Well, it’s finally here. While drinking with some fellow
great historical figures drunken ass clowns, we came to the conclusion that this is the longest 2 weeks in history. No football at all. Where is the AFL when you need it? XFL? NWFA? USFL? CFL? PDQ. LOL! ROFL! OMG! Jesus, I have to stop drinking. Anyways, I think I’m excited. I’m not for sure yet.
Basketball only held me over for so long before I needed to get my football fix. I will watch NFL Network (Don’t worry, you don’t have it because you have cable. Poon 1, You 0) for hours on end just to catch a peek of a Raiders vs. Lions preseason game from last year. Dear God, why do you do this to me? As if the knife drawer isn’t close enough to me as it is, just think of how this will go during baseball season. I might not make it. Even when the Souper Salad (I have to disguise it because we could get fined if we say Super Bowl. Shit.) does get underway, I have to hear some cheese dicks talk for 3 hours (plus the 45 minute national anthem and the 5 hour halftime show) about how big of a game this is for Peyton. You think? IT’S THE FUCKING SUPER BOWL!
I can’t wait to see some more coverage of the first family of football. I only wish that Cooper could have made it in so he could dominate the league just like his brothers. I think that he should at least play that Murderball crap that the other handicap people do. That would give him something to look forward to other than the cane pole beatings his heroic father gives him while reminding him of how great of a legacy he left behind.
I had a little downtime this morning so I decided to call up my close friend and see how things were going. So I called Cooper and I don’t think he meant to answer the phone because I hear some strange noises in the background.
“You worthless waste of semen! I should have blown my load in your uncle’s face rather than wasting my genes in his manhole!”
“I gotta number 2 daddy.”
“Shut up and shove that pathetic piece of meat into Strahan’s gap little brother. Who’s ballin’ now bitch.”
I decided it would be wise to hang up before it got really weird. Well, with that out of the way, I’m going to try not to kill myself before the magical glowing electrical picture box shows me just how much I hate the Manning family on Sunday. If for some reason this is the last you hear from me, you know that Archie tracked me down and plowed my field.
I know you guys are looking for a prediction from me so here it goes….
Barbaro – 27
Timothy Treadwell – 17
Goodnight and good luck.