Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Find more of his stuff at his Twitter feed.
I have to go back a while to try and remember a streak of coaching idiocy comparable to the roll Brad Childress is currently on. It takes a special kind of bald asshole to trade a third-rounder for a disenchanted food snob, release that food snob four games later in a weak attempt to be Mr. Discipline, then simultaneously allow Brett Favre to openly stick his very small dick in your ear any time he pleases. Then you toss in the bad challenges and the play calling and it's just horrid. FUCKING STUPID FUCKING CHILD MOLESTER DICKWASH.
There isn't anything left to say except that Brad Childress is perhaps the worst coach Minnesota has ever had, and this team employed Denny Green (aka Senator Clay Davis) for a fucking decade.
I was trying to think, in my time, of the very worst long-tenured coaches in NFL history. (Recent ones. I wouldn't know Forrest Gregg from my asshole.) I'm not talking about guys who flame out quickly, like Jim Zorn and Cam Cameron did. I'm not talking about forgettable coaches like Scott Linehan. I'm talking about coaches who were employed long enough to distinguish themselves as truly fucking AWFUL. I have to think Childress is in the Top Ten, at least of the current era. I started making a list of coaches who got FIVE or more seasons, be it with one team or more (this would exclude the likes of Zorn, Barry Switzer, and Rod Marinelli). Guys who kept their jobs despite being clear failures when it came to leadership, game management and general organizational skills. This is a list of 10, in ranked order.
1. Rich Kotite
2. Dave Wannstedt
3. Art Shell
4. Brad Childress
5. Wade Phillips
6. Norv Turner
7. Denny Green
8. Jerry Glanville (though I'm not sure about including him. I mean, he DID leave tickets for Elvis every game. Then again, he was the worst TV guy in the universe)
9. Lovie Smith
10. Dick Jauron
10a. Andy Reid
Please dispute this list as you see fit. (UPDATE: Dave Shula and Wayne Fontes! SHIT!!!) The KSK guys think Jim Mora Sr. should have been a lock. Four of these men are still head coaches, probably because I have no functional long-term memory. I can't include Mike Martz here, because he took the Rams to the playoffs four times in six years. And I can't include Marty, because he was pretty good at turning teams around. I desperately want to include Ditka on this list, because he's such a breathtaking idiot, but I can't because he coached arguably the best team of all time. Being a playoff choker and being a truly bad head coach aren't necessarily the same thing. Marvin Lewis, Ray Rhodes, and Herm Edwards seem like shoo-ins, but having that many black dudes on this list would be RAYCESSSSS.
I think there are guys like Childress who benefit from the natural ebb and flow of the league. You can be a badly coached team and still win 10 games if the schedule falls right and you have oceans of talent. There's a special place in football lore for guys like Wannstedt, who was able to hang around for ages despite being a complete shithead. That's what makes a historically bad coach. Not only does he suck, but it seems like you'll NEVER get rid of his sorry ass.
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.
Colts at Eagles: I have to think that Andy Reid spent a majority of this week watching a taped loop of McNabb getting benched while fingering his own bellybutton. Sweet, sweet vindication.
Bucs at Falcons: I enjoy Josh Freeman's hair. It looks like the wig C. Thomas Howell deployed in Soul Man. Did you know Ron Reagan was in that movie? IT'S TRUE! Check out this clip from Siskel and Ebert's review.
Bizarre. I would have also accepted Freeman's hair looking like Jheri Curl's hair in Hollywood Shuffle after Sam Ace has dumped out all of his activator.
Dolphins at Ravens: I missed the Ravens over the bye week. You ever miss a team because they didn't play the week before? Then they show up on the schedule the next week and you're like, "Hey, those guys! I forgot they had the bye last week! Nice to see them back." That's how I feel about Baltimore. The NFL is a poorer place when Ray Lewis has a week off from jumping on piles a second late and then dancing around like a retard.
Chiefs at Raiders: Have you ever had a woman get into a fight with you over a disagreement about color? I swear this happens with my wife and I at least once a month.
ME: Can you grab my black shirt?
HER: You mean your blue shirt?
ME: No, it's black.
HER: Are you blind? It's clearly dark navy.
ME: It's so dark navy, they in fact took all the navy out of it, making it black.
HER: Seriously, I'm worried that you may be colorblind.
ME: I'M NOT FUCKING COLORBLIND! And where is my green jacket?
HER: You mean your brown jacket?
Now I have absolutely no confidence in judging the color of objects. Stupid black sweater.
Chargers at Texans: A couple weeks ago, readers asked who the very not unattractive gal in the Red Zone commercials was. That would be Anna Colwell, and Anna wrote in this week.
Hi Drew, some friends of mine at Turner Sports alerted me to your response to a fan's question about me on deadspin. I've had quite a bit of attention from this commercial, it seems and I often get recurring question about myself, the commercial, my team of choice, ect. I'd love to do a short Q and A, if you're interested, so people can have all the answers to the questions I get over and over again. Let me know! Thanks! -Anna Colwell
You heard the gal. If you've got recurring question (ect.) for Anna, you just send it to me and I'll make sure she gets it.
Steelers at Bengals: FACT: All parenting tips last a maximum of two days at the most. I'll read some parenting tip ("Use clear descriptions when talking to your child!"), then use it. And it'll totally work the first time, and I'll think that I'll have the kids solved permanently. At last, you little fuckers will eat your food and wear some goddamn underwear. But two days later, that shit wears right off, and you're back where you started. Kids totally figure out your strategy and deploy a counter attack, which usually consists of screaming and rolling around on the floor. Dick LeBeau would be proud of their mid-game adjustments.
Seahawks at Giants: I'm going out to a restaurant this weekend, and I already looked at the menu online. Just so I could get a hardon for the dinner. I've already begun the entrée selection process days in advance. I check the menu at least once a day, just to remind myself of what's coming. Oh, yes. Oh, SHIT. I will eat the fuck out of that pork chop.
Lions at Jets
Browns at Patriots: I need to reinstitute the bounty on Tom Brady's knee. Because if the Pats end up winning the Super Bowl this year, I'll drink a gallon of paint.
By the way, I'll be in Boston on Saturday night. The first person to see me and yell FACK YOU at me gets a free beer. No joke. I'll buy you a beer on the spot. But not some fancy import. I'M NOT MADE OF GOLD!
Cowboys at Packers: I'd like white guys to get much more colorful with their SNF introductions. You'll see black players say their high school (I think at least half of them say their high school instead of their college. CONCLUSION: ALL BLACK PEOPLE ARE UNHAPPY WITH THEIR CHOICE OF COLLEGE IF THAT COLLEGE WAS NOT THE U), or they'll pronounce their college's name in a goofy and animated way. And then you get to the white players and they are just ALL FUCKING BUSINESS.
"Keith Brooking. Georgia Tech." (purposely makes neck thick for the camera)
This annoys me greatly. Way to feed into every stereotype of white people being bland and devoid of personality, white NFL players. The least you can do is wear a funny hat.
By the way, the Packers have a linebacker named Frank Zombo, which is a bitchin' name. It's like Rambo, only he's a fucking ZOMBIE now. ZOMBO: LAST OF THE ZOMBIE WARRIORS. Zombo desperately needs to be the name of a highly in-demand children's toy.
Bears at Bills: Yesterday, I got caught in traffic behind a truck from Metro Poultry, and the truck was emblazoned on the back with this logo:
I couldn't stop laughing the whole time the truck was in front of me. It looks the logo of the slaughterhouse Troy McClure took little Billy through. Look at how happy that cow, chicken, and lobster are. They're buds! Hey guys, let's go off and get killed, skinned, butchered, and boiled to death together! It's gonna be a fucking BLAST. Four hours after seeing this sign, I was still dying for surf and turf.
Cardinals at Vikings: You know how the Cowboys completely went into the tank last week after underachieving for weeks and weeks? That's totally happening with the Vikings on Sunday.
Saints at Panthers: It's Clementine season. And thank Christ for that, because I am through peeling oranges. Nothing tires me out like trying to peel a fucking stubborn orange, especially when the pith decides to cling to the flesh like a dying child. Plus I bite my nails, so sometimes the juice will hit a hangnail and make contact with raw skin and GAHHHHHHH! From now on, I'm buying Clementines and very small cans of Mandarin Oranges. OR I'm hiring a day laborer to peel oranges for me.
Pregame Song That Makes Me Wanna Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall
"Live Wire," by Motley Crue, a song that was partially ruined when they threw it on the Charlie's Angels soundtrack. God, that movie was fucking terrible.
Daulerio and I are headed to Los Angeles next week for the whole week. Apparently, we'll be getting drinks with Jay Glazer, whom AJ has informed me wants to beat my ass. So that'll be fun! Expensive alcohol and a black eye? Can't beat that!
AJ said he would like to use the week to recreate various moments from The Dirt, which remains the finest literary tome in the history of this fair planet. We have yet to decide who's getting his ear nailed to the floor. If Jay Glazer has any say in it, it will almost certainly be me. I've also been told that I will be allowed to get drunk and accidentally kill a surviving member of Hanoi Rocks in a
Ford Pantera accident. Very exciting.
I haven't been to LA in over a decade, and I know nothing about how to get around. So I look forward to two things: 1) Getting lost for hours at a time in horrible traffic, and 2) Eating some fucking tacos. I have also made it a point to try and find Robert Evans and do cocaine off a Russian hooker with him. Or maybe take a picture with him. That's probably more realistic.
Embarrassing Song I Once Liked That Will Not Fire You Up
"Love At First Sight," by Kylie Minogue, who totally looks like the bucktoothed girl that Bruce Willis showerboned in Color of Night. Kylie is breast cancer survivor, which gives me an opportunity to remind you that Breast Cancer Awareness month is now over. No more slashes of pink cluttering up your NFL sideline. FOUR WEEKS OF CHARITABLE TYRANNY HAVE COME TO AND END. Join us in December for NFL Concussion Awareness Month, in which players will sport hats and towels sporting random, incomprehensible phrases. Just kidding. The NFL doesn't really give a flying shit about concussions.
Asshole Fantasy Player Of the Week
Well, it has to be Randy Moss, doesn't it? Not only has he fucked anyone who owns him, but he's also managed to fuck anyone who owns Tom Brady. Remember, Brady was NEVER a fantasy stud until 2007 came and he blew up. Before that, Brady was always a middling fantasy player who won games without accumulating gaudy stats. Now he's back to his standard 200 yards and one TD stats of the early 2000's. And you really hate to see that, especially if it means that Patriots are somehow better for it.
Furthermore, everyone who owned Moss was likely glad he got traded to Minnesota and hoped the trade would make him productive again. Instead, he completely fucked everyone in the ass. But you can't drop him NOW. You've come too far! What if he somehow manages to blow up AGAIN with the Titans and you miss it? He's just gonna keep tempting you and screwing with you. Bad fantasy players have a real knack for that sort of thing.
Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suggestions of Denver, Cincinnati, and Kansas City were 1-2, making me 10-8 on the season. I am horrible at this, and I apologize profusely. You are hereby granted permission to beat me up once Jay Glazer is through with me. Again, we pick three teams for your suicide pool and something that makes you want to commit suicide as well. This week, the picks are Pittsburgh, New England, Green Bay, and your children randomly screaming BOO! at you when you aren't expecting it. It's the worst part of Halloween. Kids love doing this shit all the time. In fact, it's not even a seasonal thing. Sometimes, the four-year-old will decide to just scream her fucking head off for a second and then laugh. Not only does it scare the piss out of me, but it actually punctures my ear drum and forces my testes up and through my nasal cavity. Your first instinct when a child screams like this is to beat their ass. After all, if someone did this to you on the street, what would be your first impulse? TO FUCKING BEAT THEIR ASS. But it's your kid, so you can't do that. Oh, but one day… One day, the booing will go too far, I tell you. I can only keep this fist at bay for so long.
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.
"This week, I like the Arizona getting 9 points on the road against Minnesota. Can't go wrong betting against Dallas and Minnesota! A lot of people asked me how I voted this week. Well, I find that to be something of a personal matter. But if you must know, I voted for Nazi Jellyfish in the 4th Pacific district. Not only do his political views align with mine, but I can also use him as a helmet anytime we do recreations of the shootings at Dachau. Which is OFTEN."
2010 Nazi Shark Record: 4-3-1
Great Moments In Poop History
Reader PJ sends in this story I call SEVEN PORTAPOTTIES FOR SEVEN POOPS:
It is a beautiful Saturday morning, free tickets to the Michigan/Iowa game, and access to a private tailgate sponsored by a well known liquor company. It is a late afternoon game, so plenty of time to enjoy some alcoholic beverages and fill up before watching an overrated Michigan football team.
Free Food and Free Booze, doesn't get much better than that. All premium liquor, and some of the nastiest (good nasty, not nasty-nasty) BBQ food I have ever eaten...I'm talking pulled pork, ribs, sausages, burgers, etc.
After a dozen or so drinks and what seemed like 2-3 lbs of BBQ food, it was on to the game, which just sucked. So it was decided to leave and watch the second half at a bar. Enter the Draft Beer and Hot Chicken Wings.
Game over. Michigan Loses. Time to walk back to the tailgate/car. This is when I notice a rumble in my stomach, I think to myself, "That cant be good" but head on my trek. Things are mixing and I know that I will not survive the rest of this walk, and especially not the 1.5 hour ride back to the Detroit area.
Porta John. Perfect. Run over. Plop down, do the deed, a sigh of relief comes over me, I reach over with my head held high as I go for the cleanup.... nothing. No. It can't be. Check the surrounding area...nada.
I scramble to my pocket and grab my phone, call a friend that accompanied me on the walk, and simply say, "There's no toilet paper in here." Being the good friend that he is, he decides to check the other 7 PortaJohns that were in that row. I listened with such anticipation as I heard him open each door, and then hear it slam.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
My friend reports this news to me, and it was decision time. Here I am sitting with a dirty asshole, no way I can just get up from this. What do I do? The drawers or the socks? I was wearing some nice new socks, right out of the package, the boxers were slightly older, they became my weapon of choice in this battle. Just to make sure that a roll of TP didn't magically spawn, I checked one more time. There wasn't...... Nothing like wiping your ass with boxers that you have been sitting in all day. Just never got that fresh feeling, had to sit bare ass in my jeans all the way home.
I guess the question is: Boxers or Socks, what do you choose?
Why didn't you choose the new socks? If they're new, that means they're nice and clean. Plus they're thicker than boxers, which lessens the danger of poop seeping through and hitting your finger (disastrous). And they give you a relatively smooth wiping surface. Plus you have TWO socks, which means you can use the second if the first fails to adequately cover what you need covered. I would definitely so sock next time.
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:
Welcome back, Gary Kubiak! In Week One, you beat the Colts thanks to over 200 yards rushing from Arian Foster. So what do you against Indy the second time around? You run Foster a mere 15 times (he averaged 6.8 yards a carry) and get fucking crushed. Well done, you slick-haired jizzswimmer. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.
Gametime Snack Of The Week
Kitchen Sink Cookies, recipe courtesy of Martha Stewart and her terrifyingly large hands. On Halloween, there was a big neighborhood party on our block with a pot luck buffet. They had pizza and people brought in wings and brownies and these cookies, which were the tits.
Anyway, we bring our kids to this party and they start running around like complete fucking lunatics, because that's what kids do. And while I was supervising them, I took great pains to go over to the buffet and quickly stuff my mouth with whatever was within arm's reach. This is a phenomenon known as EATING WHILE PARENTING. If you have kids, you never get to actually sit down and enjoy your food, especially when out at restaurants or cookouts or anything like that. You just eat when you can, which means you end up throwing shit in your mouth without even seeing what it is. Could be pizza. Could be a cat. You just never know. I don't even bother to chew anymore. I just throw it right down. I'm not even sure I have a gag reflex. I could deep throat a flagpole now, thanks to eating while parenting. FUN!
Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week
HILAND ICE AND HILAND RESERVE! Oh, this is a very special shitty beer this week. Reader Clint enlightens us on Iowa's finest brand of drinkable bovine discharge:
There is a chain of convenience stores in Iowa known as Kum & Go…
No, there isn't. There can't possibly be an actual business named Kum & Go.
…and for years they have had their own brand of cheap, shitty food known as Hiland. They have $1 frozen sandwiches that more than likely contain no meat and enough preservatives to cause stomach cancer after eating one sandwich. They have Hiland potato chips, which you can get about a gallon of for 99 cents.
Well now, the good people at Kum & Go have rounded out a nutritional meal with their own Hiland brand of beer. It is available in Hiland Light, Hiland Lager, and Hiland Ice. It costs $6.00 for a 12-pack, and it is also available in, for some inexplicable reason, a 20-pack for $10.00. Iowa recently changed their liquor laws to allow for beer with higher alcohol volumes, which was supposed to be for the rise in import and small-craft beer at finer drinking establishments, but instead has opened up the market to the sale of cheap, high gravity malt liquor. Knowing their demographic, Kum & Go released their own high-gravity beer, Hiland Reserve, over 10% alcohol by volume in a 24 oz can for the low price of $1.19. Poor college kids, ironic hipsters, and the homeless population in Des Moines have all embraced this new brand. For me, it makes for one-stop shopping on Sunday mornings. I can get a sandwich, chips, and high gravity beer for under $4.00, and be shitting liquid by the end of the first quarter.
Folks, this may be the worst-looking beer we've ever featured. Look at it! "Midwestern Beer made by a Midwestern Brewery." Their slogan may as well read, "Beer packaged in a can," and it would be equally descriptive. God, it looks awful. And the fact that it came from a store called Kum & Go makes it even worse. I MUST HAVE IT. How can you name a store Kum & Go? Don't you think someone gets raped in the back of that store every three minutes? And how could you ingest anything from a place with KUM expressly in the title? My God. The mind reels.
I also like that the super-boozy version is called Reserve, like it's a fucking $40 bottle of Sangiovese. ONLY OUR FINEST SWILL FOR YOU, GOOD SIR. FROM THE LAND OF CORN.
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.
"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP is Antonio Gates of the Chargers! Now, let me tell you about the time I almost got Jack Kennedy shot. No, no, no. It's not what you think. Few people know this, but Jack Kennedy nearly got shot well before Lee Harvey Oswald gunned him down in Dallas! The year is 1957, and I've just come off my film debut as Pedro in The Sun Also Rises. THE ROLE OF A THOUSAND LIFETIMES. It was also at this time that young and feisty Senator from Massachusetts by the name of John F. Kennedy was making a name for himself by passing the Civil Rights Act. Well, it just so happened that the future President decided to unwind after a brutal legislative fight over the bill in gorgeous, sunny Madrid, where we were holding our wrap party. Sangria? YOU BET! Senoritas? SI, SENOR!
"Now, I'm a nobody around this time. Took a while for Evans to become EVANS. Nevertheless, I had gained something of a reputation amongst the locals for my naturally smooth complexion and the ability to talk women out of sticking with the basic tenets of Catholicism. So during the wrap party, as I drank Rioja and munched on mini-paella puff pastry cups, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and there is this handsome young politician with hair still as the desert night. And he says to me…
"‘They, er uh, tell me, er uh, that you ahhh the Kid.'
"‘I suppose I am.'
"‘I uh, er uh, undahstand that youuuuu ahh a good man to know around these pahts, if one were-uh looking, er uh, for an evening's entertainment.'
"‘Sure am, Senator!'
"And so I took Kennedy out for a whirlwind tour of the best Madrid had to offer! Food? Wine? Twin virgin seventeen-year-olds? YOU BET! We laughed all the way back to my hotel suite with a couple of adorable lasses. And as Jack is busy in the bedroom rubber-stamping Consuela, her boyfriend comes into the suite with la pistola! He's firing away and we have to jump out of the room down onto an awning below just to make a clean getaway! And once we were safe, Jack turned to me and said…
"‘If, er uh, you ahhh getting shot at, that means it was some quality trim there-ah!' And it was!"
Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Bills Fans
In The Loop, which was the best movie I saw last year. "Within your 'purview'? Where do you think you are, some fucking regency costume drama? This is a government department, not some fucking Jane fucking Austen novel! Allow me to pop a jaunty little bonnet on your purview and ram it up your shitter with a lubricated horse cock!" Yep, that's pretty much everything I want in a movie.
Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"So, another Friday is upon us. What will you be doing, Smithers? Something gay, no doubt!"
Enjoy the games, everyone.