A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Drew's Jamboroo runs every Thursday afternoon. Buy his book here. Email Drew here. Read him at KSK here.

Dear Jesus,

I know I do not write to you very often. I'd like to say this is the case because I am humble before You, and I know that part of Your gift to Man was giving us the gift of being able to solve our own problems.

But this is not true. No, the fact is, Jesus, that I have not written to You in a good long time because I am lacking in faith. Because You, good sir, never fucking follow through on SHIT.

Remember when I was ten, and begged You to help make more popular in school? I was lying in my bed, crying my eyes out, beseeching You to at least give me one friend. ONE friend! I wasn't even being greedy. I just wanted one person to like me. And frankly, I thought I had laid out my case fairly well. Those were REAL tears, Jesus. No faking of any kind. But did You help me out? Noooo. No, instead You decided to give me windburn on my lips. So my mom made me put white Lycell paste on them, instead of Chap Stick like a regular parent. Then every kid on the bus thought I had herpes. Thanks for that.

And remember the time I asked You for a better middle name than Schuyler? Again, You failed. God, that's one gay middle name.

And remember the time I asked You to help me stop eating? Again, I laid out my case in a very sincere and tearful manner. If Powerpoint had been around back then, surely I would have used it in my presentation. I even pledged to stop masturbating if you helped me out. Now, this was a lie, but only out of ignorance. I was still discovering the allure of my own body back then, so surely You cannot fault me for that. But did You help me? Noooooo. Instead, You helped food companies develop tasty new products by the hundreds. Like Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. Ever have those, Jesus? Holy fuck, they are good. Who needs Heaven?

And what about the time I asked You to help Katie Helmond fall in love with me? I loved her, man. I would have adored her and protected her like the precious newborn fawn she was. All I wanted was to hold her. To caress her and tell her how much she meant to me. Just one time. But You had to go and make her fall in love with Tim Schuster. YOU HEARTLESS FUCK! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL HE DIDN'T CARE FOR HER THE WAY I DID!

And let's not even go into the ways You've let me down in the world of fantasy football. I asked you to give Jessica Simpson leprosy, and You failed. I asked You to kill Brandon Jacobs for me, and You failed. Eleven years, Jesus. Eleven years I have played this fucking idiotic role-playing game, and every year You have seen fit to fuck me over.

I am, once again, in my league championship game this year. Now, normally I would pray to You to help me win. I would pray to You that you give Marmalard the retard-level strength to throw another 3 TD passes this week. I would pray to You that Purple Jesus runs for 400 yards and 12 TD's, even with Shiancoe's cock blocking open running lanes.

I would also normally pray to You that the players representing my opponent, Dan Steinberg (whom Nazi Shark would remind you is a JEW), suffer from horrible travails. Perhaps you could use your Jesus heat vision to take them out. Perhaps Jason Witten could die from a sudden blood clot. Perhaps Deangelo Williams could go back to being Deangelo Williams.

Normally, I would pray to You for all those things. But I'm not gonna do that this year. Not when You've managed to let me down time and time again. I'm not here to pray to You today, Jesus. I'm here to tell You I don't need to pray to you anymore. I don't need You. I'm my own man now, Jesus. And I got here today not because of Your divine providence, but because I am a fucking badass and a half. You didn't draft Anquan Boldin for me. THAT MOVE WAS ALL DREW.

If You couldn't be bothered to help me when I needed you most, I say FUCK YOU JESUS. I DO IT MYSELF.

YEEEAAARGH!!!!!

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Five Throwgasms

Steelers at Ravens: God damn, Mike Tomlin is one cool motherfucker. I half expect the guy to moonlight as a bassist for the Robert Cray Band. I've seen me some stark contrasts in my day, but seeing Mike Tomlin rock a puffy jacket vs. seeing Wade Phillips rock a puffy jacket has to rank somewhere near the top. Tomlin looked like a member of the new guard of NFL coaching royalty. Phillips looked like he had arrived at an Arby's juuust after it closed for the night.

Broncos at Panthers
Giants at Cowboys

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Four Throwgasms

Vikings at Cardinals: If you haven't been following the StarCaps case of late (and you'd have no reason to if you weren't a fan of the Saints or Vikings), you should still know the general outline of the story. A number of players took a supplement that contained a banned substance: Bumetanide. BUT this substance wasn't listed on the label. Not only that, the NFL knew that the supplement contained Bumetanide, but failed to warn the player's union or the players themselves.

Yet, the league still wants to suspend Kevin Williams and company anyway, claiming they are responsible for what they put in their bodies. So, by the NFL's logic, if some crazy asshole decided to sprinkle cocaine in cans of Spaghetti-O's (a move I recommend), and every player who ate it then tested positive for coke as a result, that would warrant a suspension and losing a quarter of their yearly salary.

I know this argument gets a little shady because we're dealing with supplements, and God only knows what they put in GNC Beef Gainer 75000 (BEEFCAKE!!!!!). And I'm clearly biased here due to my homerism for the Vikings (and for Pat Williams, who fucking rules). But give me a fucking break.

This is as dumb as Stern suspending Amare Stoudemire for stepping one foot onto the court a couple years back. Hey Goodell: I hope that you get sued, and that you fucking lose. Besides, the Vikings don't need suspensions to choke away their division lead. Let them earn that chokejob on their own, the way they always do.

Bucs at Falcons:From Ufford comes the comedic gold mine that is the Inside Lacrosse 2009 All Name Team. You think Andrew Schuyler Magary is an elitist fuckwad name? It's got NOTHING on Ridge Flick or Thayer Damm. No Carson Carter or Carter Carson though, which disappoints me.

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Three Throwgasms

Saints at Bears: I quite enjoy the NFL Network's use of Cirque de Soleil performers who contort themselves into various NFL related shapes for their Thursday broadcasts. But I think it's time to make them step up and take on more challenging shapes, like the shape of a drunken Orton splayed out on the bathroom floor, or the shape of Collinsworth's enormous Adam's apple, or the shape of league execs fisting a fan in the ass because no one gets their stupid fucking channel.

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Two Throwgasms

Chargers at Chiefs: The Chiefs have a grand total of six sacks on the year. There are 21 individual players who have more sacks than the entire KC defense, including Parys Haralson, a player I did not even know existed until now. Way to trade Jared Allen, Carl Peterson. There's no smarter way to rebuild a franchise than by trading away guys you can easily rebuild with.

Bills at Jets: The thing that pisses me off about those fucking Brett Favre Wrangler ads is that everyone is playing touch football in jeans in the spot. Who the fuck does this? Organized twenty man pickup touch football games between middle-aged men don't just erupt spontaneously. Everyone needs to be notified in advance, so they can bring their all their touch football essentials: cleats, shorts or warmup pants, knee braces, arm braces, shoulder harnesses, water, neoprene elbow sleeves, college sweatshirts, gloves, end zone markers, Advil, and emergency adrenaline shots. Those ads are a microcosm of everything Brett Favre is: a manufactured, completely bullshit image of your average, football playing Joe. Fuck you, Brett Favre. Wranglers are fucking grandpa jeans.

Lions at Colts: Last week, in a promo for their BCS Selection Show, Curt Menefee teased the show thusly: "Who will play for the national title? Will it be Texas? Will it be Oklahoma? Will it be Florida? Find out tonight!" This was when everyone already knew Florida and Oklahoma were playing each other. I fucking hate this shit. Hey FOX, we weren't born yesterday. Don't try and build up suspense for some bullshit program that doesn't contain a goddamn trace of it. Same goes for "The Sarah Connor Chronicles". The only stunning thing about that show is the fact that Brian Austin Green doesn't look like a complete queerbag anymore.

Packers at Jaguars: No more Saturday December day games again this year. GRRRRRR. Time to break out the Pakistani Beef Jerky.

49ers at Dolphins

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

One Throwgasm

Redskins at Bengals: Reader Nick P. sent me the following email: "You kinda look like Ryan Plackemeier. But your name isn't as hard to Google." Oh well, I'm sure Ryan is a handsome young buck with captivating eyes and flawless facial bone structure…

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Fuck you, Nick. Fuck you very much.

Titans at Texans: I've been seeing a lot of ads for the "Dark Knight" Blu-Ray lately. One of the cool new functions they tout as part of the Blu-Ray experience is the chance to create your own picture-in-picture commentary for the flick:

Using a Web camera, users can record their own comments and play them back as a Picture-in-Picture feature over the film scene they have chosen. Users can then post the commentary on BD-Live, share it with whom they select and receive a rating on their videos.

In the hands of Kige Ramsey, this feature could prove more artistically valuable than the original film itself. If I had Blu-Ray, I'd do commentary for that movie dressed as the ghost of Heath Ledger. "And here's the scene where I storm into the cocktail party. God damn, I was good here. I really would like to have been alive to win an Oscar for this role, BUT THEN THAT FUCKING ALIEN CUNT MARY-KATE HAD TO GO AND SWITCH THE LABELS ON MY FUCKING BOTTLE OF TYLENOL PM! YOU BITCH! YOU COST ME MY GOLDEN MOMENT! I HOPE YOU FALL THROUGH A SUBWAY GRATE, YOU WHORE!!!!"

Browns at Eagles: Chris Mortensen reported this week that the Browns COULD pursue Marty Schottenheimer IF Romeo Crennel ends up being fired. Note the use of "could". You know who else they could pursue, Mort? FUCKING ANYONE! Holy shit. He could have reported the team COULD try and court fucking Hoyt Axton for the job and it would have been just as legitimate. Hey kids, want to be an ace journalist like Mort? Just follow these steps:

1. Think of possible scenario
2. Think of possible scenario resulting from possible scenario
3. "Report" that possible second scenario could take place

Now, you might be saying to yourself, "Wait a second. That's not reporting. That's just a giant pile of speculative bullshit." Ah, true. But now that Mort has reported it, that speculation is OFFICIAL. It's not just some dipshit blogger pulling shit out of his ass. It's a seasoned reporter pulling shit out of his ass. You see how much more credibility the speculation has now that it has the backing of a lazy corporate monolith that's given up on having any remote semblance of journalistic standards?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Seahawks at Rams: I watched the Charlie Brown Christmas Special earlier this week. I have no clue why, but pretty much anything Peanuts-related makes me want to kill myself. Christ, it's so stark and depressing. Especially in the Great Pumpkin special, when Snoopy is pretending he's the Red Baron. Ever seen the first Peanuts strip?

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Jesus. That isn't funny. That's just fucking bleak. I'd could go to a wake and find myself in a cheerier mood. Charles Schultz, you were one gloomy asshole.

Patriots at Raiders: Ufford pointed this out a while back: I fucking hate it when Yahoo's fantasy football StatTracker gives your defense an automatic 10 point headstart, because they're technically "pitching a shutout," even if only two minutes have elapsed in the game. Stupid Yahoo. STOP GETTING MY HOPES UP LIKE THAT!

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"Aces High," by Iron Maiden. "We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the aaaaair, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!!!"

By the way, more rock bands need to have undead mascots, like Iron Maiden does. Iron Maiden's mascot is Eddie the Head, and Eddie fucking rocks.

According to Wiki, Eddie is an unlockable character in Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 4. I will buy that game.

Embarassing Album I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up
"Peter and The Wolf," performed by Wendy Carlos and narrated by Weird Al Yankovic. Wendy Carlos is best known for doing the music for Clockwork Orange. Oh, and for being born a man.

If You Don't Like The "All Nightmare Long" Video, You Can Eat A Bag Of Shit

Bad. Ass. It feels good to have Metallica back. At last, they are a shit-stomping behemoth again. Grab your lobos, men. Zack has arrived. And he's speakin' Russian.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Marshawn Lynch. Way to tank when everyone needed you, asshole. Beast Mode, my ass. That was Pussywillow Mode. If it don't get no better than solid, then you are a puddle of warm piss, my friend.

Five Potential Key Injuries
-Frank Gore (ankle)
-JaMarcus Russell (buffet)
-Aaron Rodgers (kinda shitty)
-Peyton Manning (mushroom ear)
-Tommy Kelly (anal corns)

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of the Minnesota was, amazingly, correct, which makes me 11-3 for the year. Off the board now are the Jets, the Giants, Minnesota, Tennessee, Tampa, Carolina, Arizona, Chicago, Jacksonville, Green Bay, Pittsburgh, San Diego, Buffalo, and Detroit. We again choose both a team for your suicide pool and an actual way of committing suicide. This week's pick? New England, and allowing Jay Leno to occupy five hours of prime-time programming every week. Oh, like I'll chime in to THAT. Fucktasters.

Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

"This week, I like Cincy getting 6.5 points at home against the Skins. Hey Drew, I hope you beat the shit out of Steinberg."

Oh, that's very nice of you to wish me luck in my fantasy football matchup, Rolf.

"You play fantasy football?"

2008 Nazi Shark Record: 3-9

Great Moments In Sports Poop History
I'm out of good sports poop stories for the time being. Got one? Hit me up. Nothing makes my day like a good poop. Bonus points for brevity.

In the meantime, I'll tell you one story I've told before. A friend of mine is at work. He goes to the john. His boss comes out of the stall. He asks his boss, "How'd it go?" And his boss says, "It was a two-beacher. With NO paperwork." And then he walks out. Best sounding dump I've heard of yet.

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Jim Haslett
Tom Cable
Rod Marinelli
Herm Edwards
Norv Turner
Romeo Crennel
Gary Kubiak
Jack Del Rio
Mike McCarthy
Lovie Smith
Marvin Lewis
Jim Zorn

I'm bringing back Marvin Lewis strictly because it just seems wrong to not have him up there. Mike Singletary is off for the time being, until he decides to start a bonfire in the middle of the locker room next week. We welcome to the chopping block this week Jimmy Zorn. Odds the Skins fire him, assuming they can land Cowher, only to then fail to land Cowher? About 85%.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Cupcakes! Fun fact: 90% of all Manhattan investment banker wives open a cupcake store at some point in their lives. "Hmm. How can I waste my husband's money the fastest? Well, I can't cook. But I can read the back of a Duncan Hines box! EVERYONE LOVES CUPCAKES!"

I find cupcakes annoying in many ways. First off, many cupcakes are not evenly frosted. You need a solid half-inch layer of the shit across the entire top of the cake. And if the cake is too fucking high, then you have to unhinge your jaw just to take a proper bite. Also, ever try to set half a cup cake down on a plate so you can take a swig of milk? Falls right the fuck down, doesn't it? That's the dirty little secret of the cupcake. They may look like a convenient delivery method for cakiness, but in truth they are a huge pain in the ass. Hey rich lady, make me a real fucking cake. And give me a fucking fork. Otherwise, I'm goin' Hostess.

(By the way, a hearty fuck you to muffins. Muffins are just cupcakes without icing. That's buillshit.)

One-Sentence Excerpt From Men With Balls
"To my mom and dad, who taught me never to say inappropriate things. Which is why I wrote them all down instead."

Gametime Beer Of The Week

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

Oskar Blues Old Chub Scottish Ale. I could drink 47 of these while taking another 32 in rectally. Holy shit, that is good beer.

Random FKS-Style Tidbit
Here's another fun fact for you: at least 99% of all divorce cases originate from some kind of argument over holiday decorations. Here's a sample argument for you:

Husband: These lights look good?

Wife: The lights are too far in. Bring them out onto the branches a little.

Husband: Okay. How's this?

Wife: No, now I can see the wires. I don't want to see the wires.

Husband: Well, the wires are ATTACHED. I can't bring the lights out without the wires showing, because they are all connected. If I could bring the lights out without showing the wires, then I'd be David Copperfield.

Wife: Just push the wires back. I don't see what's so hard about that.

Husband: THEN THE FUCKING LIGHTS GO BACK! SEE?

Wife: I don't know. I think you have to do it all over again. Also, I think you bought the wrong lights. Also, I want to move the tree over there.

Husband: GAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Robert Evans' MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

A Message To Heat Vision Jesus

"Baby, your front-runner for the NFL's MVP thus far is James Harrison of the Steelers. Savvy? You know it! Reckless? Oh, yes. He reminds me of a young Joan Collins in a way. My, what a body that woman had. She liked show jumping horses while drunk, and nude. One day, we made love right in the stable. On top of Lavender, her prize jumper. Ever make love to a woman on top of a horse? Evans finished in the money that day!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Shaun Of The Dead. Keeping with this week's zombie theme. I know a lot of people have a thing for Jenna Fischer. But people also need to be made aware of Lucy Davis, who plays Dawn, the "Pam" character in the UK version of "The Office." Lucy is also in this movie. Like Fischer, she is definitely not unattractive.

I liked this movie. But I really didn't need to see the part where the uppity guy gets his insides ripped open by the horde. That image stayed with me longer than the jokes did.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"My Homer is NOT a communist. He may be a liar, a pig, an idiot, a communist, but he is NOT a porn star."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Victoria's Secret model Miranda Kerr. Miranda is currently dating Orlando Bloom. The world sheds a tear.
-For the gals: Lost star Josh Holloway. Why is he wearing jeans in the ocean? THIS IS NOT A WRANGLER AD, JERKY.

Your Motivational Pregame Quote For The Weekend
"Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! NOW! MOVE IT! Or I'm going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, IF IT SHORT-DICKS EVERY CANNIBAL ON THE CONGO!"
-Sgt. Hartman

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Heat vision Jesus photoshop by 289.

This week, we're holding the second annual KsK Kares Kharity Drive for Fisher House, which helps build temp housing for disabled veterans and their families. We've already raised over $2,500. You can donate directly to FH here.