- I was disappointed to see that Aaron Rodgers shaved the mustache that had every Green Bay child spending his or her allowance on a rape whistle. I spent ten minutes outlining an essay – in the eventuality Rodgers played terribly – on how his pedo-stache was equivalent to Samson’s hair. But, Rodgers dashed my plans by playing his ass off. He remains the best quarterback in the league – with apologies to Tom Brady and the ailing Peyton Manning. I’m terrified of him should my Eagles meet the Packers in the playoffs again.
- Mr. “Guantanamo Bay is really just the Iberostar Varadero with door locks on the outside” Drew Brees played phenomenal as well, leading his team down to the Packers goal line in what could have been a tied game without some savvy defensive interference from Clay Matthews. Brees’ performance highlights exactly why attributing wins to a quarterback is ridiculous. Was it his fault Roman Harper was routinely beat or that the shortened training camp resulted in lethargy and confusion in the Saints defense. If the Saints hadn’t already won a Super Bowl, sports announcers would have inundated the weekend’s airwaves with stories on how Drew Brees is not a “winner”.
- Michael Vick didn’t take nearly as many hits as I predicted he would – although I was scared during the first half where Rams defenders poured through the offensive line with no impediment. I upgrade Vick’s games played prediction from seven to nine before he suffers a gruesome injury.
- Despite releasing the most underrated receiver of all-time (and my personal favourite) Derrick Mason, I’m happy the defense gave Ben Roethlisberger a taste of what those two co-eds felt once he locked the hotel room door behind them.
- The Atlanta Falcons will not make the playoffs. Each year the Football Gods pick a team to smite – seemingly at random. Atlanta, you have been smote.
- The Chicago Bears will win the NFC North as their only threat, the Minnesota Vikings, look awful with washed up Donovan McNabb at quarterback. I hate to say it but it might be time for him to wrap it up and let Christian Ponder get a few starts.
- The Houston Texans defense will be one of the top five units this year. I hope then-GM Charley Casserly laughs at all those who ridiculed him for taking Mario Williams over Reggie Bush.
- If my Fox television affiliate airs another Seattle Seahawks game I will start drinking. Heavily. I’ll give the Seattle coach a piece of advice for free; Tavaris Jackson is not the answer. You play in the weakest division in NFL history. A decent quarterback will get you into the playoffs. Switch before it’s too late.
- The divet my ass made in the couch yesterday will take hours of remediation to get right again.
- Tony Romo is the most unlucky quarterback. After the Jessica Simpson sideshow followed him around – as well as a pre-existing hatred of the Dallas Cowboys – I enjoyed watching him fail at the worst possible time. But after seeing it so often I’m beginning to feel bad for him. He’s one of the best quarterbacks in the league but I have a feeling the media will remember him unkindly because he lacks the bullshit “clutch gene”. Don’t worry, Tony. No such thing exists.
- I can hear the Mark Sanchez media bandwagon starting up. As much as I hate the Cowboys, I had hoped they’d win just so I could avoid the 1,024th fluff piece about his Mexican heritage and good looks.
- Cheerleaders may be the most superfluous profession now. If they aren’t getting naked on the sidelines, of what use are they?
- RUSHING: Ray Rice will win the rushing title. Chris Johnson will barely crack 1,200 yards. Matt Forte will finish as a top 5 back. Arian Foster will come back in week two and get injured again by week 11. He and Ben Tate will split carries by the end of the year. As a result, my fantasy team will finish in last place.
- I will gain 15 pounds of pure fat. The human body was not made to be sedentary for eight hours straight. My hip is in agony from laying on it for so long.
Tag Archives: Drew Brees
The first night of my last year as a man able to watch Jersey Shore and That’s So Raven (I’m going to miss you Chelsea) without crumbling beneath the weight crushing self-loathing and societal scorn was wrought with drama. I was in a semi-stupor of expressionless television watching and disinterested light reading (read: porn found under the stairs) – an habitual stasis my body undergoes as it reaches the exhausted conclusion of a 24-hour battle of alcohol elimination – to find someone stealing my car for the second time since moving into the neighbourhood. The sinister laugh of a young man with an open schedule and a history of Vicodin abuse, followed by the cough of a car with better things to do than start when asked broke me from my trance. I ran outside in my underwear like Edward Norton in American History X only to see the car was, in fact, not mine, as I had moved it when getting food earlier and completely forgotten. Was it my neighbour’s car that was lifted? Possibly. My spot on the couch was sure to grow cold and not wanting to chance such an atrocity, I went back inside without investigating. Continue reading