I once had to spend a day working with a very obnoxious woman in a New York recording studio during the playoffs back in 2001. Every five seconds, this horrible beast of a human being would sit down and shout out to no one in particular, BOY, I TELL YA, IT'S TOUGH BEING A YANKEES FAN! Any time I tried to speak, she talked right over me to talk about the fucking Yankees. That's the kind of person celebrating down in the Canyon of Heroes: worthless sacks of shit who believe the historic superiority of their baseball team somehow makes them more important people than you or I.

So allow me to take this moment to craft a very heartfelt message to the Yankees and their fans today: FUCK YOU. Fuck your team. Fuck your stadium. Fuck your history. Fuck it with a gun.

Fuck you, Joe Delessio. Don't try and tell me that you Yankee fans are sweet little angels who just happen to be blessed with astonishing success.

A common criticism of Yankees fans is that we feel entitled, that we believe we deserve only the best players, and that it's World Series or bust. This criticism has at least some merit. But can you blame us? We have to spend more on tickets, and we have to plan out which games we're going to attend in March if, God forbid, we want to sit in the upper deck without going to StubHub.

OH NOES! You have to spend money! Money that might have to come out of your yearly Paris summercation budget! And you have to buy tickets IN ADVANCE! Oh, the agony! How I wish I could be a Royals fan and wander into an empty and lifeless stadium on a whim!

Fuck you, Jay Z. The fuck are you doing on the float? You didn't do SHIT. And fuck A-Rod's hat. Fuck Billy Crystal. Fuck Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle, and the astonishing number of Yankees Hall of Famers who were drunks, wife beaters, and obnoxious pricks. Fuck the fans who happily overlook the massive character flaws of said heroes because they themselves possess similar attributes. Fuck George Steinbrenner. YOU'RE DYING, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT NOW. Why don't you go play another game of chess against a roll of scotch tape, you senile old prick?

Fuck New York City bus drivers. Will you please, for once, stop right where all of us are standing, instead of pulling thirty yards further down the curb to accommodate some ghost bus behind you that never arrives? DICKS. Fuck Mike Francesca. Fuck the real estate brokers in your town. THOSE PEOPLE ARE SATAN'S LAMBS. Fuck the subway, especially the 4 train to Yankee Stadium, which fucking blows. And double fuck that piece of shit stadium, and the way you raped an entire city to get it. Fuck the smug investment bankers and lawyers who are the only people who can afford to go and love that fact. And fuck the old Yankee Stadium too. That place was a toilet.

Fuck your secret love for the Red Sox. Why don't you two go hump in an alley and get it over with? Fuck AJ Burnett's stupid necklace. Fuck JackO. Fuck Jeter. Fuck Michael Kay. Fuck Suzyn Waldman. Fuck Bob Sheppard. Fuck the whole of you. When I saw that Al Gore movie and he showed downtown Manhattan flooded by polar ice caps, I fucking applauded.

And fuck your championship. Congrats. You bored us for an incredible 27th time. Take your ugly-ass rings and stick them in the Canyon of Heroes residing between your legs.

I'm sure I've missed someone. Yours in the comments.

Of course, you wouldn't have guessed that from the postgame coverage over at ESPN, NBC, and the NFL Network. Those three networks, combined, did their very best to squeeze highlights and coverage of the day's other games into a thirty-second window. I was all set to do my normal thing at 7:30 last night, switching over to NFL Network to watch Eisen, Deion, and Stabby McScissorsNeck go through the highlight package, as they always do. Instead, the normal NFL GameDay Final got pre-empted by the broadcast of a live press conference of Brett Favre after the Vikes/Packers game.

Now, I am a Vikings fan. I'm really happy my team won, and that they lead the division, and that they signed Favre to replace Sage and T-Jack, and blah blah blah. That's all well and good. But YOU, fair Deadspin reader, are probably NOT a Vikings fan. You could probably give a shit. In fact, you probably hate the Vikings with a scorching passion now, since they have served to reintroduce the Land Baron into your life for the millionth time.

So let us make it clear to ESPN and the like right now: YOU NEVER NEED TO SHOW US A FUCKING LIVE PRESS CONFERENCE AGAIN. EVER. They're boring and pointless and no one wants to watch them. There's a reason reporters are sent to press conferences. It's so that they can watch it FOR us, then find the one decent quote uttered in the whole shitty hour, and then deliver it to us. That's their job. It's not ours. We don't want that job, because it sucks and it pays nothing.

What the fuck was Brett Favre going to say in that press conference that mattered? That we had to hear so urgently? NOTHING. Nothing at all. Even if he said something interesting, he would have called another press conference an hour later to change his fucking mind. The only reason to hold a press conference after a game is so that the coach can go off and rant like a crazy person. And even then, I don't have to watch it live. I can watch highlights of that shit. If you're going to broadcast a live press conference, you better be ready to deliver news that will fucking ROCK MY SHIT, such as…

1. "The Los Angeles Police Department, right now, is ACTIVELY searching for Mr. Simpson…"

2. "Because of the HIV virus I have obtained…"

3. Someone fucking died.

That's it. That's the list of reasons. Fugitive status, death, and AIDS. Does your press conference not contain any of those three elements? THEN FUCK YOU. I don't need to hear it. Ever. And I really don't need to hear it on the fucking radio. They do this all the time on sports talk radio stations. Oooh, a LIVE press conference! You mean a coach is giving non-answers to questions RIGHT NOW? As we speak? And I can barely hear what the fucking reporters are asking? HOT DOG!

I know what you're doing, network people. You throw it to some live press conference for an hour, and you're off the hook for work. You get to go take a shit, or have a margarita, or sexually harass each other. Whatever. Well, I am at home and lazy and demand to be entertained. SO FUCK YOU. Cut away from the fucking live press conference. I never need to see a live press conference regarding a firing, a hiring, who got nominated for an Oscar, some shithead high school kid that signed somewhere, or any of that shit. That can all be noted in a tidy press release and on the ticker. Get to the highlights. I'm not here to watch some asshole answer questions at a podium for a fucking hour. DIE.

Yes, over the course of a single afternoon yesterday, two professional teams from the same area blew leads and ended up losing. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED TO ANY OTHER AREA AT ANY POINT IN TIME EVER. And thus, the legend of Black Sunday was born. Indeed, this was the single worst day in the history of humanity. Worse than 9/11. Worse than Pearl Harbor. Worse than Saturday, when I found out TBS actually hired David Wells to speak on camera. Worse than all of those days COMBINED. Peter King says it was semi-Hiroshimaesque. Witness the tweeted emotional devastation wrought by the Patriots losing a regular season game and the Red Sox being knocked out of the playoffs when most people in Boston never liked their chances to begin with:

zym999 RT @sportsguy33: Black Sunday. // Is this possibly the worst day to be a Boston sports fan with friends who aren't? My email/txt say "yes"

darren_kennedy Sox/Pats lose painfully. Black Sunday. The worst part: pretending like they were "just games" for my 7-year-old so he won't end up like me.

It's okay, Darren Jr. It's just a game… really, just a game… OH, WHO AM I KIDDING? GOD IS DEAD.

bryanbeasley RT: Not sure if it's possible as a Boston sports fan to have a worse day

performancepro Black Sunday. (via @sportsguy33) does it make it worse that arod is having a good postseason?

PopsCaine Today felt like watching Requiem for a Dream and Leaving Las Vegas over and over for 12 hours. Boston Black Sunday.

JosephDBrown Its Black Sunday all over again First The RED SOX now the PATRIOTS going for the Hat trick when My Fantasy team loses

epeterson05 Horrible, demoralizing Boston sports day. (Even in make-believe! Lost fantasy by 5 while my benched RB had 15)

NOOOO!!!! NOT YOUR FANTASY TEAMS! I HAD SO MUCH HOPE FOR THE MONTCLAIR PEDROIAS!

suebrody1 @Ace2003 I am watching Sports Sunday, and Felger calls it "Black Sunday." I wanna cry again. :(

MattD19 As @sportsguy33 put it, Black Sunday RT @shwen: #RedSox lose in 9th #Patriots lose in OT too much for 1 day... & a sad day it is :-(

shanetq Thank God dollhouse & office was good this week. Rewatching them is soothing my aching head/heart/soul after Black Sunday..

amering black sunday in beantown sports. need to start staffing to take my mind off the ugliness.

bostonmike Still very depressed about the Boston sports "Black Sunday"

FitzyGFY It's Columbus Day, and I've discovered that I don't feel any better about Boston Sports Black Sunday at all.

Hmm. Well, this is all well and good. But I need something even more pathetic. Something that really brings the vintage Boston douchiness home. Something not even all the Eliza Dushku in the world can soothe. Oooh, wait! I got it! How about a woe is us piece from Danny Shaughnessy, that intentionally tries to dredge up all the supposed ghosts that haunt Boston sports fans? Oooooooooo…

It was shocking. It was time travel. It was back to the bad old days.

It was a macabre matinee at our ancient baseball theater.

All you young New Englanders who shrugged whenever dad said, "The Sox will blow it, they always choke at the end,'' . . . now you know.

NOW YOU UNDAHSTAND OW-UH PAIN! The Salem witch spirits have worked their black magic once more! HAUNTING! You can practically hear Shaughnessy pat himself on the back for this opening. But wait! This isn't quite lame enough. I need something even worse. Something that really encapsulates the idea that Boston fans cannot lose a game without demanding your maximum sympathy despite having won six titles since 2001. I know. Let's check in with el presidente at Barstool Sports, who is either 12 years old, or joking, or a complete fuckhead. OR all three!

We're in October of 2009. The decade is rapidly coming to an end. And unfortunatly so is our decade of dominance. I mean there is no other way to look at it after the tragic events of yesterday. I mean a day like this would have been unheard of a couple years ago. Tom Brady getting outplayed by Kyle Orten? Papelbon giving up 5 runs while only getting 2 batters out and blowing the season? (I don't count the guy he picked off as him getting an out) Bottomline is we haven't won anything since the Celtics two years ago. Sure our teams our still competitive but it's no longer a forgone conclusion that we'll be having a parade at some point during the year. In other words we've just become like everybody else. Mortal. But in typical Boston fashion we ended the greatest run any city has every seen in the history of sports with a day so horrific that it was almost awe inspiring in a weird kind of way. Like watching a tornado tear through a small town or something. And in the end I'm not sure whether I should go into Cabo and party like crazy and remember the good times or just sit in my hotel room and cry.

I have an idea. Why don't you go fuck yourself with a corkscrew instead? Because no one else gives a flying fuck about your bad day. Haven't won anything since the Celtics two years ago? Eat a cock and die.

Photo via boston.com

Let's play a game. Imagine you have a fantasy football team. Not exactly a stretch. Now, let's say you decide to make a trade in your league. A really fucking stupid trade, something along the lines of trading away Marmalard for Nate Washington. This is a stupid trade. Once you make it, every other owner in the league pillories you for it. They call you a shithead. They tell you that you don't know what the fuck you're doing. You thought it was a really solid trade when you made it. Yet now everyone's castigating you for it. Furthermore, as the season plays out, it becomes clear that Marmalard is putting up fantastic numbers and Nate Washington is doing jack shit. So the other owners happily rib you for your idiocy from now into eternity.

Now, if you're a normal person, or as close to normal as someone can be, how do you react to this scrutiny? Well, I think a normal person would, despite initially thinking the trade was a good idea, come to realize that perhaps the wisdom of crowds was correct, and that they made a mistake. Even the most stubborn of people would be helpless to argue against either the collective opinion or the ensuing result. They'd eventually feel dumb, regret their decision, and they'd do all they could to prevent it from ever happening again. This is what a normal person would do.

This is not how Washington Redskins owner Dan Snyder works.

If Dan Snyder had made that trade, he would have done five things. First, he NEVER would have admitted it was a mistake. Not even to himself. Secondly, he would still feel he made the right move even as the season continued, even as statistical evidence built up PROVING that the trade was idiotic. Thirdly, he would have had his lawyer issue a gag order to the other owners in the league, demanding they cease their criticism and having all written taunts erased from the league message board. Fourth, he would then make an even DUMBER trade, and ask his lackey to execute it. Finally, he would sip brandy from a snifter and congratulate himself on a job well done.

There are many bad franchises out there in the sports world, but there is a distinct difference between a franchise being shitty and a franchise being utterly hopeless. Even historically bad teams like Arizona are able to shine on occasion. No, I'm talking about the Raiders, Clippers, and Orioles of the world. I'm talking about franchises that have no hope of turning things around because the man who owns the team refuses to relinquish his cold death grip upon it. Those are the truly hopeless teams out there. The teams that refuse to pull themselves out of their own dysfunction. Teams for whom there is no future, just an endless cycle of building up shaky scaffolding and then tearing it back down again.

And in the NFL, the very worst example of that hopelessness is located right here, in DC.

This decline has been a long time in the making. It's not as if Dan Snyder hasn't been criticized for his stubbornness and his lack of football acumen before. He has. Repeatedly. And that's the problem. Snyder has owned the team for a decade now. In that time, he has displayed a lack of self-awareness that borders on the sociopathic. And after ten years, it's fair to assume now that he will NEVER change. He will never listen to reason. He will never acknowledge failure. He will never accept that the hundreds of thousands of voices telling him he's fucking it all up may have a point. No, no. He's just going to continue on suing season ticket holders, banning Dan Steinberg from posting stadium photos of fans in dissent, hiring clearly unqualified head coaches, and destroying any credibility he might have with potentially talented coaches and GM's who might otherwise sign on to help the team win.

I have lived in Maryland for five years now. And while I delight in the Skins misfortunes from time to time (okay, every day), it's difficult not to feel a touch of sympathy for some of the fans here. This is a football town to the core. Enthusiasm for the Redskins here can't be overstated. These people are fucking CRAZY about this team, in good times and bad. They even willingly go to games at FedEx Field, which is like watching a game inside a prison. They're willing to eat a lot of shit for this team, no matter how many times Snyder has boned them over. And what do they get for their troubles? They get a team that is virtually unwatchable. Any time the Skins connect on a long pass play, it feels like a mistake. And they get people like Simmons calling them the worst fans on earth because some Steelers fans stormed the joint last year. Well, Billy Boy, YOU try heading over to that stadium and see if you think it's worth a shit. Because it isn't. It blows, and tales of all the cynical ways in which the Skins try and part fans from their money are legion in these parts.

At least Al Davis is fucking old. Yeah yeah, he's a vampire and can't be killed blah blah blah. The reality is, that old man is gonna croak WAY before Dan Snyder does. And when that happens, there's a chance the Raiders could end up in the hands of someone who isn't a complete fucking nutbar. And at least Davis had the courtesy of waiting until he was old and senile before turning incompetent. Even Mike Brown makes a good decision once in a blue moon. Even the LIONS managed to fire Matt Millen. They took eight fucking years longer than they should have, but it did happen. Redskins fans are offered no such comfort. Snyder will be in charge for decades, he will continue to repel any and all criticism with childish disdain. LALALA, FANS, DAN CAN'T HEAR YOU! HE'S WEARING HIS JACUZZI SUIT!

To know that this bizarrely irrational man will always be steering the team down a seemingly endless road into the desert, and that nothing can be done about it… even the douchiest of douchey Skins fans can't be too pleased. It's quite a skill, when you think about it. To think that, in ten years of ownership, Snyder has learned nothing from his experiences, and has even managed to regress. Look at this quote from Steinberg's post yesterday from team GM/sexual gimp Vinny "Pegboy" Cerrato regarding the team's hiring of Sherman Lewis (who was, before the hiring, working as a BINGO CALLER in an old folks home, I shit you not) this week as a team consultant:

To me, the most ominous quote (outside the "Kiss of Death" bit) came from Vinny Cerrato himself, when he said he didn't know what Lewis's role would be, but that "they'll get that figured out here in the next day."

Ten years. Ten years and this team is still bringing people in without knowing what the fuck to do with them. What normal person in this position goes this long without learning anything, and denies that anything is wrong? How is that possible? If that isn't hopeless, I don't know what is. Dan Snyder, you are fucking worthless. You are a tiny little sociopath who should be wearing giant old person sunglasses and running one of the Koreas. You fucking suck, and it seems you're more than happy to bask in it. The only thing you can do to help your team at this point is to walk in front of an oncoming cement mixer. Way to ruin everything, shithead. DIE.

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

Five Throwgasms

Patriots at Broncos: Ugh. The bye weeks. You know what they should do? Just have the byes during weeks 8 and 9. Give half the league one week off, the other half the next. Don't spread out the pain. Don't rape my fantasy team for six straight weeks. Just get it the fuck over with. This slow, agonizing drip of teams taking the week off only ends up producing lackluster weeks like this one.

By the way, a giant FUCK YOU to Tom Brady's weak little knee for destroying roughing the passer and unnecessary penalties across the entire league. Every game I've seen this year has featured at least one completely unjustified personal foul penalty. I've seen secondary players flagged for putting a shoulder in the wideout's chest. I've seen defensive ends flagged for tackling the QB at the waist. I've seen players flagged for roughing the QB despite merely grazing them half a millisecond after the ball is thrown. It's fucking ridiculous. I understand the need to protect offensive players as the game grows faster and more violent. That's fine. I have no problem with the rules. My problem is that the rules are being enforced poorly. This isn't shit that refs should be figuring out on the fly. They should fucking be consistent about this shit right now. Teams are getting hosed left and right. Defenders are letting QB's run free because they're afraid to wrap up. It's a joke.

Four Throwgasms

Bengals at Ravens: The Bengals nearly tied last week. I asked the gents at KSK if you would be knocked out of your suicide pool if the team you picked ties. They all agreed that you would. If I lost $10 in some fucking suicide pool because my team tied and didn't actually lose, I think I'd drive a van into a kindergarten class.

Falcons at 49ers: One more thing about the refs. Reader pemulis emailed in to say that refs always call the penalty "illegal block in the back". You don't need to word "illegal" there. All blocks in the back are illegal. It's not the NFL unless unnecessary verbiage is involved.

Three Throwgasms

Jets at Dolphins: Simmons made the point a while back that the four categories on the injury report aren't anywhere specific enough, which is true. In fact, there's really only one category on the injury report that worth a shit, and that's "questionable." Players who are probable end up playing. Players who are doubtful rarely do. You barely need those two categories. In fact, they only serve to clutter up the report. Just tell me who's questionable. Just tell us who's 50/50 so I can get right to shitting my pants.

Texans at Cardinals: Here's Chris Berman on the Twitter phenomenon. "You are taught to think before you speak. Twitter flies in the face of that." Hmm. Guess you don't really follow your own pearls of wisdom, do you? FUCK YOUR FACE.

Two Throwgasms

Colts at Titans: I watched two minutes of Jay Leno the other night out of curiosity. When the hell did Jay start looking like Bea Arthur? That freaked out my shit. By the way, read any profile of Leno and you will discover he's the least passionate comedian in the history of everything ever. It borders on psychosis. He seems to care more about outworking other comics than actually being funnier than them. I think Leno is happy to merely stay employed. If he got 10 million viewers in a week but never got an audience member to laugh once, I think he'd be fine with that. And that's what makes him so irritating to so many. He works his ass off, yet in many ways he really doesn't seem to give a shit.

Steelers at Lions: I dare say this Detroit team is entertaining in its shittiness. And really, can you ask for more than that? I love bad teams that have the courtesy of making every game a 54-32 fantasy orgy.

One Throwgasm

Vikings at Rams: Ratings suggest you watched last Monday night's Favrekakke. If you did, you may have seen the ad for this, the commemorative Brett Favre "Vikings Art Football."

To commemorate Brett's return to the NFC North Division Spike Football is pleased to release this Officially Licensed Exclusive Brett Favre Art Football featuring the amazing and vivid talents of renown sports artist Al Sorenson. This beautiful full size football portrays Favre in his Vikings uniform, a listing of his career accomplishments and a display of Vikings' history. Each full size football includes its own display holder from which you and your friends can admire this handsome piece of sports art. This is a limited edition collectible and fans of Favre, the Vikings and perhaps even the Green Bay Packers are sure to generate swift demand for this unique piece of Brett Favre memorabilia. You must place your order now as a complete sell out is expected.

I'm sure it is. I'd put it right next to my cherished Thomas Kinkade paintings. I'll stick with my Havoc Heli, thank you very much. LOOGIT, IT ALMOST HIT THE CEILING FAN!

Raiders at Giants: The estimable DJ Gallo would like you to begin following the Bill Romanowski Twitter feed immediately. Gems abound:

@ScottFerrall thanks buddy! Talk to you on Wednesday!

Favre is playing the game of his life!

Brett Favre is a true man. Watching the game.

Raiders gave up too many plays.

I think I need to train McFadden how to be strong.

Romo will tweetrape you into being a better, stronger person.

In other Raider news, JaMarcus Russell might be the laziest player in history.

Boomer Esiason of CBS recently lifted the lid on the problems with Raiders quarterback JaMarcus Russell. Esiason said on Sunday's The NFL Today that Russell has been "fined heavily" for showing up late for multiple meetings, being overweight, and missing one meeting.

A league source tells us that it's even worse.

Per the source, Russell has missed multiple meetings, and that he has missed multiple other activities. His behavior has been described to us as a "pattern not an aberration."

I look forward to interviews with Russell when he's old and 500 pounds. "I wash mahself with a rag on a stick." It just proves my theory: never, EVER trust a man who wears a full length mink coat. No one trustworthy has ever donned this garment.

Browns at Bills: Want to never eat a hamburger again? I've got the article for you. So what's in a burger from Jack in the Box?

Cargill records show that the hamburgers were made from a mix of slaughterhouse trimmings and a mash-like product derived from scraps that were ground together at a plant in Wisconsin. The ingredients came from slaughterhouses in Nebraska, Texas and Uruguay, and from a South Dakota company that processes fatty trimmings and treats them with ammonia to kill bacteria.

Mmmm… Mr. Clean. I don't like anything described as an "x-like product". Just not a good sign. Best of all, when you get E. coli…

the toxin in E. coli O157:H7 penetrates the colon wall, damaging blood vessels and causing clots that can lead to seizures.

Hey now! Raped by bacteria? That's a hell of a burger. Secretly, I always assume that anything I eat has feces in it. Likely my own. I wash my hands plenty, but sometimes I wonder if that is enough to prevent me from smearing invisible shit particles all over the place. I know damn well it isn't. It's a poopy world we live in, gang.

Redskins at Panthers: My wife asked me to fold a fitted sheet the other day. I will find a cure for AIDS before I figure out a way to fold a fitted sheet properly.

Cowboys at Chiefs
Bucs at Eagles
Jaguars at Seahawks

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

"House Of Mirrors," by Doves. Oh, Doves. You're just like Coldplay, if Coldplay wasn't awful. According to Wiki…

…back in 1981, Andy and Jez Williams formed a band with schoolmate and bass player Tim Whiteley…

Tim Whiteley? OF THE MONTCLAIR WHITELEYS?

Embarassing iTunes Track I Just Bought That Will Not Fire You Up

"Rhapsody in Blue," by George Gershwin. I enjoy listening to classical music because it makes me feel like a rich person.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Fingerbang yourself in the shower and pass out, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Willis McGahee. Go fuck yourself, McGahee. Really. GO AND GRAB YOUR PENIS AND TUCK IT BETWEEN YOUR LEGS AND STUFF THE HEAD OF IT IN YOUR BUTT.

McGahee has seven touchdowns in just four games this year. He has not had more than eight TD's in any of the previous four entire seasons. NOW is when you finally decide to be useful, you goddamn piece of cock? NOW is the time you decide to finally stop impregnating every fucking thing you stick your dick in so you can be a productive running back? Just as Ray Rice is becoming a stud? YOU ARE THE BIGGEST ASSHOLE ALIVE AND I HOPE YOU CHOKE.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Houston was correct, making me 4-0 on the year. That puts the Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? Minnesota, and feeding children. Ask any parent the most annoying thing about having kids, and they will tell you two things: 1) Trying to get the little fucker to sleep, and 2) Trying to get the little fucker to fucking eat. I feed my eight-month-old every day. At least once during the feeding, the kid will grab the end of the spoon with the food on it. And before I even have time to react, the kid will wipe his carrot-soaked hand across the hair, his face, his hair, his clothing, and anything within a 10-inch radius. Feeding kids is horrible.

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 Bengals getting 8.5 points on the road against the Ravens. I hear Limbaugh wants to buy the Rams. I approve. He's everything I want out of an NFL owner. He's rich, he's white, and he belongs to any number of country clubs that don't let Jews in, and have lots of old black people tending the bar who call you ‘Boss'. I like being called ‘Boss' when I get my drink. Feels appropriate."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 3-1

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner Things Trebek Sucks. He did not email in a rant. WHAT IS A WASTED OPPORTUNITY TO HELP PAD MY COLUMN SPACE WITHOUT MONETARY COMPENSATION?

This week's Pants Party winner was I'd Pee In Her Butt! Good job, I'd Pee In Her Butt. By the way, if you peed in a girl's butt, wouldn't it all just splash back on you? That's like when you accidentally graze the rim when you're pissing. Ever do that? I do that at least once a week. Wet shins ahoy.

Great Moments In Poop History
Reader Mike B. sends in a poop story entitled, "The Phantom Shitter"

One night a week before college graduation four other guys and I decided to take a trip out to a friend's house to get away from the city. We picked up a couple of thirty packs and proceeded to play 711 doubles from the confines of my friend's basement. The next morning we woke up at the crack of dawn and after consuming lots and lots of Budweiser the basement stank like shit.

We opened up the small windows, turned on a fan, but with no success. It stank. We knew something was not right as we proceeded to scour the basement for its source. Nestled in the far most corner of the basement was a barstool with no arms. On top of it was a tightly coiled load the size of great dane's shit. It was a perfectly formed piece of shit. If that shit were a man it would have been labeled an Adonis.

But how could someone have gotten up in the middle of the night in a drunken stupor and manage to drop trough on a bar stool with no arms with no means of positioning there body over the seat, without a point of leverage in sight. We each promised to go into the bathroom remove their underwear, come back out and the group would inspect them for any residue left from improperly wiping or not wiping at all the night before. No evidence. Nothing. The next week graduation came and went and we all said our goodbyes until another day. That night however a legend was born. The Phantom Shitter. Will he ever strike again? I don't know. What I do know is that I miss him.

I do appreciate a good, coiled poop. Like chocolate soft serve. It really is a neat shape to pull off. As for dropping anchor on a barstool, that strikes me as a brutal task. The phantom shitter probably had to stand on the circular wood footrest in order to squat properly. All in all, an extremely impressive crime. Like a cat burglar. I'd nickname the offending poop The Brown Panther.

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:

Tom Cable
Jim Zorn*
Eric Mangini
Jeff Fisher
Wade Phillips*
Dick Jauron
Gary Kubiak*
Jack Del Rio
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Mike McCarthy
Jim Mora

NORV! Great to have him back. Oh, and one more thing on the Zorn front. Here's a quote from Washington Post beat reporter Rick Maese's Twitter feed on the Sherm Lewis hiring: "Sherm Lewis doesn't seem sure what his exact responsibilities will be either. Said he didn't speak to Zorn before accepting job." So long, Jimmy.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Applesauce. You know the only difference between applesauce and apple butter? The disapproving looks from society.

We have small cups of applesauce we feed to the kids. It takes my three-year-old at least seventy spoonfuls to get through the thing. Meanwhile, I can empty my entire cup with a single tablespoon and eat it in one bite. Kids, I'm a better eater than your sorry asses will ever be.

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Budweiser American Ale! We darkened regular Budweiser so that it LOOKS like a good beer. Let's see if you buy 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.

"Baby, my NEW favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is Peyton Manning of the Colts! Say, a lot of people in this town are throwing their support behind Roman Polanski, and I'm with them! What's happening to my old friend is an injustice! A great director? YOU BET! An even better bocce ball enthusiast? DAMN RIGHT! You can't seriously want to put this man in jail! He made The Pianist! That picture's worth at least a dozen champagne kiddie rapes! Trust me, I known hundreds of directors in this town who have done worse! Doug Liman keeps a human centipede in his wine cellar!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Monty Python And The Holy Grail. I'd rather… just… SING! I've seen this movie more than any other movie. I can write the screenplay out from memory, as I also could with Life of Brian and most any episode of "Flying Circus." And I'm pretty sure, actually I'm quite sure, that this makes me an old person. I don't apologize for loving Monty Python, but I think only old people love them anymore. This makes me feel sad.

Oh, and a hearty FUCK YOU to all the people in the world who, for the past three decades, have attempted to brand any American who likes Python as a nerd. ZOMG! YOU LIKE FUNNY MOVIES! YOU'RE SUCH A DORK! Honestly, go fuck yourself. Monty Python shot this movie using only a single location and 12 giant sheets of LSD. That's badass, and if you think liking it is nerdy, go jack off to American Pie. DEATH AWAITS YOU ALL, WITH NASTY POINTY TEETH!

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"You don't scare me. That could be anyone's ass!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Holy Taco's gallery of women in bathtubs. The only time you'll ever click on link labeled TUB GIRLS and not find yourself horrified. I curse the person who sent me that site. I hate you forever, Tubgirl sender.
-For the gals: Taye Diggs. He's shiny. Also, his nipples appear to be wall-eyed.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

You can't avoid this asshole if you tune into ESPN anymore. There he is on SportsCenter. There he is on NFL Live. There he is on ESPNNEWS. There he is as the third ingredient in Mike and Mike's bloody stool sandwich. He's everywhere, and he blows, and it needs to stop.

The obvious counter to this complaint is, "Hey, just don't watch ESPN." But that's exactly the problem. I WANT to fucking watch ESPN. I want ESPN to be good and watchable, and not fucking putrid. That's why this site has criticized ESPN so often. We used to like it, and we would very much like to like it again. Yet time and again, Mark fucking Schlereth is what we get. I'd rather have Salisbury on the screen. I really would. At least he'll get shitfaced and send me his suicide note later in the evening.

Schlereth represents the very worst of ESPN's tendency to hire former players and coaches who have NOTHING useful to say, make pointless predictions with no substantive reasoning behind them, constantly talk about their playing careers, and believe that football analyst and motivational speaker are the same goddamn vocation. (See the fucking Dr. Lou segments on GameDay. I dare you to make it past the thirty-second mark.) If Schlereth isn't busy saying something worthless on camera, then he's probably saying something flat-out idiotic. Just this week, he argued the NFL shouldn't have fined Flozell Adams for tripping (and injuring) Justin Tuck. My Pinstripes has the details:

Schlereth contends that you have to stop the defender from getting to the QB no matter what. That if he had been fined every time he tried to trip a player, he'd have "played for free". Schlereth actually wants the union to step in to do something about these type of fines.

So here we have one of the dirtier linemen of the 90's (who played on a dirty line in Denver) bragging that he used to trip defenders all the time, and that it's okay, and that linemen should do everything in their power to keep the rusher from getting to the QB, even if it means drawing an obvious penalty. Does this sound like a man who often pissed his pants on the field? Fuck and yes, it does.

And that's about the only memorable opinion Schlereth has given at any time in his many forgettable years at the WWL. Look at this righteous asshole's Twitter page. Like people boldly picking fights with readers about whether or not TO is a team player? Or seeing an old player bitch out Chad Ochocinco for not playing the game the right way? ("Have you ever loved the game and the men you play with so much that your willing to check yourself out of the hospital the morning after surgery and drive yourself to the stadium and line up with your team? See, I have and that's what give me authority to call out anyone who is putting themself above the team!") Or in-depth statements like "Cowboys great response by both D and O!" You're in luck!

To the fuckheads at ESPN who put this asshole on camera thirteen hours a day, STOP. Fucking STOP. Watch the empty, vacuous dogshit you're putting on the air, and do something about it. Hire someone with a goddamn grain of personality and humor. I don't care who. Put a fucking Beagle in that seat. Someone. Anyone. They have to be better than this asshole. It's like watch an eight-hour Andy Reid press conference. And if you really think guys like Schlereth are the best you can offer, then GET FUCKED. GET FUCKED AND DIE NAKED IN AN ABANDONED MINE SHAFT.

I hate Mark Schlereth. Nice goatee, dipshit.

1. Cry, Fatty, Cry!. Will this video ever stop being enjoyable? To paraphrase Brian Regan, I submit that it will NOT. Look at him, blubbering away like a real-life Chunk.

"Everything. OK! I'll talk! In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog... When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out... But the worst thing I ever done - I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life."

Oh, Rob. You're so banging.

2. Enough with the whole New York FOOTBALL Giants thing. Yet another Berman phrase taken way too fucking far. Every goddamn radio show host and game analyst out there now says New York Football Giants, thanks to Berman's retardery. Goddamn cocksucking fuckfaced asshole. It wasn't even funny the first time, people. Now it's a pandemic. THERE'S NO FUCKING NEW YORK GIANTS BASEBALL TEAM ANYMORE. STOP TRYING TO BE CUTE OR I WILL STICK YOUR BALLS IN A WAFFLE IRON.

3. There's no racism quite like New Jersey racism. It's always fun to see Giants fans dismiss any complaints about their behavior by simply indicating that said behavior is strictly the domain of Jets fans, and seeing Jets fan turn around and doing the exact same thing. You assholes are ALL dipshit B&T trash. It was Giant fans who knocked out Chargers equipment manager Sid Brooks with ice balls back in '95. It was Giants fans that taunted Saints players right after Hurricane Katrina (and right after the League forced the Saints to play a "home game" in Giants Stadium in one of the worst acts of blatant team favoritism in league history) with clever bon mots such as "Where's your swimmies? I hope you have your swimmies!" and "You deserve what you got. New Orleans people are stupid." Only Deadspin commenters are able to make such delicate material fly. Oh where have you gone, Pot Roast and Gravy?

Here's a New Jersey story for you. Now, we all know people from Jersey are horribly racist. What's fun about Jersey racism is just how unapologetic Jersey racists are. For example, one time at school, I helped drive a teammate from Jersey home for Thanksgiving break. I took him in my car down to Hartford, where his mom was due to pick him up and take him the rest of the way. As we were nearing the Holiday Inn for dropoff, the guy turned to me and said:

Guy: Does East Hartford have lots of niggers?

Me: Uh… I'm not sure.

Then there was a five-minute pause. Then he said:

Guy: God, I hate niggers.

That guy's a lawyer now. Dunno what kind. Probably a prosecutor. Oh, and to answer the question, East Hartford has 9,335 black people in it. Dunno if that's too many for your average Jersey resident to tolerate.

4. Let's play How To Waste A Brilliant O-Line. God damn, the Giants have a great line. There's Chris Snee, and Shaun O'Hara, and… all those other guys. Anyway, they're quite good. Last year, the Giants led the league in rushing with 157 yards per game. They were the only team in the league to average 5 yards a rush or more. Yet none of that mattered when they shit the bed against the Eagles. Eli Manning's arm was too weak to be accurate in his own stadium, and the Giants never found a credible deep threat replacement for Plaxico Burress. And if rookie wideouts Hakeem Nicks or Ramses Barden (or second year man Mario Manningham) fail to be productive, it's the same story all over again. Also, you people are fucking RACIST.

5. The worst part of any Parcells legacy. Here's the worst part of any team is coached by or ever was coached by Bill Parcells. Parcells' old Giant teams prided themselves on extreme toughness. They hit hard, they got after the QB, LT, etc. They were super tough. They were none more tough. They played ToughBall. Or whatever the fuck. There is a bizarre fan mindset that occurs with good defensive teams where the fans assume that, because the defense of their favorite team is tough, THEY are also tough. You see this all over the place, but it's especially bad in New York, across all sports in the history of the town. "Look! Jetuh backhanded that ball! He's tough! Like me! Look at the way Anthony Mason fights for dat rebound! He's tough too! WE'RE SO FUCKING TOUUUUGH!!" Fuck you, New York. Your town is just as full of pansies and dipshits as any other town. If it isn't asshole steakheads rooting for your team, then it's some privileged Upper East Side private school twat. So take your toughness and cram it in your sloppy, gaping vagina. Get fucked.

Wanna be part of the Deadspin NFL previews? It's simple. Just email me here and give me some reasons why the team you hate most sucks. If it's because you dated a fan of the team and she turned out to be some crazy bitch who keyed your car, all the better. I'll throw any good material into the post and give you proper credit.

Drew Magary’s Balls Deep column runs every Thursday afternoon. Drew’s new book, “Men With Balls,” featuring 100% new material, is available for pre-order here. You can email Drew here. Read him during the week at KSK.

This is a Photoshop of Brett Favre in a Minnesota Vikings uniform. Excuse me for a moment. I have to eject my entire digestive tract out of my body.

BRAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

That was fun. Favre, nee Favraro, has been in the media lately. This makes perfect sense, because we had just gone three whole blissful months without Favre being in the media. And, of course, that won’t do. Favre has decided he wants to come back. Of course, he hasn’t confirmed that he’s coming back. That would take far too much decisiveness and leadership. Plus it would bring closure to the story. And what fun would that be?

Fucking indecisive piece of fuck.

No, no. Favre only wanted to HINT at idea that he was coming back, so that the media could spend weeks speculating over his return. And presumably so fat, slovenly Wisconsinites could write to him saying, “Please come back, Brett! And bring some whoopie pies with you!”

While Favre “ponders” coming back and lets the threat of his return loom over the team like a giant fart cloud for a few months, he has put the Packers in a position where they get utterly buttfucked no matter what choice they decide to make once Favre makes up his mind seven years from now. They can take Favre back, in which case Aaron Rodgers angrily bolts in 2009 and leaves the team bereft at the position. They can cut Favre, fire Favre, in which case they get nothing in return, along with having to live with the fact that they cut poor Brett. Oh, the indignity! He wanted to come back FOR LOVE OF THE GAME, but they wouldn’t let him!

Douche.

Or they can trade Favre. Media law dictates that columnists evaluate every other NFL team as a potential landing spot for Favre. And a great many of them, even our own AJ Daulerio, have decided that the best fit for Favre is in one of two places. The first is Chicago, where Favre would become the New Old Sex Cannon. But the other one, the one most frequently mentioned, is Minnesota, which is my favorite team.

Fucking cocksucking shithead.

Now, the odds of Favre becoming a Viking or a Bear are slim to none. Ted Thompson and the Packer front office would rather eat shit and die than trade Favre to a division rival. In the case of the Vikings, many people who don’t follow the team don’t know that Brad Childress is the most stubborn, pigheaded coach in the NFL. Childress traded up to draft Tarvaris Jackson, stuck by him all through last year, and has brought in virtually no competition at the position this offseason, thus living or dying with Jackson once September arrives.

He’s been hyping up Jackson to anyone who will listen. He has little to no interest in making himself look bad by bringing in Favre (thus conceding that Jackson isn’t ready to carry the load), or undermining his own faith in his ability to turn Jackson into a great player. There’s also the little fact that Favre imploded in the NFC Championship in January, so the idea of him as the final piece of a championship puzzle may be overstating things juuust a bit.

Mouthfucker.

So it’s probably not happening. But what if it did? What if the world flipped upside down and Favre did end up in a Viking uniform? Excuse the bout of homerism for a second, but what the fuck would that do to me?

I have spent the past 15 years nursing my blind hatred for Brett Favre. I’ve brought up my hate. Raised it. Fed it. Nurtured it. Taught it valuable lessons. I’ve watched it grow into full blossom. If my hate were a child (and I do think of my hate that way), he’d be off to Hate College in just a couple years. He’d probably major in Death Threats. Why, he’d be driving by now! He’d be driving his little Hate Car over burning effigies of Favre I would lay out on the driveway. I’ve put a lot of hard work into this hate. My hate and I, we don’t even need to use words to communicate anymore. We can just give each other a subtle glance and know exactly what kind of horrible fate we’d like Favre to experience.

Goddamn assfisting sack of dick goo. I hope he shoots himself with his own bow.

You see? My hate and I are so very much on the same page. Why, I can hate Brett Favre for so many different reasons. I can hate him purely for football reasons. Lord knows he’s snatched a game or two away from my team in the fourth quarter. The goddamn dogblower. I can hate him, as many do, for the lavish amount of praise he gets from writers and analysts. Fucking shitsmelling cockpuller. I can hate him for those goddamn Wrangler jeans ads. I wore sturdy-kid Wranglers when I was little boy. They weren’t real comfortable at all. They were stiffer than construction paper. That brand message is bullshit.

I can hate anyone who associates with him. I can even hate children who like him. Stupid kids. This hate has been with me so long, I don’t ever want to be apart from it. I love my hate. It brings me great joy.

Fucking shit-bearded scrotum-licker.

But here’s the thing about that hate: it’s mostly an illusion. If Favre was the exact same person and had played for MY team and not the goddamn Packers, I would of course adore him and forgive him all his foibles. But he doesn’t play for my team, so fuck him. Also, if I were to meet Favre in person, it’s a pretty strong likelihood I would NOT go up to him and say YOU FUCKING CUM-SLURPING COCK BURGLAR. That would be impolite. I’m sure he’s just a swell guy. Peter King tells me that every day.

So why do I hate his guts so much? Well, because I can.

The reason we sports fans hate is because it’s the only acceptable place in the world TO hate. You can’t hate people of other races. That’s wrong. But you can sure as shit hate people of other teams. Sports allow us to hate without consequence, which is very cathartic. If we just went around liking everything, we’d all be miserable. Sports are a relatively safe receptacle for our bile and cruelty. We can toss our hate over there, then go about being respectable human beings elsewhere. It keeps us from REAL hate, which is destructive. We leave our hate “on the field” so to speak.

It’s not personal. To me, it’s just a role I play as a fan. Favre plays for my team’s rival. So it’s my JOB to hate every fiber of his fucking being. If I clapped for him, that would be gay. Only Cardinal fans do that.

I recently read Stefan Fatsis’ new book, and in it, players profess being disturbed at the amount of bile fans direct at players and coaches. They don’t wanna lose games any more than fans do. So why do fans treat it like life or death? Well, because it’s more fun that way. It gives our lives a nice little jolt of drama. You can’t get that worked up about stuff in the real world. You gotta handle your shit when it comes to the real world. But you can go right ahead and lose your goddamn mind watching the game. Nothing’s gonna happen if you do. Although you might rip a guy’s balls off. But whatever. That dude can walk it off.

Fucking Favre. I hope he gets caught in a hydroelectric dam turbine.

Will Leitch, the former editor of this fair site, who as you know died two weeks ago, has long argued that sports are our oasis from reality. So why not take it all the way? Why bother thinking of the players as real human beings? I know Brett Favre is a human being, with feelings and shit. But the truth is, he’s no realer to me than fucking Pinocchio. We don’t know athletes. We CAN’T know athletes. So why treat them as real people? That’s no fun. If I met Favre and had a friendly exchange with him, my attitude would almost certainly change, because he’d be a real person to me. I’d know him. But as it stands, he remains more a character in my little imaginary sports world.

A character I hope gets impaled on an ornamental steel fence at the end of the story.

Think about gossip magazines. People read that shit all the time. And the reason they do is because the celebrities they see inside aren’t real people to them. It’s just a serialized soap opera of who’s banging who and who’s leaving who. We know who these people are, but we don’t KNOW them, which is why we feel free to judge them and laugh at their misfortune. It’s a nice outlet for all our cruel pettiness, and it helps keep us civil in our real-life interactions. Plus, plenty of those people deserve the scorn. Man, that Spencer Pratt is a fucking douche and a half. I hope he takes a Lamborghini ride with Nick Hogan sometime soon.

That’s why I don’t want Favre to join my favorite team. I’ve enjoyed hating him for so long. It’s practically all I know. If he joined the Vikings, I’d have to root for him. No choice. That’s my job as a fan. I’d have to leave my hate behind. And that would be a tragedy. This hate has been so good for me as a person. It’s really helped me mature. I’ve never known a hate like this before. You’re my one true hate, Brett. I’m not just not ready to start all over again with that new fuckhead, Aaron Rodgers. Man, does he look like a real cockswallower.

So I say to Brett Favre: please come back and play for the Packers. Don’t play for my team. I want to fall in hate with you all over again. My hate and I will welcome you with open arms. And then we will use those arms to throw broken bottles at you. You fucking wishy washy gashbleeder.

Special thanks (I think) to Dan V for the Photoshop. Your one true hates, sports or otherwise, in the comments.