What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
In previous years, this bit of trash-talking the Super Bowl contestants was done as separate pieces. But honestly, I just don’t fucking care that much anymore. This season has been a complete bore, the play-offs have been a wagon load of infected monkey shit, and I’m ready to pull the plug on the whole damn league. That’s not the first time you’ve heard me say that, and while I’m decidedly a “never say never” sort of guy, I’m ready to leave a wake-up call for the NFL for the day after Kommissar Goodell is no longer the commissioner.
But as sports blogs go, we here at Dubsism are nothing without tradition, so whether I like it or not, buckle your yarmulkes for this year’s edition.
The New England Patriots
God…again with the fucking Patriots. Like I said, I’ve been doing this bit before each Super Bowl since this blog was founded, which means this is the third time I’ve had to write about this bunch of blowjob hacks. Seriously, there’s only so many jokes you can write about this team, and worse yet, they have a talent for creating material for which the jokes are just too easy. Face it, “deflated ball” jokes are so easy that even mouth-breathing Colts fans can come up with them, which is why there’s almost as many of them as Miley Cyrus’ total number of genital warts.
For the longest time now, Patriots’ owner Robert Kraft has kept his mouth shut, which is really not good for bloggers because the guy was a wonderful quote machine. This the guy who gave us some lofty load of shit about the “Patriot Way” while his $40 million tight end was putting more bullet holes in people than a deer crossing sign in Dry Hump, Wyoming. This is the guy who gave a table-pounding defense of his quarterback during that “Deflate-gate” nonsense, then yanked the rug out from under him as if he were the guy who invented that magician’s “table cloth out from under the place setting” trick.
But, once again, it was “Deflate-gate” which he just can’t avoid; give him two drinks, put a microphone in front of him, and say the “D” word, and voilà…Bobby goes all “moth to the flame” and blogger gold happens.
Here’s my theory. Bobby saw Chelsea Handler’s idiotic “she barely speaks English” comment about Melania Trump (she happens to be fluent in five languages), and figured he could top that to become a medal contender in the 100-meter dumbfuck. To see that, all you have to do is break down his quote.
“Sometimes, the league really messes up, and I think they really messed this up badly,” Robert Kraft told the New York Times as part of a broader profile.
Truer words were never spoken, Bobby. “Deflate-Gate” was a cluster-fuck of titanic proportions; we all know that. But we also know that you caved to it.. Face it, nobody kicks over a million dollar check for “things that are really messed up,” especially since they have a bus full of lawyers who can eviscerate “messed up” things.
“But we’ve all agreed to subjugate our right to disrupt everything . . . “
You know, for a guy who had VIP seating at President Trump’s inauguration, Bobby sounds a lot like a guy hanging around in airports today bitching about Muslim immigration. “Subjugate our rights” is straight out of the mouths of the great unwashed who protest inaugurations by smashing the windows out of a Starbucks. Not to mention, once you agree to pay a settlement, there’s usually a “gag” order that goes with it. In any event, you signed off on what you got,
“I mean, we can, but we’re a partnership.”
Bobby is a business man and a damn good one, which is why his choice of the word “partnership” is significant. The NFL is anything but a “partnership,” it is a for-profit corporation which has a determined structure and contractually-defined relationships between the multi-million or billion dollar entities which comprise it. True partnerships never really grow beyond two guys co-owing a gas station. That’s important because most partnerships don’t end up with the partners lawyering up on each other, because they aren’t big enough to feed a bunch of shysters over what essentially became a dick-measuring contest. Bobby, I get it… I’d be pissed off too if I got helicopter-dick slapped by Kommissar Goodell, and I’d be even more pissed off because my own fumble-fuck handling of the situation allowed it to happen.
“There’s jealousy, there’s envy, there’s stupidity. Sometimes, life is unfair, and you have to suck it up and move on and not use it as an excuse.”
There’s the smartest thing you’ve said yet, Bobby Jealousy and envy are the eggs and flour of the dick-measuring contest cake, but that cake takes two to bake, and it was your stupidity that got you into the kitchen in the first place. You finally got it right, Bobby…it’s over. Suck it up and move on.
The Atlanta Falcons
This marks the Falcons’ second trip to the big game, which is two more than they or their fans deserve. The easiest way to spot a Falcons fan right now: he’s the guy waiting by the mailbox for his new Matt Ryan jersey to come from NFLShop.com. This time last year, there was a special farm in central Georgia where all six Falcons fans were kept. The Falcons fan was an endangered species because before this year, there was no real reason to be a Falcons fan. The Georgians’ fundamental misunderstanding of the mechanics of heterosexual reproduction doesn’t help. More on that in a bit.
The worst part is they might actually be pretty damn good, but those of us who live outside of
Rape-ghanistan Georgia don’t know because we’ve never seen them, thanks to the NFL and it’s stupid regional television practices. Between games and various media dick-suckery, the Patriots might as well have their own cable network. The Falcons might as well be a made-for-TV movie on Lifetime.
That means if we base everything on an equal footing, meaning the two play-off games we’ve seen leading up to this game, I’ve seen the Falcons whip two pretty damn good, albeit flawed, football teams. Meanwhile, I’ve seen the Patriots try hard to lose to a Houston that would struggle to win in the Big 12, then stomp the Mike Tomlin-coached Steelers.
Regular readers of this blog will know we rate Tomlin’s coaching abilities somewhere between Chuck Pagano and a beach towel. There’s a ton of reasons for that, but the one which matters here is his Custer-like inability to adapt once it’s clear his game-plan is getting scalped. Tomlin’s sense of understanding and reacting to a problem is so obtuse that if you stuck his dick in a pencil sharpener, instead of thinking about pulling it out, he’d have thoughts about how many times to crank the handle.
Here’s why that matters. As I’ve already mentioned, I haven’t the foggiest notion if the Falcons are any good based on a two-game sample. I’m more confident betting on the idea that the notion of the Patriots invincibility is so much smoke and mirrors, because in addition to the two aforementioned play-off games, in the last half of the season, New England played three teams that weren’t train-wrecks, where they lost to one, beat another, and whipped up on a team which had nothing to play for.
But most importantly, look at their quarterback. Matt Ryan may very well be the league’s MVP (despite what I think), but look at him.
That’s not a quarterback. That’s the obnoxious over-achieving intern at my office who loves to tell you about his degree in Communications. This kid can’t even get the Arab guy at the barista cart to quit putting milk in my double-espresso, which tells you how well he communicates.
A Tale of Two Shitty Cities
That description is literal in the case of Boston. Have you ever taken a dump and had a bit of poo stick to the bowl? No matter how many times you flush, it just won’t go away. That’s exactly what happened 400 years ago when England fired a turd-missile across the Atlantic, and Boston has been that clinging shit-bit ever since. You know it’s bad when among East coast cities, even Baltimore (a city where the plumbing only works when all the toilets in West Virginia are flushed simultaneously) looks down on Boston.
The original inhabitants of Massachusetts were thrown out of England for their dark and barbarous religious beliefs, at which time they huddled in leaky ships to form an isolated colony where over the generations they successively became more and more inbred. Things got to the point where these “Back Bay” troglodytes became so unbelievably ugly they stopped wanting to fuck each other, so they thought it would be a good idea to import hundreds of thousands of spud-munching Irish. This why today’s average Bostonian is a sub-literate with a sloping forehead and is only two chromosomes away from actually being a potato.
At the other end of the original Thirteen Colonies lies Georgia. On the other side of the world lies Australia. There is a distinct reason why the Botany Bay prison colony was founded “Down Under” in 1777. That’s because the British lost access to the dismal hell-hole they had been using previously. Once the Declaration of Independence hit in 1776, the Brits could no longer dump their rabble in their original prison colony of Georgia.
From that inauspicious beginning, it shouldn’t surprise anybody that a such an acrid fart-bowl like Atlanta would spring forth. It also shouldn’t surprise anybody that a state founded by convicts would be the one to bring you such fine traditions as lynchings and homosexual rape. As a matter of fact, rape is actually legal in Georgia as long as you are wearing a flannel shirt. Rape is so commonplace there are towns in rural Georgia where ramming something up a person’s ass is considered a proper form of greeting.
The state’s rectal fascination doesn’t stop there. It also helps to explain why Atlanta’s new football stadium resembles a giant, mechanized anus. It’s an homage to the real reason Atlanta needs to build a new stadium every twenty-five years. Atlanta is a major city which boasts one of the world’s busiest airports and has hosted an Olympic Games, which is an impressive accomplishment considering the city has yet to master indoor plumbing. Despite it’s population in the multi-millions, to this day, Atlantans shit in holes in the ground.
That’s why the Mercedes-Benz Mechanized Anus-Dome is necessary. To quote the infamous “Cousin Eddie,” the Georgia Dome’s shitters were full. Many people will be blinded by the avant-garde architecture, but this modern structure still features 6,000 outhouses.
Toilet jokes aside, Boston and Atlanta share a common thread. They are such awful places you have to go to third-world drain-clogs like Syria and Afghanistan to find more looney-tuners wanting to demolish small parts of those places with bombs made from crap you can find at a garage sale.
Ultimately, it won’t matter because this is Roger Goodell’s NFL, which means it won’t matter who wins. The man who is doing a wonderful job of killing the popularity of this league will be presiding of what will likely prove to be some sort of Super Sunday cluster-fuck.
So…put on your jerseys, t-shirts, or what have you, cheer for which ever team you want, stuff your face, and drink a shitload of beer. You’re still going to need to endure four and a half hours of miserable football.