The NFL season has officially started, so it's time to finish the impassioned season previews from various writers, bloggers, diehard fans, cooks, TV personalities, and numerous other walks of life whom consider football the only sport worth watching. Clearly, these previews will be running until, oh, the first round of the wild card playoffs based on how quickly they've been coming in. So, for the next few days, expect a lot of these. Actually, let's see how many we can get out in one day. Today: The Kansas City Chiefs: Your author is a mysterious, angry man named Todd Vaderleer.
I have no idea who Todd Vaderleer is. He seems like he's from somewhere in the Midwest and he appears to have overdosed on a little too much of the Jamboroo juice. Anyway, here's his preview. It's...um. Hmm. Go Chiefs? Almost done!You want a preview? How about this for a preview? FUCK YOU. What's wrong? Not expecting that from a wholesome Midwestern football fan. WELL DOUBLE FUCK YOU AND GET USED TO GETTING SLAPPED AROUND BY MY NON-REGIONAL ACCENTED TROUSER PYTHON. 19-0 I said it. "BHAR HAR HAR, Not in a million years do I see this team..." Hey, you know what? You're fat. You're a football journalist because you had to play line as a kid and you're too dumb to do anything else. Sports is the diaper rash of journalism. You could drown the staff of the New Yorker till they were over 50% brain damaged, push a pint of Everclear into their IV's and they'd come up with more articulate, accurate prognostications. WHAT?!? You just assumed all we read was Marmaduke cartoon and People Magazine dipshit? Well, between blowin up meth houses, punchin my girlfriend in the cookie maker, and barbequing (cause fuck, 3 meals of spareribs a day takes time) I manage to squeeze in time for a little light reading about Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy. WE UNDERSTAND LOSING, WE ARE WHERE THE ROYALS PLAY. We welcome it, we live it, we grab it by the neck and auto-erotically asphyxiate the ever-loving shit out of it. To be honest we were kinda sad Chad Pennington didn't make it to KC, not because Herm would have ginned up the special Olympics of quarterback controversies resulting in duel spontaneous combustion. No, we wanted it because that's what the Royals would have done. Larry Johnson will run a lot. Chan Gailey's offense will unsuccessfully try to mimic the old Steeler's receiving scheme with Dwayne Bowe and Tony Gonzalez. The defense will implode on a bunch of rookies that can't tackle. Glen Dorsey will be particularly meh. Brodie Croyle will be like Brett Favre the three years prior to last year, which is to say a washed up old man with no line and poor decision making skills. None of that will matter, 19-0. "Whaaaht the Faayyyhhhckk arre ya...." SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE BEFORE I SHOVE A POTATO IN IT! Tom Brady's knee, meet Tamba Hali, he's from Liberia, are you familiar with "brown-brown?" Oh, and Herm Edwards will continue to say things that make him sound more like John Witherspoon than Tony Dungy. Now you can resume to rolling the same crap jokes about fat people down the Green Bay, Minnesota, Kansas City mountain of potato salad. I gotta run, it's almost 3 pm and need to attend to the burnt ends for the post lunch snack, pre-pre-dinner picnic. Rusty's got some sweat-hog cousins coming down from Omaha on vacation, and we wanna impress the ladies.