I know, I know… I’m as surprised as any of you, but yet here we are. What a crazy old world. Ginn became the first player in league history to score two 100+ yard touchdowns of any type in a game. And hoo boy, is he fast. Watch…
As you know, the Patriots gang-raped Tennessee 59-0 on Sunday. Tom Brady threw for six touchdowns that day, which naturally led us to wonder if he should be named Meast of the Week. I mean, damn. Six touchdowns. AND HE DID IT IN OW-UH FACKIN’ THROWBACKS, THE CLASSIEST THROWBACKS IN THE FACKIN’ WARLD! Practically mandates he be named King Measty.
And we were prepared to do that, until we got the following email. This comes to us from a Daniel Steele, almost certainly from parts Massachusettsian. The subject line was “Mest of the week”. We also would have accepted Bort of the Week. If Daniel didn’t attend Holy Cross, I don’t know which way is up. All spelling and grammatical errors here are, of course, SIC:
If you watched the end of the Broncos-Patriots game as I did, you remember sitting there for a solid minute or two after Matt Prater’s game winning kick as CBS cameras gleefully followed Bill Belichick around as he tried to search through the crowd on the field, in vain, for his lost love Josh McDaniels. It was just like the subway scene at the end of Crocodile Dundee.
This week’s Meast is none other than Jared Allen of the Minnebretta Favrekings. Allen plowed through Green Bay’s Clifton-less line for 4.5 of the team’s eight sacks. He later celebrated by shooting a black bear and feasting on it’s precious sustentative gallbladder.
You can’t have a Meast without a Least, and this week’s ignominious award goes to Eli Manning’s happy feet…
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This weekend, the Patriots are playing the only team in the NFL that could possibly make me root for them, the Purplish Carrion Crows of Deepest Rottencrotch (Officially: Lord Baltimore’s seaside queef depot).
So it would be the ideal time for me to admit that for the past few months I’ve been seeing a girl who’s (GASP!) a Boston fan. Me! The guy who hates Boston sports teams so much! It’s like I’m actually able to compartmentalize preferences in trivial things and focus on a person’s other, more important, qualities (like tits)! Me! The guy who usually isn’t able to compartmentalize preferences in trivial things and focus on a person’s other, more important, qualities (like tits)!
Luckily, she doesn’t understand football nor does she care at all about the game. This might otherwise be an issue, but is fantastic in this circumstance because her not caring is the only thing keeping her from being a Patriots fan.
(She does actually own a Tedy Bruschi jersey and threatened to wear it to my D.C. book reading. Or just wear it at all. In response, I vowed to visit swift death upon her, which was a surprisingly effective deterrent. Try that one in the future, you guys)
Granted, I still have to put up with (if she’s reading, that means ADORE) the SAWX stuff, but I don’t particularly care about baseball and it’s fun to go to Nationals games and laugh at how she fumes when the Nats play “Sweet Caroline” during pitching changes (”THAT’S OW-UH FACKIN SONG! NO ONE DENIES THIS! EVERYONE HE-UH IS A FACKIN COWPYCAT! THEY AH-RUNT BAHSTONISH ENOUGH!”).
Plus she frequently and openly admits that no one cared about the Pats until they started winning titles, and she gets irritated whenever she talks with someone from back home in Boston who brings up the Patriots while the Red Sox are still playing (”They never used to do that before!”).
So keep reinforcing all the negative stereotypes I have of Bawston football fans, honey, and we’ll get along just fine.
This is a child. It’s not my child, but for our demonstration, this child will do. Few non-parents know this, but children are actually Jedi. It’s true. Allow me to illustrate their technique. Let’s say a child wants a cookie. Here is how they will go about procuring it.
ZOMG! Did you see what Kanye West did at the awards show whose name I can’t remember last week? OMG!!!111!!! He totally interrupted this one girl you don’t care about, telling her some other girl should have won a meaningless award! THAT’S SOME KRAYZEE SHEET! I AM SCANDALIZED! IT’S ALL I CAN TALK ABOUT WITH MY FRIENDS WHILE WE STAND AROUND THE LEG PRESS! IT’S GONNA GO DOWN AS ONE OF THE MOST SHOCKING MOMENTS IN MEANINGLESS AWARD SHOW HISTORY!!! DO YOU REMEMBER WHERE YOU WERE WHEN IT HAPPENED?
People with Blackberries are a fact of life now. I’m grown somewhat immune to fuckheads who will happily tap away at a Blackberry in the middle of meetings, dinners, drinks out, movies, and the like. All because they CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF GOING THREE GODDAMN MINUTES WITHOUT SEEING IF SOMEONE WROTE ON THIER FUCKING FACEBOOK WALL OR SOME GAY SHIT LIKE THAT.
I can’t fight the tide. If people are going to be shitheads with their Blackberries and iPhones, so be it. I’m tired of trying to rail against them.
But you know what I won’t abide? I will not abide fuckhead asshole douchebags who will happily leave their Blackberries lying around while they tend to other matters, thus allowing their stupid fucking Blackberries to ring incessantly at a spine-piercing volume.
I see people do this all the time. And it makes me want to hunt them down and hack them to death with a paper cutter blade. Hey fuckhead, PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE OR PUT IT ON VIBRATE. Or take it with you to the shitter. Is it so hard? Instead, I gotta sit there while some asshole phone starts going dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN!
You know that Blackberry ring. That obnoxious, stupid, soul-raping ring. SO HELP ME GOD, IF I CATCH ONE MORE PERSON DO THIS IN PUBLIC, I WILL EAT THEIR BLACKBERRY AND SHIT THE REMAINS OF IT INTO THEIR FUCKING HANDBAGS. DIE. STOP LIVING. BECOME DEAD. I WANT YOU MURDERED.
We were going to have only one Meast this week, and that was Larry Fitzgerald.
Why was Fitty left uncovered for the entire first half? Because YOU CAN’T FUCKING COVER FITTY. So he was all set to be our only meast, and then US Airways pilot Chesley B. “FACKIN’ SULLY!” Sullenberger III safely landed a powerless passenger jet on the Hudson River and saved the lives of 155 people.
I believe that gets you co-meast honors. Honestly, that is all kinds of awesome. Bet HE doesn’t leave Blackberries lying around to ring for hours on end. Get that man a bottle of Booker’s and the finest chocolate hooker money can buy. SAVING LIVES GETS YOU THE CHUCK BARKLEY BLOWJOB PACKAGE.
It’s over. After 17 weeks of bliss and horror the regular season has gone dark like the deepest recesses of Peter King’s capacious colon. For some, like the tortured soul seen above, the end is a welcome one. Of course for others, let’s say those living in New England, the end is unbearable. Then there are those like me whose teams finished somewhere in the neighborhood of .500. Sure we’ll miss watching our favorite team week after week, but frankly we could probably use a break from one another. At least until they draft somewhere in the middle of the first round come April.
In the meantime those of us not fortunate enough to have a rooting interest in the playoffs can just sit back and watch as other fanbases come crashing back down to our level like so many of Tarvaris Jackson’s ill-fated heaves. But before we get too excited over the playoffs we have to take care of some lingering business. So continue after the jump for the regular season’s final Sean Taylor Memorial Meast of the Week.
