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XMas in August

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Summer is not without its downsides, but after a long wait it is finally time for Why Your Team Sucks ’18!

Imagine being left at the altar by Josh McDaniels, and imagine being SURPRISED by it. Hard to believe such a high-character fellow would do such a thing! We’ll never get the real truth as to why McDaniels ditched the Colts, because McDaniels is a proven liar and shitbag. As it stands now, the story goes that he changed his mind at the last second after the Patriots gave him a fat raise and Bill Belichick promised to give him greater access to “the inner workings of the organization” (namely, the team’s Clomid lab and its Cave Of The Unspeakable). McDaniels also claims he was NOT promised the head coaching gig if/when Belichick finally retires to live in an abandoned lighthouse. Do you buy ANY of that? Of course you don’t. Only a credentialed NFL reporter would be dumb enough to believe that.

[…]

Thanks to the Colts, Andrew Luck has already become the Derrick Rose of football. SWEET! Every update I’ve gotten on Luck over the past two years has been sadder than the last. “Luck ‘Optimistic’ Gangrene Won’t Set In.” “Luck Attempts Throwing Ball With Help Of Army-Engineered Exoskeleton.” “Luck Mysteriously Tells Gathered Reporters ‘Death Is But A Door, Time Is But A Window.’” He’s getting there, everyone! Give it two more years, and he’ll be ready to try chewing solid food again!

I know I tend to lay the hyperbole on thick in these stupid previews, but I am being 100 percent earnest when I tell you that I wish Luck wouldn’t come back, at least not for this team. Andrew Luck is a thoughtful, interesting man, but his shoulder is made of wet saltines and his organization is a meth hole. The line is still ass. The running backs are a bowl of pet store goldfish. And to make matter worse, Jim Irsay sat up from his Tunisian opium rug last season to hint that all of Luck’s problems were mental:

Jim Irsay made a comment to me about six weeks ago, ‘It’s inside his head now.’

That’s amusing, because the inside of Jim Irsay’s head is nothing but frayed dopamine receptors and mangled Billy Squier riffs. Imagine having your mental toughness questioned by a human pill dumpster. Andrew, please retire. I don’t mean even mean that in the snarky “retire bitch” kind of way. Just retire. Get away from this deranged team. Read. Travel. Partake of fine drink. Go design some tasteful XFL jerseys for your old man. Spend any more time around Irsay and he’ll wind up sprinkling your ashes on Jim Morrison’s grave. Jim, man… Jim really WAS the Lizard King.

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I’m sure the six remaining sober residents of Indiana will tell you that this is still a basketball state, but I know better. IU basketball is pure shit and will never return to prominence. No one cares about Purdue. The Pacers are playoff chum for the inferior NBA conference. Hoosiers has aged about as well as a full cup of urine.

Once Peyton gifted this state a title (in the most underwhelming Super Bowl victory of my lifetime), all the fat humps slowly migrated from being unreasonable hoopheads to being unreasonable NFL fanboys. They thought they could carry on as happy football lovers when the Colts replaced Peyton with Luck, but now Luck is trapped at the bottom of a well and the rest of the Colts have long since been exposed as frauds and conmen. Every NFL team is a rich asshole’s broken toy, but in Jim Irsay’s hands, the Colts are the MOST broken toy. All of your sports are garbage now, Indiana!

And frankly, that’s what you get for unleashing Mike Pence upon the rest of the country. Fucking Pence. Standing up and walking out of that game like a preening dipshit. I can’t believe Donald Trump managed to find the one person on Earth who would make a worse President to be his backup. Join us this season when Pence huffily burns his season tickets because he saw a lady’s exposed wrist on the concourse. Mike Pence can go deep throat horseshoes in hell.

Inject it into my veins! I can’t believe we have to wait like two more weeks for team Trump.

This is a more specialized interest, but my Football Outsiders Almanac also arrived this week, and because the gods hate me I actually opened the book to this page when I started browsing:

Despite the immediate chills that ran down my body, I guess I should be happy that the Seahawks are finally divested from Cable, only firing him but adding Brian Schottenheimer and Ryan Grigson seems like a wash at best in football terms (although as far as I know it’s at least an improvement in human terms.) I suspect this may be the last year of the Carroll/Schneider era…

And, finally, yesterday saw the ugliest athletic performance on McGill’s campus since my intramural softball team blew a 4-run lead with two outs and nobody on in the final inning:

The good news for the Alouettes is that Christian Hackenberg is still available! And I assume that the Bills are negotiating to acquire Johnny Poutine already.

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