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The Meast post often opens with a non sequitur rant about this or that thing. I started writing about this thing I’m doing where I’m trying to get more sleep, but then I realized it was REALLY boring. I got nothin’. So, uhhh…

Hey, how ’bout all them mass animal deaths?

The college football championship is Monday night. Who ya got?

Today I got an email from someone named Joyce Tang. That made me chuckle.

What are the chances the Seahawks beat the Saints on Saturday? Four percent? Two percent? Negative zero?

Did you see that President Obama wore flip-flops? You know who else wears those? CHINESE COMMUNISTS.

Oh man, Katy Perry without makeup. No more pictures of that, Russell Brand. Share pictures of her tits.

I’m planning on going someplace warm in February after the Super Bowl, so that I don’t commit suicide. My choices are Antigua or Jamaica. I welcome your input, as long as it’s brief.

Okay, that’s enough of that. The final regular season Meast of 2010 is Arian Foster, who rushed for 180 yards and two TDs to lock up the rushing crown.

Before the season began, Peter King advised fantasy football managers that we would be stupid not to take Foster in the first round of our drafts. And that’s typical of King: he had good information, but he was too obtuse to convey that information in a sensible way. Instead of saying, “Hey, this guy isn’t high enough on draft boards because he’s immensely talented and he won’t be splitting carries,” King threw out a bold proclamation that most of us (me) discounted as PK talking out of his ass. And that’s why he’s a son of a bitch.

Your Least of the Week for Week 17 is the St. Louis Rams wide receiver corps. Man, they were great. I’ve been watching this GIF for days now.

I bought the PC version of “Madden NFL 08″ week. Most Madden aficionados will recognize that as the last edition of that football franchise to be released on that platform. And with no other notable NFL sims out on the market (sorry, Quick Hit Football), the best that an avid PC gamer can hope for is a game with rosters that were only accurate at the beginning of the 2007 season.

There’s a hidden beauty in this; the details of the NFL are so well-created in the game, popping that DVD-ROM into my desktop was almost like travelling back in time. Chad Ochocinco hadn’t yet tucked away his Johnson, Brett Favre had yet to reveal his, and Michael Turner was still in San Diego. And most creepily, Bengals wideout Chris Henry was still alive. Read the rest of this entry »

Christmastime is coming. Unless you’re Jewish, in which case, I really envy you right now. Read the rest of this entry »

This is the worst week of the year outside of useless-ass February for me. Not because it’s the holiday season and therefore jewelry commercials and other forms of weapons-grade schmaltz are omnipresent. Though that definitely isn’t helping. No, it’s because it’s cold as hell’s kitchen’s meat locker (Satan has to eat good, bitches), the sun is sets at 4:45 and IT’S STILL NOT EVEN WINTER YET.

Next week, there will come the obnoxious reminder that the official start of season has arrived. While on an intellectual level this doesn’t come as a surprise, it’s still jarring because it’s already been freezing for a goddamn month already and THERE’S STILL THREE MORE MONTHS OF THIS SHIT TO GO!

I must be missing some integral white boy genes because I can’t stand cold weather. Going outside for even the most basic tasks is an annoying ordeal. Because of that, people get more inactive and even more fat. The air is too damn dry and everything emits a shit ton of static electricity. Utility and gas prices go up. You have no choice but to wear pants at all times or suffer chill to the nether regions.

But, if the forbidding coldness produces nothing else positive, at least it compelled Ray Lewis to release his own branded snuggie. Keeps knifed corpses nice and toasty!

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This is the post where we typically rant about crap that pisses us off. I haven’t written any of these posts this year, which is odd, because I am highly irritable. Pretty much everything in life makes me angry, especially now that I’m hungry all the time. Yet as I sat down to write I had quite a bit of trouble coming up with a topic. Not that I’m not pissed off about plenty of stuff, because I am. Sometimes I simply lose track of all my hate. That’s why I’m going to start keeping a detailed list of this stuff. Here’s a sampling of what’s bothering me this week.

1. Health insurance.

2. Wind chill.

3. Eric Stangel.

4. People asking me about Chanukah.

5. Everything about Glee.

Which brings us to the topic of today’s rant, the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

They performed this ungodly number on the Glee Christmas special. This, despite the fact that the song has absolutely nothing to do with Jesus, Santa, or fir trees. The only connection to Christmas is purely seasonal, yet it’s constantly lumped in with the likes of Jingle Bells despite the fact that it’s a song about a potential date rapist.

The man in the song is utilizing the same “implication” strategy that Dennis details in the boat episode of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

So to answer one of the song’s questions, “Say, what’s in this drink,” the answer is drugs. Run for your life.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.
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If you’ve caught a game recently on TV, you’ve almost certainly seen this Visa ad featuring The Never Miss A Super Bowl Club. Not only is it another dumb predatory promotion intended at duping people into mounting large amounts of debt with a promise of a lame award no one needs or probably even wants all that much, but its commercial features an annoying collective of misguided codgers who for whatever reason decided paying out the ass to go watch the Super Bowl live regardless of who’s playing is a lifelong endeavor.

Of course the spot is also narrated by Morgan Freeman because the association of old people and dementia quests automatically calls to mind The Bucket List, which I never saw, but surely is a movie to be commended for inspiring a handful of septuagenarians to kill themselves mountain climbing and other things old people shouldn’t be doing. Hoarding ribbon candy is what God intended for you shriveled old prunes. Embrace it.

Poking around on YouTube, I noticed that there are brief video vignettes of each of the members posted.

Don’s a boring old obsessive who sired a massive collection of Super Bowl ass pads in lieu of children. All told, that’s probably a smart call. Good on him.

Larry is certifiably insane. Not only is he of the opinion that the crowd at a Super Bowl is possessed of mental powers but he doesn’t know the difference between telepathy and telekinesis. Telepathy doesn’t make a ball go anywhere, you doof. If the crowd had telepathy, they’d have known Sean Payton was going to try an onside kick by reading his thoughts. That would have caused all the Fat Hump fans to shout it out beforehand, but then that would also require them removing the four corndogs from their gaping maws as well.

Bob’s cool. He goes because he likes to cuss out players and can’t do that at home. That’s the kind of undisguised bitterness I like to see out of old folks.

Tom is the group’s charming retard with a failing heart of gold. I really hope the story of him pulling out IVs and escaping the hospital the morning of the Super Bowl is true. Because that means the security in Miami let in a guy wearing a hospital gown. Which kind of makes sense. Hard to conceal a weapon in there.

Anyway, your Meast for Week 12 is Dwayne Bowe, who has at least 100 receiving yards and two touchdown receptions in his past three games. He had 170 yards and three touchdowns in the Chiefs’ rout over the Seahawks on Sunday. We also considered Malcolm Jenkins, for his game-saving strip of Roy Williams, Peyton Hillis and Kyle Williams. We felt we had to recognize the superhuman stretch of production that Bowe has put together. We’d also like to see if giving a receiver the Meast causes him to drop a game-winning touchdown the following week. Science must not be deterred.

Your Least for Week 12 was Steve Johnson. Any other week and this would have been an incredibly easy choice but there was an especially crowded Least field in Week 12. Alphonso Smith, Roy Williams and Reggie Bush each made for compelling candidates before last Thursday’s action was even over. Then on Sunday, Peyton Manning flamed out hilariously. Perry Riley nullified a game-winning kickoff return for the Redskins with a stupid and unnecessary block in the back penalty. Throw in the fact that Kogod started apologizing for him and we really wanted to give it to Riley. Then there was Derek Anderson’s shitastic showing and postgame meltdown on Monday night. Just an incredibly loaded crop of Least candidates. But really, it couldn’t not be Johnson. Five drops overall. Dropping a game-winning wide open touchdown in the end zone. Blaming God. Going by “Stevie.” That’s redefining what it is to be Leasty.

Thanksgiving is two days away. I’m slated to work from 5-9 p.m. on Thursday for SB Nation. I guess that means I don’t have to be thankful for anything.

Guilty conscience: “But shouldn’t you at least be thankful that you actually have a job, especially in these dire economic times. Why, there are those who would kill for what you have.”

Alcohol: “STFU.”

Anyway, your Meast for Week 11 is Bills wide receiver Steve Johnson, who scored three touchdowns in Buffalo’s comeback win over Cincinnati. I guess I’m thankful for the way he’s emerged from obscurity to help propel one of my fantasy teams to respectability this year. Greg Jennings put up numbers similar to Johnson’s in the Packers 31-3 reaming of the Vikes, but I’m going to give the edge to Johnson for taunting the dynamic duo of diptardery, Chad Ochocinco and Terrell Owens, after a touchdown.

Melty faced Raiders fan flubby insisted that we give the Meast to Richard Seymour for clocking Roethlisberger at the end of the first half of the Steelers’ curbstomping of Oakland on Sunday. The rest of us didn’t agree, but I’ll give him an honorable mention anyway.

Seymour, by the way, was fined for the totally non-James-Harrison-elevated amount of $25,000 (totally worth it, says flub) and received no suspension, which just further reinforces the perception that the Steelers get everything they want from the league and blah blah blah blow me.

Your Co-Leasts for Week 11 are Peyton and Eli Manning. Each destroyed their team’s comeback bid in spectacular Manning-esque fashion. Peyton brought the Colts within range of tying a game they had no business being in only to blow it by throwing a terrible interception in the red zone while Elisha stupidly executed a head-first slide when he well past the first down marker, only for the ground to force him to fumble before a defender contacted him. Looks like Eli gets nothing but punishment casserole on Thursday!

As was mentioned during the broadcast last night, Philip Rivers’ lil’ brudder recently committed to play QB for LSU. Once he makes it into the league, he and Marmalard can square off in a three-way tag team match with the Mannings and the Palmers. Or maybe get the Godwinn Brothers involved just to push it to a four-way.

Your Meast for Week 10 is Michael Vick, obviously. Jerricho Cotchery made a Measty play where he suffered a slight groin tear and still made catch for a first down in overtime in Cleveland. And that’s nice; he’s to be commended, for sure. But, really, it couldn’t be anyone else but Ookie.

Captain Hindsight: There are two dozen teams that should have signed Michael Vick during the summer of 2009. The 49ers could have turned around their franchise!

I can’t tell you how appreciative I was of LaRon Landry getting torched for 88-yards on the opening play. Diptwat D.C. media goes out of its way to portray Landry on par with other elite safeties in the league. He makes a big play every so often, sure, but those only come after he gets beat horribly in coverage a couple times. Oh and he made it that much satisfying by talking a ton of shit to DeSean before the game started.

Your Least for Week 10 is New Meadowlands Stadium, which underwent two blackouts during the third quarter of Sunday’s game between the Giants and Cowboys.

That’s something you like to see out of a $1.6 billion stadium in its first year of operation. While there were reports of brawls in the blacked out sections of the stadium, the CEO of the New Meadowlands later said incidents involving security were about on par with a usual Cowboys-Giants game. Which makes sense, actually. Has scrutiny ever been known to stop Jersey meatheads from causing trouble?

We also considered Chansi Stuckey for fumbling away what was shaping up to be a Browns upset of the Jets in overtime, as well as the Texans’ Glover Quin for generally posting a horrible effort against Jacksonville which was capped by tipping the Jags’ Hail Mary forward into the waiting hands of Mike Thomas. Also, we gave Favre his usual Least consideration, but a Favre Least never quite feels right unless it involves a pick-six on a potential tying or winning drive.

I’ve never understood why people keep coming back to websites they don’t like. Most people won’t finish a book they don’t enjoy, but they’ll go back to Internet writing that they hate time and time again. Drew reads Bill Simmons time and time and again, and the only thing he gets from Simmons is higher blood pressure and material for Tommy from Quinzee. Unsilent Majority reads The Big Lead just to explore the depths of stupidity. I don’t have that kind of time to waste.

And that’s why I’m continually frustrated by this not-uncommon refrain in the comments of any blog:

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