Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Playoff Musings...

As Max so gloriously summed up, the inaugural week of the playoff that do not bear our name is in the books and not without some surprises. Off we go:

*Highlight of the weekend save a trip to Farrell's was watching the "Beef Moe" go off on that journey through the tackleless forest. About the time Lynch got all physics on us and threw down the impossible stiff arm I was involved in this exchange:

Me: "He's gonna score."
Bud Light Fan: "No, no he's not. Wait. Yes. Yes he is!"

That short exchange was highlighted by Max screaming "BEEF MOEE!BEEF MOEE!BEEF MOEE!BEEF MOEE!" in an octave not unlike a creamy Bieber fan. Super gay on all levels by all parties involved. But hilarious at the same time.

*I don't care if yes, the Chargers might have put up a better fight than the Chefs on Sunday morning. We didn't make the playoffs, didn't deserve to, and lost to many, many teams that we "should" have or "could" have put up a better fight against. One of those teams involves "Beef Moe". Sorry. Not wasting the energy required for those thoughts, especially since Rivera was confirmed as the head asshole in tarheel country. Seriously, that program is surely bound for good things now. I am serious and don't call me Shirley.

*For how many years have we been assaulted with the idea that Peyton Manning needs nothing resembling a coordinator as he is so advanced in his brainparts that he can run any play at any time and the Colts are just lucky to have a coach on the field of his stature? Funny, I saw the Superleader check down on every third and short as if he was taking infield practice throwing those grounders to his substitute tight ends . The one touchdown the Colts scored was on a bomb, the one, and only one time they threw it down the field. Either Peyton needs a coordinator, or he's a giant pussy, or both. I'm leaning towards giant pussy. If I leaned any further I'd be swathed in beef curtains.

*Let me get this straight. Tom Coughlin and Matt Dodge catch a bucketful of semen filled frogshit for kicking to DeSean Jackson with the game on the line. However, Mike McCarthy and Tim Masthay kick to Jackson with the game on the line and no one says a god damned thing. Why? Why the fuck doesn't McCarthy get asked what the fuck he was thinking kicking to Jackson so he can fistfuck his punter on national television like Coughlin? Is it perhaps because after they kicked to him, the Packers and the 11 members of their punt team tackled the ballcarrier doing their jobs and becoming more appealing suitors to McCarthy's nubile daughters?* I vote yes. And, I vote because the media are fucking assholes. See: Mike Vick. See: Arizona. Again.

*I couldn't be more disappointed in Michael Vick. DAMNED YOU MICHAEL VICK! You came so close to getting my hopes up for the SuperBang miracle and then BLEW IT!! Doubly shitty that someone was telling me that Joe Montana wouldn't have made that mistake on the game ending interception. No fucking shit. Joe Montana probably wouldn't have done time for dogfighting either. Not because he wouldn't fight dogs, but because he's white. Duh.

It's so much easier to hate everything in the playoffs when we aren't involved. I almost know what it's like to be a Raider fan. At least you have next year to look forward to you know, letting your best corner go now too. Fuck me Raiders, if you weren't so awfully bitchy you'd be so darned cute and likable! Like a kitten in a blender! You are an endless source of entertainment. I can't wait to see what hi-jinx you have in store for me next week!

*Mike McCarthy may not have daughters. He may not even have children. I don't care.

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