Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A big, hearty f*ck you...

In light of the Saints' improbable run to the Super Bowl and victory over the Minnesota Vikings in the NFC Championship Game, the following is a list of people that can go fuck themselves. I will add select commentary behind some entries, because sometimes it's important to know why a guy has to go fuck himself. (Note: This list is made in no particular order)

Joe Buck & Troy Aikman: These Brett Favre apologists were the wrong fuckers to be calling Sunday night's game. You could almost hear tears in their voices. Jesus Christ, Gus Johnson would've blown a fucking gasket over this game, could you PRETEND to be excited for five seconds!?!?

Adrian Peterson: Fuck you for having gloves covered in KY Jelly, you fumbling fuck! "I feel they didn't win the game but we lost it." You said that. Right after the game. Fuck you in the helmet, you purple-headed asshole. That Under Armor-wannabe shit you're wearing must be cutting off the circulation to your brain. As I remember it, the only fumble that the Saints didn't cause was when you and the Favre-meister couldn't get a goddamn handoff right in the backfield....WHEN YOU WERE DEEP IN SAINTS TERRITORY, you shit-eating fuck!

Marcellus Wiley: Fuck off for picking the Vikings! And a double fuck off for saying the Cardinals were in a better spot going into their game against the Saints!

Bill Simmons: Cause fuck him, that's why.

Brett Favre: For whining to the officials early on, like they owe you favors... And for getting one of them to help your jersey back over your pads after you got rocked AGAIN by the Saints' defense... And for stirring up the "will he or won't he retire?" crap already when all you should've said was "no comment," you hick fuck!

Vikings fans who believe the game was "gifted" to the Saints: fuck you, retards. the officials fucked things up on BOTH sides of the ball, so don't act like this was some set up. if anything, the officials gave your team MORE calls early on in the game. and you STILL couldn't beat the Saints!!!

Peter King: Fuck you for mourning the Vikings' loss (read: Brett Favre's loss) first and not giving the Saints their proper due, you bias mother fucker.

Sports media: Here's the thing about the media in general (and ESPECIALLY the sports media): they have a narrative in mind for how they'd like to cover a story or see things unfold AT ALL TIMES. That's everybody. Now, sadly, there are fewer professionals in both businesses who can taper down their thoughts and feelings on something and let the facts and details dictate what should be covered and talked about. Instead, you get assholes who start rooting for Favre, cause it's a "better story to see an old guy get one more run at a title." Bullshit. The truth is, these sports writers wanted to see a guy closer to their age make a run in a young man's game and it would've made them feel a little bit better about themselves.

And finally...My former boss: Yeah, you thought I'd forget, didn't you? Right? See, NOW you can go ahead with that "Black & Gold Super Bowl" ad campaign shit. Go on, dick head, you have my permission. Fuck you, you overweight prick.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Select photos from the game...

I'm still too blubbery to write something down, so I thought I'd go with hilarious pictures that have gone through the "i can haz cheezburger" wringer. (Note: The guys at KSK do a fantastic job on their site when they do this stuff.)

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Cormac McCarthy likes the NFC action this weekend, thank you very much!

Think they'll give Vilma a cattle gun to take down Favre?

I know what you're thinking: "But Kevin, why'd you misspell Brett Favre's last name? Were you trying to be funny?" Well, yes and no.

I say "no," because I realized about 20 minutes into building this thing (during breaks at work, mind you) that I spelled the fucker's name wrong. And since I'm too lazy to fix this shit, I decided, fuck it, I'll make it like "Something About Mary." So there you go.

Of course, looking at it now...I probably SHOULD have either gone back and fixed it, or at least tried to match the misspelling on Favre's jersey. And then I probably could have maybe put another couple players on the poster to cover up the dead space...

Fuck, I need to sleep...

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Payton and Whisenhunt in a battle of the minds!!!

('24'-style voice over: The following takes place between 7 p.m. and 7:10 p.m. on Friday, January 15.)


(Coaches Sean Payton and Ken Whisenhunt are standing behind podiums, facing one another on a dimly lit stage. Pat Kiernan stands between them, wearing a dapper suit.)

PAT: And welcome back to the World Series of Pop Culture, folks! We are here for the final round of this epic contest between coaches Sean Payton and Ken Whisenhunt, to determine who truly has the right mojo leading their team into their upcoming Divisional Round playoff game!

(Crowd applauds.)

PAT: Now, here are the rules for this final round, in which all points are quadrupled, effectively rendering the previous six rounds meaningless...Okay, we're going to have a duel of pop culture awesomeness!!! Each coach will take turns saying something that he thinks has pop culture awesomeness. The other coach will then try to top him with something HE thinks is more awesome. Sounds easy, but it's quite difficult. First one to five points wins. Are you ready, Coach Whisenhunt?

KEN: Uh, yeah, sure.

PAT: What say you, then?

KEN: Um...Courtney Cox's dance moves in the "Dancing in the Dark" video?

PAT: Coach Payton, your rebuttal?

SEAN: Let's see...I'll go with Bruce Springsteen's crotch slide during the Super Bowl 43 half time show.

PAT: Point for Coach Sean Payton!!!!

(Crowd applauds.)

PAT: Coach Payton, you're move?

SEAN: Okay. I'll go with Rex Ryan's bombastic locker room tirades.

PAT: Coach Whisenhunt, what say you?

KEN: Hmmm...I'll say Trying to prove that Mark Sanchez is a competent quarterback!

PAT: Point for Sean Payton! Sorry, Ken, but nobody's buying that Sanchez bullshit anytime soon. But hey, you're leading off Round 3, so here's your chance to play catch up!

KEN: I'll go with the big thing on the internet at the moment and say that old dude on American Idol singing "Pants On The Ground."

SEAN: Pat, this one's easy. I'll take Jimmy Fallon's nonsensical cover of "Pants On The Ground" as Neil Young.

PAT: Folks, that is a winner-winner chicken dinner for Coach Sean Payton!!! 3-0, Coach Payton! Come on, Coach Whisenhunt, you've gotta put up a better fight than this!

KEN: Um, look, I'm not sure this is such a good idea.

SEAN: Quit being a puss, Ken, it's a fun little diversion before the game. I mean, it's not the Saints are gonna smoke the Cards this bad. I mean, ALL THE ANALYSTS AND TALKING HEADS say you guys have the momentum coming into the SuperDome. Nevermind the fact that Kurt Warner's 0-2 here. You guys are gonna be near impossible to beat, according to the former players who now have fashionistas picking out their suits for television. Come on, let's keep playing.

KEN: Alright fine.

PAT: Coach Payton...you lead us off in Round 4.

SEAN: Simple. Jimmy Kimmel doing his entire late night show as Jay Leno, only to appear on Leno's prime time show the next night and absolutely crush him again....

PAT: Coach Whisenhunt, your response...?

KEN: Uh...Hmmm...let me think...Gimme a minute...

(Buzzer sounds.)

PAT: Oh, I'm sorry, Coach Ken, time's up. Coach Payton gets the point. You need to win this one to avoid the sweep. You need a good pop culture reference here to keep it competitive.

KEN: Okay, I'm busting out the big guns for this one: Kurt Warner drawing Jesus.

PAT: Coach Payton?


PAT: CLEAN SWEEP for Sean Payton!!! 5-0 for the Saints' coach!

KEN: What?!? That clip is like three years old!!! I demand Coach Payton come up with something more recent!

SEAN: Okay, Ken, you asked for it. Three words: CAT. RAPING. PUNTER.

KEN: The fuck's a "cat raping punter?" Who's a cat raping punter? There's a punter in the league that rapes cats?!? The fuck is that, Sean?

SEAN: Pat?

PAT: Coach Ken, it's a perfectly acceptable pop culture reference. In fact, had Coach Payton gone with that one from the get go, the judges probably would have awarded him the contest then and there. I'm sorry, but you lost.

KEN: Dang it!

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

"There's no killing what can't be killed"


(Sean Payton is flipping through binders, looking at player profiles and consulting medical charts, and visiting WebMD on his computer.)

PAYTON: Blast it! I can't figure out why all our guys are getting and staying injured! Hip pointers, sports hernias, pulled groins, hamstring issues, knee trouble, foot trouble, finger sprains, if never freaking ends! There has GOT to be a reason for all of this!

(Drew Brees walks up and knocks on Payton's door frame.)

BREES: Mind if I come in, coach?

PAYTON: Damn right, I called you in here because I need to know if you've seen or heard anything from the guys about their injuries.

BREES: What do you mean, coach?

PAYTON: You know, if the guys are talking about any off field incidents involving horseplay or something. Those douchey media types are saying guys, well Jeremy in particular, are getting injured by playing grab-ass all the damn time. I want answers!

BREES: You sure you wanna know, coach? I don't know if you're ready for this...

PAYTON: (slams fist on desk) Dammit, I demand to know why my guys are falling by the wayside here! We've got ONE week to get healthy and I can't be fretting over more injuries!

BREES: Okay, coach. Follow me...

(Brees leads Coach Payton downstairs, into the hallways outside the Saints locker room.)

BREES: (Points.) There.


BREES: There. Straight ahead...

PAYTON: What? It's behind the drink machine?


PAYTON: What? Dammit, Drew! You got me all worked up here!! I'm thinking Shockey screwed some mobster's wife or the wiring in Lynell Hamilton's head changed and he's set to "maim" or something. The fucking vending machine's the problem?

BREES: Coach, this is no ordinary vending machine...

PAYTON: Oh, come off it!

BREES: Coach, that vending machine has a mean streak a mile wide! It can leap about (stretches arms out) ... It can swallow five men's souls and cake them in corn syrup inside of ten minutes!

PAYTON: Fuck's sake, Drew, quit screwing around!

BREES: I'm not, coach! The guys are absolutely terrified of this thing! Look, they even hired a shaman to kill it...

KING WILLIE: "You can't see the eyes of the demon, until him come callin'."

PAYTON: What? Make sense, crazy black guy.

KING WILLIE: Dis ting be evil man. Dis is dread, Coach Payton. Truly DREAD!

PAYTON: Whatever...

(Coach Payton turns around and is surprised to see The Shockmeister standing by with torches and a chainsaw.)

SHOCKMEISTER: Oh, I hope this guy works out...Fucking vending machine broke my foot!

PAYTON: I knew it! You DID break your damn foot kicking this fucking thing!

SHOCKMEISTER: Damn right I kicked it, coach! Fucking thing tried to eat me! It spit out some rancid cola at me and it hit Fujita. Gave him staph infection.

PAYTON: That's bullshit, Jeremy.

BREES: No, it's true, coach. The thing fired a can at Jabari Greer's junk and gave him that groin pain. It lunged at him and gave Greer that sports hernia, too.

SHOCKMEISTER: Marvin Mitchell's hammy, Carl Nicks' back problems, Pierre Thomas' hip issues, Ellis' knee, McCray's back, Stinchcomb's knee...ALL OF IT connected to this fucking machine.

PAYTON: So unplug it, dickheads.

SHOCKMEISTER: Ain't you seen "Big," Coach Payton?!? These demonic things don't need to be plugged in!!!

PAYTON: Well then, who brought this ghastly fucking thing in here to begin with?!?

BREES: Remember this commercial, coach...?

PAYTON: Yeah. You're telling me that's the same machine?

BREES: No, it's his cousin. Reggie ran that other machine ragged and it dropped dead of a heart attack. This thing came here for revenge.

PAYTON: So have Reggie run this one ragged, too.

SHOCKMEISTER: We tried that, coach!! Remember last year when Reggie sucked ass?!?

PAYTON: ... Uh, okay...so what time frame again?

SHOCKMEISTER: Reggie couldn't tire this one out. This one is determined to destroy us! Reggie had to go into hiding in Kim Kardashian's massive cleavage.

BREES: Oh fuck!!

(Payton turns around to see KING WILLIE get his head cut off by the angry Pepsi machine.)

PAYTON: Holy fuck! Throw the torch, Jeremy! Throw the goddamn torch at it!

SHOCKMEISTER: Coach, fire doesn't do a goddamn thing to it! It only pisses it off more!

BREES: What are we gonna do? This thing has been bad luck ever since it came here! McCray said it got him drunk last week and wouldn't get him a designated driver. And now Brunell is saying the machine stole his talent.

PAYTON: Stole his talent?

SHOCKMEISTER: Yeah, like in "Space Jam." Jesus, don't you watch any fucking movies, coach?!?

PAYTON: Enough of this bullshit. Lemme make a phone call. I know a guy...

(CUT TO: One hour later...)

PAYTON: I'm glad you could come out and help us today.

THE DANE: Gid jer fik alarmeret mig i tidligere tider Coach. (I wish you had called me earlier, Coach.)

PAYTON: Sorry about that. I just learned of this problem today.

SHOCKMEISTER: He gonna fucking handle this?!? He's fucking 50!!

PAYTON: For the record he turned 49 last August...SO THERE!!

BREES: Whatever, Coach. But how's he going to kill this thing? He can't kick hard enough to dent the hull of this beast.

THE DANE: Lave ikke bekymre , Hævede mig bekendt. Jeg har den endelig våben. (Do not worry, Drew my friend. I have the ultimate weapon.)

(The Dane pulls a large hammer from his knapsack. He holds it in front of him and chants. Lightning flashes and everyone is temporarily blinded.)

SHOCKMEISTER: What. The. Fuck?

BREES: Damn. Is that...?

THE DANE: Holde sig tilbage samtidigt med at JEG drabsmand indeværende dyr. (Stand back whilst I slay this beast.)

THE DANE: JEG landsforvise thee af Midgard igen hen til den netherworld verily! (I banish thee from Midgard back to the netherworld, verily!)

(The Dane smashes his hammer against the Pepsi machine, which promptly explodes into a thousand pieces.)

SHOCKMEISTER: Dude, can I borrow that hammer? I wanna impress this chick at a bar...

NFL Power Rankings (Week 17)

I obviously don't have a formula for this, but it's some kind off half-assed "strength of schedule" meets "who would win on a neutral field?" discussion.

32. St. Louis Rams (1-15)
31. Detroit Lions (2-14): I kinda wish Detroit would have beaten the Rams this season. I mean, how fucking sad are the Detroit Lions that the Rams' only win of the year came against the team that went 0-16 last year? Fucking Detroit...
30. Washington Redskins (4-12): Mike Shanahan is fucked.
29. Kansas City Chiefs (4-12)
28. Tampa Bay Buccaneers (3-13)
27. Seattle Seahawks (5-11)
26. Oakland Raiders (5-11)
25. Buffalo Bills (6-10)
24. Jacksonville Jaguars (7-9)
23. Cleveland Browns (5-11): Holmgren will get these guys back in the playoffs within the next three years.
22. Chicago Bears (7-9)
21. New York Giants (8-8): Sorry, but you get outscored 85-16 in the last two games, you're falling this far. And for the record: the Giants went 3-7 AFTER getting their asses handed to them by the Saints.

20. Denver Broncos (8-8)
19. Miami Dolphins (7-9)
18. San Francisco 49ers (8-8)
17. Carolina Panthers (8-8)
16. Atlanta Falcons (9-7)
15. Tennessee Titans (8-8)
14. Houston Texans (9-7)
13. Pittsburgh Steelers (9-7)
12. New York Jets (9-7)
11. Baltimore Ravens (9-7)

10. New England Patriots (10-6): I would like to taste Bill Simmons' tears right now.
9. Cincinnati Bengals (10-6)
8. Philadelphia Eagles (11-5)
7. Arizona Cardinals (10-6)
6. Green Bay Packers (11-5)
5. New Orleans Saints (13-3): Yeah, they fall despite playing Mark "Metamucil" Brunell for the whole game. I don't like it, either. And I fucking hate having the Cowboys ahead of us.
4. Dallas Cowboys (11-5)
3. Minnesota Vikings (12-4): The Vikings righted the ship heading into the playoffs. FUCK.
2. Indianapolis Colts (14-2)
1. San Diego Chargers (12-4): They have more momentum heading into the postseason then any other team.