Broncos 18, Dolphins 15– Somehow this win by the
Fighting Kneeling Tebows has been deemed impressive. I’m not sure which standard for “impressive” ESPN and the national media is using, but apparently it doesn’t take football into account. His numbers through three quarters: 3-8, two (two!) net yards and four sacks. His final numbers were 13-27, 125 yards, 2 touchdowns, 7 sacks, which is…still pretty goddamn bad considering the Dolphins were THIRTIETH in the league against the pass. He was literally overthrowing receivers by 10 to 15 yards at times or throwing the ball out of bounds when it was pretty obvious that wasn’t his intention. He also might be the first quarterback in NFL history to not be able to throw a spiral. I can throw a spiral and I’ve been able to since, oh, third grade. Somehow Tim Tebow is an NFL starter and he cannot. He also holds the ball in the pocket for about twice as long as a quarterback should, which is especially alarming considering he usually only had two receiving options to read before getting rid of it, part of the reason why he took SEVEN sacks.
Next week, the Christian gets fed to the Lions and I happily volunteer to start a collection to pay Ndomakong Suh’s fine when he inevitably breaks Tebow in half and screams “WHERE’S YOUR GOD NOW” as he’s being carted off the field. If by chance, Tebow survives Sunday’s encounter, we’re looking at a deliciously one-sided matchup against the Jets on November 17th. My guess is, after his inevitable 9 interception game Broncos fans will happily agree to trade their savior for 30 pieces of silver and a humbling reconciliation with Kyle Orton. There was nothing more pathetic on Sunday than the fact that Kyle Orton was still the captain for the Broncos offense. This meant that he had to go out to make the call on the coin-toss at the start of overtime, only to watch Tim Tebow overthrow his way to every morning headline. Orton should have elected to kick.
Do you want to see the worst video of all time?
I think it’s quite appropriate of that 90% of that video is highlights of Tebow scrambling, fist-pumping or standing on the sidelines but never actually throwing the ball. The people who made that video need to be locked in a haunted house until next Halloween.
Chiefs 28, Raiders 0– Hue Jackson is out of his goddamn mind. A first and a second rounder (or two firsts if they make the playoffs) for CARSON PALMER? Has Hue Jackson honestly watched Carson Palmer in the last three years? He’s awful. He’s like an older, less mobile, more jaded version of Joe Flacco. Two first round picks is literally less than the Broncos gave up to get John Elway from the Baltimore Colts in the 1983 draft. Remember when we invaded Iraq and the Saddam’s army set fire to the oil fields so that no one could get them? I think that Jackson knew that once Al Davis died, their new owner and G.M. would realize he’s a moron and send him packing, so he did the NFL equivalent to setting the oil fields ablaze.
This was supposed to be the most exciting draft for Raiders fans since…well, ever. For the first time in 50 years, their G.M. wasn’t a crotchety Muppet who valued calf-size over talent. So what did they do? 4th round pick for Jason Campbell, 3rd round pick for Terrell Pryor in the supplemental draft and a first and second round pick for Palmer. Hue Jackson can’t be this bad can he? I feel like Al Davis had a video tape made to be shown to the current head coach immediately after he died:
“Hello Coach Jackson/Shell/Cable/Gruden/Callahan/Kiffin/Turner/Madden, if you’re watching this tape, then you know I have passed on to the great Black Hole of Death, which is both what I call the afterlife and a euphemism for JaMarcus Russell’s NFL career. Fear not, because I’ve set into place an elaborate sequence of events that will allow me to stay in power for years after my death. This video is step one. Step two is to create a giant eternal flame to burn at the Oakland Coliseum in remembrance of my incredible life. To keep this flame burning, you are to come to the field at midnight every night to feed the flames with the souls of the damned and Polaroids of Lane Kiffin. Step three is to let Raider Nation know that while I have passed on, my legacy endures, so I want you to find a quarterback who can restore the Raiders’ once proud name. If Fran Tarkenton is available- get him. If not, see what Rich Gannon is up to. If that doesn’t work, find a quarterback wasting away on a terrible team, someone well past his prime, someone who can give Raider fans something to be hopeful about but inevitably suicidal over. Find out what his team wants for him, then double it. Then double it again. Leave no doubts that Al Davis, and only Al Davis, could be responsible for such a cunning deal. You have one week. Now go out and DO MY BIDDING. Oh and Step Four is figure out how to turn this damn camera off. ‘I COMMAND YOU TO CEASE!’ (Davis confusedly stares at the camera for three hours until the tape runs out).”
Steelers 32, Cardinals 20– Do you watch The Walking Dead? Do you spent sleepless nights pondering your life in a post-apocalyptic world? Do you worry about what you would do if a zombie-virus overtook the world next week? Well FEAR NOT, because my roommate Bryan Kaminski happens to be international expert on all-things zombie apocalypse. I convinced him to take a break from sharpening his medieval battle axe to give us an excerpt from chapter one of his 87-chapter zombie manifesto. Take notes:
You eat dinner, do something you do everyday 3-5 times a week (likely watch TV, drink and/or surf the internet for new celebrity gossip, I mean, the best way to clean a shotgun. Because I’m a man!), and then hit the sheets to dream of ways you’ll kill time in your hellbox (re: cubicle) tomorrow. Fast-forward 3-7 hours later and you’re alarm goes off . You are ready to seize the day! Carpe diem bitches!
(NOTE: That was my alarm in college for approximately two and half years, and a fine one at that.)
Contemplate suicide. Shower. Get dressed. Eat toast (peanut butter optional, but also recommended). Turn your swag on. And then you are ready to go, and damn, you look good. So, you grab your bento box lunch, which is more likely a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and head out the door. You see your neighbor and say your normal, “Morning. How’s your life that I don’t care about going?”, except today your neighbor has no lips, looks a bit pale, is dragging their left foot, and is chewing on a finger like a normal human being would chew Jack Link’s Teriyaki Beef Jerky (try their Steakhouse flavor. It’s delicious!).
Being in the dazed and confused state that 6 a.m. puts you in, you only take a cautious, but not alarmed step back. You always knew that kid clocked too many hours of World of Warcraft, but didn’t think he was cannibalistic, in addition to lame. You also wonder if too much peanut butter in one’s body can cause them to hallucinate…..and/or if you are tripping on mushrooms. Then, your neighbor gets closer and tries to EAT YOUR FACE. Ahhh, it hits you…”I’m in a zombie apocalypse…”. The question is what in seven pound, seven ounce baby Jesus’s name are you gonna do?
Well, the first thing you think to yourself is “FUCK YEA. I’ve been waiting my entire life for this world-wide party!!!” I know. I know. I know. There’s a million things running through your head and all you want to do is cut a zombie’s head off with that samurai sword you have been storing in your closet in preparation for the zombie apocalypse (if you are ever at my apartment, check out our closet). Calm yo’self child. If you wanna survive, you gotta have a plan.
I’m going to tell you what I would do in the immediate hours following the commencement of a zombie apocalypse. I could just write a general game plan, but frankly, everyone should take note of this and amend it to fit their own needs/environment. Some people value family photos, books, and saving kittens. I value XBOX. To each his own. Adjust accordingly. This is a foolproof plan, however, so feel free to copy.
Nerds (ironic since my priority is getting a generator and endless amount of video games) used to say, “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.” I used to say, “Hey what’s the answer to number 7”…and “Shut up nerd!!” That’s irrelevant however, (and quite mean) and the former quote applies to this situation much more. Prepare well and you might just be lucky enough to survive. You’ve been given the opportunity to look like the man, just for living. Don’t blow it.
NOTE: From here on zombie apocalypse will be referred to as a ZA or a Zsa-Zsa Gabor because it starts with the same first letter and she has a funny sounding name. Everyone will need some humor in their lives during a Zsa-Zsa Gabor. (Pino’s note: You know who’s not surviving a Zsa-Zsa Gabor? Zsa-Zsa-Gabor. She’s basically a zombie right now.)
First thing to do is call all friends in family in the area. Settle on a spot to meet to begin forming your zombie survival team. Phones shouldn’t be down yet at this point in the game…unless you have AT&T. If AT&T provides your phone service drink bleach or jump headfirst out a window because you’re fucked. Lucky for me, I live in a 5 story apartment building with minimal ways to enter on the first floor, AKA a perfect ZA HQ (look at all those letters!).
On top of already living in a perfect zombie survival fort, we live across the street from the National Federation of the Blind Jernigan Institute which, to put in layman’s terms, is fuckin baller. It’s a 170,000 square foot hybrid of the The Guggenheim and the Staples Center, only if the art was exclusively in Braille and the baskets chirped when the lane was open. Seriously, look at this place…
I’m pretty sure it doubles as a research center for the blind and a semi-pro football stadium. It has balconies, a sweet garage with 10 foot metal gate you can see in the bottom right corner, beautiful windows, and a bunch of baller ass stuff that most of the people can’t see apprecia….ehh, we’ll leave that alone. All in all, this will make for another perfect zombie HQ. One, I’ll finally get to live like the king I am. Two, if there are any zombies, they’ll be blind zombies. This means we can practice throwing ninja stars at them…or at targets on the wall, but where’s the fun in that? We can also play drinking games such as, “Pin the Tail on the Blind Zombie” or “Who Can Knock Over a Blind Zombie with a Baseball”.
Once your team starts to get its act together and you have a few drinks at the new place and catch up on Tosh.0, you can start gathering supplies during the first day…few days…actually, all you’re ever gonna really do for the rest of your life is try to find cool stuff and kill zombies. Excited? I KNOW. ME TOO! The first places you are going to want to loot are:
- CVS (Rite-Aid, Walgreens, Duane Reade, etc.) – For me, CVS reigns supreme in the magical store realm. By magical store, I mean these places have enough supplies to last you for months! Where else can you get Pringles, scented candles, photos in an hour or less, and your prescription of Sizzurp?
- Liquor Store – Sweet Mary, Mother of God I can’t wait for this. I already know what store I’m looting and where everything is. Although, location of my favorite items is irrelevant because I’m taking EVERYTHING…except Bud Light Lime. That shit sucks.
- Gun Store – I may actually be more excited for this. I was watching Sons of Anarchy last week when Clay said, “Get to the warehouse. And bring two ARs (AR-15) with you.” I thought to myself, “ It’ll be a great day (or the end of the world) when I can casually tell my friends to bring two AR-15s with them.” Well, today is that day. Thank you zombies.
- Home depot – This place has all the good stuff and I don’t even know what good stuff it really has. Every single time I go there it turns into a three hour trip. I’ve never even built a birdhouse, so forget home reconstruction. The last time I went was to buy a 5-foot, blow-up snowman. There is just something about Home Depot that makes you want to wander around the store for hours…nobody ever knows where the fuck anything is either, so that probably adds to it. I put together a shopping list below.
- Best Buy – Unlimited supply of flat screens, Wii Dance games, Xbox stuff, and music. Can it really get any better than that? Well, the answer’s yes, at the liquor and gun stores, but this is definitely third. I just pray that the ZA doesn’t hit until the new Call of Duty ships to stores. That would devastate me.
- Grocery Store – Similarly, I hope the ZA doesn’t hit until the new grocery store in Fed Hill is constructed and stocked. That would devastate me. The store we have now is wack as shit. I’m going to eat every Gusher in Baltimore City during the ZA and you can’t stop me Mom. I can’t wait. (NOTE: the only thing stopping me now is from looking like a pedophile at the store when I buy 10 boxes of Gushers. Won’t be a problem during an apocalypse.)
You may encounter the occasional lame-o that believes it is still morally wrong to loot during an apocalypse. Just tell them you are shopping for free. If their feeble mind figures out your wizardry with words, just laugh at them. They’re dumb and clearly not going to survive. If they try to stop you from your shopping for free shopping spree (pretty catchy right?!), push them into a zombie. After they get bit, they’ll be forcing your hand, i.e., you will have to shoot them in the face with a crossbow…for the safety of others of course.
Home Depot Shopping List
- Boards – for board breaking competitions and making spears. I’ve always wanted a spear.
- Plywood – to board up windows.
- Gas cans – to hold gas that will run the generators you use to run the TV and Xbox you use to whoop people’s asses in Madden. And also to store gas for your cars.
- Sharp shit – to build cool weapons like spiked bats and quadruple head battle-axe, you know, normal things you’d have during a ZA.
That’s about it. I just like making lists even though I never use them. You’ll be able to get all your hatchets (underrated ZA weapon), machetes, knives, and axes here, in addition to cleaning supplies and other boring stuff you’ll need.
Another important thing you need to think about is your means of transportation. The hunter-gatherers of our past had horses. We have horsepower. You mad, Pocahontas?? Treat ya’self. Get a pimped out (re: better than yours) ride. You’re looking for new, big but maneuverable, and aesthetically pleasing….or a tank. For me, we’re looking for a Chevy Tahoe. Why? Breakdown!
(1) Government officials ride around in black on black on black Tahoes and they look bad ass as shit.
(2) As soon as I find a (crossed out) Spanish guy that can do tint work during a ZA, I’m gonna get pitch black tinted windows and, ipso facto, look bad ass as shit.
(3) Zombies work by sight and general guess-and-check/grab-and-bite methods to find food. With a pitch black tint, besides looking bad ass as shit, I’ll be pretty hard to find while taking a nap/Choco Taco break in my car.
(4) They got a 4.5 Kelley Blue Book rating. And Kelley knows her shit!
(5) Tahoes pack 320 Barbaros under the hood…except they’re not slow (re: dead and can’t move) and can get you 0-60 in under eight seconds. POW!
Why you want new is obvious. Big means you can move things (e.g., cars, herds of zombies, etc.) and carry more kegs food and guns, but you still want to be able to get through tighter areas. RV means you’re likely to get stuck somewhere in an abandoned car graveyard on a highway or in some mud while taking a shortcut the backseat driver insists on taking, that you take to avoid shooting them in the face, since this time when you think to yourself, “If they don’t shut the hell up about my driving, I’m gonna shoot them in the face,” you actually have a gun at your disposal because you’re in the middle of a gee dee zombie apocalypse. Mini-cooper, while super quick and tiny, will limit your resource and passenger capacities….and also make you look like a huge pussy.
You may be asking why should your means of transportation be aestethically pleasing? This is the end of the world, not a recession. Go nuts! Occupy that hipsters!
An RV will be necessary in the future however, for those long trips to the Jersey shore. Luckily, for my companions in Birdland, I already found an RV dealership in Glen Burnie (south of Baltimore) that just happens to be next to a golf park I’ve frequented in the past. It only has the greatest things in the world, AKA driving range, mini-golf, batting cages, and snack shop. This is the life of luxury during a zombie apocalypse. Learn to love it.
NOTE: If you need to learn to love an establishment with mini-golf, baseball and softball batting cages, a driving range, and a snack shop then I hope you get bit by a zombie as soon as possible.
Once you have your car(s), your year-supply of goodies, and enough weapons to defeat a small country’s national army, you my friend, are ready to survive the zombie apocalypse, otherwise known as, the Zsa-Zsa Gabor. This was a quick overview of the main places you will want to hit in the first day or two with your squiggity squad. Go to these places in teams of 4-6 and bring two cars. One to fill and one to transport folk. This also leaves you with a back-up car, in case things get hairy. Uhauls, if you have access to them, are suggested as well. Your homework for now is to practice learn how to hotwire cars. This skill is will be invaluable.
For future posts, if I’m invited back (Full disclosure: I’ve heard, “Don’t come back here anymore” before.), I’ll look to touch on things such as:
- best locations to hide out (I want a castle!),
- best melee weapons to put zombies down (between the kitana, me, and General Tso’s chicken, Asians got some things right, as well as some things wrong…see Jin, Kim-Jong Il, child labor laws, etc.),
- best clothes for a zombie apocalypse (think urban police riot gear meets John Locke times Kanye West. Trendy and practical. That’s gonna take a while to marinate. Take your time.), and
- best places to go during a zombie apocalypse (clearly, it’s Dave and Buster’s, which coincidentally is also the best place to go during a non-zombie apocalypse.)
Suggestions for other topics are both welcome and encouraged. Except stupid ones. I’ll make fun of those.
Falcons 23, Lions 16– God damn I love Halloween for so many reasons- the availability of anything pumpkin-flavored, parties, scary movies, offensive costumes, slutty costumes, candy and the greatest song of all time in full rotation.
Full disclosure, I went trick-or-treating until I was in ninth grade. Aaaand that’s saddest sentence ever written. You know what’s more depressing than a 13-year old pricing plastic swords at Halloween Adventure with his Mom? NOTHING. I honestly think my parents would have been prouder of me if I spent that Halloween binge drinking and running from the cops like countless peers. I don’t remember what I dressed up as, but I think that the sight of a husky teenager shamelessly boxing out eight year-olds as some horrified parent glares down with incredulity and revulsion was the scariest image in suburban Philadelphia that Halloween. The worst part is, this wasn’t even some pathetic charade to get candy and scare little kids, I was legitimately PUMPED that year. I remember it well because it was 2001, six weeks after 9/11 during a time when fears of a terrorist attack that coincided with Halloween were ubiquitous. I literally recall justifying my trick-or-treating by telling anyone who would listen (no one) that NOT going out on Halloween would be letting the terrorists win. Yet I in reality I was just irrationally excited to go around my cousin’s neighborhood and take candy from strangers. I distinctly remember riding the train to his house that afternoon and praying that if there was a terrorist attack, let it be tomorrow so that it doesn’t ruin my trick or treating. Correction- THAT is the saddest sentence ever written. The ethos of a fat kid defers to neither tastefulness nor basic morality, only candy.
Forget the printing press or the iPad, miniature Reese’s Cups are the single greatest invention in the history of mankind. I’m fully convinced that they are a gift straight from the gods. You know that crazy hallucinogenic tunnel-vision thing that happens whenever Frodo puts on the Ring, that’s frighteningly similar to what happens when I see a bowl of miniature Reese Cups. It’s incredibly disgusting what goes on in my mouth when I eat one- the playful mutilation of that chocolaty God-dropping would make Dexter vomit. There’s also no limit to how many miniature Reese’s I could devour in one sitting either. I think I could just continue gorging myself until I dropped dead from a tumor made exclusively out of peanut butter and milk chocolate (delicious!). That’s the only problem with miniature Reese’s- I’ll have one, with genuine intentions of stopping there, but then one turns into four and four turns into fifteen minutes of peanut butter bukkake until my stomach is bleeding and I hate myself.
Texans 41, Titans 7– I need Chris Connelly or Jeremy Schapp to do an investigative report on what exactly Chris Johnson did during his offseason and holdout, cause it sure as shit wasn’t exercising. To say he’s been bad this season is a vast understatement. He’s averaging less than 45 yards per game, 3 yards per carry and has as many fumbles as touchdowns through six games. He’s on pace for 700 yards, basically half of what he rushed for last year and a third of his 2009 output. Matt fucking Hasselbeck is literally averaging more yards-per-carry than Johnson this season, and he’s 36, white and quite possibly the least mobile quarterback in the league. He’s had a lot of horrific games this season, but Sunday’s performance against the Texans was his masterpiece. Houston had just gotten gashed for 161 yards by Ray Rice last week, yet Johnson managed just 18 yards on 10 carries, plus a fumble. His longest carry went for three yards.
The Titans rank dead last in the league in rushing this season, but don’t worry, ‘cause it’s definitely not Chris Johnson’s fault according to Chris Johnson. After the Texans game, he placed the blame on the coaches and offensive line and said that if you think his struggles are his fault, then “you really don’t know football.” Fair enough.
This game was utter and complete domination by the Texans. Over the final 53 minutes of the game, the Texans never punted and converted 26 first downs. I think this glorious Hit-Stick/fist pump from kicker Neil Rackers about says it all.
Browns 6, Seahawks 3– This Three-&-Outkakke was the first game in NFL history to leave fans wishing Tavaris Jackson was healthy enough to play. It all started so promisingly for Charlie Whitehurst too. He completed his first three passes of the game, and even picked up two first downs! Then something happened to Whitehurst, what that thing was, I don’t know. He could have had his talent stolen by the MonStars, or maybe his rotator cuff fell off, or perhaps he angered a demon and was possessed like that girl in Paranormal Activity; either way, it got brutal out there. He dropped back to pass 32 more times and gained positive yardage on just eight of them. He also fumbled a snap, then fumbled again, threw an interception, gained only three first downs, had five passes knocked down and was hit eight times, including three sacks.
Here’s a little background on Whitehurst if you’re unfamiliar- He was drafted by the Chargers in 2006, then spent the next four years as the backup to Billy Volek, who was the backup to Phillip Rivers. During that four-year span, he never threw a single pass. In fact, if it weren’t for two rushing attempts in his rookie season, you literally wouldn’t even know that he existed from a statistical standpoint. Apparently, 0 passing attempts in four years is exactly what the Seahawks were looking for in 2010, because they traded a third-round pick and swapped 2nd round picks with the Chargers in order to get him. Then they signed Whitehurst to a 2-year, $8 million deal and proclaimed him their franchise quarterback. Is that the worst trade in NFL history? Cause I think it might be. Brandon Lloyd, who led the league in receiving last year, was just traded for a fifth round pick. The Seahawks gave up a third rounder and traded 20 spots down in the second round to get a player who had literally nothing to document the fact that he had been in the NFL, or that he even existed, for the previous three years. I’m flabbergasted.
Jets 27, Chargers 21– Vincent Jackson would rate his stay on Revis Island 0 out of a possible 5 coconuts on Trip Advisor. The Chargers top receiver was held to just one catch, a 15-yarder in the first quarter, on eight targets. Phil Rivers’ day wasn’t much better, as he continued his miserable season by going 16-32 for 179 yards, a TD and two picks. Worst of all, while he tried to lead his team down the field for the game-winning drive, he clearly forgot what that it was fourth down and threw the ball out-of-bounds. That actually might not have been a mistake, I could see Norv Turner calling that play. Norv’s ineptitude transcends the limits of space, time, down and distance.
After the game Antonio Cromartie awkwardly gloated about the win when asked about a potential AFC championship match-up with his former team. “Let’s see if they can win their (division),” he said, “Let’s see if they can beat the Raiders first,” Ummmm, Antonio, the Jets lost to the Raiders, like three weeks ago, remember? You fumbled that kickoff and pretty much cost your team the game? Nothing? No recollection whatsoever? Apparently his children’s names aren’t the only things Cromartie forgets.
HEY! Do you wanna see a pee-wee football player get laid out by the demon-spawn of Mike Alstott? YEA YOU DO.
Bears 24, Bucs 18– This was the NFL’s annual trip to merry ol’ England, in which Roger Goodell patronizes the U.K. and flirts with the terrible idea of putting a team in London full-time in order to gain leverage over cities stateside. The only compelling aspect of the entire London charade this weekend came during the flight overseas, when Lovie Smith looked up from his fifth straight episode of Franklin and Bash, challenged the ruling on the field that England existed, then called timeout again to ponder the fact that England, London and the United Kingdom are three different things. Speaking of Wales, Tony Siragusa took a break from gorging himself on blood sausage to continually make the same hackneyed “joke” that “Did you know that in England they call ‘soccer’ ‘football’?. LOL ENGLISH PEOPLE ARE CRAZY RIGHT?!” Thanks, Fox, for sending that obnoxious, fat, bumbling idiot of a sideline mascot overseas to be a walking caricature of every American stereotype ever.
After Earnest Graham tore his Achilles on Sunday, the only healthy back on the Bucs roster is something called a Kregg Lumpkin, which sounds like some kind of Austrian pastry. The Bucs better hope that LeGarrette Blount gets healthy during the upcoming bye, because their next three games are against the Saints, Texans, and Packers, teams that will eat the Lumpkin up like he’s Turkish Delight.
What the hell happened to Josh Freeman? Last year he was leading comebacks, looking like the next young star quarterback and rocking a sweet and utterly improbable Jew-Fro. He helped lead the Bucs to a 10-6 record and threw 25 TDs with 6 interceptions and had a 95.9 quarterback rating. This season, his game, like his hair, looks far more Jew than Fro out there. He’s thrown just six TDs and 10 interceptions and has a 73.1 QB rating through seven games. On Sunday, he threw 22 incompletions and four picks against the Bears and took his team completely out of a winnable game.
In the mean time, Matt Forte continued his campaign for a contract extension with another huge game- 183 yards a touchdown. This season Forte is making $555,000, which, despite being his highest salary since coming into the league, still puts him as the 25th best-paid player on the Bears and 53rd among all running backs in the league. I understand that running backs have a short shelf life in the NFL, but letting their best player (and only consistent player on offense) go so grossly underpaid sends a bad message to the rest of the guys on the team, and more importantly potential free agents, about the way management treats their players. After four highly productive years and, now, an MVP-caliber season under his belt, there’s no reason that Forte should continue to go unrewarded.
While it must be awesome to have the entire country ridiculing your bosses for not giving you a raise, Forte finds himself in that ominous phase of an NFL player’s life where he’s an injury away from ending his career without anything (comparatively of course) to show for it. Look at the number of injuries to running backs this week alone. Tim Hightower and Earnest Graham are both out for season with knee and Achilles tears respectively, Willis McGahee and Beanie Wells are both looking at a couple weeks on the shelf after picking it up injuries on Sunday, Marshawn Lynch got injured before the game, which is impressive, and Mark Ingram and Tashard Choice both picked up injuries as well. Of course, decidedly not middle-of-the-road Darren McFadden suffered what appeared to be a bad leg injury, but should only be kept out of action for a week at most. The argument to reward Forte before he gets hurt, also provides the Bears with an equally strong argument for why they should not pay him; however, Forte has proven his talent and durability over and over throughout his career. He’s not Willie Parker or Ronnie Brown, he’s a stud running back and the star around which the Bears galaxy of pedestrian skill players revolves. In the immortal words of Teddy KGB, “Pay heem. Pay zat man hees mahney.”
Saints 62, Colts 7– Brees’ final red zone numbers: 11-of-14 for 74 yards, with five touchdowns. In a related story, Andy Reid just finished his third lunch then threw a shovel pass to his oscillating fan.
For the second time in two weeks, members of Congress called for hearings on the use of HGH in the NFL, which is great news, because, apparently we’re now officially out of problems in this country! I hadn’t even noticed, but then again, I haven’t been reading the newspaper lately, mostly because they’ve all gone bankrupt. Congress getting involved in anything that affects what happens on the field of an NFL game is like Charles Woodson getting his own personal vote in the Electoral College. There’s literally not one reason why the NFL’s impasse with the NFLPA over HGH testing should be of any concern on a Congressional level. Congressional intervention in sports is not without precedent, but trolling fans about a backburner issue certainly is. Regardless of your opinion on Congress’s Steroid Witch Trials of 2005, in which the House (baseball) Government Reform committee interrogated Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro and Curt Schilling on national TV, this intervention is considerably less warranted. At the time, baseball was facing a steroid debate that had become a significant part of the national discourse. Players were growing, records were falling and anabolic steroid use among teenagers was increasing. The appearance, both on the field and in the locker room, of Major League Baseball had changed dramatically over a relatively short period of time and Congress saw a chance to go to bat for America’s Past Time, embarrass some cheaters and win some hearts and minds among the electorate.
The HGH-testing debate…isn’t any of that. This is the debate that no one is asking for. The majority of hardcore NFL fans view this as an issue that can be tabled until the offseason. The majority of Americans are probably unaware that this debate even exists. There are no records falling, there is no public outcry and there are no high school linebackers dropping dead during practice from HGH. Before selling the public on their trusty slippery-slope paradigm, perhaps these members of Congress should consider the fact that unlike anabolic steroids, human growth hormone is expensive, really expensive. Not if you’re a defensive end or an action-movie star, but if you’re a high school or college kid you probably don’t have the disposable income to shell out a few grand every couple months for a cycle. But on second thought, members of Congress shouldn’t consider that fact; because they shouldn’t consider any fact about the NFL; because they need to pass their fucking finance classes before they worry about their gym credits. Perhaps, instead of forwarding a disingenuous narrative about HGH that no one wants to hear, Congress should make some progress on trying to unfuck the federal debt ceiling first. Members of Congress, you can continue to preach your inane bullshit about fixing Wall Street and fighting for Main Street, but for the love of god, leave Herbstreit the fuck out of it.
//cleanse palate with Chubby Ryu
Panthers 33, Redskins 20– Breaking news: October 21st was last week. Why is that significant? Because Harold Camping predicted that that would be the day of the Rapture, and the beginning of the End of Days. You may remember Camping as the senile old coot who gained attention by predicting that the world was going to end on May 21st, 2011. When that day came and went quite un-Apocalyptically, he said that the REAL Rapture would actually take place five months later, aka last week. Here’s an article on where Camping describes how the whole Apocalypse will go down, when it goes down, which it won’t. Now, it’d be easy to Monday morning quarterback this thing and make fun of this nutjob and everything he stands for…and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
According to Camping, “A massive earthquake will make its way around the earth, beginning in Fiji and New Zealand. Graves will open and two hundred million ‘saved’ individuals will float up to heaven. The doomed remainder will live on an unruly earth for five months before God annihilates it five months later.”
200 million? Of all the people that ever lived, ever? Jesus Christ that’s a tough guest list to crack. According to this Cleveland.com article, the all-time world population could be as high as 105 billion people, and if Cleveland.com says it, YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE. That means that according to the math equation that I just discovered and did in my head in 10 seconds, only roughly 600 people currently living would be saved. Even worse, we have wayyyyy more shit to get us on St. Peter’s blacklist today than they did 3,000 years ago. Their ancient equivalent to internet porn was staring at the stars until you saw a constellation that vaguely resembled something sexual, and you can only fantasize about what’s below Orion’s Belt so many times. So realistically, you’re looking at like 50 people getting saved. Steep odds. But I’ll tell you what, that five month period would be AWESOME. I wonder if they’d still play the NFL season? It’s not like they’d be missing anyone, well, except Tebow, and that would only benefit of the league. It’d also be amazing when the Rapture happened and some uber-religious politician like Rick Perry didn’t vanish, ohh that’d be so awkward. I’m sure he’d blame it on Mormon demonry.
Camping’s prediction is based on an elaborate parade of arbitrary numerological connections that starts with the fact that, according to Camping, “Christ hung on the cross April 1, 33 A.D.,” He hung on the cross? Wow that’s an awfully bizarre way of phrasing it. I also had no idea that we knew the exact date that he died, although I guess if any day of the year makes sense, it’s April 1st, since Christ’s death (and subsequent resurrection) was the original April Fools joke.
So why wasn’t April 1st the day of the Rapture? Easy- “Now go to April 1 of 2011 A.D., and that’s 1,978 years. If you multiply that number by 365.2422 — the number of days in the solar calendar — it equals 722,449. And if you add 51 (the number of days between April 1 and May 21) to that number, it equals 722,500.”
See? SIMPLE. He went on to add, “Jesus died at age 33, there’s thirty-three shots from twin glocks there’s sixteen apiece, that’s thirty-two. Which means, one of my guns was holdin 17, twenty-seven hit your crew, six went into you.” Or maybe that was Nas, I don’t know, either way, it didn’t make a lot of sense.
“Camping also believes that May 21 marks the 7,000 anniversary of Noah’s flood” Oh. You probably should have just led off with that instead of your Raymond Babbitt monologue huh.
“He made a similar prediction in the 1990s but later said he didn’t look close enough at the Book of Jeremiah.” Understandable. The discrepancy stems from a mistranslation when Jeremiah says that the Hebrew phrase “Achat esrey” would happen in the ‘90s. Camping thought that meant “Apocalypse and Rapture” but in reality meant “Jaleel White and Pogs”. Common mistake.
“(After the rapture) the saved will go to straight to heaven to meet Jesus, he claims. The unsaved, including those already dead, ‘will never have conscious existence again…That person himself will not know anything about it they are dead.’”
So dead people will not know what’s going on and instead will stay dead. BOLD PREDICTION. Hey Harold what do you think’s gonna happen on Monday Night Football? “The game will be a game and it will stay a game until it’s over and then it won’t be.” Thanks.
“Christ has no pleasure in the death of the unsaved. It is an enormous comfort about our loved ones,” he added. “Pray they die quickly.”
Wow, praying someone dies quickly is the most backhanded good deed of all time. And when did we get the list of what Christ’s pleasures are and aren’t? Did he start a Facebook page? Interests: Creed, Michelle Bachman, watchin Broncos games with my Dad, washing feet (‘cept Judas’s LOL). Dislikes: J.K. Rowling, the Chicago Cubs, Romans, the death of the unsaved, most of Africa.
“Worth more than $120 million and with 66 stations throughout the country, the network’s broadcasts reach as far as Nigeria.” Americans exporting scams to Nigeria? The shoes on the other foot now isn’t it, deposed King Solomon Bongo Ofobi? I still want my money back.
“Via the Internet, it’s available in 61 languages.” Via the Internet, everything is available in every language, it’s called Babelfish.
“Many(of his followers) have quit jobs and depleted their life savings to join caravans that preach across the U.S.” (enters quote into Babelfish bullshit translator) “Many have been fired from jobs for screaming about the End of Days to the customers at Walmart and depleted their life savings in a single trip to Bob Evans then joined caravans that preach across the U.S.” Fixed!
MNF: Ravens at Jaguars– Fuck EVERYTHING about this game. Ray Rice and MJD couldn’t hold on to the ball, the refs couldn’t get a call right, no first downs in the first half by the Ravens, no 3rd down conversions by either team. This game literally made me question why I spend so much of my life watching sports.
Cowboys 34, Rams 7– DeMarco Murray? What the hell? Think the Rams offense was predictable with Sam Bradford? Just wait for screen-fest 2.0 starring A.J. Feeley as Checkdowns O’Houlighan, the weakest gun in the (NFC) West! Feeley threw 20 completions, which is great, but his average completion came just a yard and a half past the line of scrimmage. But hey as long as they stretch the field every now and then they’ll be fine, especially now that they added Brandon Lloyd, right? Well, on throws of 15 yards or more, Feeley was 0-4 with an interception. The ex-Eagles quarterback is just trying to live down to the immensely terrible standards set for him in 2011 by Feeley 2.0 Kevin Kolb and Donovan McRib. The Rams have not led in a game since the first quarter of week 2. Jesus. In total this season, the Rams have been behind losing or tied for 5 hours, 53 minutes and thirty-two seconds and led for 6 minutes and 28 seconds. This was supposed to be the team on the rise this season? Right? Weren’t they supposed to build on last season’s success and Sam Bradford was supposed to continue his excellent start to his career? What the hell happened?
NOOOOOO! THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE LOCKER ROOM.
Packers 33, Vikings 27–
Despite their undefeated record, the Packers have shown some rather disconcerting weaknesses this season. Most notably, their running backs are averaging less than four yards per carry rank towards the bottom of the league in yards per game. Even more worrisome, their pass defense ranks 31st in the league, conceding nearly 300 yards per game, despite games against Denver, Minnesota, St. Louis and Chicago. Their great equalizer, however unsurprisingly, is Aaron Rodgers. If you hear an analyst at ESPN making an argument for anyone besides Rodgers for MVP, that person should sent back to Bristol for some R.P. McMurphy-style shock therapy. Through seven games, Rodgers has been almost perfect, completing 72% of his passes, throwing or rushing for 22 touchdowns with just three turnovers and an insane 125.7 quarterback rating. He leads the league with 9.93 yards per attempt. Think about that, his average pass, not completion, is nearly a first down. His “worst” game of the season came against the Bears in week 4- he completed 74% of his passes for 297 yards, 3 TDs, one pick and a 111.4 quarterback rating. On Sunday, the Vikings stuck around and put up a tough fight, anything less than near-perfect play from Rodgers would have probably cost them the game, but he responded by going 24-30 for 335 yards, 3 TDs, 0 picks, 11.2 yards per attempt and a 146.5 QB rating.
Finally, your Underperforming Fantasy Ghouls Who Should Be Should Have Their House Ravaged With Toilet Paper on Mischief Night:
Rashard Mendenhall: 37 total yards
Chris Johnson: 18 yards rushing
Phillip Rivers: 179 yards, 1 TD, 2 INTs
Ryan Mathews: 39 yards rushing
Miles Austin: 16 yards
Vincent Jackson: 15 yards
Ray Rice: 28 yards rushing, 1 fumble
And the Annoyingly Ambitious Fantasy Goblins Who Robbed Your Team Of A Win Despite A Complete And Utter Lack Of Talent:
DeMarco Murray: 253 yards, 1 TD
Darren Sproles: 107 yards, 2 TDs
Plaxico Burress: 25 yards, 3 TDs
Shonn Green: 117 yards
Delone Carter: 89 yards, 1 TD