A Dreamboat Deferred: The Hater's Guide to the Postseason

If, like myself, you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won't do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

AFC 4th seed -- New England Patriots (12-4)

This really dusts my doily!

First, Bridget blows me off when I told her I was making a pass to Reche, and she took it to mean Reese, as in Withersp-...oh, you know who I mean: the star, like me. You know: Tom Fucking Household Name Fucking Three-Time Super Bowl Champ Fucking Honorary Coin Tosser in Detroit Brady. How can I help it if nobody knows any of our receivers? That whole mantra about how the Patriots playing as a TEAM of nobodies was played out after the second title. I want respect, recognition, reverence. ROYALTIES.

Great! Rodney Harrison is out! Just great! Great! Shuh...who's gonna take cheap late hits on opposing players now? What, are we supposed to make this a shootout, with our zero offensive Pro Bowlers?

And please, pleasepleasepuuuuuhhhlease tell me how I was left out? Phillip Rivers? More like Phillip Givers...it to the other team - ha! Carson Palmer? Okay, yeah, he's a pretty awesome dude, but c'mon. And here's where it really goes south: Peyton. I fucking own that scarlet prince of chokery (I read that on some web site) and what's more, no rings! Not one! How can you have a stable of Pro Bowl QBs without a golden god like myself? You don't bring a laser rocket arm to a gunfight. What a bunch of jumped-up first round pick nobodies.

Hey, Bill Simmons, even you've gone all quiet on me. Other than choking on your drool when Lawrence Maroney's name comes up, we don't hear shit out of you. What? 12 wins not good enough for you, shitstain? What the fuck are you talking baseball for, Bill? No one cares about your wishy-washy, unctuous stance on Mark McGwire. It's playoff time, asshole. You should be sucking my cock nonstop, only coming up for air to ask your wife to write your column for you. And when we lose, I want you to pretend like the fucking sky is fucking falling. You had a nice little conniption fit after we lost to Denver last year, now you're all doom and gloom about facing our former defensive backs coach's new team?

Fuck.