Prayer To Jesus Concerning The Early Death Of Brandon Jacobs

Dear Jesus,

I know I don't talk to you very often. In fact, I never really talk to you at all. Since I'm pretty much agnostic, I don't even believe you were the son of God. Ever since Willem Dafoe played you in that flick where you nailed the shit out of Barbara Hershey, you kind of creep me out (you can blame Dafoe for that, he's an odd guy). You just strike me as one of those really intense dudes that scares off appallingly shallow, non-introspective people such as myself.

But since this is pro football, and since the prayers of most strictly Evangelical, secretly gay pro football players are directed at you, I thought I'd give it a shot. I think I'm worthy of your attention. I'm a fairly good person. Loving and faithful husband. Devoted father. Loyal friend. Sure, I have my faults. I masturbate with enough energy to maintain the entire Northeast power grid. The only thing I charitably donate to is my own advanced form of alcoholism. I killed four mice last week without remorse or pity. And I may or may not have ejaculated on a teacher's doorknob in prep school once.

But, other than that, I'm solid.


So hear me out on this one, Jesus. This is Brandon Jacobs, backup running back for the New York Giants and official "change of pace" back for soon-to-be-retired starter and future Crest Whitestrips spokesman Tiki Barber. Barber happens to be my #1 running back in not one, but TWO fantasy leagues. Got a fantasy league, Jesus? It's fun. Lots of people on TV, like Phil Simms, say fantasy football is lame, but those people can eat a dick and then go to Hell for it.

Anyway, Barber is a pretty reliable fantasy back. He came into this week leading the league in rushing and is an excellent receiver out of the backfield. But Barber has yet to score a touchdown this year, and this fuckface asscunt Jacobs is the reason why. Jacobs has been installed as the goal line back for the Giants. Which means that, whenever the Giants get near the goal line, my boy Tiki goes out and this assrammer heads in to take the TD's that Tiki has rightfully fucking earned.

Jacobs is what is known in fantasy circles as a "vulture". You heard me. A fucking vulture. Now, given your personal history, I'm betting you aren't too fond of vultures. Am I right? Bet vultures cost you an eyeball or two. Well, this one is costing me money big time. So here's your chance to get a little bit of revenge, Bible-style. I'm sure Jacobs is a perfectly nice guy, but fuck that. I'm down 4 in one league and 7 in another going into tonight, and I don't want there to be any doubt. I want you to fuck him up.

I'm praying to you for Jacobs to suffer some serious agony. Maybe you could spontaneous rupture one of his nuts with your Super Jesus telepathy powers. Or maybe you could summon a lightning strike on his house. Can you do that? Halle Berry did it in the X-Men flicks, and that big-tittied bitch can't even act. I gotta think you got some weather control up there to fuck people up. I know how you feel about Indonesians. Don't try and hide it.

No, wait! Dude! Are you a firestarter, like Drew Barrymore? You could totally burn Jacobs' condo down. You could even make sure one of his loved ones is trapped inside. No way he plays with that kind of grief. That would be sick, and by sick I mean awesome.

Or you could give him sickle cell anemia. Lots of black people get sickle cell anemia, so it wouldn't look suspicious at all. Or was it diabetes that black people get a lot? I think you can play with diabetes though, so that's no good. Let's just give the fucker some leprosy and let him deal with it.

The point is, working together, you and I can devise a plan that specifically satisfies my needs alone, with no regard to the greater good of other people on Earth. It's basically what Pat Robertson does with you every Sunday. And I want in. So think about it, Jesus. I'll even give you $10 out of my winnings if you help a brutha out. And we all know Heaven operates on a free-market-based economy using American currency, so let's make something praise-worthy happen. You're the tits.

Love,
Big Disciple Drew