Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

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.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I can't believe it's Thanksgiving already. Wait. Check that. I can't believe I'm one of those assholes who says he can't believe it's Thanksgiving already. But I am. I do this all the time now. The calendar will flip, and my wife will say to me, "I can't believe it's December!" And I'll be like, I KNOW! Who knew that time would pass and each successive day would lead you to the next? SHOCKING. I'll even say a month or season has passed by quickly when it hasn't really seemed to pass by quickly at all. Like this past summer. This past summer was fucking endless, yet September rolled around and I was still like, WOW! SEPTEMBER IS ALREADY HERE! THAT'S KRAYZEE!

This is because I have nothing else to say. I am a crushing bore.

I am fucking jazzed for today. I've been in the Thanksgiving spirit all month. I told the wife this week that I would be thinking about food every day until Thanksgiving and it was absolutely true. FOOD FOOD FUCKING FOOD. I can't even talk, I'm so wrapped up in what I'm gonna shovel into my fucking facehole. So join me, won't you? Let's carve this bitch up.

NOW DAN V, MAKE WITH THE SPECIAL THANKSGIVING THROWGASMS.

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

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!



Five Throwgasms

Bucs at Ravens: I'll tell you something else that blows my skull about Thanksgiving, and that is that we still teach it the same way in school. Even though we KNOW it's complete bullshit. The PC movement has made no traction in elementary education. I have a kid in preschool, and they still teach her all that crap about the Pilgrims and Squanto holding hands and planting fish in the ground and smoking a peace pipe, which is just a blatant LIE. It's not even close to being the truth. They still teach kids that Columbus "discovered" America, and virtually every other story that was ruined for me by the time I turned sixteen.

And I have no problem with them doing this. Because the truth is awful and horrible and there's no way you can present the truth to children without terrifying them. "Well kids, Columbus and his gang of sailors spent months at sea raping and lashing one another, then landed in the West Indies, raped every native woman in sight, and conquered the locals by stabbing them and passing onto them incurable diseases, primarily syphilis. Oh, and the Vikings discovered America first, unless you count the hundreds of thousands of non-white people who migrated there tens of thousands of years ago. ENJOY!" No kid is gonna want to hear that. Much better to tell them outright falsehoods, then correct it ten years down the line. There's no rush to teach our children actual FACTS. That would be silly, because facts are painful.

Chargers at Colts: I don't know if you caught Peyton Manning's post-game press conference last week, but that guy rocks the cheapest suits I've ever seen. Isn't Peyton married? His wife should be throwing out those $4 Haggar reversible dining jackets and giving her poor hubby a real wardrobe. He looks like he's about to go to Dave & Buster's in that suit. It had tiny shoulders, like Tony Boselli's old shoulder pads. He looked like he was eight years old, and Eli already has a trademark on that look.

After seeing Peyton get picked against New England, I wonder if there will come a time (say, five years from now), when Manning will devolve into an aging passer who still thinks his arm isn't shot. Obviously, Favre has been like this for over a decade now. Manning is still one of the best QBs in the universe. But once he finally goes into decline, I wonder if he'll keep thinking he's top dog and start throwing brutal picks on a weekly basis, instead of just in Super Bowls. That would be kinda fun.

Regarding the Chargers, I drafted Vincent Jackson in my fantasy league this year. I kept him on my bench this whole fucking time. I never once dared to drop him. And now he's ready to play, and I demand my patience and loyalty be rewarded by Jesus with Jackson scoring a zillion points. It has to happen. I TOTALLY FUCKING DESERVE IT.

Packers at Falcons: I've become so distracted by fantasy football to the point where I will watch a game and nothing on the screen will register with me because I've been thinking about fantasy the whole time. "I'm down by ten now, but he has three guys to go and I have four. But one of his guys is a QB. I wonder if that'll average out and prevent me from keeping up." That kind of thought process will go on for hours. So even if my eyes are trained on the screen, it won't matter in the slightest. I'm pretty sure this makes me a terrible fan. But I don't care all that much.

By the way, this has become an annual complaint: Why doesn't Fox also use Stattrax like CBS does? It took them a while just to constantly show other scores. Would it fucking kill them to flash stats the way CBS does? I love staring at that thing. I stare at it so often, I sometimes forget to breathe.

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!



Four Throwgasms

Eagles at Bears: I know a lot of people bitched about that weird Northwestern game they played at Wrigley last week, where the offenses could only face one of the end zones. But I have no issue with this. In fact, I think more college and pro games should be placed in gimmicky, obstruction-laden locales. I'd be much more likely to watch a random Big Ten game if it were to be played on the roof of a hotel in Dubai. That would be fucking sweet, especially if they had giant nets extending out from the side of the building to catch any player whop runs off the edge by accident. Then GNR could play "Don't Cry" at halftime. It would be the tits.

And you don't have to stop there. They could play a game in Central Park. Or in an Iowa cornfield. Or in an abandoned fish-processing plant. Or on a US aircraft carrier. I'd never stop watching any game played on an aircraft carrier. One rogue wave and suddenly NO ONE is open down the field. I'd be hypnotized.

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!



Three Throwgasms

Bills at Steelers: They had Cupcake Pebbles in the grocery store yesterday.

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

Oh, that is just pure evil. You shouldn't even put milk on them. You should be forced to pour maple syrup on them.

Saints at Cowboys: I get the feeling Dallas could lose their final six games and Jerry Jones would still jack off to himself for trading up for Dez Bryant. MY BOY DEZ IS A FUCKING STAR!

Titans at Texans: I keep waiting for John Feinstein to call Jeff Fisher a racist and demand he be fired. John Feinstein is fucking INSANE.

Jaguars at Giants: A light bulb went out in our house this morning and it scared the shit out of me. Sometimes, you'll turn the light on, and the light bulb will spark up and then go right out. That never ceases to catch me off guard. WHAT THE?! JESUS! THE LIGHT BULB BLEW OUT, EVERYONE! THE FUCKING LIGHT BULB BLEW OUT!

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!



Two Throwgasms

Patriots at Lions: Peep this video of Bill Belichick rocking a fedora in tribute to Paul Brown. It looks exactly like the bowl of soup hat from Caddyshack. Tell me he doesn't look like he'd molest your niece in a heartbeat.

Vikings at Redskins: I thought I'd be ecstatic when Brad Childress got fired. And I guess I was. But the overriding feeling when he got shitcanned on Monday was one of sadness. Not because I liked Chilly. He was fucking awful. It was just the fact that my team wasted another x number of years with a shitty coach and failed yet again. Now they have to start over with another coach (Leslie Frazier seems okay, but what the fuck do we really know?), another QB, and hope this time they get it right. Yet the odds suggest hey won't get it right, and that they'll waste another five years or so before turning around, hiring someone new, and fucking up all over again. Repeat until dead. It's not a pleasant feeling. Maybe the move to London in 2012 will help.

Dolphins at Raiders: Go here if you want the first Thanksgiving Jamboroo, which broke down the holiday in full.

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!



One Throwgasm

Seahawks at Chiefs: I don't know why other holidays don't replicate Thanksgiving's formula of always being on a Thursday, so that everyone gets a four-day weekend. It's flawless, and a reason why it's my favorite holiday. I see no reason why Memorial Day and Labor Day can't be moved to Thursdays. Ditto Easter, which already gets moved around more than Chris Chandler ever was. It's just the death of Jesus. It's not like He ever existed anyway. Make that shit practical. And 4th of July! Who cares about exact dates? I want my Independence Day to guarantee me two extra days off, instead of playing roulette with the calendar every year and having it fall on a fucking Wednesday. That is horrible.

Bengals at Jets: Holy fuck, Theismann and Millen are awful. It's like oral and anal rape happening simultaneously. I don't even like Bob Papa now. He's been contaminated by their cocksuckery. Millen and Theismann have conspired to make every Thursday night game feel like a JV girl's volleyball broadcast. It feels like the smallest, piddly shit sporting event in the world. I feel like I'm watching a UFL preseason game. Every time this pair does a game, there should be a local station bug for a North Dakota CW affiliate in the corner, next to a giant Papa John's logo. I don't know how the NFL Network could have possibly thought this was a good idea. They could have hired Marv Albert and some other analyst who is NOT Joe Theismann or Matt Millen, and everything would have been super. Instead, they choose the worst possible combination. Why? Why why why?

49ers at Cardinals: This is the Monday game! GOOD FUCKING CHRIST! It's like they know you'll be all footballed out by then.

Panthers at Browns: Matt Lauer sits down with LeBron tonight. I promise you LeBron was more excited for this interview than any basketball game he'll play this year.

Rams at Broncos: My children play with lots of firefighter toys, and every time I see them, I always daydream about being at the scene of a fire and either A) catching a falling victim with the fire trampoline or B) getting to jump out of the window onto the trampoline. Either way, I'd like to be involved with a fire trampoline at least once in my life. It looks exhilarating.

Pregame Song That Makes Me Wanna Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

Reader Hank Scorpio submits this formidable cover of Deep Purple's "Perfect Strangers" by Dimmu Borgir, whose lead singer manages to sound like both Rob Halford and Axl Rose when Axl is doing his low voice. It's fantastic. I should really listen to more Norse death metal. By the way, check this out from Wikipedia…

Keyboardist Stian Aarstad left the band due to his obligation to serve in the Norwegian army, thus being unable to participate in the 1996 recording of Devil's Path.

I can't believe Norway would let a conscription policy for their useless army stand in the way of ROCKING WITH YOUR LUTEFISK OUT. Disgraceful.

Embarrassing Song I Once Liked That Will Not Fire You Up

"A Prayer for the Dying," by Seal, owner of the world's shiniest skin. I loved this song when I was a teenager, because apparently the 17-year-old me was actually a 42-year-old woman. I worked as a dishwasher one summer, and I used to sing this song to myself while washing the dishes to pass the time. Only I never realized I was singing out loud, and was told on multiple occasions by other employees to NOT sing this song while washing dishes.

So, many times, I would go to take a bathroom break, then hang out in the bathroom after pissing and sing this song into the mirror. In fact, I alternated between this and "Kiss from a Rose" (a song that quickly became the weapon of choice for acapella college groups everywhere). I don't know how you get any douchier than that. Some fat fucking asshole kid spending his time in the shitter singing Seal songs to a goddamn mirror. I want to travel back in time and shoot my younger self.

Fantasy Player That Deserves A Quick Finger In The Ass
You know what? I'm really tired of these fucking waiver wire assholes like Peyton Hillis (HATE him), Brandon Lloyd, and Steve Johnson beating the shit out of everyone every week. Mostly, I'm pissed because I was too slow and dumb to pick any of them up. But if I had picked them up, they all would have gone to complete shit. IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR, DAMMIT!

/runs to bathroom, sings "Crazy"

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's picks of Baltimore, Kansas City, New Orleans were 3-0. Hey, that's first time I've gotten all three right! See how helpful this exercise can be? The Jamboroo is now 16-9 on the season. 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, Cleveland, the Jets and poltergeist toys. My house is littered with any number of children's toys that shriek out with testicle-crushing songs at the push of a button. But sometimes, you don't need to push a button at all. Sometimes, I'll be sitting there long after the kids are asleep, and one of those toys will start going apeshit for no fucking reason. As if it's been possessed. So not only do I have to listen to some goddamn toy rattling off a bad rendition of "Itsy Bitsy Spider," but then I have to worry there's a fucking poltergeist in the house that will trap my kid in the TV set and tell the steak in the fridge to eat my face.

Goddamn Fisher Price.

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.

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

"This week, I like Chicago getting 3.5 points at home against Philadelphia (reader Nick points out that I have a soft spot for Illinois Nazis, which is 100% accurate). I don't know if you people have noticed, but I have now picked FIVE STRAIGHT GAMES IN A ROW. I am red hot, people. I'm as red hot as the furnace at Dachau, which once could incinerate a whopping sixty homosexuals per minute! Only modern Viking ranges can top that hpm rate.

"Did you know six burning homosexuals can provide an entire city block with power for over two days? We keep looking for solutions to the energy crisis, yet we're wasting a valuable resource hiding right in our closets. Key West could power a whole fucking state!"

2010 Nazi Shark Record: 7-3-1

Great Moments In Fart History
Reader Tom sends in two stories. I call this one THE FART OF WAR :

I always thought my little brother had the worst farts known to man. I was sure of this fact... until I met Phil. Phil is one of my friends and his farts are truly disturbing. They hang thick and heavy in the air, like a fog. It's like walking out into a horribly humid day, but the humidity is atrociously stinky. Words can't do justice to Phil's farts. But one fart rises above them all.

I'm 28 and live in San Francisco, and every December since I turned 21, my friends from home converge from all over the West Coast on San Francisco on the last Friday before Christmas. And every year we tour the Anchor Steam Brewery. It's a great tour because they let you get drunk after the tour and it's free. I can practically give the tour myself at this point. Every year, after the tour, we all head out into the city and continue to get drunk. One year, about 3 years ago, we stumbled late at night into a bar called Elephant and Castle. This bar is in most major cities. There is nothing special about it. But if you've been you know they are usually rather spacious. This Elephant and Castle is no different.

So, we're at Elephant and Castle and our large group is dispersed through the bar. Phil is across the room in a crowd with our friends and some strangers. Suddenly, I see a look of revulsion on everyone's faces and the crowd leaves, while Phil laughs maniacally. I know immediately what happened, and within 2 minutes I suffer the same fate. The smell was indescribable. People were fleeing the bar. It wouldn't go away. For the rest of the evening, the stink hung in the air. Usually your nose gets used to a smell and you don't notice it until you come back. Not this fart. It never got bearable. We "changed" the name of the bar to "Elephant and Castle and Phil's Asshole" because, really, the fart had become part of the bar. Every time I pass Elephant and Castle I remember the horror.

And this one I call BAG O FARTS:

A couple of years ago, I had been dating my then-girlfriend about 4 months when we decided to go camping. Late at night we're in the tent, in our sleeping bags, about to go to bed. I fart and we both assume, as per usual, that it won't smell too bad. Not a good assumption. It is the worst fart I have ever farted. The girlfriend was gagging. I was gagging. It was that bad. Who gags on their own farts? And the farts kept coming. It was so bad that my then-girlfriend eventually unzipped the tent and slept with the top half of her body out the tent door to escape the smells that lay within. And this campground has a bear problem! She would rather be eaten by a bear than smell the fart. She didn't find it nearly as funny as I did.

Whether or not it was related, we broke up within a month.

Oh, it was related.

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:

Wade Phillips (FIRED!)
Brad Childress (FIRED!)
Jeff Fisher
John Fox
Mike Singletary
Josh McDaniels
Marvin Lewis
Gary Kubiak
Jim Schwartz
Eric Mangini
Tom Coughlin

I only have Coughlin on here because the Giants are fucking frauds. HUGE fucking frauds. I have a feeling that the two current interim coaches – Jason Garrett and Leslie Frazier – will also be coaching their respective teams next year. As for Carolina and Cincinnati: Both those teams are cheap as shit. I could easily see both teams canning their head coaches, promoting some lame assistant to the top spot, and then keeping them there until the lockout is settled. The lockout has taken all the fun out of coach firings, I tell you. I hate it already.

Thanksgiving Snack Of The Week

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

Canned fried onion rings! So, so good. I asked my wife to buy two cans this year: One for the green bean casserole, and another for me to eat on its own. She refused. HARLOT. Now I'm just going to have to sit there and eat half the can while she's making the casserole, then have her yell at me for eating too many and ruining the dish. THIS IS WHY WE NEED TWO CANS. I especially love the ones that are like big hunks fused together. I dig around for those. Like gold, I tell you. Fucking GOLD.

Thanksgiving Dessert Of The Week

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

Apple crisp! Pumpkin pie and apple pie go without saying, of course. But I'd like to take a moment to heap praise upon whoever decided to take a handful of apples and top them with an unreasonable amount of butter and brown sugar. Apple crisp fucking rules. You can also pick at an apple crisp without people noticing you've picked at it. Just move some shit around and the crime scene is clean. If someone leaves an apple crisp unattended, you can bet your ass I'm gonna go straight for the giant boulder of crumble sitting in the corner. I will eat the fuck out of that.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

PANTHER ICE! Take any animal, add the word ICE to it, and you got yourself a shitty beer of the utmost quality. Reader William writes in:

Like many I had a not so minor drinking problem in college. Usually we stuck with PBR or its equivalent flavored piss water that Milwaukee sent up river to us but once while browsing the end of the row of fridges where they kept all the cheapest dirtwater we saw something called "Panther Ice" that was retailing for $5.50 a 12 pack. We bought a 12 pack without hesitation to go along with our other not quite as cheep but vastly superior boozestock.

We got home and each cracked one open for the first beer of the day/night/weekend/ and boy was it horrible. It tasted like reused Quaker State filtered through a soiled maxi pad. Truly a horrible creation. I'm pretty confident it is produced and marketed for the homeless and crackhead market of alcoholic dirtbags as the means for a eugenic elimination of the downtrodden and addicted. Call it a right wing plot. I've had shitty ass beer but this stuff lasted for weeks in my house. Rather than drink it we would drink water or give it to the fat kid who always came over to smoke our weed. That bad.

God, it looks putrid. It doesn't even look like a real product. It looks like a prop they would use in a movie to avoid using brand names. And the font is very close to that of Mountain Brew Ice, which we featured here earlier this year. I MUST HAVE IT.

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.

Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkey-Banging Assholes!

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP is Philip Rivers of the Chargers! He's got fire in his blood! You know who that young hothead reminds me of? The legendary MARTIN SHEEN! You think his kid likes beating up hookers? Where do you think he learned that from? Nobody treated women like shit quite like ol' Marty!

"I remember when I invited Sheen The Elder to Woodland for Thanksgiving back in 1980. Now, we do Thanksgiving right at the Evans house. Turkey stuffed with caviar? YOU BET! Diamond mashed potatoes? EXTRA HELPINGS! My chef Ricardo put out a luscious spread that year, with all the trimmings, plus champagne truffles and my finest Madeira, which I had aged thirty-seven years by hiring a small Taiwanese man to roll the barrel across the country and back six times.

"Well, ol' Sheeny downs the entire barrel, strips down to an NC-17 rating, jumps up on the table, and starts fucking the turkey! And not as a joke. He really went to town on that thing. He got breadcrumbs and diamonds and pubic hair flying straight out of that bird!

"Now I found this hilarious, but Faye Dunaway was there that night, and she was appalled. She stood up and demanded Sheen stop fucking the turkey. And Sheen turns around, midthrust, and smacks her hard as can be! And he says to her, ‘BITCH, YOU'RE GONNA BE MY GRAVY BOAT.'

"And she stormed out! And Sheen finished inside the turkey and Nicholson ate the damn thing anyway! Festive? YOU BET!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Panthers Fans

Reader Justin submits Class of 1999, a truly shitty movie about cyborg teachers. The Vestron logo at the beginning lets you know you're in for a real treat. Watch as Pam Grier, Stacy Keach, and Malcolm McDowell all slum for their lives! This trailer desperately needs a "produced by Samuel L. Bronkowitz" credit.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"We'll blow up our dams, destroy forests, anything! If there's a species of animal that's causing problems nosing around your camera, we'll have it wiped out!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Danielle Tomayo (NSFW) She seems hospitable.
-For the gals: Jim from Outsports sends in this photo of Irish decathlete Tom Reynolds. Rumor has it he has a shamrock tattooed on the tip of his dick.

Enjoy the games, everyone. And a very Happy Thanksgiving to you and your loved ones. Drive safe.