Friday, January 31, 2014

So long, Kyrie, and thanks for all the mope

Don't let the door hit your fat wallet on the way out.

Being a sporting chap, this town sucks. Really is time to hack competition out of the organs, blood on the sangfroid, slippety slop yadda yadda space lord motherfucker. Writing, like rock and/or roll, is a loser's game, so mood-altering chemicals 'tis.

The Fucking Broncos vs. Seattle: Like 37% of all gasbags not named Skip Bayless 2016, my preseasons seasoned just fine. Worship my genius. And, at about 9 10 11 whenever the bloat floats over the horizon to the Azores, cue the hand-wringing choke shit. If Otto's the bismark, and he is, then the loser's on Rushmore. Stupid fucks. Seahawks, 27-24.

Friday, January 17, 2014

Coaches, we don't need no stinkin' coaches

Every Sunday.

♪ Some people call Jim the shit owner yeah
Some call him the gangster of frack
Some people call him Mr. Burns
Cause' I speak of the pompousful hack ♫

The Fucking Patriots @ The Fucking Broncos: Hitler & Stalin, here they come and partisans, hoping for a Lord Boston triumph so he can fail in a fortnight, punch Field Marshall Godwin right in the balls who tumbles over sportswriter corpses Scanners-ed after trying to columnize the defeat of these un-clutch hacks when it counts the most. The Fucking Patriots, 34-31 in OT.

San Francisco @ Seattle: Your eventual national holiday winner, the home team natch 'cause Kaepernick already lost a Super Bowl and that makes him a flop, riffraff, a bomb, a lemon-scented pledge of turkey. Seahawks, 20-14.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Fote-balle, or, a þynge aliene to Cleave-land

Beats watching post-game Boomer.  

Searching for Browns playoff footage from Haig in '88, O, woe, we got carded, wildly. That was a lateral and defensive TD, ref motherfucker, not a forward chuck, thus, the above. Baby mama drama not included. Enjoy.

New Orleans @ Seattle: Si Les Parapluies de Beast Mode, the Twelfth Man enjoys a fifth quarter bender. If not, they probably still do. Seahawks, 31-17.

The Fucking Colts @ The Fucking Patriots: this evening's illustrious program of Auld Indian's Polis: Act I, Tyrant Peyton Manning, Act II, Andrew Luck the Usurper, entr'acte by Curtis Painter, followed by Sir Thomas Brady in Lord Boston, is made possible by viewers like Nelson Mun *click* up next, ANARCHY IN THE NORTH COAST, starring Ty Detmer, Tim Couch, Spergon Wynn, Doug Pederson, Kelly Holcomb, Luke "I'm not Jake" McCown, Jeff Garcia, Trent Dilfer, Charlie Frye, Derek Anderson, Ken Dorsey, Brady Quinn, Bruce Gradkowski, Jake Delhomme, Seneca Wallace, Colt McCoy, Thad Lewis, Brandon Weeden, Brian Hoyer, Jason Campbell, and Jerry Mathers as "the Beaver." Harvard beats Yale, 29-29.

San Francisco @ Carolina: Football gods, still waiting for you to punish Harbaugh for wimping out against Ray Jailbird, but this week's as plausible as any. Panthers, 20-17.

San Diego @ The Fucking Broncos: The only possible reason to not root for the Chargers is that so brain dead morans who still joemorganize quarterbacks on their postseason won-loss records will be forced to shut their fucking yaps for one more game. The Mannings, 31-24.

Friday, January 3, 2014


It's not just a derogatory label, it's a philosophy. 

Almost Marty's last game, 'cause no one's uploaded the wild card, same Bat time, same Bat channel, same Bat shit opponent, Jer-ry! Jer-ry! thankyouvermuch, but holy ten gallons, Psychopathman, Don traded in links for season-savin', strock it, strock it real good. Look real close and you'll see young(ish) Randal drunk on beer hot chocolate.

Twenty-five already. Man. Back to run, run, pass, punt.

Kansas City @ Indianapolis: As long as time doesn't become a factor after the two-minute warning, the Walrus with the best player, i.e. Jamaal Charles for the helmet-challenged, wins. The Colts hee haw good teams, their opponent don't. Don't care. Chiefs 23-20.

New Orleans @ Philadelphia: Fuck this fucking road shit, Finish Him, gas n' matches, steel-toed Nazi boots 'cause if you can't beat a flawed homebody who only eats half the cookin', well you'll get waxed next in Heroin Land anyway. 20° ain't that cold. Saints 28-21.

San Diego @ The Fucking Bengals: Philip Rivers is the Dan Fouts of chuck-chuck-goose, a future Famer [ed. note: yeah, he's that good] cursed to forever be sans ring, thanks, cruel, capricious football gods. Speaking of cruel, capricious gods, no Bungle playoff wins since Bush the Smarter. Mike Brown's ghost still haunts, but not after this week. The Fucking Bengals 31-23.

San Francisco @ Green Bay: Speaking of the dukes of supernature, when you overbrain, abandoning blood and Gore, you've earned subsequent torments against lesser foes unless Rodgers really is one of those single-handed pantheonists. Too bad his D gets an F. Gonna be Ice Bowl Two, too. 49ers 21-17.