]

Oh, how we’d missed you.

(image via)

Longtime readers of this site know that I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with aging white safety Brian Russell — in that I would love it if he died, because I hate him. But ever since the gritty veteran (read: slow and talentless) got cut by the Seahawks, I no longer wish him death.

Instead, I want him signed on a week-to-week basis by whomever the Seahawks play on Sunday. The animated GIF above shows Russell in his new Jacksonville threads getting blown up by Justin Forsett, Seattle’s 5’8″, 194-pound third-string running back — possibly my favorite highlight in a 41-0 ass-stomping that involved four passing touchdowns, a defensive touchdown, and the self-bloodied visage of psycho hillbilly Owen Schmitt.

Delicious schadenfreude, or deliciousest schadenfreude? Oh, deliciousest for sure. Your failure sustains me, Russell.

[via Field Gulls]