Craphonso! (Colts Lose Two In A Row)

Those sweet, sweet tears you hear being cried from the Hoosier state? Enjoy them. Bathe in them. Dump buckets of them on your lawn and watch it grow. The Colts have just lost two games in a row and I'm so happy about it. I am downright goddamn giddy. UM will have a big lifestyle change forthcoming as a result of this game, but he can tell you about that later.

Peyton threw SIX FUCKING PICKS in this game, which is six more than the career NFL totals of all the contributors of this blog. Watching Peyton get annoyed when he'd have to call for the snap twice (when Saturday didn't see him lift his leg up the first time) was fun enough. But watching him at his worst doing what he does best was the best, that was a little slice of heaven, almost as good as getting my balls licked.

I'll always contend that hating the Mannings is the most fun because it's all over their fucking faces when calamity strikes. They start as mildly annoyed, then grow to hate life as the day goes on. Watching Peyton with that "I just gurgled my own tartar sauce" face on the bench led to this exchange on my couch:

Her: Wow, look at Peyton. The Fetus Head is having a rough go of it.
Me: Yeah, right now he has a real de-fetus attitude.

Norv Turner got his ass bailed out by Vinatieri, whose push from 30 yards was the perfect climax to an entertaining game. Additionally, and I know it's been said before, but Norv frightens children whose parents own HDTVs. I truly believe this is God's way of punishing me for not giving a shit about the wildfires. I bet Norv could hid about $500 cash and three ounces of blow in the various crevaces of his face, making the Chargers' location (just minutes from the Mexican border) more than ideal. It's not like you can search a guy's face. With the steriod-laden Shawne Merriman returning to form, the team could not have asked for a better mule.

Oh, and was it raining during the game last night? I never heard them mention anything about that...

Why must I chase the cat?

True Raiders fans know that every coach since Tom Flores has been a pathetic underachiever (especially Jon Gruden, fuck him). But some current Raiders are treating this weekend's game against San Diego like it's old home week.

Nostalgia simply for the sake of nostalgia is the bane of my existence. Those Metal Skool retards are a prime example. Shit gets relegated to the dustbin of pop culture for a reason. There's no such thing as enjoying it ironically, dicksmack, you just have shitty taste.

Not sharing this opinion is Oakland wide receiver Jerry Porter, who, I shit you not, was waxing sentimental ahead of this weekend's game against the Chargers. Jerry, you see, unlike the Raiders fans who haven't been able to suppress the horrible memories of the past four seasons, is fond of the Norv Turner era in Oakland.

"My dog Norv? Gotta love my dog Norv." - Jerry Porter

Let's put it this way, if Norv were my dog, I'd be making a trip to the pound (or Surry County, VA). But if Norv really was a well-known dog, which one would he be? Let's find out.

Marmaduke

While we wouldn't be surprised to hear about some frottage in Norv's cottage, this seems like a bad comparison. Marm always gets what he wants-- milquetoast Norv, not so much. Incidentally, my late grandfather loved him some Marmaduke. But for some reason, he lived under the impression that his name was "Mandrake."



Mister Peabody

Are you fuggin' kidding me? Peabody invented the coddam WABAC machine. Norv can't even figure out a way to stop the zone blitz.

The Junkyard Dog

JYD knew how to handle 'roided up freaks like Hercules Hernandez and Brutus "The Barber" Beefcake. Norv on the other hand is still struggling with Shawne Merriman.

Droopy Dawg

Okay, I think we are getting closer. Still, Droopy's sad-sack demeanor is somewhat endearing and garners him some sympathy. Norv's sorry-ass coaching record only elicits scorn and canine-related mockery.

Sandy from Little Orphan Annie

Ding, ding! I think we have a winner....

Assistant coach (speaking to Norv through headset): "Okay coach, we're down by nine with five and a half minutes. We have all three timeouts. It's fourth and one on our own 46. Do we want to punt or go for it?

Norv: Arf!

Asst: Excuse me?

Norv: Arf!

Asst: What the fuck do you mean, 'arf'? We are trying to win a fuckin' game and all you can say is 'arf'???

Norv: Arf!

Asst (sighs): We're boned.

I Think I’ll Have The Chicken

What are you having, dear? Quail? Ooh. Sounds exotic. Oh, me? Well, you know me. I think I’ll have the chicken.

Yes, I know I order it every time, but doggone it if I don’t like it. Besides, all this other stuff on here looks potentially exciting. This steak comes with a small thing of horseradish on the side, and horseradish has a real kick! No, that’s too adventurous for me. Good old chicken does the trick. In fact, I may have the chef just boil it and serve it to me unadorned. But I’ll be sure to have him boil it thoroughly. I wouldn’t want to get salmonella!

Hello, waiter! Jeez, he’s been ignoring me for hours. Maybe I should raise my voice just a teeny tiny bit. Umm, waiter? Yes, I know that wasn’t louder, dear. I’m building up to it. I can’t just go from zero to apoplectic in two seconds! If I turn and look at him with longing eyes for a solid hour or two, he may notice me.

Hey, where are you going? What do you mean, this always happens when we go out? Well dear, these waiters are very busy. You can’t expect them to serve EVERY table. Some may fall by the wayside. Like ours. Every time. Yes, I’m being assertive! I just furrowed my brow at him! And you know how hard it is for me to furrow.

You know what? We can just go home. You make chicken for me every night just the way I like it. No need to visit some fancy restaurant for it. Just good ol’ chicken, unsalted rice, and tap water. Mmmmmm, delicious! I can hardly wait!

Why are you crying? What do you mean, you can’t live this lie anymore? You’re what? You’re sleeping with another man? Well, who is he? Jim? Oh, Jim’s a really nice guy. And he’s sleeping with you? Why, that sly old coot! Boy, I guess he really knows how to please a woman. Wish I could do that. Maybe I’ll ask him for advice.

Am I mad? I guess I should be. But I don’t want to be rocking the boat too much here. If you’re happy loving another man, well I’d hate to get in your way. Divorce? Okay, if you want. 75% to you sound good? I don’t want to be any trouble. Yes, yes. You can have the houses and children as well. I’ll stay at the Motel 6. They’re very nice there. Plus they have pay-per-view television, so I can masturbate quietly and then cry myself to sleep.

Now, where’s that chicken?