We've got a lot of shit to cover, so let's hop right in.

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

Five Throwgasms

Titans at Colts: I was glancing at SportsCenter this week (I don't know anyone anymore who actually sits down and pays attention to SportsCenter while it's on. It's ambient programming at this point, like the Today Show, or John Tesh's music) and saw a segment where Merril Hoge argued with HIMSELF on a split screen. It was called Merril vs. Merril. No lie. It was just like Stephen Colbert's Formidable Opponent segment, only without any sense of irony, and conducted by a retarded person. They even showed Merril giving himself aggravated looks if his other self said something he disagreed with. It's like they replaced Salisbury and Clayton's old testy split screen arguments by throwing up their hands and going, "You know what? Fuck it. Have Hoge do all of it."

Obviously, it makes sense to use Hoge for this segment. I've heard that Hoge has more than enough split personalities to conduct these debates on a regular basis. On certain days, Hoge has been known to turn into Lucinda, a 14-year-old girl who may be a lesbian is too afraid to explore her own feelings about it.

I sympathize with Hoge to a certain extent. He was so intent on proving Vince Young was a bust, then Young proved him wrong, then proved him right, then proved him wrong a second time. It's enough to drive any man crazy, particularly a man who has received 45,872 blows to the head in his lifetime.

Also, if the Titans beat the Colts and pull to 6-6, that would be just about the coolest thing ever. Which is why it probably won't happen. Stupid reality.

Last thing: In the above pic, that is the shirt Vince Young wore in his postgame press conference last week. Goddamn, that is one ugly shirt. Looks like a security guard at Tropicana headquarters.

Four Throwgasms

Vikings at Cardinals: This is the best Vikings team since 1998, which is terrifying. In fact, the similarities between that Vikings team that was favored to go to the Super Bowl and this one are numerous. Both only have one loss (and given the rest of the schedule, it's not unreasonable to assume these 2009 Vikings will also go 15-1). Both have aging QB's who came out of retirement and played flawlessly (Favre and Randall Cunningham). Both have home run threats at running back (Purple Jesus and Robert Smith). Both have Rookie of the Year wideouts (Percy Harvin and Randy Moss). Both have relatively soft schedules. Both have enormous young right tackles (Phil Loadholt and Korey Stringer). Both have shitty head coaches (Denny Green and Brad Childress). Both have Hall of Famers at left guard (Randall McDaniel and Steve Hutchinson). Both have a dominant pass rusher (Jared Allen and John Randle).

I'd argue this 2009 team is even better than the '98 Vikings, particularly along the defensive line, and at cornerback once Antoine Winfield is healthy again. And fucking Prince was in the box last week. Prince never showed up for the 1998 Vikings. Prince is the purple SHIT.

Again, all of this portends nothing but fucking DOOM. It's hard to believe any Vikings team, even one as talented as this outfit, will not find a way to rip out my fucking heart, stick it in a pants press, and squeeze it until it's flat, dead and useless. That's just what the Vikings do. That's who they are. And the fact that the Saints are an even BETTER team in the NFC makes that outcome even easier to envision.

There was a letter in Tuesday's post that demanded I, along with all other Vikings fans, come out and confess my love for Favre now that's he's joined the team and lit everyone up. I'll happily admit I was wrong to hope the Vikings wouldn't sign that wrinkled old cocksucker. He has, indeed, been awesome. Perfect. This is still a winning team without Billy Bob Fuckstain, but not a Super Bowl quality team. He's made an enormous difference, and I'm glad they signed him, and that he makes the receivers better, and that he gives the Vikings an effective two-minute drill, which they've never had before, blah blah blah. That's all great.

But the fact is that fans of the 31 other teams out there would like nothing more than to see Favre's leg get cleaved in two, ending his career on the spot and sending the Vikings straight in to the fucking gutter. I'm well aware of that. So if you ever see me exulting in having Favre as my favorite team's QB before they've even won a playoff game (and frankly, even if they do end up winning it all), you are more than free to slap me on the cock. I don't have to love the guy to be happy he's on my side. It's like Deion's one-year stint with the 49ers in 1995. You love what the guy does for you. Doesn't mean you have to love HIM. I still think Vikings fans who buy #4 jerseys are weird.

Still. Nice job so far, you possum rapist.

Ravens at Packers: The worst thing about Jaws and Gruden on Monday Night Football is that they are consistently one-upping each other in terms of volume. First Gruden says something loudly, then Jaws says something even louder to punctuate what Gruden said, then Gruden comes back screaming at the top of his fucking lungs. Hey assholes, you have microphones pinned to your shirt. They can pick up your voice just fine if you talk like a normal person. Shitheads.

Whenever my mom uses a cell phone, she shouts because she thinks sound has a more difficult time traveling through the air and not via wires. And she doesn't just shout. She really yells her fucking head off. Everyone has to leave the area when she's on a cell phone, otherwise you develop vertigo. Jaws and Gruden have the same effect. Please guys, for the love of God, shut the fuck up for five seconds.

Cowboys at Giants: I was watching "Intervention" the other night, and the lady they profiled was the girl who was a Hollywood extra who got hooked an painkiller called fentanyl, which the DEA claims is 100 times more powerful than morphine (I dunno how the power of a drug can be measured, but whatever). You don't take the drug intravenously. Instead, it's given to you in lollipop form. I shit you not. It's a drug 100 times more powerful than morphine, and it comes in a lollipop. That sounds fucking AWESOME. Before I die, I want a fentanyl Dum Dum. Greatest drug ever? I bet the many prescription medication addicts in our comments section now one that can top it. "It's a thousand times better then heroin, and it's in bacon form."

Three Throwgasms

Patriots at Dolphins: Ricky Williams tossed a pick out of the Wildcat formation last week (at the goal line), and there's something truly agonizing about having a fantasy player that isn't a QB throw a pick and cost you two points. Obviously, this is a cousin of the "seeing your RB fumble at the goal line" pain. It's that eight point swing, where you think you're getting six, and you end up getting fucked in the ass. I get so angry when that happens that I bite into my fist until there's visible bruising. One day, I really will eat my own hand in anger. And what a taste treat that will be. Lotta meat on these paws.

By the way, pick aside, Ricky Williams might just be this year's "injury replacement instant stud," that one player every year who was a late pick and becomes a Top 20 player because the guy in front of him got his knee shredded. I never get those players. Ever. I always get the guy who got injured to make way for the asskicker.

Also, Randy Moss' beard is awesome.

Eagles at Falcons: After Andy Reid opened the Skins game with an onside kick, everyone had the same reaction: "Well, that was retarded." Every commentator made the point that you should only do a surprise onside kick if you know you're playing a superior opponent, not an inferior one. But is that really true? Shouldn't you only try a surprise onside kick if you're BETTER than the other team, because you're more likely to survive if the attempt fails, because you're the superior outfit? Can't better teams afford to take more risks?

Nah, just kidding. Andy Reid is dumber than his kids.

Texans at Jaguars: Whatever else happens during this Tiger Woods shitstorm, I can guarantee you one thing: when the Masters rolls around, Jim Nantz will do everything in his power to whitewash the scandal. He'll go out of his way to note how tough Tiger is in dealing with all the adversity. If Elin shows up the tournament, he'll make sure to note how much she and Tiger support one another. Jim Nantz is less an announcer than he is a PR rep for the PGA. The sun shines out of the asshole of every golfer Nantz has ever met. Tiger Woods could commit fucking war crimes and Nantz wouldn't acknowledge it. Tiger could rape babies. He could be a baby rapist and Nantz would say, "Such mental toughness he has. To deal with everything he's been going through and still dig down deep to make that putt. What grit." Jim Nantz is golf's pissboy.

Oh, and a giant FUCK YOU to Tiger Woods. You want your privacy, dickhead? Then don't fuck other women and sext them 300 times. You tend to lose your right to privacy when you're that big of a fucking idiot. Don't give me that bullshit Sarah Palin "I'm a victim of the gotcha media" bullshit when you decided to step out on your lady even though you have one of the most recognizable faces on Earth.

/would never cheat on my wife
/or my saucy Latina mistress
/unless a woman were to actually proposition me

Two Throwgasms

Saints at Redskins: Of the two undefeated teams, New Orleans has the best chance of running the table because they may still be playing for home field advantage in Week 17 if the Vikings keep winning. The Saints could finish 16-0, and the Vikings could finish 15-1. That's never happened before in a single season. Ever. Holy dogshit.

Jets at Bills: "Steven Seagal: Lawman" premiered last night. And the fucker talked in a Cajun accent even though he's not from Louisiana. He affects accents. I hate people that do that. He's just like Madonna.

One Throwgasm

Bucs at Panthers: Last week on NFL GameDay Final, they showed footage of Raheem Morris on the sidelines, covering his mouth while he was calling plays, as coaches like to do. That's when Deion Sanders shouted out, "MAN, NO ONE WANTS YOUR PLAYS!" I used to hate Deion. No longer.

And look, MATT MOORE IS STARTING! Beware, you crazy gamblers out there.

Rams at Bears: FOX has always been a proud innovator of gay and unnecessary broadcast wrinkles. And this year, we've been subjected to their latest creation: the 7-word recap. Sponsored by Microsoft's Windows 7: It Almost Kinda Works Now! They do this at the end of every broadcast now, and it's so dumb, you wonder why FOX didn't come up with it themselves ages ago. Well, I have a seven-word recap for the seven-word recap, and here it is.

1. YOU
2. PEOPLE
3. CAN
4. KISS
5. MY
6. FUCKING
7. DICK

Chargers at Browns: Carson Palmer got a nasty horse collar tackle from Browns DT Shaun Rogers last week. And when the refs called it, Eric Mangini went absolutely BATSHIT. He was so angry about the call, he went back to refs at the end of the half to bitch them out. It was an odd move, given that Palmer was clearly horse collared (and shaken up on the play). Oh wait, I know what happened. Palmer CHEATED by allowing himself to be grabbed by the collar and slammed down to the ground by Shaun Rogers. IT'S A CONSPIRACY! EVERYONE'S AFTER YOU, ERIC! DON'T DRINK YOUR COFFEE WITHOUT HIRING A TASTER FIRST!

49ers at Seahawks: Oh, so NOW is when Vernon Davis decides to be the greatest fantasy tight end in the history of the universe. Only after everyone has given him up for dead, like they did DeAngelo Williams before last year. God dammit, players like that piss me off.

Lions at Bengals: I was glancing at Leitch's decade retrospective earlier (I just stared at the very small thumbnails, because I'm too lazy to click through a whole web slideshow. Web slideshows are worse than ass cancer), and I remembered back in 2001, right after 9/11 happened, the DJ's at K-ROCK in New York would play Metallica's "Don't Tread On Me" (which is one of their worst songs ever) with news bites about the attack mixed into the cut. And when the Iraq War started, they played "Wanted Dead Or Alive" with bites from Bush's ultimatum speech also mixed in. I fucking hated this. In fact, it's a perfect IQ test. If you're the type of steakhead who thought this was awesome, I hope you and your Axe body spray fall into a fucking canyon.

Broncos at Chiefs: Someone in the mailbag the other day said night pissing is best when your bathroom has a dimmer switch and you can turn it all the way down. Ever play that game with the dimmer switch, where you keep lowering it and lowering it, seeing just how dim it can get before the light actually goes out? I do that at least six times a week. THIS ROOM IS NONE MORE DIM.

Raiders at Steelers

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

"Crazy Train," by Ozzy Osbourne. Live off of the "Tribute" double album. AY! AY! AY! AY! AY! AY! AY! AY! There are few perfect songs in the universe. "Crazy Train" is one of them. Since Randy Rhoads died, no one else has dared strap on a polka dotted flying V guitar. That's how bad of a motherfucker Randy Rhoads was. He RETIRED that guitar. And when Angus Young dies, they'll retire the Gibson SG guitar. Only those men get to play those guitars, and that's as it should be. If you're not Angus young and you're playing a Gibson SG, you should be beaten.

Fun fact: In the 1980's, Ozzy Osbourne and Bette Midler had the exact same hairstyle.

Embarassing Video I Once Liked That Will Not Fire You Up

"Funkytown," by Pseudo Echo. Not the original song by Lipps Inc., a band I always mistakenly thought was affiliated with former Steelers wideout Louis Lipps. Please note that the lead singer of this band is Australian, but is clearly wearing a New York Yankees t-shirt. THAT'S PANDERING. Also take note of the jeans tucked into the hightops (not unlike the jeans tucked into boots look that's so hot with the ladies in 2009). And, of course, there's the keytar. Everyone makes fun of the keytar, but you can understand why it was invented. The poor keyboardist has always been treated like the kicker of the band. I bet it was a relief to them that someone invented a keyboard guitar that allowed them to be up in front with the guitarist and bassist. YOU'RE ON THE TEAM NOW. That's much better positioning if you're a keyboardist looking to score better pussy.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Since Tuesday's mailbag, more and more people have come out of the woodwork to tell me that they stand to wipe their asses. Again, it never occurred to me that some people stood while wiping. And it never occurred to THEM that some people sat while wiping. I find this FASCINATING. You could commission a decade-long anthropological study about this. Why do some people wipe standing while others wipe sitting? Is it because of how they were raised? Does race play a factor? So many questions. Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Matt Forte. According to an aggregate of all Yahoo drafts this year, Matt Forte was the fourth highest rated player, getting drafted at an average slot of fifth overall. Here are the top ten players from that list:

-Adrian Peterson
-Michael Turner
-MJD
-Forte
-Brian Westbrook
-DeAngelo Williams
-Larry Fitzgerald
-LaDainian Tomlinson
-Drew Brees
-Steven Jackson

Of those ten, only Brian Westbrook has fewer overall fantasy points, because he's Brian goddamn Westbrook and he's injured for 78 weeks a year. Forte is 23rd among RB's in fantasy points, and he's been healthy all year long. THE FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. Forte is the guy you have to keep in your lineup every week because you drafted him high and there's no one else to put in, and just spends all year long PUTTING IT IN YOUR ASS. You suck, Matt Forte. DIE.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of the Bengals was correct, making me 9-3 on the year. That puts the Bengals, Steelers, Jets, Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, 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? Denver, and folding children's laundry. I have no idea what to do with these miniature shirts and pants. THEY'RE A COMPLETE CATASTROPHE.

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 Vikings giving 4 points against Arizona on the road. Hey, Santa Cruz! Way to make a local resident take down his Nazi flag! Freedom of speech, huh? I think we know who the real Nazis are. I guess this is only a free country, so long as you obey everyone's rules and keep your Nazi flags and collections of Jew ear necklaces to yourself. YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK. I WILL BITE YOU."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-6.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was P. Kuszynski. He did not claim his prize. This week's winner was D. "The Body" Bodamer. Come and git it, Body.

Great Moments In Poop History
Reader Nathan chimes with a poop WHOPOOPEDIT! He calls it, "The Wendy's Shit Bandit":

I went to Wendy's for lunch today and hit the men's room to take a leak prior to getting in line. The urinal was out of order so I headed for the stall. When I opened the stall door I was greeted with one of the most disturbing and amazing sights I've ever seen. The bowl was literally full to the brim with gigantic fucking turds. Logs the size of my forearm. I wondered aloud how any human could muster such massive deposits. I was repulsed and intrigued at the same time. I forgot all about pissing and got in line to order my lunch. When I got up to the counter I informed the manager on duty that the men's room was in dire need of attention due to the approximately 40lbs of shit in the bowl. That's when it got weird.

In a very tired tone, with a haunted look in her eyes, she said, "Goddamnit, he's BACK".

Apparently, about once a month, over the course of the last year or so, someone has been depositing these enormous turds in the Wendy's men's room. She told me they were close to catching the perpetrator and, get this, the guy has been bringing the supernatural logs with him in a plastic grocery bag and dumping them in the bowl. Every time another new deposit is made a soiled grocery bag has been found in the men's room. I don't know whether to be frightened or awed by such deranged behavior. Who is the Wendy's Shit Bandit? Are the turds human or animal? We may never know, but he has my respect.

I find this to be an extraordinary crime. The poopetrator here is clearly a disgruntled former employee or a customer who felt he was treated shabbily. That can be the only explanation. If it's just a random act of poopiness… MY GOD. That would be disturbing and brilliant all at once.

People, between this story and the Last Pickle in the Jar, we may be on the verge of a poop prank revolution. College students of the world, heed my words: that turd you're leaving the bowl is not to be flushed. It is a comedic resource with millions of different uses. Don't waste your poop by disposing of it. Place it in a friend's shoe. Drop it in a fish tank. USE YOUR IMAGINATION. In your hands, poop can be anything.

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
Jim Mora
Andy Reid
John Fox*
Jack Del Rio
Tom Coughlin
Gary Kubiak*
Dick Jauron – FIRED!
Lovie Smith*

(* - midseason firing potential)

Ah, now that's more like it. A robust ten coaches on the firing line. Tremendous. I think Lovie is the next to go. He won't even notice that they've fired him until a week later. "Wait, what? I was fired! NO WAIT! I DISPUTE THAT!"

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Summer sausage! Oh, summer sausage. So firm. So long. I could take you all in. I don't see why you should only be designated as a seasonal food item. You work perfectly as a winter sausage, spring sausage, and autumnal sausage as well. I could eat summer sausage until I had nitrates coming out of my pores… AND I HAVE.

I love sausage. I could eat it at every meal for the rest of my life and have no complaints. Regular meat is great. Ah, but what if you ground up the grossest cuts of the meat, mixed in some fennel seed, and then stuffed it all in a section of a sheep's digestive tract? MAGIC. Every meat tastes better in sausage form, and I'm at a loss as to why. Is it the trace amount of feces? I think it's the trace amount of feces.

Gametime Cheap Cider Of The Week
White Lightning! Our night editor Barry Petchesky writes:

I've got to nominate White Lightning, a highlight of my London study abroad program a few years back. It's hard cider, sold in supermarkets in 3-liter bottles, for CHEAPER than an equivalent amount of soda. We only found out after we left England that it's the hobos' drink of choice.

Of course it is. Look at that shit. It really does look like stale urine. I also like the 50% MORE FREE on the label. "Hey, it only costs us three cents a barrel to make this in our bathtub. Here's 50% more for free. Fuck it." I love the label. Oh, I'll ride that lightning. Bonus points for having the same name as a cut from "Adrenalize". And, as luck would have it, the song "White Lightning" was dedicated to deceased Def Leppard guitarist Steve Clark, who died from alcoholism. It's romantic, when you think about it.

I also like that the bottle and glass are placed on the floor in this shot. This is a drink meant to be consumed on floors or while lying on concrete. You don't drink this stuff while sitting in a chair. It just isn't done. Way too pretentious.

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 this year is Drew Brees of the Saints! Prolific? You bet! Great guy? ONLY THE BEST. I don't why know why everyone is jumping all over my good friend Tiger Woods for cheating on his wife. WE'RE ALL TIGERS, BABY. You gotta let us prowl! I remember when I married Ali McGraw, and she asked me, ‘Evans, do you promise to always be faithful to me?' And I said, "McGraw, not a chance in hell. I'll love you forever, sweetheart. Gorgeous? You bet! Feisty? AS ALL HELL. But I'm a man, McGraw. Evans loves to love women, and they love to love him! No, why would I throw all that away just because I'm married to you? Baby, I promise you only one thing: You'll always be the one I nail at the end of every business day!' And she was okay with it! ALI GOT IT. And that's why we were such a great couple. Until she fucked Steve McQueen. What kind of horrible woman cheats on her man? That's not right, baby!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Up In The Air. I haven't seen this yet, but I do know that George Clooney plays a guy whose job consists solely of laying people off. I've been laid off four times in my life, including in June, when my ad agency had to lay me off due to the economy (the poop stories, oddly enough, they didn't mind). Every time I've been laid off, I've always felt terrible for the person who had to pull the trigger. You can see in their eyes how much it bothers them. They spend a lot of time prefacing the firing because it's so hard to get the actual words, "you're employment has been terminated" out. I'd rather eat a jar of mayo than lay someone off.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Don't have a stereotypical view of me just because I'm your mother. I know: how about we play the basketball? I'm no Harvey Globetrotter, but…"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Favorite of boners around the world Keeley Hazell. (NSFWSC) Tastefully done, but definitely ALL NUDE. That's important. Very important. To be tasteful.
-For the gals: Dreamy Doug Pickett. We could be twins!

Enjoy the games, everyone.

I have but one goal for this Thanksgiving, and that is to spend the day saying as few words as humanly possible. Talking is the enemy of a good Thanksgiving. With so many goddamn relatives around, anything you say is a potential hydrogen bomb of familial conflict.

YOU: Hey, everyone! I brought a pie!

YOUR SISTER: Well, I brought one, too. I thought it was my turn to bring pie this year.

YOU: What difference does it make?

YOUR SISTER: It means you weren't LISTENING to me. You just go and do whatever you want.

YOU: Yeah, well fuck you, you runny cunt.

YOUR SISTER: NO, FUCK YOU! MOM SAYS YOU MARRIED A FUCKING BEAST!

YOU: (parries at sister with carving knife)

You see how things can devolve so quickly in such an emotionally charged environment. I'm going to a house that contains fourteen relatives this evening, and that's not even that big of a Thanksgiving. My job will be to lurk in the background, like a drifting molester, happy to blend in with the wallpaper, a source of conflict for NO MAN, WOMAN, OR CHILD. I promise to make this Thanksgiving a masterpiece of antisocializing. I have the following weapons at my disposal:

THE NFL
The house I'm going to has no television in the family area, where everyone sits before and after dinner. To watch TV, you have to go into the basement, where no one else is. FUCKING SWEET. I'll walk in, say a few pleasantries, kiss a few cheeks, throw a couple babies in the air. Then I'll grab an open bag of chips and run downstairs. An hour later, someone will be like, "Hey, where the fuck is Drew?" I'll tell you where. IN HEAVEN, THAT'S WHERE. There's nothing better than having a game to sneak off to during any family encounter. It always takes people a million years to notice. You can smuggle all manner of food down there, even an entire dinner plate. Also, you get to have that fun exchange where your old lady comes down and begs you to come up and talk to people. And you're like, "Okay, I'll be up in five minutes." And they you stay downstairs for another hour. MAGIC.

THE BATHROOM
Ah, the bathroom. Sweet, sweet sanctuary. Fact: I have been known, during family events, to go to the bathroom even when I don't have shit, piss, or masturbate. I just go there to hang out. It's like landing on home plate. No one can hand you a baby to feed, or a dish to wash. You are bulletproof once inside the bathroom. Then you go back out to the chaos outside and people will give you that look, that look that lets you know THEY know you were just overstaying your turn in the shitter. Then someone else runs to the john for a moment of solace.

SMOKING
I'm onto you, smokers. I get it, now. I see why it's worth risking the cancer, and the impotence, and the rotten teeth, and the clothes you have to Febreze 70 times a day. Because taking a smoke break outside is like a bonus trip to the shitter. No one's gonna bother you while you're outside smoking a cigarette in the freezing drizzle. And no lady is gonna come hand you a kid while you're emitting lethal secondhand smoke. It's an ingenious plan, smokers. It really is. YOU RESPONSIBILITY-DODGING SHITBAGS.

ALCOHOL
I'm sorry. I'd talk to you people, or help mom with plating dessert. But I'm just too fucking LOADED, you see.

BACK PAIN
My sciatica flared up last week, and is only now subsiding. (Quick note: Sciatica is caused by a ruptured disk in your back pressing against a nerve and causing shooting pain down your leg. You do not want it.) Anyway, I went to the doctor and got a prescription for Vicodin (WHEE!), muscle relaxants (SCORE!), steroids (DREW STRONG!), and physical therapy (whatever). I have to take all these meds, or else I'm in unrelenting agony all day long. So I'd like to talk to my relatives, exceppppttt I seem2beslurrrrrrinmywerddddss lemme jus lay downnn and (drools all over pants).

So there you have it, people. Those are the tools you have at your disposal to avoid actual contact with your loved ones this year. Use them at will. You could even fake a stomachache after dessert. That works, too.

Also, this week's Jamboroo is dedicated to my wife's cousin, who nearly died this spring in an accident. He made it through, and I'll be seeing him tonight. I'm thankful you're still around, my man. Drinks on me.

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.

Five Throwgasms

Steelers at Ravens: I mentioned earlier that I was going to a house with 14 relatives tonight. NONE of these people like football. At all. In fact, no one in my wife's family or my own family likes football besides me. I'm the only football fan among us, and that bothers me to no end. I'm the one asshole sneaking away to watch the game. I'm the selfish one. Goddamn pinkos, the lot of them. The only exception to this is my father-in-law, who is an anomaly in that he likes to watch football, but could give two shits about the context surrounding the game. It literally does not matter to him if he's watching a UFL game or the Super Bowl. It's all the same shit to him. He says he just likes to watch the hitting. The circumstances, players, and personalities mean nothing to him. He just likes seeing the action when he sees it. I don't know whether to admire him, or to shake the shit out of him.

I think it's probably better to have a partner-in-crime to sneak away to watch games with during the day. Then again, people are more likely to notice you're missing, so I'm not really sure.

Patriots at Saints: Holy shit, this game is AWESOME. And it's gonna be completely ruined by Jaws and Gruden. THIS GUY DREW BREES. HE'S JUST A FLAT-OUT COMPETITOR WHO WANTS TO WIN. I hate it when analyst says that. "He just wants to win." Well, no fucking shit. Even the guys half-assing it out there want to win the goddamn game.

If there's any team I'd like to see win the Super Bowl other than my own, it's the Saints. But man alive, they sure turn the ball over and let other teams score a lot. That can't be a good omen. AND THAT'S MY HARDCORE FOOTBALL ANALYSIS.

Four Throwgasms

Colts at Texans: My wife's family is from Germany (none affiliated with Rolf), so a lot of times my wife's German aunt will send over a bunch of German toys for the kids to play with. One of these toys is a plush sun that plays a German lullaby. We keep it in the ten-month-old's crib. Anyway, the lullaby this toy plays has the EXACT same fucking melody as "The Gambler". No lie. You pull the string, and suddenly it's playing "The Gambler". So now, every night, I'm pulling the string on this thing and singing to my kid, "You gotta know when to hold ‘em… WHEN TO HOLD ‘EM!" My son will be shot dead dealing blackjack on a riverboat in twenty-five years.

One other thing about having foreign relatives. If you have relatives who do not speak English, and you don't speak their native language either, you will ALWAYS, by law, be the only one around to pick up the phone whenever they call for your wife, or the person in the house that DOES speak their native tongue. The German aunt calls my house once a month, and I'm always the only person around to pick up. What then ensues is a conversation of aggressive retardation, where I over pronounce words very loudly in English so that they might resemble something she recognizes. SHE'S NOT HOME, YES? I also make hand gestures, WHILE ON THE PHONE. As if she can see them. I am a fucking moron.

Giants at Broncos: Oh, thank God the Broncos suck again. That was a close one.

Three Throwgasms

Packers at Lions: This is a much better game than the Cowboys-Raiders shitfest happening later on. Both Aaron Kampman and Al Harris are done for the year for the Packers. MORE MATT STAFFORD HEROICS ARE IN STORE!

Panthers at Jets: Gallo noted this first. Say hello to the Inside the BCS Twitter feed, designed to give you college football fans all the BCS propaganda you can handle! Important things like "bracket creep" are discussed.

When Plus-1 was discussed in '08, one big hurdle was the inevitable bracket creep. 4 teams, maybe. Then 8? 16? 32?

Oh, no! A 32-team playoff tournament in college football? A month-long orgy of meaningful college games that could redefine my existence and challenge the dominance of the NFL? HORRORS! Yes, I'd sure hate to see that happen. What a tragedy. Much better to have a drama-free year in which the title game of Texas-SEC champ was already set in stone ages ago. The BCS can choke on AIDS.

Bears at Vikings: I saw the "Rock With You" video on TV the other day. It's a great song. But I noticed that, in the video, Michael Jackson is dancing just like a white person. It's uncanny, really.

Cardinals at Titans: Man, did Luke Wilson get fat.

Two Throwgasms

Bucs at Falcons: From the mysterious and gifted flubby (and KOGOD) comes the Twitter feed of porn star Bree Olsen, (NSFW) which will turn you on and sadden you in equal measure.

Any men in fort Wayne wanna get me drunk and take advantage of me? That sounds so hot right now.

I only have been getting fucked an average of once a day these days. WTF is up with that?! I need it at least three!

I had some guys over here playing wolrd of warfare 2 on x box 360. Turns me on to see guys play video games. I love it!

As flubby notes, "Jesus Christ, what do you call the diametric opposite of trolling? I love it when guys don't change their underwear for days on end. Skid marks are the best!"

Dolphins at Bills: Need an early xmas gift? How about Bobby Jones' Ultimate Gospel collection? Featuring "He's An On-Time God." That's right! God isn't on CPT anymore!

Redskins at Eagles: A friend of mine just got engaged. For you bachelors out there, there is nothing more terrifying than the time in between the moment you buy an engagement ring, and the moment you propose. Not because you're getting nervous about marriage. But because you're walking around with a bauble in your pocket worth thousands of dollars. You want to get rid of that shit as fast as you can, to give it to your woman so she assumes all responsibility for it. That whole time YOU have the ring, you freak the fuck out over losing it. That's why I never suggest you plan on bringing an engagement ring to some tropical locale, or try hiding it in a soufflé, or some retarded thing like that. Just get rid of the fucker ASAP.

Chiefs at Chargers

Jaguars at 49ers

One Throwgasm

Raiders at Cowboys: I don't understand why the Raiders were included in the Thanksgiving game schedule. It's fucking stupid. The NFL already knows that people are sick of seeing Detroit and Dallas every year at this time. And they knew before the season, damn well, that their only hope for a good day game would be to pair a good team with Dallas, because Detroit is always bad. So why did they have the Raiders come to Dallas? Why not San Diego? Why are you subjecting me to this inevitable 13-10 shitwreck, Goodell? YOU CUNTHAIR.

I think they do this shit on purpose, so that you'll be grateful for the NFL Network game later on (which half the country won't be able to fucking watch, mind you). Assholes.

Browns at Bengals: I'll never get over Hank Poteat, who has been in the league for ten years, believing pass interference is allowable so long as the QB is outside of the pocket.

Also, Eric Mangini is the biggest gash in all of football. His little bitching about the Lions was his worst display of dipshittery yet. It got the KSK gang and I wondering what examples of cheating he'll use next to distract people from his team's horrid play. After all, the Browns can't merely SUCK. No, no. Someone had to CHEAT to outwit dickless over there.

Ufford: "It's no fair the way the other team had more talented players and a better coach."

Flubby: "We had the Bengals beat until that devious Mr. Fuji threw salt in our eyes."

Tunison: "You say it's unlikely the Ravens have developed some kind of debilitating nerve toxin, but do you know for sure? THE LEAGUE TURNS A BLIND EYE TO CHEATING!"

Seahawks at Rams: Kyle Boller is nailing Carrie Prejean, which goes to show that it doesn't matter how bad you are at playing QB, just being a QB in the NFL is enough to ensure you a higher class of tail than most any man on Earth. Stoney Case nailed Ali Landry. Heather Kozar made fingercuffs with Cade McNown and Tim Couch. In fact, Gisele and Hilary Rhoda aside, you're almost better off being a terrible NFL QB if you want to land hot ass. Starting QB's are too busy to nab good pussy. But if you're Matt Leinart, you have all day to talent scout.

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

"Ace of Spades," by Motorhead. This helpful video above points out that the cover of Motohead's cover for the Sacrifice album includes a demon with a vagina for a mouth and a penis for a tongue.

Waiting around for dinner? Go now and immediately read this profile of Lemmy from last month's issue of Rolling Stone (excerpted in the link, otherwise you have to read the actual issue. HOW DARE SOMEONE CHARGE ME FOR CONTENT). In it, you will discover several important facts about Lemmy, such as:

-He still drinks a bottle of Jack a day

-According to Ozzy Osbourne, when Lemmy toured, "[Lemmy] had a plaid bag with three books an a notepad. No change of clothes. His fucking rider was seven bottles of bourbon, eight bottles of vodka, two bottles of orange juice, and that's fucking it!" You know you're a legendary drinker when even Ozzy Osbourne is in awe of your excess. The man needs only liquor to survive.

-He keeps an extensive collection of Nazi war artifacts in his apartment, including Eva Braun's comb. And somehow, this fact makes him even more of a BADASS. Anyone else who keeps Nazi uniforms in their apartment is a fucking Nazi scumbag. But when Lemmy does it? RAWK.

Lemmy rules.

Embarassing Album I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

"Euphoria," by Def Leppard. This was my favorite band back in 1987, before I discovered Metallica. I owned every Def Leppard album. I bought their Historia video compilation. I had their posters all over my wall. And whenever I doodled in class, I wrote everything in the Def Leppard font. I saw them at the Met Center in Bloomington, Minnesota (In the round, IN YOUR FACE!). And whenever they reached #1 on Dial MTV, I would go to school the next day and BRAG to people in my 5th grade class that didn't like Def Leppard that they were #1 the night before. How I went through that period without sucking a dick is beyond me.

Anyway, I still enjoy Def Leppard's music all these years later. I even bought their late period albums, including this one, which was released in 1999, far past their time of relevance. And I still listen to some of the shit on this album. ‘CAUSE YOU'RE LIVING ON A PAPER SUNNNNNN…

I know they never admitted it, but I bet that rig they set up for the one-armed drummer totally didn't work. They just stuck a drum machine under the stage and let Rick Allen tard away on his special, noiseless kit all he pleased.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Saw your neighbors break out the ball gags, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Tony Romo and the entire Dallas offense. You all suck, and when that final stretch of Giants/Chargers/Saints/Eagles arrives, and you choke like the choking assholes you are, America will once again dance on your fucking graves. Dicks. PICK A BACK AND STAY WITH HIM, GARRETT.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of the Steelers was incorrect, making me 8-3 on the year. Keep in mind, this is a year in which there are an uncommon amount of horrid teams. An 8-3 record is fucking pathetic. I hate suicide pools. Anyway, that puts the Steelers, Jets, Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, 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? Cincinnati, and sibling rivalry. My kid took a drumstick the other day and smacked the baby with it. HARD. Just drummed the shit out of his head. So I grab the kid, and tried to do my best impression of an angry parent.

Me: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON'T HIT YOUR BROTHER LIKE THAT!

Her: I like princesses.

How do you reason with these fucking monsters? They evade the issues more easily than your average politician.

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 Raiders getting 13.5 points against Dallas on the road. I hung out with Lemmy once back in ‘82. He was playing a festival in Dusseldorf and I was there to see Skrewdriver. Bought a Hitler mustache hair from him for 40 marks. Good guy."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-5.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was J. Ramirez. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was P. Kuszynski. Hey Kuszynski, come claim your prize, you stupid Polack!

Great Moments In Poop History
I know many of you, including Leitch, skip the weekly poop story. Well, I implore not to miss this week's entrant. It's from our very own AJ Daulerio, and it is titled, "The Last Pickle In The Jar". It is your editor's Thanksgiving gift to you. Enjoy.

AJ: So, my friend Dorfman got married last April. We have a long history of playing horrible practical jokes on each other. He was very paranoid about what I had planned for his wedding night since we were staying in the same hotel. This was a wedding attended by the likes of Leitch, Aileen, Jim Cooke, etc.

Me: Dorfman? Kent Dorfman?

AJ: Matt Dorfman.

Me: Great name.

AJ: So one time at Spring Break when I was in college, you know, I played this joke on one of the other guys who was staying in our crappy Bahamaian hotel. He was a real bitch about his Do Not Disturb sign and would be a real asshole to the help. So I took the little hotel glass and scooped out my own turd from the toilet, ran up to his room, banged on the door, left the glass outside of it and ran away. He throws open the door, kicks the glass over, so now there's a big turd sitting in the middle of the hallway on our floor. SO. I tell Cooke about this and decided I want to do the same thing to Dorfman on his wedding night. I'm describing the glass full of poop and how it just floats in there with its flecks of poop and everything and Cooke says, "It's just like the last pickle in the jar." Brilliant, I thought. It shall be named that forever and ever. SO. I'm staying in Aileen's room. As you can probably tell, Aileen does not enjoy these types of hijinx.

Me: I don't even know why she knows you, honestly.

AJ: In order to pull it off I have to sneak up to the room while she's down at the bar to try to pull it off. I go into the bathroom, drop the deuce, grab the glass and go in to try to scoop.
Granted, I wasn't as drunk as I was in college the first time I did this, so I kind of tried to do a swooshing motion with the glass in order to get the poop in the glass. This only resulted in causing a little wave in the toilet — enough to force the turd up over the rim and go scooting across the bathroom floor.

Me: "The slippery eel"

AJ: Indeed. So now I have this wet turd on Aileen's bathroom floor and I have no idea when she's coming up. I frantically pick it up with some gobs of toilet paper and throw it back in the bowl. Knock on the door. It's Cooke. He comes in, the smell hits him, and he's like "What the fuck happened?!" As I explain to him the situation and the turd scooting across the floor, he proceeds to vomit in the hotel sink. So now we're both frantically trying to get the puke out of the sink and the lingering turd smell out of the room before Aileen comes back up. Knowing her, she'd probably call the police on us and never speak to us again. We succeed. However, that night, I reveal to Dorfman what my plan was and tell him the whole ordeal. He thinks it's the greatest thing in the world and proceeds to tell the whole wedding party about what happened. The next day at breakfast, Aileen won't even speak to me again because she heard about the whole thing. And that's the Last Pickle In The Jar.

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
Jim Mora
Dick Jauron – FIRED!
Lovie Smith
Wade Phillips

Ugh. These stirring turnarounds by the Titans and other miserable teams has reduced our firing pool significantly. Come on, bad teams. Suck MORE.

Thanksgiving Snack Of The Week

French's Fried Onions. Every year, we make the white trash green bean casserole, and I eat half the can of onions before they've even gone into the mix. Especially the big, chunky ones that have been fused together in the frying process. This annoyed the Mrs. So I suggested, this year, that she buy TWO cans of the things. One for the casserole. The other for my snacking enjoyment. "How about you just keep your fat ass away from the one can I buy?" she said. Pfft. That's hardly a feasible option, woman.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Sportz! Reader DT writes in:

This is not a recommendation but rather a warning. Take heed.

High school. Texas. Mid-90s. There was this family-owned, Middle Eastern grocery that would sell us beer after-hours, in an alley behind the store. Very classy. And they charged us practically double since we were very clearly teenagers and not of legal drinking age. Because of that, WHAT we drank was completely at their discretion. There was a lot of Thunderbird and Mad Dog 20/20 ("Oooh! I hope it's Banana Red this week!") and the Beast and shit like that, but eventually they decided that even that stuff was too good for us, so they would just bring us whatever warm piss they couldn't sell. And that was how Sportz beer was introduced into my life. It was so bad you couldn't even bong it. For years it ruined beer for me altogether. Anything that makes you long wistfully for Mad Dog is pure evil.

Oh man, does that beer look horrible. 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.

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is Brett Favre of the Vikings. The old man! The gunslinger! You know, I too knew a gunslinger in my day. JOHN FORD! The one and only. Stagecoach? You bet! How Green Was My Valley? Very green, indeed. Ol' Ford loved taking his guns around with him anywhere he went on the set. Said it helped him keep the crew on their toes. One time, I saw Ford pull a gun on his DP. And he told that poor sucker, ‘Son, you don't get me a proper sunset, I'll shoot this gun right into your stupid little skull.' And I'll be damned if that DP didn't use all the shades and filters at his disposal to make a rainy evening look like the Grand Canyon at dusk! It's amazing what a director can do with a gun in his hands. I miss those days. Crazy? YOU BET! Glorious? Goddamn right."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Star Trek. Here, in one corner, we have Spock. Coldly analytical. Devoid of feelings. Dismissive of emotional factors and relying only on sound math and logic. In the other corner, we have Kirk. Impulsive. RECKLESS. Goes with his gut. Don't you see what's really going on here? Spock is Ken Tremendous: a SABREMETRICIAN OF INTERPLANETARY WARFARE. And Kirk is Buzz Bissinger, and the Romulans really piss the shit out of him. And Bones is Murray Chass.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"My parents won't let me use scissors!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Nina Senicar. (NSFWCC) She's foreign.
-For the gals: Pro surfer Kelly Slater. Pfft. What's he got that I don't besides a toned body, tremendous athletic ability, and a natural kinship with the sea?

Enjoy the games, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving. Drive safely.

No time to waste this week, everyone. We're a mere week away from THANKSFUCKINGIVING, and I'm about to blow my stuffing.

Just a couple weeks ago, we had a pre-Thanksgiving at my in-laws. Everyone came over early on Sunday afternoon. There were appetizers out on the table, including chips and beer and what not. And my wife's mom made meatloaf and two kinds of potatoes and all this cool shit. It wasn't quite Thanksgiving. But it was juuust close enough in resemblance to be fucking awesome, and to get me jazzed for the real deal. And there was football on. AND BEER. Best of all, there were grandparents around to look after the goddamn kids, so I could go watch football uninterrupted. If you have kids, you know how important having an extra pair of hands around is. I'd let Charles Manson into my home if he agreed to look after the kid for ten minutes. I tell you, it's BLISS.

Anyway, I highly recommend the pre-Thanksgiving to all of you with family close by. Now, onto the Jamboroo.

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

Five Throwgasms

Jets at Patriots: By now, the Belichick fourth down gamble has been dissected from every angle possible, and the consensus is that A) Mathematically speaking, he was right to go for it, and B) He did a shitty job burning timeouts prior to the play, leaving him unable to challenge the Faulk catch. So he made a good call, but he doesn't get completely off the hook for it. While I delight in any failure Belichick experiences in his life, it's sad to know that future coaches will encounter similar situations somewhere down the line, remember the heat Belichick took, and decide to punt the ball.

That blows, because there's nothing more exciting than plays like that one, where the coach decides to say FUCK IT and goes for the win. What Belichick did wasn't all that different from a coach deciding to go for two at the end of a game, instead of kicking the PAT to send the game into overtime. Tom Osborne did that eons ago against Miami in the 1984 Orange Bowl, and failed. Mike Tice and Mike Shanahan both did it in the NFL this decade, and succeeded (NOTE: Tice's call came in the midst of a losing season, with no playoff berth at stake). All three of those coaches, even Osborne, got respect for their decisions. Belichick is taking more heat, because he's an asshole. But I appreciate that asshole for making things pretty interesting. Too bad he'll be the last coach to ever try it.

This game is the best late game on Sunday. If you're like me, you enjoy falling asleep right around the half of any 4:15 game and waking up sometime shortly after the fourth quarter has started. There's nothing like that post nap feeling, where you wake up on the couch, and you're under a blanket, and everything is warm and comfy. It's a delight. You usually have to go piss, but you don't want to because you're so snug and happy. Sometimes, you fall BACK asleep, for the double nap. Double naps rule.

Sometimes, I fall asleep during the 4:15 game and wake up right during the local news update at the half, which completely confuses me. What happened? Is the game already over? Is it 11PM? WHAT YEAR IS THIS?!

Chargers at Broncos: You know who'd be a kickass phone sex operator? That Barefoot Contessa lady. Sure, she's an uppity Hamptons cunt, but she's definitely got that Kathleen Turner phone sex operator voice. FLINTY. Oh, I'll make outrageous brownies with you, all right.

Also, NO MORE BYE WEEKS! FUCK YEAH! We made it! Nothing but wall-to-wall sixteen game weekends for the next month and a half. Enjoy it everyone, because it always ends much sooner than you'd like. THE ONGOING MARCH OF TIME BLOWS.

Colts at Ravens: Rich Eisen called it two weeks ago. Ed Reed refuses to run back an interception without lateraling. It's awesome. He's the best lateraler the game has ever seen. Apologies to Frank Wycheck.

Four Throwgasms

Falcons at Giants: I keep seeing ads for Tori Amos' Christmas album. That is the world's most unlikely artist to ever release a Christmas album. Even a Cat Stevens Christmas album would be less surprising. I know Dylan has one out now, but that's NOTHING compared to the idea of Tori Amos doing a Christmas album. I swear the ads for it look like an SNL sketch. Here are some of the song titles from the album.

-"A Silent Night With You"
-"Candle: Conventry Carol"
-"Merry Christmas. I Was Raped."

Three Throwgasms

Titans at Texans: It's not completely insane to think the Titans could end up running the table. They could beat Indy and San Diego, the two toughest teams they have left. Chris Johnson is laying waste to everything in sight right now. And the defense is solid now that Cortland Finnegan is back. When he was out, the Titans lost three games by an average of 33 points. GOD BLESS THAT FEISTY LITTLE FRECKLED BLACK IRISHMAN.

Dolphins at Panthers: Winner gets to .500! Tonight! Neat!

49ers at Packers: I still don't know what Mike Singletary's job is in that Verizon ad. Is he trying to direct the mob? Because he's failing. NEIL PATRICK HARRIS JUST BLEW RIGHT BY YOU, GOD BOY.

Eagles at Bears: I said earlier this week that I get weirded out when people do cocaine in front of me. Know what else freaks me out? Coke pinkies. You know the ones. Those slimy guys who grow one pinky nail extra long so they can use it as a coke spoon? That's creepy as shit. Sometimes you see that coke pinky on a cab driver, and you know he's about to run twelve red lights.

Two Throwgasms

Redskins at Cowboys: The only thing more boring than when the Redskins lose is when they win. DC people are somewhat happy. No signs are confiscated. No one's threatening to jam a fork into Snyder's asshole. Everyone gets excited because Portis finally got hurt. BORING.

Earlier this year, Jay Mariotti, who is retarded, castigated Tony Romo for wearing his hat backwards. He considered this a sign that Romo took far too casual an attitude towards his performances. This is, of course, an idiotic line of reasoning. HOWEVER, it should be noted that, last week, after losing to Green Bay, Romo wore a newsboy cap to his press conference. I don't care if you're fucking Obama, seeing any man in a newsboy cap makes me want to kick them in the face.

Bills at Jaguars: Congratulations to Dick Jauron for winning this year's First Coach Fired pool. Now he can go back to being dead. Which team will exhume him for d-coordinator duties next year? You'll just have to find out!

Seahawks at Vikings: During the Lions-Vikings telecast last week, they cut to a lady in the stands holding up a sign that said YOU BRETTCHA. Guhhhhhhh. STOP MAKING ME ASHAMED TO LIKE MY OWN TEAM, YOU HARPY.

One Throwgasm

Steelers at Chiefs: The Steelers have allowed a return touchdown in seven straight games. HOLY SHIT!

By the way, it's nice to see that Ben Roethlisberger maintains the exact same haircut schedule I had in college. He shaves his head, then lets it grow out until he's got little hairwings sprouting up all underneath his hat, then he has his friend do the number 2 cut on him again. It's the biannual haircut schedule. It's getting long again now. You can see the wisps sticking out under his helmet. His mom is totally gonna make him cut it. I swear to you, in about a week or so, he'll shave it all off, and his mom will get mad and say, "Why can't you get a NORMAL haircut? At a damn barbershop? Why do you always let your friends butcher you like this?"

Bengals at Raiders: The Raiders play in one of those stadiums where somehow half the field is in scorching bright daylight all game long, and the other half is in pitch black, I-have-lost-all-depth-perception darkness all game long. Cincy's home field is that way, too. I swear, you could go blind watching games on TV played in these stadiums. One second, Ocho is running through the dark part of the field, then he cuts, and your eyes follow him, and BOOM! Your eyeballs melt into your fucking skull. We need more dome teams. We really do. This is far too much sunlight for my tastes.

Browns at Lions: There are a lot of GEICO ads on during these games, and they always end with the tag, "15 minutes could save you 15% or more on car insurance." Have you ever been on a phone with a company for fifteen minutes? It's anguish. Two minutes on hold, and I'm ready to throw the receiver against the fucking wall. It's so not worth saving 15% for that.

Saints at Bucs: From Mr. KOGOD comes the genius that is HIGHDEAS, the website that catalogs good ideas you have while you're high.

…Arby's specialize in Roast Beef sandwiches, Roast Beef, R B, Are Bee, Arby's, seriously I hope I blow at least 1000 minds with this one…

… i think it would be hella cool if people could slither around like a snake then when u lyin down on the couch after smokin and want sumfin but dont wanna get up u could just slither around…

…Wouldn't it be a great highDEA if Sarah Palin went parasailing and thereby and henceforth changed the name of the activity to be called "Parah sailin" forevermore?…

Indeed. When I used to get high, I used to think about smoking different foods. I envisioned finding a way to smoke chili, by wrapping it in cheesecloth bag and hanging it in a smokehouse. I was determined to have it canned and sell it and everything. AND I was going to make hot dog chili. Chili comprised entirely of hot dog meat. SMOKED.

I never really developed a business model for this. But it sounded AWESOME when I thought of it.

Cardinals at Rams

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

"Step Out," by Oasis. I hate the fact that I like Oasis. The Gallagher brothers are the two biggest assholes on Earth, without any charm to redeem them. They sample more than Diddy (The chorus to this song is lifted from "Uptight" by Stevie Wonder). And they haven't made a decent full album in 14 years. Also, they broke up for the millionth time this summer. They're immensely irritating people, and I hated them with every fiber of my being when "Wonderwall" hit back in the 90's. And yet, I'm now powerless to resist them. Everyone has a band they hated at first, and then came to obsess over. Oasis is mine. Stupid Noel and Liam. YOU RUINED PATSY KENSIT'S PERFECT BOOBS, LIAM.

Back when she was pregnant with our first kid, I took my wife to an Oasis show. It was so loud, she thought the sonic vibrations were going to cause her to have a miscarriage. She didn't, of course. But I like the idea of a band being loud enough to eject a fetus from my wife's body five months in advance. That would fucking rock.

Embarassing Album I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

"Heart," by Heart. I had both this album and "Bad Animals," the one that had "Alone" on it. I remember when MTV used to count down the top 100 videos of all time. Every year, they'd switch up the top of the order just for shits and giggles. "Thriller" was usually #1, but I swear that there was a year when "These Dreams" took over the summit. That video looks retarded now. But back in the 80‘s, it was the coolest fucking thing I'd ever seen. HEXAGONAL DRUMS, PEOPLE. Still a good song.

There was a classical music station I used to listen to a long time ago. They used to play "Magic Man" every goddamn hour. I swear, that song is 35 minutes long. If you were unlucky, they'd also throw "Barracuda" into the mix with it. OOOOOH, BARRACUDA! I never need to hear those two songs ever again ever.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Your debilitating cocaine addiction, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
I have to put Maurice Jones-Drew here, because surely his kneel-down at the one cost at least one person out there a fantasy game. But MJD has been a monster all season long, and he only knelt at the one because Eddie Money ordered him to. So really, it's Del Rio that deserves your scorn if he cost you the game last week. Stupid Del Rio. YOUR BRILLIANT STRATEGY MAY HAVE COST PEOPLE LIVES, YOU FUCK.

It would have been spectacularly amusing if the Jags had ended up missing that winning field goal, or having it blocked. You'd fully expect that sort of thing to happen to Jack Del Rio. In fact, it's a bizarre world where Del Rio's controversial strategy prevails and Belichick's fails spectacularly.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of the Jets was incorrect, making me 8-2 on the year. That puts the Jets, Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, 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? Pittsburgh, and child car seats. They air ads now suggesting that all children must sit in booster car seats until they are 4'9". FOUR FOOT FUCKING NINE. There are Costases who never grow that high. It's completely out of control. I gotta keep a fucking booster seat in my car until my fucking kid is 15? And take it with us any time we travel? That's insane. I swear to you, 80% of your time being a dad consists of installing and uninstalling car seats. And adjusting the strap height, too. THE FUCKING BUCKLE ALWAYS FALLS INTO THE CREVICE. Stupid kids. Next time, I'm adopting an 18-year-old.

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 Jets getting 10.5 points against New England on the road. I see Sarah Palin had a book come out this week. I like that lady. She embodies the hard-working, down home white folk that helped make America what it is today. Also, I'd finfuck her until her hair fell out."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-4. Oooh, and check out KOGOD's link to the Fuck Yeah Sharks Tumblr. And Ufford has a link to NAZI DINOSAURS! NAZI FUCKING DINOSAURS! NAZI SHARK VS. NAZI DINOSAUR – WHO YA GOT?

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was J. Mullins. He gets free rant space here:

I'm getting married on Nov. 14. As this posts I'm sitting on a beach in Mexico happy that I don't have to care if I can't watch the Bears get rolled by the Eagles Sunday. Fuck you Lovie Smith. And Jerry Angelo...some fucking talent this team has. Cutler might die b/c of this O-line. There's more holes in this Cover-2 than the number of f-bombs in a Jambaroo column. It's not a post Super Bowl loss hangover anymore...it's just pathetic. But at least I'm happily married. Now where's my turkey and pumpkin pie? Happy Thanksgiving to the rest of you assholes!

Awww, new love. He has NO FUCKING CLUE what's coming. This week's Pants Party winner was J. Ramirez. J. Ramirez, come and claim your prize. No, it's not permanent amnesty to the US. HEY-O!!!!

Great Moments In Poop History
Reader Dave chimes in with a story I call, "Poopy Hour":

A few years ago, I had gone out for a happy hour with some co-workers right after work, and then gone shopping for some clothes (rest assured, this is relevant). I had a few Guinnesses and your usual greasy bar fare. The next morning I had a bit of a hangover, but nothing that a cup of strong black coffee couldn't cure. I get into work, grab a cup of coffee and a bacon egg and cheese sandwich. After I finish, I sense the rumblings of a massive Guinness/Bar Grease/Coffee/Bacon shit in the pit of my stomach. I had nothing to read so I grab my Palm Pilot and proceed to the handicapped stall.

The shit's flowing nicely, I'm reading the news on my Palm when I drop it. It skids across to the next stall, and I get up fast with my pants still around my ankles to retrieve my Palm. Unbeknownst to me, a huge glop of shit had fallen on the floor when I got up. The back of my pants dropped right into that big glop of shit. Motherfucker!!

I carefully took them off and hung them up on the door. I emptied about half the toilet paper roll to clean up the shit on the floor and even from the tile grout. I put my pants back on carefully and started to clean them up with water and soap. This only sank the shit further into my pants. What made it worse was that a guy next to me was washing his hands and looking at me strangely. I just averted my eyes and kept cleaning my pants. They still stank, and I had a full day of work ahead of me. I remembered that I had bought some pants the night before and they were still sitting in the trunk of my car. I walked outside with my back to the wall so that no one could see the massive shit stain on my pants.

As soon as I walk out the door, there's about 10 people smoking and staring at my odd behavior. I ran to the parking garage got a pair of pants from the trunk of my car, ripped the labels off, sat crouched in the passenger seat, took off my dirty pants and boxers and sat down to change when all of a sudden something buzzed up against my ass, causing me to jump so high as to nearly knock myself out on the roof of my car. Turns out I left my fucking shaver (yeah I drive and shave) on the seat and sat on it, causing it to take a clump off my buttcheek hair. Finally, I got my new pants on, sans any underwear, sat back down on the fucking shaver once more causing it to buzz my ass again. I nearly fucking broke my window, cursing at everyone and anyone for how my day started.

Dude, never use an electric shaver. Ever.

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
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher
Dick Jauron – FIRED!
Todd Haley
Lovie Smith
Andy Reid
Mike McCarthy

We welcome Mike "Beaver" McCarthy to the chopping block a week too late. Still, despite beating Dallas, he belongs here for trying to challenge a call when he had no challenges left. And he wasn't penalized! You can get away with such things when Jeff Triplette is on duty.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Cereal! I'm 33 years old, and I still put sugar on my cereal if it's not sweet enough for my liking. Rice Krispies. Corn Flakes. Plain Cheerios. I sugar all of those fuckers. At least two spoonfuls. The best part of it is when you finish the cereal, and you dredge the bottom of the bowl with your spoon, and there's some sugar left. You can see the little mound of it on the end of your spoon. That sugar is fucking delicious. Mmmmm, milky sugar.

Yes, I had a cavity filled last week. Why do you ask?

My mom used to give me those small travel boxes of Apple Jacks and other cereals with me to school. The variety packs you buy in the store for kids. You get about half a cup of cereal in those things. It's never enough.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Tell! Official cheap beer of Switzerland! Reader Brad writes in:

Now that you have entered the international sphere for you cheap beer of the week, I nominate Coop brand beers. Coop is one of two major supermarket chains in Switzerland, and its beer selection is clearly superior to the competition. All of them are 50cl, or just bigger than your standard tall boy. My personal favorite was the Tell brand, promoting Swiss national hero William Tell.

When you are a college student studying abroad in Geneva, the world's most expensive city, getting drunk on the cheap is THE priority. A sixer of Tell would go for the equivalent of $4. They also had 80 proof liquors, branded as "Gin," "Vodka," and "Rum." Best part, they were normally mislabeled. It was like playing Russian roulette when buying handles. So the normal night consisted of downing a couple shots of mystery booze, a bottle of cooking wine ($1.50), and a sixer of Tell.

Geneva is also the place I became acquainted with the Backdraft shot. It involves the inhaling of alcohol vapor, which is a required part of hitting on 17-year-old Swiss lesbians in bars.

Let's see you find information that useful in a REAL travel guide. Suck it, Fodor! Also, I've been to Switzerland. Brad is right. Not only is it the most expensive place in the universe, it's also the dullest.

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 this year is Peyton Manning of the Colts! All alone now! Cock of the walk! Top of the heap! Now, let me tell you about the time I had sex with Linda Evans on top of a mountain in Aspen back in '81. I had my Filipino assistant, Sammy, lay out a twelve-course meal at the top of the slope. Caviar? You bet! Antelope liver? Sure, why not. I also told the gondola operator to stop the ride midway up the mountain! When our little gondola froze in the middle of the night, Linda turned to me and said, ‘You planned this, didn't you, Evans?' And I said BABY, YOUR DAMN RIGHT EVANS DID. Let me tell you something, Evans and Evans made that gondola SWING that night! Damn near made the thing leap off the cable! By the time I gave the signal to start the ride again, we could have eaten fifty courses! That's Aspen in a nutshell for you. Glamorous? YOU KNOW IT! Sex in mid air with one of TV's great dames? Damn straight."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Duplicity. I don't think I've ever seen a Julia Roberts movie where Julia Roberts doesn't play I character I want to knee in the tits.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Stupid fly! YOU GO SQUISH NOW!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: KOGOD brings us this gallery of extreme body painting. (NSFWCC) It's nerd sexy.
-For the gals: Sexy Ryan Gosling. I fucked hated that Half Nelson movie.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

This is a very brief message to a very specific set of individuals, namely junior high school, high school and college offensive linemen. Do you play offensive line? Stop. STOP. Quit. Give up. Unless you're good enough to get a free ride and/or a pro contract, you shouldn't play offensive line. Ever. You should demand a position switch to defensive line, or you should quit football and play something else that's fun and awesome.

I don't need to tell you that offensive line is the right field of football positions. You get thrown there if you're too fat and slow to play any other position. And yet, countless newbie offensive linemen in America are being brainwashed by coaches as we speak. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. These coaches are telling them that playing offensive line is awesome. When you play o-line, all coaches feed you the same line of bullshit about why what you do is so cool:

1. "You get to hit someone on every play!"

This is somewhat true, but you don't get to TACKLE anyone. If you're lucky, you get to catch someone napping and pancake the shit out of them. Otherwise, you don't get to hit people. You get to PUSH them. Or attempt to push them, only to slide off their bodies and fall awkwardly to the ground, at which point your hands get cleated. You don't get to hit someone, wrap your arms around them, and throw them to the turf like the bastards that they are. THAT is satisfying. Blocking people is not.

2. "You are the heart and soul of this team!"

Again, LIES. The one crazy freak athlete you had on your high school team (and most every high school team has one) who would return five punts a game for TD's? THAT guy was the heart and soul of the team. You are interchangeable assholes.

3. "The offensive line is a brotherhood."

Big deal. So is the Lion's Club. At least I won't lose a fingernail when I join their outfit.

Young athletes of today, I'm here today to tell you that offensive is the least enjoyable, least gratifying position in any sport ever. Even the right fielder gets to bat. At least hockey goalies get cool masks. Offensive linemen do nothing cool. You would never play offensive line recreationally. Ever. It blows. There's a reason wide receivers always have to be reminded to block, and that's because blocking is boring and shitty. You can't fully use your hands if you're an o-lineman, which makes you the lone football player who has to act like a soccer player. You never get to touch the ball, or score. You never get to sack the QB. All you get to do is push people, or blow your assignment and get yelled at. You are the fucking extra in the movie.

Many offensive linemen are conditioned to sneer at skill position players, calling them prima donnas and glory hogs. This is because skill position players get to have fun. SHITLOADS OF FUN. If you were a gifted athlete, and you could play guard and quarterback with equal skill, which position would you prefer to play? It's not even a debate. I have no evidence to back this up, but IT'S A FACT: 95% of all offensive linemen, professional or not, don't like playing offensive line.

I am biased here, of course, because I played offensive line for ten years, and I sucked at it. Sucked HARD. I do not know why I played for so long. I really don't. I never played. I rode the bench the whole time. I liked the idea of being a football player than I did actually playing the game, and that's never good. I quit my college football team before my senior year, and my senior year was a GLORIOUS affair, filled with beer and Mario64 and actual hooking up with girls. No more three-hour practices for me! I've got boobs to fondle! I spent my entire senior year pissed at myself that I didn't quit playing football sooner. Now I've got two back surgeries to my name, and I look like an asshole when I walk.

Now, maybe some of you young offensive lineman out there really love it, and are truly passionate about playing the position. My congratulations to all three of you. For the rest of you stuck playing offensive line, QUIT. You aren't a pussy if you quit. You aren't letting your team down. You are walking away from playing a position whose crushed-fingers-to-fun ratio is off the fucking charts. Give it up. Go play soccer, or rugby, or some other sport where you get to run around, have fun, and do cool stuff. Or play NO sports at all. Smoke weed. Did you know I didn't start smoking weed regularly until senior year? IDIOT! HOW COULD I BE THAT SHORT-SIGHTED? Weed is awesome!

Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't spend every fall of your youth trapped on a soaking wet field doing duck walk drills and foot chopping exercises. Offensive line is the chain gang of sports. You are in a PRISON. Quit. Leave. ESCAPE. Go enjoy yourself. LIVE, DAMMIT! Don't waste away on an offensive line. It's totally for suckers.

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

Five Throwgasms

Pats at Colts: The day he retires, shouldn't the Colts fire whoever is their head coach and just make Peyton the head coach? He's more prepared than 98% of the league's coaches. The guy is a fucking savant. He could engineer Russian nuclear missile subs at this point. Hell, he's already the de facto head coach of this Indy team. At the very least, I'd hire him to be an offensive coordinator immediately. I'm telling you, you may as well quit fighting against having Peyton Manning as a constant fixture in your NFL viewing life. He'll be around forever.

Bengals at Steelers: I was watching the 5,000 ads for that Droid phone they keep pimping during games, and I noticed that, in the legal copy, there was this disclaimer:

"DROID is a registered trademark of LucasFilm Ltd."

So, Verizon paid George Lucas untold shitloads of cash for the right to name their phone the Droid. I'm always in favor of someone taking money from Verizon, but that's amazing. George Lucas is such a cash whore, he trademarked a single fucking word and made a mint off of it. He didn't even have to lift a finger, or create some sort of CG jive-talking eel to do it. I don't whether to be in awe, or to go spit on the fucker's house.

Four Throwgasms

Eagles at Chargers: I bought my wife "Twilight" for her birthday. Big mistake. HUGE mistake.

Three Throwgasms

Bears at 49ers: It's your Thursday Night game with Matt Millen. GAHHHHH MATT MILLEN NOOOOOOO! I've heard Millen call a couple college games this year. He's been okay, I guess. But still, you sit there listening to him, and the whole time, your brain is saying, "HOLY FUCK. IT'S MATT MILLEN, THE LOSINGEST LOSER IN THE HISTORY OF LOSING. AND THEY'RE PAYING HIM TO TALK! WHAT THE FUCK?" It's weird. It's distracting. It's like he broadcasts the entire game with his dick sticking out of his fly.

By the way, NFL scholar and very serious person Gregg Easterbrook wrote this week that the 49ers are now losing because they signed Michael Crabtree.

Beware the Crabtree Curse! San Francisco opened the season 3-1, with its sole loss to powerhouse Minnesota on the game's final snap. Since signing Michael Crabtree, San Francisco has lost four straight — the Niners just rolled over at home against the Titans, who came into the contest 1-6. Coach Mike Singletary had San Francisco's players buying into the notion that no one's bigger than the team. Then, suddenly, you can jerk San Francisco around all you want and get $17 million guaranteed as your reward. San Francisco management's cave-in to the me-first Crabtree triggered an instant losing streak, by communicating to other 49ers the message that the team-first stuff was always just empty talk. Caving in to Crabtree may cost the Niners their season.

Really, Gregg? Does Michael Crabtree play quarterback? Or defense? Because the 49ers are horrible at defense, particularly pass defense. What should the Niners have done, Gregg? NOT signed Crabtree at a reasonable level and lose their draft pick? When Crabtree decided to end his holdout because he desperately WANTED to play? And how were the 49ers abandoning team-first principles when they refused to capitulate to the high salary demands of an individual player? Isn't making sure you sign a talented player without busting your cap EXACTLY a team-first thing to do? And isn't it a smart, team-first move to welcome the guy with open arms, rather than treating him like a fucking leper and holding an endless grudge when he arrives? Oh my God, paying a player $17 million RUINS chemistry! Payroll discrepancies never happen on other NFL teams!

Easterbrook says Crabtree ruined the 49ers with "waves of negativity". OH NO! THE NEGATIVE WAVES! I CAN'T SEE THEM, BUT THEY'RE DISRUPTING OUR PRECIOUS AURAS!

Keep in mind: Gregg Easterbrook has used his column to urge everyone to go to church, and to urge people to never leave the house after midnight because bad things happen. Also, he plays poker with Nazi Shark twice a week. He's a fucking idiot. And verily the Dick Joke God chortled at that pretentious dicksmack.

Falcons at Panthers: Thanks God Mike Smith punched someone. Now he finally has a distinguishing characteristic. Mike Smith? Who? Oh, you mean the Mike Smith who tried to punch out DeAngelo Hall? Oh, he's cool.

Cowboys at Packers

Two Throwgasms

Seahawks at Cardinals: YOU WEREN'T MAN ENOUGH, KEN WHISENHUNT. For real, Anquan Boldin played for the Cardinals with STEEL PLATES IN HIS FUCKING FACE, and no one can bother to tell him he's been deactivated? That's semi-Haleyesque.

Jaguars at Jets: Before we get to this week's poop story below, a quick one of my own. I had to wake up to feed my kid at 6AM earlier this week. I got up and got out of bed. It was still dark outside. I went downstairs to make the bottle, and I fed my kid. All in the dark. Before I got back into bed, I realized I had to take a shit badly. So I head to the john, fart, and sit down to take a shit. I got up and put my boxers back on. They were wet all in the bottom, which was weird. I figured I pissed on them somehow, so I chucked them in the hamper, threw on a new pair, and went back to bed.

One hour later, I wake up and it's light outside. I go to the bathroom. There's liquid SHIT all over the bathroom floor. I freak. I run to the hamper and check the boxers I removed. They're drenched in liquid poop. I check the sheets. Poop. Poopy water everywhere, and I have no idea how it happened. I sat down to shit. My asshole was centered over the toilet. How did all this poopy water get all over the place?

So I'm sitting there later that night, eating dinner with the Mrs. When suddenly, in the middle of the meal, I cry out:

THE FART! I MUST HAVE SHIT STANDING UP WHILE FARTING! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW! I AM MONK!

She never finished dinner. Oh, and that story reminds me of the Jaguars.

Bills at Titans

One Throwgasm

Saints at Rams: Okay, so our Asshole Coach Digest got off to a rocky start with this whole Pat Murphy fiasco. But I'll be damned if I give up on a good idea. This week, we got flooded with story after story from poor souls who were terrorized in their youth by asshole, scumbag coaches WHO WILL REMAIN NAMELESS FROM NOW ON AND WERE DEFINITELY NOT PAT MURPHY, WHO IS A LOVELY MAN. Here's one example, from Nick:

Middle School, so like 8th grade. All wanna-be football players are gathered to sign up. Coach calls us down one by one to fill out our names, address, etc. I get down there and he asks my position. I say o-line. He head-butts me. No helmet or anything. Just grabs my head (hand on each temple) and slams his forehead into mine. Still not sure why.

Or THIS one, from apostles03:

I'm older than most Deadspinners, and physical abuse from coaches and teachers was tolerated a lot more when I was a kid than it is nowadays. We had a head coach in my high school program back in the early ‘80's who wore a whistle around his neck, secured by a leather cord. When he got especially pissed off about something, he would take the whistles off of his neck and literally whip a kid with the cord-often he would hit the shoulder pads, but on many occasions he struck the neck or the exposed back/stomach under a practice jersey. This happened maybe every other practice, at least once, to some poor kid.

I personally had to hide welts from my parents or lie about how I got a mark on my back because I didn't want to have to quit football. My parents never found out, but I'm sure some other parents knew. However, nothing was ever done about it.

One guy (an offensive guard) got hit so many times we called him "Toby". Think of the scene from Alex Haley's "Roots." 80's humor! Slap me five!

I'd sure like to whip his old carcass with a leather cord one time before he dies.

You see? Headbutts? Whippings? We can't let these stories go untold! More responsibly reported and safely anonymous emails on Monday.

Ravens at Browns: Good God. This is the Monday Night game? Holy shit, this is awful. It's rare you see a sporting event that could be ENHANCED by Chris Berman talking at the half.

Chiefs at Raiders: My mailman looks like Tom Cable. EXACTLY like him, right down to the constant sweating. And he delivers the mail the exact same way I would imagine Tom Cable delivering the mail. He just jams that shit into the slot as brusquely as humanly possible. He could give two shits if anything tears or folds. He just rapes the hell out of our mail slot. I really need to buy a mailbox.

Bucs at Dolphins: Our own Will Leitch wrote a rather pleasant and complimentary piece on Bill Simmons this week. I don't disagree with most of what Will wrote. Simmons absolutely created a new style and made old-school sports columnists instantly obsolete. I used to read him compulsively and still read most anything he writes about football or basketball. But I will tell you this: Underneath it all, Simmons still has the same DNA as the Mariottis of the world: thin skin, a steadfast belief that he's a genius when it comes to all things sports-related, bad nicknames for people (Dumbleavy? Really?), and a very small well of repeated joke memes. His voice was completely new and refreshing, but the message is often the same as the old guard. "These coaches don't know what they're doing!" "I told you something I predicted would come to pass!" There's still that self-lionization. And that's the frustrating thing about Simmons. I wish he'd leave those vestiges of the old sports writing world behind. He doesn't need them to be great. I wish he didn't always feel compelled to be the smartest asshole at the bar. Then he'd become an even greater force than he already is.

Lions at Vikings: NFL Shop always has a signature clothing pattern every year. This year, it's the "drift" pattern. Now, this is the ugliest fucking shirt I've ever seen. What is this, 1993? Jesus.

Broncos at Redskins: This game's bad. Know what's worse? A remake of "Paradise City" featuring Slash, Fergie, and B-Real of Cypress Hill.

And friend sent me this specifically to make me angry. Mission accomplished, sir. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

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

"New Fang," by Them Crooked Vultures. Josh Homme. Dave Grohl. John Paul Jones. Yep, that's my band. And you know who's not in this group? GODDAMN FUCKING FERGIE.

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

"Iesha," by Another Bad Creation. Ah, the East Coast Family. This entire group of bands fell off the face of the fucking Earth right before the turn of the century. I don't even see Boyz II Men on the nostalgia circuit. And what about that white band Michael Bivins had in one of these videos? I can't even remember their name (I thought they were in the "MotownPhilly" video, but I didn't see them). They looked like jackasses. I'm glad they never made it. Anyway, as of 2006, ABC still apparently existed. At the playyyyygrooooound…

UPDATE: Sudden Impact! Reader nvasconcelos identified them. Read more about the horribleness of Sudden Impact here.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Dark meat, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Brian Westbrook. Oh, it was only a matter of time before he showed up here, with his brutal late scratch. YOU BASTARD. Aww, what's the matter, Brian? Your poor widdle head hurt? Afraid you'll get post-concussion syndrome? YOU PUSSY. You get out there, and you get your head bashed in. OUR FINANCIAL WELFARE DEPENDS ON IT. It's too late to undo the damage now! You'll be a wreck of a human being in a decade anyway! You'll be wandering the streets naked, squeezing block of cream cheese between your hands. GET ON THAT FIELD AND DANCE, RUNNERBOY!

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Atlanta was correct, making me 8-1 on the year. That puts the Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, 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? The Jets, and Silverstar headlights. I saw an ad for these things during the game the other day. They say they're brighter, and safer for your kids and all that shit. What they don't say is that fancy headlights like these will fucking BLIND every driver on the opposite side of the road. This shit is getting ridiculous. You have to drive with sunglasses on at night now because other assholes' headlights are brighter than the surface of a fucking white dwarf.

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 Bears getting 3 points on the road against the 49ers. Hey, you lay off my poker buddy Easterbrook. Know what he calls it when you spike a one-eyed jack on the river? An EISNER. The guy's one of us."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-3. He's back on track!

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was J. Burns. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was J. Mullins. Mr. Mullins, come and claim your rant prize. If you're related to Shawn Mullins, I will punch you in the tit. Everytheeeeeng's gonna be allll right, ROCK A BYE! God, I hate that song. I bet Fergie co-wrote it.

Great Moments In Poop History
Regrettably, I said in Tuesday's mailbag that it's probably impossible for someone to clog a toilet with poop alone. Well, I was fucking WRONG. Over a dozen people emailed in to tell me about the triumphant times in which they, or a loved one, stopped up an open toilet drain with a poopy softball with the density of a neutron star. Reader Mike sends in the most harrowing tale of the bunch.

What follows is a bad story. About my mother. If you use this, please exclude my last name.

My mom gets horribly constipated. Cannot go to the bathroom more than once a week, and frequently only has "movement" once every two weeks. It's just the way she's designed, for whatever weird horrible "God is going to punish you for your parents sins" type of reason.

One day she comes out of the bathroom, beat red and crying. The toilet clogged. Well, ok mom, go get a plunger. No, like it REALLY clogged and water was overflowing, my dad, soldier that he is, goes and gets the plunger. I follow from a safe distance. Yes, the toilet is actually overflowing, and I leave the room to get towels to mop off the shit water.

About 30 seconds later as I'm looking for garbage towels to use, my Dad comes back. Direct quote: Plunger won't work, the shit is stuck, I'm gonna have to chop it up, do we have an old butcher knife? Lo and behold, my dad, in about 3 inches of my mom's shit water, had to chop of a large ball of compressed excrement of my mom's lodged directly in the exit hole of the toilet.

God only knows how she got that thing out on her own without going to emergency.

Oh, man. Butchered poop. Are you as horrified as I am? Let us huddle for warmth.

Now, for a proper poop story from reader Darrin. He calls it, "The Poopsicle."

When I was in college attending the fine Fairfield University in Connecticut (which is a terrible state filled with terrible people), we lived in large cookie-cutter townhouses during our junior and senior years. Our group being accepting and jovial drinkers, we didn't really have a problem with anyone. Except, we lived next to a set of thoroughbred guido neighbors. Orange faces, gold crosses, super spiked hair gel. These guys were born, bred, and raised on the Jersey shore. Needless to say, we hated these guys.

Fast forward to Christmas Vacation. My Canadian roommate and I were enjoying an empty campus and a full bottle of Jager. He couldn't pay for a flight home and I'm an alcoholic. We drank for 10 days straight. The digestive system of a human male simply was never meant to process ramen noodles, pizza, and liters of alcohol over a long period of time. Finally, this crested when we were playing some Xbox, and I announced a shit of epic proportions was coming. I bolted to the bathroom, and I heard my roommate leaving the house. While in the bathroom, I was working up to it, as I could feel a mammoth stampeding toward the exit when there was a knock on the bathroom door. The door then opens and a red cooler slides in, and the door closes. "The guidos left their cooler on the porch. Shit in it".

Three simply words. "Shit. In. It." I have never had more respect for someone.

So I scooted my ass forward and braced myself on the sides of the cooler. I huffed and I puffed, and I heard a loud plop. The smell was horrendous, I couldn't even breathe. I hopped back onto the toilet to clean myself, and I had to put the lid on the cooler or I wasn't going to make it. I opened the door and my roomate was half way across the room telling me how much it reaked.

I dragged the cooler back to the porch, but I just had to take a look, see what papa made. I looked down and there it was. It looked like it came from an elephant. A constipated elephant. Who hadn't shit in weeks. My roomate is now convinced that I have some sort of bowel disorder, because the evidence in the cooler was inhuman.

We waited, and we waited, and it stayed there for a month, then two. Meanwhile I had told everyone I knew, who would stealthily sneak a glimpse of the turdious maximus. But the cooler never moved. Finally, mid-February, the cooler is the middle of the common area, where it was clearly hurled a long distance, broken open, and, now resembling swamp thing, my magnificence had rolled out into the grass, still frozen in ice that had gathered in the cooler. It was now like a poop-ice sculpture, a poopsicle if you will.

Brilliant.

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
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher
Dick Jauron
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
Lovie Smith
Andy Reid

We welcome Andy Reid to the chopping block with open arms. And we take a moment to acknowledge Dallas Morning News writer Jean-Jacques Taylor, who apparently lives in some parallel universe where Philadelphians adore Andy Reid and wish him nothing but peace and rainbows. "Philadelphia trusts Reid implicitly." It does? Do you even know where Philadelphia is? Are you aware that it's located in Pennsylvania and is filled with impatient dickheads? It reminds me of this sketch.

"And do these lions eat ants?"

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Ants on a log! Do I lick the groove of the celery and then discard it, without ever actually eating the vegetable part? Fuck and yes, I do. Adults always try and get kids to get healthy shit by tossing unhealthy shit on top of it. But kids aren't stupid. Eating big chunks of celery is awful. Like biting into a roll of dental floss.

My wife bought that fucking Jessica Seinfeld cookbook, the one where you make spinach purees and shit and bake them into muffins. The kid took one sniff of the muffin and cast it overboard. Jessica Seinfeld, you can eat hog.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

TESCO! Reader Mark C. writes in:

Last week's Chinese beer selection sparked my memory of the greatest cheap beer in the world. TESCO brand beer (or "lager" if you're some fancy Englishman) is the cheap beer of the world. TESCO is the Wal-Mart of the UK. While studying in Belfast in college, another broke American college student and I were perusing the beer and wine aisle in TESCO looking for the ultimate combination of cheap and drunk. An Irish bum with an incredible dirty beard and even better accent got our attention. He grumbled "Try this shit, it will get you fucked up." It seems TESCO produces what's called "value lager." It's 91 pence (or about $1.50) for 4 pints. That's about 6 twelve-ounce beers for $1.50. Ever drank 12 beers for 3 bucks?

Discounting keg party fees? Can't say that I have. Man oh man, that is some cheap as shit stale piss. Look at those cans. It looks like jock itch spray. Mmmm, frothy jock itch spray. 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.

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is still a TIE between Drew Brees of the Saints and Peyton Manning of the Colts! I was saddened recently to hear that my good friend Denny Hopper is suffering from prostate cancer. AND WHAT A PROSTATE! Big? You bet! That puppy has churned out more Easy Riders than a Mumbai sperm bank! I spent some time with Hop in Aruba when he was directing a short film that no one has ever seen. It was called GIRL ON A ROPE. And it was about a man, played by Hop, who sucked morphine straight from the bag and kept his wife on a rope! And Hop studied for that role by sucking morphine straight from the bag and keeping his wife on a rope! For eight weeks! Dedicated? YOU BET! Crazy as Hell? Goddamn right."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

A Perfect World. This was an awesome movie. Except for the scenes with Clint Eastwood, which comprise half the movie. Cut those scenes out, and it's fucking awesome. But I didn't like the scene where Kevin Costner has the kid make mayonnaise sandwiches. And then they eat mayonnaise sandwiches. That is fucking horrible and worse than anything in the Saw films.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Come to Duff Gardens, where roaming gangs aren't a problem anymore!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Holy Taco's gallery of men staring at boobs. That's good work there, men.
-For the gals: A very shirtless Josh Duhamel. ANOTHER THING RUINED BY FERGIE.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

With apologies to the fans currently suffering in Cleveland and Oakland, this has been a banner year for quarterbacking in the NFL. Brett Favre was the Offensive Player of the Week last week after he torched the Packers for 4 TD's. But, endless Favre hype aside, you could have picked any quarterback's name out of a hat last week and probably found someone worthy of the same honor. McNabb. Flacco (he went 20 for 25). Romo. Rodgers. Even Vince Young… VINCE FUCKING YOUNG… shined last week. Every Sunday seems to bring in a new batch of banner QB performances, and if you think it's more noticeable than in years past, you might be correct.

Currently, as we cross midseason, there are SEVEN quarterbacks in the league with a QB rating of 100 or higher (Favre, Rodgers, Manning, Schaub, Brees, McNabb, Big Ben). If the season finished that way, it would be the most QB's in league history to finish with a rating that high, and by nearly double the previous record. This doesn't even count QB's like Tom Brady, Tony Romo, and Philip Rivers, all of whom are knocking on the door of a 100 passer rating and could easily end the season well above it. There are also TWELVE QBs with a passer rating of 90 or better. Again, if that number holds, it would be another league record. Here now, going back to 1999, are the number of 100-rating and 90-rating passers in the league:

2009: Seven 100-rating passers, twelve 90-rating passers
2008: 1, 9
2007: 3, 8
2006: 1, 8
2005: 2, 8
2004: 4, 11
2003: 1, 6
2002: 1, 4
2001: 1, 5
2000: 2, 7
1999: 1, 5

Going back even further, 1989 had one 100-rating passer and two 90-rating passers. 1979 had just one 90-rating passer and no one over 100. And 1969 had no quarterbacks over the 90 rating at all. Of course, quarterbacks weren't allowed to actually throw the ball back then, so that's understandable. Passing has obviously evolved over the decades. But we've been in a big passing era for a while now. Why the sudden jump?

It could simply be the rather arbitrary nature of how the passer rating stat is compiled. But a rating over 100 usually indicates that you're playing some pretty good football. Carp about McNabb being in there all you like, the guy has still has a TD-to-pick ratio of 9-to-1. He's even completing 60% of his passes! GOLD STAR FOR DONNIE!

I remember growing up that surpassing the 100 rating was a really big fucking deal. Only Joe Montana ever did it with any consistency. Then Steve Young duplicated the feat, with Troy Aikman joining him on occasion. Otherwise, a rating that high was well out of reach for most of the league's passers, and has remained that way. So why are so many QB's crashing through the ceiling right now? Why are they, in theory, killing so many defenses?

Well, the answer the league will probably give you is that the QB's are just that good. Four layers of quarterback classes are playing excellent football right now. One very old guy, Favre, is doing well. Brilliant, relatively younger veterans like Manning and Brady are also lighting it up. Then you have the Rivers/Big Ben/Manning class, one of the best in league history, followed by Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco coming of age. That's four different "generations" of QB's all together in the league at the same time, which makes for great football.

But I think something is amiss is a world where Kyle Orton has a passer rating of 95.5, and that something would be rules. Yeah, these QB's are all playing lights out, but it helps when the league has established rule after rule to help keep their jerseys clean. This year, in particular, the number of bullshit roughing the passer calls has gotten way out of hand. How many fucking horrible calls have you seen this year, where the defender was penalized simply for running into the passer just as the ball has left his hand? What's a pass rusher to do? Your job is to go kill the quarterback, and now you have no clue what's gonna get you flagged and what isn't.

I thought this was a good theory. But I posed the question of why passer ratings are improving so dramatically to two men who know football far better than I do: Aaron Schatz of Football Outsiders and Michael David Smith of FanHouse. Here is what Schatz thinks:

I don't think it has to do with rule changes, I think it has to do with changes in offensive philosophy. It's related to the rise of the spread shotgun, because…

a) Shotgun formations are more efficient than standard formations in pretty much every situation, except short-yardage (Ed. Note: Todd Haley is likely unaware of this)

b) Percentage of plays from shotgun have risen at a ridiculous rate in recent years, to the point where the team that uses shotgun the least is using it more than the league average from a few years ago

c) A lot of these passes are short — the slants, smokes, and bubble screens — which has created all-time highs for completion percentages and all-time lows for interception rates.

He's right, of course. Bubble screens account for 90% of the Redskins' playbook alone. MDS says it could also be a result of more goal line passing:

Passer rating's reliance on completion percentage yards per attempt and touchdown percentage favors those short slants from the shotgun. Also, Aaron probably has the data on this, but it seems to me that teams are throwing more in goal line situations which would increase quarterbacks' touchdown percentage — the fourth element of passer rating — as well.

So both Schatz and Smith argue that trends in the passing game have proven to conform with the elements of passer rating formula that get you the most favorable outcome, particularly of late. But that still doesn't account for why there's been such a pronounced jump only this year. And why have so many of these QB's have managed to stay so healthy? Think about it. Of the top dozen passers in the league, only McNabb has missed any significant time. Perhaps it's a result of the Brady Rule working, and quarterbacks staying healthier so they can play better? Schatz:

The change isn't dramatic in one year. Based on DVOA, anyway, passing this year is actually slightly down from a year ago. There's a bit more variation between good and bad quarterbacks, but that's in part because there's more variation between the good and bad teams. Roughing the passer calls aren't really up this year either, and I've looked — good quarterbacks don't really draw more roughing calls than bad quarterbacks. And sacks per pass attempt are actually UP in 2009, so jerseys aren't being kept clean.

Overall, I hate to say this, but this is one where the stats simply don't agree with your conjecture. I know we want to believe that this roughing the passer thing has affected QB play, because those flags are so stupid and frustrating, but it hasn't. It has just created some
stupid and frustrating flags.

Translation: "Give it up, Drew. Your theory is pointless and retarded." Fair enough. The passer rating has been manipulated by short-pass, shotgun offenses, and it isn't giving us a good tool to compare quarterbacks historically. BUT I STILL HATE THOSE STUPID AND FRUSTRATING FLAGS! I SAY THE REFS ARE JUICING THE GAME AND TURNING THIS WHOLE THING INTO A PUSSY CARNIVAL, DAMMIT. I know it in my gut!

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

Five Throwgasms

Texans at Colts: I hate you, Steve Slaton. I hate you so fucking much. Where are you from? Levittown, PA? Well, fuck that town, too. And fuck Immaculate Conception Elementary School, which you attended. Sounds like a dickhead school to me. Wikipedia says that, "Until first grade, congestion in his ears rendered Slaton completely deaf at times." Well, I wish you had STAYED deaf, you bastard. So you'd never hear your name called to come into the game and RUIN MY FUCKING LIFE WITH YOUR FUMBLING RETARDERY. Goddamn no good piece of shit. And I hate you too, Ryan Moats. I know damn well that, even though I got you off waivers, you're never going to duplicate that performance again. Fucking Texans running game. Life is shit.

Cowboys at Eagles: There was no Sunday Night game last night in deference to the World Series, and I really could have used one. I enjoy watching the World Series. But on Saturday, I swear Andy Petitte threw to first to attempt to pick off the runner at least 4,000 times. They showed a stat saying Petitte led the league in throwing to first. ANDY PETITTE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR EXCITEMENT. There's no limit on such things in baseball, which angers me. In theory, you could throw to first a billion times in a row, literally, and it would still be perfectly legal. The only thing keeping some asshole like Petitte doing it is the threat of angry fans running onto the field to knife him. And I think that should be allowed. Stop your game delay tactics, or get shivved in the goddamn ribs.

Steelers at Broncos: I can't take Jaws and Gruden anymore. I really can't. THESE GUYS… I TELL YOU WHAT… THESE GUYS WOULD BE OUTSTANDING IF I DIDN'T WANT TO RAPE THEM WITH A BACKHOE. They love every player. They never shut the fuck up. And they steadfastly refuse to say anything but the full name of every team. I tell you what, Jaws, THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS HAVE AN OUTSTANDING OFFENSE. When the NEW ORLEANS SAINTS have the ball, you know THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS ARE GONNA SCORE! It's one thing to never shorten "National Football League" to NFL, but Christ, now they're doing it with every team they cover? It's horrible. They are a fungus on my broadcast. They get louder and chattier every week. WE LIKE TO CALL ANNOUNCERS LIKE THAT JOKERS, BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL. JOKER JOKER JOKER!

And Jaws, TALK LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON. Stop fucking orating. You aren't giving a speech to the goddamn UN.

Chargers at Giants: The TV listings last week showed that BET was showing a movie called Charlie Murphy's Frankenhood. According to IMDB, Frankenhood was directed by Blaxwell Smart, and the plot centers around, "Two guys who work at a morgue enlist the services of a reanimated corpse to better their chances at a streetball tournament." There needs to be a comprehensive listing of comedic coattail riders. Charlie Murphy riding Dave Chappelle's. The Seinfeld cast riding Larry David's. You need a list like that, to warn people to stay the fuck away from any solo comedic projects done by these people. These people are like Belichick's underlings. One of my friends saw JB Smoove do stand-up in New York (jokes not written by Larry David) and left midway through.

Ravens at Bengals: Bill Barnwell of Football Outsiders DID confirm that injuries among all QB's are down this year.

Here's the number of games missed by starting QBs through Week 8 in each of the last three years:

07: 29 (Bulger 2, Delhomme 4, Garrard 1, Green 3, Jackson 3, Leinart 2, Losman 3, McCown 4, McNair 3, Pennington 1, Smith 2, Young 1)

08: 28 (Brady 6, Croyle 5, Garcia 1, Hasselbeck 3, Kitna 3, Palmer 4, Romo 2, Young 4)

09: 14 (Bulger 1, Cassel 1, Edwards 2, Hasselbeck 2, McNabb 2, Pennington 4, Stafford 2)

So then, that's a 50% drop in quarterback injuries from the first half of either of the last two seasons. Might be something to that, although there are some mitigating issues for last year (Lions were looking for an excuse to put Kitna on IR). And injury numbers from ‘06 and ‘09 are the same.

So you could take that sampling and say the Brady Rule has perhaps succeeded in reducing injuries (probably not anywhere near a big enough sample to confirm it, but whatever). But where is the fun in placing bounties on QB's if you know they can't be hurt, I ask you?

By the way, Chris Henry looks like a black version of the blue aliens from Avatar. YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE (does wacky alien sign language). That movie looks retarded.

Four Throwgasms

Dolphins at Patriots: Every time someone goes down with a head injury in the NFL, the TV cameraman will always, without fail, find a shot of a woman in the stands with her hands cupped over her mouth, in apparent shock over seeing someone injured at a football game. It's football, lady. Guys get hit. That's the point. Stop acting like you just saw Kennedy get shot.

Three Throwgasms

Panthers at Saints: I can't find a picture online, but the Saints had a mascot the other night named Mr. Saint who was just a guy wearing a fucking giant head with a massive chin. Everyone in the KSK live blog stopped and said WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? The Saints official mascot would appear to be Gumbo the Dog, who is both stupid and gay. So where did this mysterious, Lenoesque second mascot come from? I DEMAND ANSWERS.

UPDATE: TurlieGirlie comes through with a pic of Sir Saint. Baffling.

Cardinals at Bears

Two Throwgasms

Titans at 49ers

One Throwgasm

Redskins at Falcons: Brent Grimes' pick of Drew Brees on Monday Night pictured here) was the awesomest pick I've seen since Charles Woodson had that skyscraper pick against Michigan State back in '97. So cool.

Packers at Bucs: Bay of Pigs! THAT JOKE NEVER GETS OLD, BOOM!

Chiefs at Jaguars: And here, courtesy of KSK reader Tim Tebow's Girlfriend's Tits, comes a sign allegedly posted outside the Chiefs locker room. LOSERS ASSEMBLE IN SMALL GROUPS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE COACHES AND OTHER PLAYERS. WINNERS ASSEMBLE AS A TEAM AND FIND A WAY TO WIN. Just rolls off the tongue. Todd Haley is awful. Hey Todd, here's an idea: How about just cutting Larry Johnson, instead of putting up a retarded sign?

Lions at Seahawks: I keep seeing ads for the Family Guy special. Seth MacFarlane looks like a fucking douche. Semi-Donny Osmondesque.

This Week In The Browns' Collapse
Good news, Browns fans! Your team fired GM George Kokinis! Who? He was your horrible GM! But don't worry! Head coach Eric Mangini says things are totally gonna be cool now:

We felt that organizationally this was the best decision in order to move forward.

The Browns hired Mangini and then let him choose his own GM, which is like taking a piss before you lift the lid. Owner Randy Lerner is already looking for a replacement, with former Giants GM Ernie Accorsi mentioned as a candidate. According to the ever-lofty Peter King, the Browns are now eating the contracts of two GM's they fired in the span of less than a year, to the tune of tens of millions of dollars. Whoever they bring in is virtually certain to can Mangini and start fresh. This is good, until you consider just how many times Cleveland has started fresh since 1999. There were the Policy/Palmer Browns. Then the Butch Davis Browns. Then the Crennel/Savage Browns. Now they're going to start over again in record time, and they have the absolute WORST roster in the NFL, which is saying something when you consider how awful teams like Oakland and St. Louis are.

Owner Randy Lerner has already profusely apologized for the horrible losing, AND he sat down with two Browns fans this week to try and make amends.

Randall said Lerner was receptive to their ideas for improving the Browns' game-day experience at Cleveland Browns Stadium (Ed Note: I bet they wanted wider seats) and even tossed out a few of his own. Randall, who has met Lerner several times, came away impressed with the owner's passion and determination to get the Browns turned around.

The Browns' misfortunes have come at the expense of both rotten luck and bad judgment with their hirings. But at least the owner there seems to give a shit. At least he knows better than to meddle. And at least Mangini is going to be fired. It's a lot more than the lame and empty apology Dan Snyder gave to fans earlier this week. Dan will only invite you to a private meeting so he can burn your homemade sign saying HI to your cancer-riddled child.

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

"Private Hell," by Alice in Chains. God dammit, I can't stop listening to this album. Anytime I find an album I really like, I just MURDER the poor thing by listening to it 5,000 times in a row, and then never listening to it again. Anyway, great song. I can't recommend their new album enough. To think you can lose your lead singer, go on hiatus for 14 years, and come back sounding this strong is pretty badass.

Fun Fact about AIC: One the first names they had for the band was Fuck, The Band. They passed out rubbers with the band name on it at early shows.

WHO GOT THE HOOCH?!

WHO GOT THE ONLY SWEETEST THING IN THE WORLD? WHO GOT LOOOOVE, WHO GOT THE FRESHY FRESHY?!!

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Eco-friendly, waterless toilets giving you unwanted splashback, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Players That Deserve To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Matt Forte and LaDainian Tomlinson. Oh, so NOW you two fuckers decide to produce? Nice timing, assholes. I WILL CUT OFF YOUR BALLS AND POUR IODINE ON IT. By the way, every league has at least one team that has a good roster, yet for some reason gets every other team's best performance every week. So they end up 1-7 because the schedule shit all over them, despite being in the top 5 in total scoring for the year or something like that. It's happened to you, and it's happened to me, and it makes you want to poison the world's water supply. The only solution to this is to go to roto league format, but roto league formatting blows.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Chicago was correct, making me 7-1 on the year. That puts the Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, 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? Atlanta, and the advent of the Favre Cam. Obviously, the entire idea of the fucking Favre Cam was offensive last Sunday. But the more disturbing question is, who used it? Because someone surely did. Someone out there turned away from the game broadcast for a moment so they could stare at Favre on the sidelines doing nothing. What kind of person would do this? I dunno. Maybe Biloxi Jim. Or perhaps T Dizzle, who loves feet. Regardless, someone out there, bafflingly, was happy for the Favre Cam. We must find such people and gas them out of existence. You know it's the right thing to do.

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 Texans getting 9 points on the road against the Colts. I see the Republicans won big governorships on Tuesday night. You know, these constant shifts in political momentum strike me as awfully hollow. It seems to me that most Americans hate ALL politicians equally, regardless of political affiliation. They simply use the election process to kick out one party in favor of another party that they'll end up firing the next go round. The problem, then, is not that Americans choose their leaders poorly, but rather that they have set up a political system that attracts nothing but the most incompetent and arrogant people. Such a shame. Only one group of people could be the architects of a system this evil and corrupt. THE JEWS. Did you know Jews are descended from wolves? Well, they are."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-3. Hmm. Seems Nazi Shark started a cold streak at the exact same time Mr. Bill Simmons did. Coincidence, OR NAZI BETTING CONSPIRACY?

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was That Guy. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was J. Burns, who also leads the overall pool. Mr. Burns, come and claim your rant prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another steaming pile of pungent stories. This week's story comes from Matt W. I call it, "The Poopgoat":

I was in the 8th grade at a Catholic school, and I played on the CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) basketball team. You didn't have to go to the school to play on the team, so there were kids on the team from the neighborhood that weren't in my class. There were only two of us on the team that actually went to school there. During practice one night, I was struggling to hold back a poop. There was only about 40 minutes of practice left, and I thought I could wait it out until practice is over. Usually if I fight it for a few minutes, the turtle will recede into its shell, and I'm good for another hour or two. Not this time. I was struggling for the final 40 minutes of practice. Crippling stomach pains. I had to run around the court on my toes, to keep from blowing ass all over the hardwood.

Oh, I've done that. Dunno what it is about a full rectum that makes you go tip toe.

The moment practice was over, I ran to the bathroom. As I hustled from the front door of the bathroom to the first stall, I gracefully started to pull down my shorts in one fluid, graceful motion. I entered the stall, and spun around to sit down, ready for the sweet relief. Didn't go as planned. As I spun my ass toward the bowl, I relaxed my bowels a split second too soon, unleashing a torrent of loose stool across the side wall of the stall, and all over the back of the toilet and the wall behind the toilet. I destroyed that stall. Shit everywhere.

The next day at school, me and the other guy from my class that was on the team got called to the principal's office. She sat us down, and explained that someone had defecated all over the bathroom in the gym, and the 8th grade team was the only team to have practice last night. Then she just looked at us. The words hung in the air. "Someone defecated all over the gym bathroom."

My heart sank. I was found out! The jig was up! I decided I needed to confess. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by the principal. She said, "Whoever did this is a very sick individual and needs help. This person smeared their own feces all over the walls." What?? I wasn't a sick individual. I just couldn't hold it in. She continued, "I want to know if either of you saw any creepy men hanging around the gym last night, trying to talk to young boys. Because we're now on the lookout. Did you two see anything suspicious?" I was safe!! I made up a lie about seeing some shady men playing pickup games on the outside courts — suspicious looking dudes who looked like they might enjoy smearing poop in public places. The principal thanked me for keeping my eyes open for bad guys.

Not only did I avoid getting caught for pooping all over the place, but I got a fucking merit badge for vigilance.

Well done. Matt W. brings up a salient observation. If you have befouled a bathroom that is NOT yours, you will never clean up your own mess. Ever. I've never known anyone who destroyed an office or restaurant toilet and then volunteered to clean up the wreckage his or herself. Does that mean we're all horrible people? I don't think so. I think it just means we don't like cleaning up our own shit if we don't have to. It's almost a fable.

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
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher
Dick Jauron
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris
Lovie Smith

For those keeping score at home, Tom Cable has now been accused of breaking an employee's jaw AND being a serial domestic abuser. He's also a terrible coach who hasn't improved Oakland one bit. And the Raiders STILL haven't fired him. I say he test the waters even further. Perhaps blind an orphan. I wonder just what it would take for Cable to be fired, given that no one else would ever want his horrible job.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

M&M's! You know, they say the milk chocolate melts in your mouth, and not in your hand. And that's all well and good. But they don't say SHIT about the dye from the shell getting on your hands. As a card-carrying member of the sweaty-palmed, I can assure you the shell DOES melt in your hands. Especially if I hold a handful of M&M's for longer than five seconds. After that, it looks like I just smacked a clown.

Ever get those mint M&M's during the holidays? I could eat a barrel of those. I tried ranking the four main M&M varieties for today (plain, peanut, peanut butter, and dark), but it's impossible. It's like choosing a favorite child. I can't put the peanut butter ones last. Peanut butter M&M's are unreal.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week
I'm awash in obscure cheap beer, and I couldn't be happier. Longtime DS commenter Silky JohnSTON! brings us the Chinese malted beverage sensation known as… REEB!

Here is my favorite beer of all time: REEB. It's sold in China, and when I went there with my brother for a trip, as we walked the grocery store aisles for food that looked like it came from a "mainstream" animal or processing plant, we saw it, in between tanks of live horseshoe crabs for sale. Never mind the fact that most people in China don't speak English and wouldn't get the joke if it was just called "Beer", but they had to go and put it in reverse!

Easily the top booze highlight of the trip, more so that seeing the bottle of Ukranian Wheat vodka (just threw up a little in my mouth) we had one night at the club. Anyway, hope it entertains you as much as it did me.

Indeed it does. I also liked the use of the phrase "mainstream animals". If you're in an alleyway eating dog steak, you are 100% indie, people.

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 this year is a TIE between Drew Brees of the Saints and Peyton Manning of the Colts! I heard Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are hosting this year's Oscars, and I consider both men dear, dear friends. Smart? YOU BET! Crazy after a bottle of Grappa? LIKE WILD BABOONS! In his autobiography, Stevie laid out some precious advice: Don't ask the waitress for her number the first time you go to the restaurant. Get it when you COME BACK the next go round. Sound advice, baby. And that's why Evans gets a little EXTRA service every time he goes drinking at the Ground Round! Thanks for the good times, Beverly, and Cindy, and Rita, and Angie, and Amber, and Kelly, and Anita, and Doris, and Tammy! And you too, Greg! Hey, sometimes you gotta try something new on the menu!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Bucs Fans

Pleasantville. I'm not actually recommending this movie. But I never got a chance to complain about this horrible piece of shit when I first saw it, so I'll do that here. Only in Hollywood would they find a way to have white characters be persecuted for being "colored". Fuck you, Gary Ross. Oh my God, the people who are in color are hip and liberated, and the people stuck in black and white are stodgy and repressed! That metaphor isn't telegraphed at all! This movie joins "The Contender" and "Dave" (also written by Gary Ross) in the category of Liberal Message Movies That Make Me Wish I Wasn't Fairly Liberal. I fucking hated this movie, and anyone who likes it is an asshole. (Even you, Roger.)

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Here at Itchy and Scratchy Land we're just as concerned about violence as you are. That's why we're always careful to show the consequences of deadly mayhem, so that we may educate as well as horrify."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: From KOGOD comes the NSFW (but kinda worth the risk) Fuck Yeah Brazilian Girls Tumblr site. Honestly, I don't know why every other country on Earth hasn't volunteered to be a colony of Brazil. Brazil should be the dominant global hegemonic power. They've earned it.
-For the gals: Actor Chace Crawford. Is he giving the double hang loose sign? What a loser.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Hey now! It's Halloween on Saturday. Always nice to see a festive holiday fall on the drunkenest day of the week. We call this Calendarial Serendipity. Just kidding. No one calls it that. That's idiotic.

Last year I took my kids trick or treating and came upon a house that was giving out full-sized candy bars. No lie. FULL FUCKING SIZE, BABY. When you're used to miniature and fun-sized candy on Halloween your whole life, seeing a full size Butterfinger in the basket is like staring at something the size of a BATTLESHIP. It's majestic and frightening all at once. No, no, no. I couldn't possibly consume a WHOLE candy bar. That would be piggish. Let me just eat an entire bag of very small portions of candy. Much healthier.

I've never had a good Halloween costume. Ever. One time, in 9th grade, I went to a friend's house dressed in a coat and tie and covered in blood, carrying an axe. I told everyone I was a stockbroker who had to pay alimony. My friend's mom told my mom. Both were highly disturbed by my choice.

Anyway, it's a kickass slate of spooooooky games for you this go round. Let's dive right in…

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

Five Throwgasms

Broncos at Ravens: Given that the Chiefs have worn the old Dallas Texans' uniforms on occasion during the AFL throwback season, AND given the Titans have busted out the old Oilers unis, shouldn't the Ravens wear the Cleveland Browns' uniforms for a home game? That would blow my fucking mind. I'd like to see them do it just to see how long it would take Cleveland fans to drive to Baltimore and begin stabbing the shit out of people. If I were a Cleveland fan, and I saw a legitimately GOOD team playing in my team's uniforms, I'd have a nervous breakdown. I'd also be curious to see how much worse the Ravens play in those getups. I have no scientific proof of this, but it's a FACT. Playing in a Browns uniform makes you 36.8% slower. And 23.4% if you're wearing a Redskins uni. Those are some slowass uniforms.

Everyone has ripped on the Broncos throwbacks of late. However, I kind of like the striped socks they use when they wear them, especially when some players decide to twist them into a spiral. So hypnotic. Reminds me of the Clock King. Also, those are total porn stockings. Slap a pair on Sandra Shine and you've got yourself a twenty-minute self-fisting video.

Vikings at Packers: Let's use this space today to pay tribute to Aaron Rodgers. Rodgers is currently the league's second rated passer, and has an impressive 11 TD's to just 2 picks. He's done all this despite being sacked more than any other passer in the NFL (25 times). Only two other QB's have been sacked more than 20 times: Jason Campbell and Matt Cassel. Both are having horrible seasons. Rodgers was sacked roughly 83 times when the Packers played the Vikings at the Metrodome. I imagine he's rather determined to make up for that showing.

Also, Rodgers looks exactly like BJ Novak. It's unnerving, especially now that he has short hair. I keep expecting him to walk off the field with a ditzy Indian girl.

In Vikings news, the Vikings announced last night that former safety Orlando Thomas died from Lou Gehrig's Disease. This made me very sad, until Thomas called people to let them know that he was, in fact, NOT dead. In fact, he was still very much alive. Let this be a lesson to the Vikings' PR Department: Only declare people dead if they aren't alive enough to protest such an announcement.

Giants at Eagles: Holy Christ, Donovan McNabb is inaccurate. He may as well throw the ball underhanded. Half the time, I think he's lawn bowling. STOP THROWING THE BALL AT THE FUCKING GROUND, MAN.

Falcons at Saints It's Halloween cheerleader week! My boner wishes it could be Halloween cheerleader week every week!

Four Throwgasms

Dolphins at Jets: Merrill Hoge testified before Congress this week about concussions. I'm told his testimony was very good. Here is a small snippet of what he said…

"Mr. Congressman, I believe that with proper funding we have an OUTSTANDING chance to prevent future concussions for athletes young and old alike. Concussions that leave them with short-term memory loss and extreme headaches. Furthermore, VINCE YOUNG KILLED STEVE MCNAIR AND HIS MISTRESS AND I CAN PROVE IT! FLORIO! KING! DON'T LET THE NASHVILLE POLICE HOODWINK YOU! THIS IS ALL VINCE YOUNG'S DOING! FOLLOW THE BLOOD! FOLLOW THE BLOOOOOD! What's happening to my vision? Everything is shaded red! I think I left something in the microwave! DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THAT NOISE? AHHHHHH! IT FEELS AS IF SOMEONE HAS PLACED A MIGHTY BOULDER UPON MY NECK! PRETZELS! GARBAGE LIDS MAKE FINE SHIELDS!"

Three Throwgasms

49ers at Colts: Enough, Pizza Hut. You aren't fooling anyone with your stupid fucking Wingstreet ads. Or those ads where you serve giant hotel pans of your horrible, overcooked pasta and supposedly real diners think it was flown in directly from Tuscany. BULLSHIT. It's bullshit and you know it. I've had your food, Pizza Hut. It's ASS. Oooh, you tricked chefs from BUFFALO that your wings are good? ZOMG! I'm stunned! I never would have guessed people from that gastronomic capital of the universe would be convinced the food you serve isn't low-grade dog food. Tom Collichio would knife you for the things you cook.

Seahawks at Cowboys: No free fried green beans from TGI Friday's if someone hits the video board this week. Also, a Wisconsin man this week tried to evade a DUI bust by claiming his BAC level was the result of eating a Jack Daniels steak at Friday's the night before. Disregarding the fact that 1) Alcohol in marinades burns off when cooked and 2) There isn't enough booze in a steak to keep your BAC level high 12 hours AFTER you've eaten it, I still like the fact that this man is arguing that any booze consumed in steak form SHOULD NOT COUNT. You can't arrest me! I was eating vodka bacon! That's legal!

Two Throwgasms

Texans at Bills: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE CAGEY DICK JAURON!

One Throwgasm

Browns at Bears: I'mma call it right now: Shanahan coaches the Bears next year. Some people think Shanahan is waiting until the end of the year to take over the Redskins, but why would he bother with that horrible job when he could come into Chicago, wrest control away from Jerry Angelo, and get to work with a quarterback he loves? It's a lock, I tell you! Lovie Smith can challenge that hiring all he likes! It won't be overturned!

Rams at Lions: You'll spend three hours wondering why the FOX robot is ALSO playing guitar. I'll never understand that. The presence of the robot is odd enough. Why is he playing the fucking guitar? And doing it behind his head? Am I supposed to be impressed? Am I supposed to hold up a lighter for him? He's a fucking cartoon.

Raiders at Chargers: Most people use Yahoo for their fantasy football league. One of the leagues I'm in uses Fleaflicker, and one of the nice touches Fleaflicker adds is that every fantasy game is broken into quarters. The 1PM games are the first quarter. The 4:15PM are the second. The Sunday Night game is the third quarter, and the Monday Night game is the fourth. On its face, this is stupid. But man, does it look fucking awesome when you outscore some asshole who has no players going in the MNF game 28-0 in the fourth quarter of box score. A DOMINANT PERFORMANCE IN THE CLUTCH!

Jaguars at Titans: How about that Sally Reese? For those that missed it, former Titans GM Floyd Reese's wife went on the radio last week to blast the team and coach Jeff Fisher.

Appearing on WGFX in Nashville (via the Nashville City Paper), Sally Reese suggested that Floyd was fired with no notice, that he was given no opportunity to clean out his office, and that his resignation letter was written by Titans senior V.P. Steve Underwood…

"He kept Jeff from getting fired two times," she said. "So if he'd let him get fired, he'd still be there. Hello? That's hindsight. But you know paybacks — can I say bitch? — payback's a bitch."

Ooh, kitten's got claws! Between this and Jeff Fisher rocking the Manning jersey last week, things have gone to shit in Tennessee at lightning speed. It's bizarre. It feels as if the entire season has slipped out of their grasp as a random twist of fate. This team was steady as a rock last year. Then they don't resign Haynesworth, blow the opener against Pittsburgh, get injuries in the secondary, and suddenly they're the Lions. They aren't that different of a team from a year ago. Yet this year, they serve as proof that sometimes, you just get shit on. You really do.

I'm at the age now where I can see a shitty day coming a mile away. By 9AM, if the kids are screaming, and I feel like shit, and I know there's a trip to the fucking post office in my future, I already KNOW to write the day off. It helps prepare me for when everything else goes wrong the rest of the day. And it does. It always does. There are entire football seasons that feel that way. The Titans are having one such season, as Seattle had last year.

Panthers at Cardinals: Delhomme is starting AGAIN! It's getting to be downright irresponsible. It's like watching the Ali-Holmes documentary on ESPN all over again. (It was really good, by the way.) How much shittier could Matt Moore or AJ Feeley be? Those two must be quadruple amputees to not get the nod over Cajun Boy. Delhomme was overthrowing receivers by MILES last week.

This Week In The Redskins' Collapse
People, you really need to start reading Dan Steinberg's blog and see the work he's doing on this Redskins calamity. I fucking hate the Skins and even I find it fascinating. This man is doing Pulitzer prize winning work. IT'S TRUE! Anyway, this week Steinberg got quotes from the Redskins head counsel, playing the role of Baghdad Bob for Dan Snyder, telling fans that all signs have been banned from FedEx Field, lest they INJURE OTHER FANS. That just about killed me.

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

"Waste of Tiamat," by High on Fire. I approve of any song that references Tiamat. I used to play Dungeons and Dragons with my brother when I was a kid. Shocking, but true. Whatever. When you're eight years old and unfamiliar with pussy, dragons are fucking badass. Anyway, I used to peruse the Monster Manual, Fiend Folio, and Dieties & Demigods manuals constantly, checking out all the picture and evil powers all the monsters had. Tiamat was the baddest bitch of the bunch. According to Wiki:

Tiamat is the five-headed queen of the evil chromatic dragons. She has one head for each customary color of chromatic dragon (black, blue, green, red, white), and each head has the powers of a member of the respective race of dragonkind.

I remember each dragon had a specific breath weapon. And wouldn't you know it, there's a D&D Wiki to refresh my memory.

Black – Acid spittle (also known as the Larry Johnson dragon)
Red – Cone of fire
Green – Cone of corrosive gas (also known as the Barney Gumble dragon)
Blue – Lightning
White – Cone of frost (also known as the Dentyne Ice dragon)

But those are not the only colored dragons in the D&D world. Far from it! There are silver dragons, bronze dragons, copper dragons, brass dragons, and even PRISMATIC dragons. That's right! RAINBOW DRAGONS! I used to pretend I was a dragon. No joke. I'd imagine myself as a giant blue dragon, hiss-talking, spitting fucking lightning bolts at those who displeased me. And now I blog for a living. Stunning turn of events. Regardless, I remember all this stupid crap fondly.

Oh, and Tiamat on the D&D Saturday morning cartoon was lame. That whole show was a fucking letdown. They could have centered the show around a chaotic evil fighter-thief who uses all his gold pieces buy more weapons and slay the shit out of everything in sight. Instead, I get a bunch of asshole kids who got stuck in some amusement park ride and just wanna go home. And Venger only had one horn. Retarded.

Embarassing Song I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

"Tears Dry On Their Own," by Amy Winehouse. Amy got a boob job this week. As the immortal flubby notes, that's akin to putting new rims on a ‘78 AMC Pacer.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? mid-fry bacon sandwich, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

LondonFAIL
In his press conference after the Pats-Bucs game in London last week, Tom Brady noted that the Wembley crowd did The Wave for ten minutes prior to the game. Roger Goodell, never give these fucking limeys a team. Ever.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Larry Johnson. Don't worry, we'll get to Matt Forte next week. But we gather today to commemorate the end of LJ's career, a career that included a grand total of two awesome seasons surrounding by nothing but FUCKING FAIL. I drafted LJ in two leagues this year. I knew it was an idiotic thing to do, and yet I did it anyway. I have no one to blame but myself. BUT THAT DOESN'T ABSOLVE YOU FROM FUCKING SUCKING, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT. God, how I loathe Larry Johnson. He was always a thin-skinned pussy, and he'll never stop being a thin-skinned pussy, regardless of how many blatantly incorrect SI puff pieces are composed in his name. THIS IS IT FOR YOU, LARRY. YOU CAN'T HURT ME ANYMORE.

/drops LJ in both leagues

God, that felt great. I've been wanting to do that since the day I drafted you. FAG.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Indy was correct, making me 6-1 on the year. That puts the Colts, Eagles, Vikings, 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? Chicago, and the Fresh Beat Band.

Oh, you'll pay for piggybacking off the High School Musical fad and turning it into programming for small children, Nickelodeon. You will pay dearly. NA NA NA NA LET'S GO BANANAS! GAHHHHHHH!!! Can't… get… perky melody… out of head…

/sticks two-bit drill into temple

Ahhhhhh…

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 Colts giving 12.5 points at home against the 49ers."

What's your Halloween costume this year, Rolf?

"Same as always. Jew Cousteau. I put on a snorkel and swim around with a gold treasure chest. Nazi orca always gets a kick out of it."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-2.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was douchenozzle22. He gets free rant space here:

Dear LA Dodgers fans,

You are the biggest collection of front-running, unknowledgeable lemmings I have ever come across. Having made the trek to LA to see Game 2 of the NLCS with 3 of my friends, we were ready for a whole bunch of shit talking directed our way, along with an occasional airborne pint of budmillercoors piss. All we got were any combination of various tenses of the words "suck," "fuck," and "Phillies" with an occasional peanut thrown in our direction. Not to mention the only time you cheered was when your piece of shit I-pod looking scoreboard told you to.

This week's winner was That Guy. That Guy, come and claim your prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another batch of slick, wet poop stories. One reader suggested we take all the poop stories and create a Deleted Stains post for Fridays. Not sure if Daulerio would be wild about that idea. Anyway, this week's story comes from Matt. I call it, "Marley And Me And Poop":

I was maybe like 13 or 14, somewhere around junior high age, and taking my dog for a walk. We lived in the Philly burbs and had a nice stretch of woods that went all the way to the river where I'd take my dog for walks. I'd had him out for maybe 10 minutes or so, and as he was taking a dump, I realized that I had to go too. It literally only took about a minute to walk back to my house but I figured I'm already in the woods so why not just take a shit there.

So I dropped my shorts and started taking a dump with my dog. Our eyes locked as we both pooped and it was a beautiful bonding moment that I'd never had with my dog before. Anyway, he finishes before I do, makes a bee line towards me as I'm still going, dives right into my turds and starts rolling around in it. Not sure what looked so attractive about them to him but I had never seen him so excited to be rolling around on the ground. He literally had shit, my shit, all over him from his head to his tail, just covered in it. It was funny at first but started to get really gross and I nearly puked.

So finally I take him home and lie to my parents and tell them that he for some reason decided to roll around in his shit. Which confused them because in the ten or so odd years the dog was alive he never had that problem. Then I laughed to myself as I watched my parents hose my crap off of our dog in the front yard for 20 minutes.

Oh man, you made your folks clean it up? You little shitty shit!

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
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher*
Dick Jauron*
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris
Lovie Smith*

I'm telling you. Shanny is measuring Lovie's windows as we speak.

Gametime Halloween Candy Of The Week

Reese's FastBreak! I worked as an account executive on the Hershey's business for an ad agency named DDB for three years at the turn of the century. Every week, we had to rent a car in Manhattan and drive out to Hershey, PA, to meet with clients about various matters of business.

When you go to a meeting at the Hershey's corporate offices, there's candy EVERYWHERE. In giant bowls when you walk in the door. At the reception desk. Lining the hallways. They have candy IN THE FUCKING FILE CABINETS FOR REFERENCE PURPOSES. There are boxes upon boxes of candy lying around in meeting rooms when they can't find anywhere else to put it. And every meeting room has a giant bowl filled to brim and above with candy. Any time the candy in the bowls leveled off – not emptied, but simply came flush with the top of the bowl – an assistant wheeled in a new, overflowing bowl to replace it. People were eating candy at 9AM or earlier. And everyone who said in the car that they wouldn't start eating candy the second they walked in the door failed.

Best of all, as the company's agency of representation, we got test product. TEST PRODUCT! FUCK YEAH! This was the candy they invented in the test kitchen and sampled among themselves to see if it was worth mass producing. One of the test products I first got to eat was FastBreak. They gave us a giant white box of the bars, all with plain white wrappers. Let me tell you something. Candy is great. But TEST PRODUCT candy fucking rules. It's new, and no one else gets to eat it but you. It's awesome. It's candy from the fucking FUTURE.

We got to brainstorm names for FastBreak as it was being developed of the market. The earliest name for it was the Reese's Peanut Butter Bar, which no one argued with. But they decided that name was too boring and wanted something more energetic. They almost named the bar Growler, which really would have been unfortunate. Instead, they named it FastBreak. Because when you think of a point guard rushing down the court to take advantage of a 3-on-2 situation, you think of peanut butter nougat and peanut butter sheathed in milk chocolate.

FastBreak was one of several different products they came up with while I worked on the account. Hershey's Bites was another one. Ever have Heath Bites? HOLY SWEET BABY MOSES, those are good. And they came out with filled Twizzlers when I was there too. They were called Twist-n-Fill, and I don't think they sell them anymore.

Any time we made the trip to Hershey, the client always let us into the company's employee store, where you can get all their candy, in bulk, for next to nothing. The store may as well have had a chocolate river flowing through with Oompa Loompas dancing around. Before we made any trip to the store, we had to go around the agency and take an inventory of any and all candy people wanted. Because there was a ton of shit in the Hershey's employee store that you couldn't get at a regular store: Zero bars, chocolate Twizzlers, watermelon Twizzlers, Cookies n Mint bars. Anything you wanted. We looted the store for everything and would bring back entire trunks of the stuff back to New York for everyone else. Whenever it was Halloween, or Christmas, or Easter, the load would double. And so the agency itself became a kind of Hershey East, with shitloads of kickass candy all over the place.

Don Draper got all the booze and stray pussy he liked. I got candy. Not terribly fair, but still. It was good candy. Man, I could go for some candy right now.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week
Reader Gabriel sends in easily the coolest terrible beer I've seen yet: Dark Horse High Gravity Ice Lager.

Sure, Beer 30 is great. The clocks on the can all point to Beer 30 time, and hey, guess what, it's always Beer 30 time. No sense in NOT having a time to get hammered. Also, the price was unbeatable, at $10 for a 30 rack.

That is until Dark Horse High Gravity Lager rammed it in the balls and took over as reigning shitty beer.

Look at this can:

Dark Horse High Gravity Lager (HIGH GRAVITY!). Note the dark horse, the lightning and the icy mountains set on a glacier in the background. Also, the gothic text. Also — for emphasis —THE FUCKING LIGHTNING. It's easily the best bang for your buck, coming in at $6 for a 24 pack. The ultimate beer for college kids who just want to get plastered.

I don't care if it says it was brewed by some horrible corporation called GJS Sales and has a deal with the Taliban to keep it so cheap. I don't care that it tastes a little metallic and gives the worst hangovers imaginable. Nor do I care that, because it's so cheap, it's unquestionably giving me dick cancer. When you're broke and need cheap beer, there is no better answer than the Dark Horse.

Gabriel is RIGHT! $6 for 24 cans? Good God, it may just be ethanol with yellow food coloring. And it's ICE brewed! For extra booziness! And that is one truly majestic can. It's like the cover of a Sword album. Well played, Gabriel. VERY well played.

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 this year is still Peyton Manning of the Colts! Polished? You bet! Accurate? Like John Toll's eye for shooting grassy fields at 5PM! Oh, Halloween. My, my, my. We've had some pretty memorable Halloween shindigs at Casa Evans over the years. One year, Ann-Margaret came to the house completely naked, save for a pendulum she hung from the folds of her womanhood. Baby, I said, what kind of costume is that? Evans, she told me, I'm a metronome. I keep you tickling my ivories in perfect time. Sassy? YOU BET!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Rams Fans

Anvil! The Story Of Anvil. Greatest movie ever? Greatest movie ever. I don't even know which part to single out. Was it Lips trying to get Thin Lizzy guy to remember him by mentioning that he used to play the guitar with a vibrator? Was it Cut Loose, the Anvil fan you see above, who looks like a mongoloid and runs a telemarketing company? Was it the fact that Robb's sister was named Droid? Was it Robb's painting of his own shit? I think it's Robb's painting of his own shit. I loved this movie and would happily watch a 36-hour cut of it.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"We have places your family can hide in peace and security: Cape Fear, Terror Lake, New Horrorfield, Screamville…"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Sexiest Woman Alive Kate Beckinsale. Kate married her "Underworld" director. And now you know why so many assholes go to film school.
-For the gals: Becky sends this link of shirtless hunk Cam Gigandet. Sexy pull-up!

Enjoy the games, everyone. Happy Halloween.

Mike Shanahan is probably coming back to coach in the NFL in 2010. Stefan Fatsis says the former Denver coach has been preparing to return to the league by watching five hours of a tape a day (I assume he spends the rest of the day felling redwoods with that mouth of his). Wherever Shanahan ends up, if he ends up in your town, do me a big favor. You walk right up to that man and punch him right in the cock.

People have bitched for years that Shanahan is anecdotally responsible for popularizing running back committees. Well, six weeks deep into this NFL season, we have empirical proof. There are only, currently, five NFL running backs averaging over 20 carries per game: Adrian Peterson, Cedric Benson, Mike Bell (who figures to drop off this list shortly), Steven Jackson, and Michael Turner. Benson leads the league with 21.2 carries per game. Over the past decade, that's the lowest average number of carries needed to lead the league.

Since 2006, there has been a dramatic decrease in the number of running backs leaguewide who get fed the ball 20 times or more per game. Here is the number of 20-carry running backs in the league year-by-year over the past decade, with the league leading carry average highlighted:

1999: 9 backs (22.1 led the league)
2000: 8 backs (25.2 led)
2001: 8 backs (22.1 led)
2002: 7 backs (23.9 led)
2003: 13 backs (24.5 led)
2004: 12 backs (24.6 led)
2005: 11 backs (24.0 led)
2006: 9 backs (26.0 led)
2007: 4 backs (21.5 led)
2008: 4 backs (23.5 led)
2009: 5 backs (22.1 led)

So, since 2006, the number of backs who usually get more than 20 carries per game has been effectively sliced in half, the workhorse back being phased out for those delightful Marion Barber/Tashard Choice/Felix Jones platoons that make you want to dunk your head in a vat of fucking battery acid.

I don't begrudge coaches for doing this. There's more than enough evidence out there to show that running a single back 5,000 times in a single season doesn't do wonders for their durability. BUT… not all running backs are made equal. For example, Emmitt Smith ran for over 20 carries a game for seven of ten seasons during the 1990's, and that doesn't even include postseason appearances. Rotating running backs in and out of the game keeps them fresh, but it also may prevent them from getting into a rhythm. Great backs like Smith were famous for getting their biggest gains as the game wore on. The three and four yard gains they got in the first quarter often turned to six and seven yard gains in the fourth as they got a feel for the defense and knew how to exact the most damage upon them.

You don't see many running backs have games like that anymore, where they get 35 carries for 175 yards or something and completely OWN the fucking game. Games like that may take their toll on some backs. But sometimes there are anomalies like Smith, who remained an effective runner over the course of decade despite taking heaps of punishment. And, judging by his speaking skills, those hits have taken virtually NO TOLL on his mental facilities. None at all!

So quit pussyfooting around, NFL coaches. If you think you've got a potential workhorse back in your stable to thoroughly beat into the fucking ground, USE THEM. They're gonna get brain damage anyway! Come on! They're not pitchers. Don't treat them so goddamn gingerly. I'm sick of running backs being as statistically inconsistent as wide receivers. I don't wanna live in a world where people have to start Brandon Jacobs on their fantasy squad every week and then cross their fingers that he'll get more than eight goddamn carries.

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

Five Throwgasms

Falcons at Cowboys: I'm a huge fan of the NFL Network's postgame show. They show nothing but highlights instead of talking, and Rich Eisen is so fucking awesome right now, I could kiss his head stubble. As they opened on footage of a kickoff return TD last week, Eisen said, "Now, why would we show you a kickoff? Either someone scored, or someone made a booboo." It's the little things.

BUT… as tolerable as I find Deion Sanders on this show, he deserves shit-giving last week for saying, and I paraphrase, that the Redskins woes are not Dan Snyder's fault, because Dan Snyder goes out and pays for "the best players". Now, I wonder why Deion might feel that way about Dan Snyder. Couldn't be the $8 million signing bonus Snyder gifted to that fucker at the end of his career. Oh, Deion. Just when I was starting to warm up to you. FUCK YOU, COCKBREATH.

Cardinals at Giants: Eli Manning is a complicated man. One second, he's angrily berating Ahmad Bradshaw on national TV for failing to pick up the blitz. The next…

He was met outside the locker room on his way to the team bus by his father Archie and mother Olivia. His mom hooked her arm through his and they walked off together.

Would it surprise you in the least if it turned out that Eli occasionally performed amateur taxidermy and stabbed drifters to death while sobbing? No, it would not. Such a quiet boy. Such a good boy. Those are always the ones.

By the way, any time I now meet someone named Olivia, I immediately picture her as a sassy talking pig-child. Best kids' books ever? Best kids' books ever. Even the author's name is cool.

Also, big ups to Arizona last week for pulling off the surprise pooch kickoff, the cooler version of the surprise onside kick. Surprise pooch kickoffs are fucking awesome.

Vikings at Steelers

Four Throwgasms

Saints at Dolphins: From the still hungover Matt Ufford comes Awful PR Quotes. Nice. It's like Access Hollywood in print form.

Bears at Bengals

Three Throwgasms

49ers at Texans: Your top scoring player in fantasy football after six weeks is Mr. Matt Schaub of the Texans. Mr. Ufford has Schaub and Tom Brady on his fantasy team. He never knows which one to start any given week, and he always ends up choosing wrong. And he's terrified that he'll end up trading the wrong one. This situation will henceforth be known as Uffy's Choice. If you see Ufford on the street, be sure to hug him. Maybe offer a free dry hump.

No matter how the Texans finish this season (8-8 ahoy!), they certainly are one of the league's most enjoyable teams to watch. Owen Daniels is a goddamn MONSTER.

Two Throwgasms

Pats at Bucs: And here's your London game for the year. Nice game. Honestly, why not just bomb these people?

I take this moment again to remind you college folks out there that, if you have the opportunity and parental means to spend a semester abroad, DO IT. Don't fucking question it. Don't hesitate for a fucking second. Get on that plane and go. The rest of the world loves getting drunk and fucking and getting naked in public even more than we do. IT'S TRUE! When you go to London, there are pictures of tits visible at any newsstand. People are drinking in the pubs at 9AM without a shred of guilt. Great Indian food is always within a ten-block radius. (Including fresh naan. Oh, naan. You are everything pita bread wishes it could be). It is a GLORIOUS place, and one day I will retire there and spend the rest of my life at the bottom of a pint glass, a copy of Mayfair tucked into my back pocket.

Eagles at Redskins: The intrepid Dan Steinberg (intrepid is always the word people use for reporters. I do not actually know what the word means) reports that Tony Kornheiser, freed from his pesky ethical obligations as a Washington Post employee, joined Redskins owner Dan Snyder in his luxury box during the loss to the Chiefs last Sunday. Would you have guessed – IN A MILLION YEARS – that Kornheiser and Snyder would watch a game together? Is that NOT A STUNNING HAPPENSTANCE? Anyway, TK says…

"But at the end of the half, there began a chant—Sell The Team. Sell The Team. Sell The Team.—that everybody in the box heard. The people in the box were stunned. I don't know that he heard it, because he wasn't there, but the people in the box were STUNNED."

Holy shit. Really? People in Snyder's box were actually surprised that fans were displeased with his stewardship of the fucking team? Have these people spent the past decade living in a fucking box? Are you NOT STUNNED THAT THEY ARE STUNNED?

One good thing Snyder has done? Sell beer in the stadium bathrooms. What once was an intimidating wait for the urinal trough is now a leisurely delight.

By the way, I'm really excited for the inevitable hosannas that Gruden and Jaws will be heaping on Jim Zorn during this telecast. Last year, as the Lions were wrapping up their 0-16 season, announcers practically fell over themselves to be nice to Rod Marinelli. Oh, poor Mr. Coach Man! He tried so hard! He's a good man! Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. Quit coddling these pricks, announcers. They make shitloads of money and get to boss around football players all day. They don't need a verbal rubdown from you every time they're about to see the axe swing.

Last thing about the Skins: New play caller Sherm Lewis doesn't know protection schemes and blitz pickups yet, so all his play calls will be routed through assistant coach Sherman Smith on their way to QB Jason Campbell. Hope you enjoy delay of game penalties, everyone.

As for the Eagles, at least once a year they have a game like last week where it appears as if McNabb and Reid are doing this whole football thing for the very first time. It's baffling. I know cooler heads will tell you that the Eagles are better off with those two around. But, as a fan, when your team, year in and year out, finds ways to DO THE SAME FUCKING STUPID SHIT THEY ALWAYS DO, you can't be blamed for eventually wanting to rid yourself of them entirely. At the very least, a new coach and QB would have the courtesy to fuck up in some new and different way. Maybe they'd RUN the ball too much. I'm sure Eagles fans would welcome such recklessness. Fourteen runs? Against Oakland? Holy Jesus.

One Throwgasm

Packers at Browns: Linda Hunt is back on television! Want better stamina in the sack? Picture Linda Hunt banging Anne Ramsey with a strap-on. Toss Poltergeist lady in there if you have to. THIS BONER IS CLEAR. Also a good boner killer: Meryl Streep in "Doubt". Ruins the whole kinky nun thing.

Chargers at Chiefs: My kid makes me watch lots of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse every day. I am now certain that Goofy hails from Kentucky. GORSH!

Jets at Raiders: Go, little pigeon! GO!

He's twice the receiver James Jett ever was!

Colts at Rams: Well, ESPN Horndog Day was fun, wasn't it? I have only one question in light of all this, and that's this: Who the fuck thinks "I would like to fuck you" ever works as a come on? Has that line EVER resulted in success? Has the woman ever taken that in and replied, "Oh hey, that sounds great!" Never works to try cutting the crap and propositioning a chick right off the bat. Especially if you're drunk at a bar. And perhaps a junior-level ad exec living in New York. TRUST ME.

We need to stage a phony press conference in honor of Steve Phillips. Rachel Nichols and Jeremy Schaap could be in attendance, and ask Phillips all sorts of important questions. Steve, what first attracted you to your mistress? Was it her BIG FUN t-shirt? Steve, isn't this yet another searing indictment of your personnel evaluation skills? Steve, seriously, why not just stick your dick in an overflowed toilet?

Out of respect for DJ Gallo, we will NOT be publishing all those emails we got about Gallo fucking the Syracuse Orange in the PJ Clarke's urinal.

Bills at Panthers

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

"Abra Cadaver," by The Hives. DEAD! DEAD!!!!! THEY TRIED TO STICK A DEAD BODY INSIDE OF ME!!!!

Embarassing Discography I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

The entire Snow Patrol album catalog. I like Snow Patrol's music a lot, and I have no excuse for it. Liking them is barely a step removed from liking Coldplay. I know that. They have, arguably, the worst name in rock. It doesn't even sound like anything remotely resembling a band name. It sounds like a group of people who tow injured skiers to the chalet in one of those ski patrol sleds. I've always wanted to be carted around on one of those. If I were rich, I would travel exclusively by being ski-hauled.

Anyway, back to the band. They serve as the soundtrack to Grey's Anatomy, which gave the world Katherine Heigl. Their lead singer, Gary Lightbody, has a gay porn star name. The used to put environmental poetry on the splash page of their official site. They're lame in so many ways. In EVERY way.

And yet, I love some of their songs (like the one above). I can't help it! Don't you see? It's so pretty! Like a puppy wearing a Santa outfit! CAN'T RESIST… MUST… RESIST…

/switches over to Slayer record
//switches back to Snow Patrol when no one is looking

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Pork loin omelet recipe? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Darren McFadden. Awful. Horrible. And now out until at least Week 10. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. What's the matter, prick? Too busy making bastard kids to bother staying upright? YOU PIECE OF SHIT. I HOPE ALL OF YOUR BABY MOMMAS GIVE YOU THE HUNDLEY TREATMENT, HOUNDING YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES FOREVER AND EVER UNTIL YOUR SPIRIT IS CRUSHED AND YOU LIVE OUT THE REST OF YOUR DAYS PRAYING FOR DEATH TO BE KIND AND SWIFT.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Philadelphia was incorrect, making me 5-1 on the year. FUCKING ANDY REID. This is the time of year where I again remind you that joining suicide pools is a fucking idiotic endeavor and that you should spend that $20 on your cocaine slush fund instead. That puts the Eagles, Vikings, 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? Indianapolis, and Slate writer Jonah Weiner, who has now penned not one, but two different Slate pieces telling you that a nu metal band everyone knows is terrible really isn't that bad. First he tried to defend Limp Bizkit. Now he tries to do the same for Creed. Look at this sentence. FUCKING LOOK AT IT.

"Higher" might turn out to be the nu-grunge "Don't Stop Believing": dismissed by cognoscenti on arrival as bludgeoning and gauche but destined for rehabilitation down the road as a triumphant slab of ersatz inspirationalism.

Holy Jesus. It's like I'm reading Slate and Pitchfork together at once. Inspirationalism isn't even a fucking word. Only Slate could make the idea of liking Creed's music a pretentious endeavor. I hate that fucking band even more now. You go to Hell, Jonah Weiner. IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME.

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 Falcons getting 4 points on the road against the Cowboys. Hey, I had an article published by Slate once. It was titled, ‘The Third Reich: Hey, At Least The Trains Ran On Time.'"

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-1. People, time to start listening to the shark.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was PK's Mile High BM Club. Reader Alan F. gets free rant space here:

Quit bitching about Favre and your poor 6-0 team. I'd have the Lions field a team of 53 Matt Millen's if it meant not sucking for one goddamn year. And while you'll have to "suffer" through the Land Baron and his 105.9 QB rating, we Lions fans last had a Pro Bowl QB in 19-fucking-71. I was negative 8 years old. So piss off!

That's more than fair. I'll shut up about the Vikings now.

This week's winner was douchenozzle22, who already mailed in a rant. SO PUNCTUAL! It'll be in here next week.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another HUGE payload of fantastic poop stories. This one comes to us from Landon L. I call it, "Sinky Dinky Doo":

A few years back, my little brother was fresh out of the army, newly married and was renting a little junk house. One bedroom, kitchen, living room and one bathroom that you had to go through the bedroom to get to. So my brother has a few friends over sitting around and getting drunk.

At some point, as everyone is leaving, it is decided that our friend, totally wasted, couldn't get home and needed to crash at my brother's place. No big deal. There's the couch, have at it.

Morning rolls around and my brother wakes to find our friend passed out in his own puke on the couch. My brother isn't happy, but apparently his wife hated the couch anyway, so he wakes my friend and tells him that they need to haul the couch to the dump. Not a big deal. On the way there, my friend will not stop apologizing to my brother. He is saying sorry so much, it becomes annoying. My brother keeps telling him he doesn't care about the damn couch. Finally, our buddy admits the puke on the couch is not the only issue. He took a shit in the kitchen sink.

BOOSH!

Apparently, in a drunken haze, needing to shit and not wanting to wake up my brother and his new wife, he decided that shitting in the kitchen sink made sense. So he climbed up on the counter and did it. It is hard to comprehend how someone would reach such a decision. Obviously the easiest thing to do would've been to go through the bedroom, wake up my brother and his wife, take the shit and be done with it. Or take a shit almost anywhere else. Outside, on the floor, in your pants. But he picks pretty much the worst place to shit, the kitchen sink.

Is it really the worst? At least there running water right there. I'd rather someone shit in the sink than on the carpet, or in the cookie jar, or in the veggie crisper.

Needless to say, my brother is pissed off. Unfortunately, there are also some dirty (now very dirty) dishes in the sink.

Look, Madge! I pooped in it!

The situation is so completely fucking weird and gross my brother doesn't even know how to address it. So he calls my dad.

That part killed me. "Hey Dad, you're old. Surely you've dealt with people shitting in the sink." That's like when I call my dad eight times every time I do my taxes.

Great conversation I'm sure. Anyways, it's decided that the dishes need to be thrown away, obviously. And the sink needs to be cleaned thoroughly several times. My brother drives our friend to the store so he can buy every bleach-based cleaning product available on the market. A long scrubbing, spraying, sanitizing of the sink ensues.

Finally, still ragingly pissed off. My brother decides that some additional inconvenience charge is in order. He demands $300 from our friend. With no precedent for the situation, our friend had little choice but to pay up.

I once had a friend who was a full-fledged alcoholic. The real deal. Drank every morning and all that. He stayed at our apartment once. In the middle of the night, my wife tripped over him on the way to using the bathroom. He had fallen asleep in the hall without his pants or undies on, and had pissed on the carpet.

I wish I had thought to charge him $300.

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*
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris

I don't think there's any chance Raheem Morris gets fired after this year, but so many angry Bucs fans demanded he be included on this list, I had little choice. Go to any Bucs message board, and your odds of finding missives from disgruntled Republican fans that compare Morris to Obama is 100%. THIS MAN IS BLACK AND LACKS EXPERIENCE!

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Waffle fries! Mmmm… waffle fries. So fried. So ridged. So crisscrossy. So good for ketchup retention. It's like a giant fucking ketchup net. I could squeeze out the entire Heinz bottle onto one of these fuckers.

Gametime Beer Of The Week
When I started the Jamboroo, this section was originally titled Cheap Beer of the Week. But I pretty much ran through every terrible cheap beer I could: Black Label, American, even the malt liquors. But reader Craig O. has come across a cheap beer I was unfamiliar with until now. That beer? Beer 30 Light.

Beer 30 light should be your game time beer of the week. Not only is it cheaper than that swine piss known as Natural Light, but the vibrant purple can perfectly match any Vikings apparel you choose to wear.

Agreed. What a fantastic cheap beer. Why is it called Beer 30? Why is there a clock on the can? "Thirty seconds are up. Time for another!" I also like how there's a mountain on the can, to trick you into thinking you're buying Busch or Coors Light. If you've got a mountain on your can, you are selling one god-awful beer.

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 this year is still Peyton Manning of the Colts! You know, this whole Balloon Boy business reminds me of the time Warren Beatty and I took Quaaludes and accompanied eight nude Swiss prostitutes on a hot air balloon ride across the Alps! That was a good day for Ol' Beatty and I. Champagne? YOU BET! Orgies in a large wicker basket? YOU KNOW IT! Beatty was right about those Swiss girls, they really do fuck like clockwork. Very precise."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Rams Fans

"The Golden Child." Long regarded as one of Eddie Murphy's biggest flops, yet it now looks like the goddamn Godfather compared to his recent output. Plus it has bloody oatmeal. Can't go wrong with bloody oatmeal. TO MONTY!

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Isn't it amazing the same day you got a pool is the same day we realized we liked you?"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Continuing the Golden Child theme: nude screengrabs of star Charlotte Lewis. (Site NSFW) Charlotte is half-Irish, and half Iraqi-Chilean. She could practically declare war on herself.
-For the gals: Sean Faris. RAWR.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Ah, Dick Stockton. A constant in the NFL universe. We may not have Pat Summerall anymore, but it's nice to know that announcers like Dick Stockton are still going strong. To think this man has had to call games for years with either Matt Millen or Tony Siragusa talking alongside him, yet his intellect and voice remains intact. A little miracle. And he gets to bone Lesley Visser! I've always wanted to do that. More for the sake of posterity these days, but still. VISSERPOON!

Stockton's like Verne Lundquist over at CBS doing college football. He's an old guy who's been around forever, who was gifted with a great voice and found the perfect medium in which to deploy it. He's always a welcome presence on any telecast, as far as I'm concerned. What's so odd is that Stockton and Lundquist appear to be the last of a dying breed. There are very few announcers left calling games that have great voices, and that makes no sense. It's not as if human voice boxes have evolved much over the past few decades (the Fat Boys being a notable exception, of course). There should be plenty of young assholes out there with strong, deep voices perfectly suited to an NFL broadcast. So where the hell are they? I really like Mike Tirico as an announcer, but his voice isn't a great, booming football voice. Jim Nantz has a good voice for golf, covering up war crimes ("And you can see just how much respect Hitler has for these Jews here today!"), and little else. And Joe Buck is still Joe Buck. Tons of these guys have voices that are reed thin. They should be Autotuned.

I think there's an obvious culprit here. I don't think our younger football announcers are smoking and drinking enough. Smoking and drinking will age your throat a solid five decades before you turn 30. I know chicks who smoked in college who sound like the fucking Budweiser frogs now. Lindsay Lohan sounds like a tuba when she opens her mouth. You need alcohol and all the tar and carbon monoxide in cigarettes to help strip the announcers' vocal chords raw, to make it sound like you spent the previous night sleeping under the grand piano in a hotel ballroom. THAT'S how Pat Summerall did it, and it worked! Pat Summerall sounded like he was announcing games from his own fucking GRAVEHOLE. And that ruled.

So all you young squirts out there looking to become the next Keith Jackson, I say SMOKE UP JOHNNY.

We'll get you good and leathery in no time flat.

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

Five Throwgasms

Giants at Saints: They had Archie Manning doing studio analysis for CBS on Saturday night. Because I didn't have enough servings of Manning in my life before that. Jesus fucking Christ. I know this family better than the Kennedys. At least the Kennedys have the good sense to die tragically on occasion.

Broncos at Chargers: Pat Bowlen is so pleased with Brandon Marshall's turnaround that he thinks the wideout is in line for a significant raise. And what a happy ending to this little story. Turns out you can be a horrible wife-beater who pouts through training camp, and find yourself a multimillionaire just a scant five weeks later! Gary Smith is already penning a 25-page story on it that will make you cry.

Ravens at Vikings: If announcers aren't using the word "fun" in conjunction with Brett Favre, it's because they're too busy using the word "motor" when describing Jared Allen. THIS GUY HAS GOT A MOTOR! HIS MOTOR NEVER STOPS! LOOK AT THAT MOTOR! MOTOR MOTOR MOTOR! Easy, fellas. We get it. He's very energetic. It is most appreciated.

Four Throwgasms

Bears at Falcons: I'm pronouncing Falcons "fawlkuns" from now on. Makes it sound like they could make the jump to hyperspace at any second.

Three Throwgasms

Cardinals at Seahawks: I finished reading the Krakauer book about Pat Tillman (review here.) It's a fun read if you enjoy re-enacting the wall-punching scene from Raging Bull. I'm sure I'm not the first person to notice this, but all of Krakauer's books since "Into The Wild" have titles that are prepositional phrases: "Into Thin Air," "Under The Banner Of Heaven," etc. Now, who else is famous for creating works of art that have prepositional phrases as titles? You guessed it.

Coincidence? I think NOT. You know, if Steven dropped 360 lbs. and tossed on a blond wig, I think he could pull off the role of Tillman. In fact, I'm sure the US Army commissioned just such a project right after Tillman passed away. "al Qaeda, you're about to be a long way from okay-da."

Texans at Bengals: No one likes their cable provider. Ever. I've yet to meet anyone on earth who ever said, "God, I love my cable company so much. I wish I could WORK for them!" It just doesn't happen. They're like the phone company. If they haven't fucked you over yet, it's only because they're about to.

I had cable for the better part of my adulthood, until I finally moved somewhere that was eligible for DirecTV service. Obviously, the number one perk of having DirecTV is access to Sunday Ticket. DirecTV is also cheaper than cable, for the most part. And if you pay an extra $5 or so a month for service, their customer service isn't all that bad (if you don't pay that extra $5 a month, you are FUCKED).

Regardless, for all of DirecTV's nicer aspects, they're still a satellite service. And while they may tell you that rain doesn't fuck with their dish signal, it does. A lot. It happened to me during the games last week. (NOTE: White whine ahead. I regret nothing.) It happens just about any time there's heavy rain or snow. Then the screen goes blue. Then sometimes you have to reset the receiver. Then you have to wait while it receives the signal. How long does it take the bar to reach 100%? Fucking forever, that's how long.

I know the Comcasts and Time Warners of the world are evil, and I'd like nothing more than to watch them BURN. BURN DOWN TO FUCKING ASH AND CINDERS. Regardless, the fact that rain, fucking RAIN, can knock out a satellite signal pretty much trumps any other complaint about any other television provider ever. It automatically makes your shit second-rate. That's why DirecTV will do anything in the world to keep their monopoly on Sunday Ticket. Because they know damn well that if you were able to switch over to a service that didn't get ITS FUCKING SORRY ASS KICKED BY MILD PRECIPITATION, you would. In a second. No matter how awful the alternative is. No matter how many horrible ways Comcast fucks with you. The signal doesn't even have to go out when you have satellite. The mere fact that it begins raining during any game is enough to fuck with your head and cause you horrible, undue worry about it going out until the rain stops. It's agony, I tell you. It's like waiting for an AIDS test result. Cables repel rain, and giant satellite dishes do not. Cable wins. Fix your Amish technology, DirecTV.

Two Throwgasms

Lions at Packers: I can't stress enough how awful David Wells was on TBS the other night. Networks really will throw any retard who used to play right in front of a camera with no formal training of any kind. And it's David Wells! Baseball's fat answer to Jeremy Shockey! Who asked for this? Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about being a terrible broadcaster. Watching David Wells talk on camera is like watching doctors remove John Kruk's other testicle.

Titans at Patriots: If you're gonna go 0-6, do it with Vince Young. No one wants to watch a losing team with Kerry Collins. But a losing team with Vince Young has all the potential in the world for PIZZAZZ! And shirtless dancing! And sudden disappearances!

Bills at Jets: Last week on Monday night Football, Gruden said he still thought Mark Sanchez should have stayed in school. Millions of dollars, untold amounts of poise, and free access to Hilary Rhoda's insanely hot ass beg to differ, Jon.

One Throwgasm

Browns at Steelers: Adam Schefter reported this week that Browns RB James Davis got a season-ending injury because he was allowed to practice without pads against teammates in full pads.

Each repeated the same details. Davis was injured during a pass blocking drill in what Cleveland calls a post-practice "opportunity period" when a Browns linebacker in pads "got frisky" and "trucked" Davis, who was not in pads.

Ah yes, the wonderful "opportunity period," in which you have the "opportunity" to destroy a fellow teammate's season. It's always a good rule of thumb to never work for any boss who labels anything an "opportunity period". That's an obvious Michael Scott idea. I bet Eric Mangini sends invites to view his LinkedIn profile at least 700 people a day. What a fuckhead.

In other news, Rashard Mendenhall! Every fantasy season seems to hinge on whether or not you find one of those backup running backs in the later rounds who takes over by October and blossoms into a full-fledged stud for the rest of the year. Like Larry Johnson did that one year. That one year centuries and centuries ago. God dammit, I hate Larry Johnson. Anyway, Rashard Mendenhall could very well be that emerging stud RB. I don't own him in any league. I never own the emerging stud. I always own the guy who was a stud seventeen years ago and now eats stuffed French toast for second breakfast.

Rams at Jaguars: I watched the Rams last week, and I've never seen any team fumble the way the Rams do. It's endemic. You don't even have to touch them. Just wait until they get inside the ten, and then, PARTY TIME! Holy Jesus. It's like they wash their hands with bacon.

Also, I did not know this, but the Rams have a defensive end named CJ Ah You. There is no doubt that every friend that guy has greets him by saying, "Ah. YOU!!!!" He has to be Antonio Banderas' favorite player. CJ hails from Rancho Cucamonga, CA. My God. It's like he was specifically engineered by a group of comedians.

Also, to the people in the Rams potential ownership group that dumped Limbaugh: Thanks, assholes. Thanks a fucking lot. YOU MADE A BIG FAT MARTYR OUT OF THAT MAN.

Panthers at Bucs: GAHHHHH! UPS GUY IS BACK! I saw him last week for the first time this season. AND he's got even longer hair! Oh, it's awful. Horrible. I bet you anything that guy bikes to work. What a dipshit.

Eagles at Raiders: I'm not sure things could have worked out better for the Eagles for the past five weeks. They came into the season loaded with hype, and with all the Michael Vick bullshit. Then McNabb got hurt, New Orleans crushed them, and the NFC limelight has shined on the Saints, Giants, and Vikings ever since. Now, the Eagles get to fly under the radar, stomp a mudhole in Oakland's ass, and spend the next ten weeks potentially turning into the best team in the conference. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Chiefs at Redskins: The Jauron/Zorn firing derby is really heating up. Supposedly, Zorn will be fired after the Redskins play the Eagles on MNF right before their bye week. But Jauron could edge Zorn out if he dies from tuberculosis right beforehand. DON'T COUNT OL' DICKIE OUT!

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

"Electricity," by Spiritualized. When Jason Pierce's life goal is "Taking drugs to make music to take drugs to," you have little choice but to admire the man. And yes, I do believe I've taken drugs while listening to this song. A lot. With the right music, taking drugs kicks a whole lotta ass.

Embarassing Album I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

"Close Calls With Brick Walls," by Andrew WK. I love Andrew WK. But this album, which was released only in Japan, does a whole fucking lot to prove the rumor that Dave Grohl wrote the entirety of his first album. Man, this album is bad. It's almost impressive how bad it is.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Big bloody mayo poop, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Is it time to put TO here? I believe it is. Listen, I expected some drop in production with this little Buffalo excursion. But holy fuck TO, you eat hog. Oh, I know it's not your fault. Of course not. It's never your fault. You only drop every OTHER ball thrown to you. That's a .500 average! Awesome! Congratulations, fuckycakes. You are old, shitty, and irrelevant. Enjoy Dennis Rodman's retirement, throwing parties attended exclusively by scumbags you barely know, followed by boredom-induced alcoholism, followed by your own gay dating show on Logo. DIE. GET BURIED IN AN AVALANCHE OF SHIT.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Minnesota was correct, making me 5-0 on the year. That puts the Vikings, 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? Philadelphia, and that thing kids do where they grab your skin as hard as they possibly can. My kid does the grappling hook move at least once a day on my face, and it makes me want to throw them across the room (NOTE: I do not actually end up doing this). Playtime turns to pain time on a dime. "Awww, who's such a sweet little girl, how would you like to AHHHHH HOLY FUCK THAT HURTS YOU LITTLE SHIT!" In a child's hands, a titty twister can be performed on ANY body part. They also dig in the nails for good measure. Leave my precious apple cheeks alone, you little miscreant!

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 Chiefs getting 6.5 points on the road against the Redskins. I hate choosing the less offensive of the two dirty injun mascots. But picking against the Skins is like taking candy from a baby. A little Sioux baby! They're so helpless, and their folks are way too drunk to stop you from doing it."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 4-1(!)

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was I'd Pee In Her Butt, who did not claim his prize. I sense a pattern here. I tell you what: you keep on picking, and at the end of the year, we'll crown a grand winner. And they'll get something. Something like… Ooh! A used Jon Krakauer book! PERFECT.

Great Moments In Poop History
Folks, the Great Moments in Poop History craze is quickly sweeping the nation. I've received so many poop stories from you that everything is now clogged. It could blow at any moment, possibly on my bedsheets. Thus, you get TWO delightful poop items this week. First, JB sends a perfect, concise poop observation:

The other day I went to the office bathroom to drop a deuce and decided to catch up on some sporting news on my iPhone while I did the deed. As feces left my body, the ESPN homepage popped up, it greeted me with the front page headline "Brown and Out" (re: Braylon getting traded to the Jets). I just thought it was fitting.

Not only that but I feel like it could become a good saying. For example, to politely declare your intentions to go shit ("Brown and Out, gentlemen!") or to maybe congratulate yourself on a quick and efficient loaf-pinching (*whispering* "Brown and Out, you magnificent bastard! Brown. And. Out.").

I agree. It's a fabulous addition to all my shit proclamations. I always begin any announcement that I'm about to take a shit with a staged wince. Like the thing will kill me if I don't go this instant. "OOF! I gotta take a shit!" The wife adores it.

Now for the thepaledragon's tale! Poop away, young scout!

I have a Great Moment in Poop History for you, and this one doesn't involve alcohol! I have never told anyone this story...until now:

This story takes place when I was about 12 years old, on one of the first campouts I was on in my first year of Boy Scouts. It was a long weekend campout, and on the Sunday morning, I woke up feeling pretty bound up. Probably from all the junk food that is consumed on a typical Boy Scout campout. The troop leaders call for us to wake up and get packed to go home.

Wait. No sex first? They've got some nerve.

I want to go to the toilet facility, but at the time I had a 30 year old A-frame tent, and taking this billion-piece structure down took all of my packing time. But while I was working, I started to feel better.

On the drive home, I was crammed in the middle of the back seat of my scoutmaster's station wagon (It sucks being the small kid). As we're going along I realize that while packing I had inadvertently shat myself. And I'm not just talking mudbutt here: I could actually feel a fully formed turd in my pants. If I had been wearing boxers, I would be screwed. To make matters worse, before leaving the campsite, the scoutmaster had given us a lecture on personal hygiene. I hoped to God no one could smell anything, and that no telltale stain would be left on the scoutmaster's upholstery.

I would have felt OK if I had been going straight home. Instead, the parents of the scouts were to meet us at church, where we would be attending mass. When we got to church, I bolted straight for the bathroom, and unloaded the escaped feces into the toilet, and cleaned myself up. As for the stained underwear, it seemed most prudent to destroy the evidence, so I dumped the tighty (formerly) whiteys in the trashcan in the bathroom and went commando to celebrate the Lord's sacrament.

Epilogue: I eventually achieved the rank of Eagle Scout, and developed an Inflamed Bowel Disorder.

You've earned your poop-hiding badge, good friend!

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

We're so, so close to our first mid-season firing, I can just taste the blood in the water. Tastes like licking a battery. HURRY UP AND FIRE COOCH ZORN, DANNY! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA DO IT. LET HIM HANG! HANGGGGGG!!!

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Sliders! Ah, very small hamburgers. I could kiss the man who invented you, and then wash my lips to prevent contracting E. coli. They're just like regular burgers, only you can eat 27 of them and delude yourself into thinking it's not so unhealthy!

The lovely Mister Ufford sent me this fantastic link a while back that detailed all American burger styles. It's got pub burgers, steakhouse burgers, Robert Hamburger, and everything. Oh man, I could so go for a burger right now if the meat used to make them didn't come from the killing floors of 37 different slaughterhouses manned by bare-handed immigrants with no access to soap or decent medical care. Anyway, Mr. Fancypancy at this site says not all sliders are mini burgers, and vice versa.

People, a slider is something very specific. It is not just a mini hamburger. It's a thin, thin slip of beef, cooked on a griddle with onions and pickles piled atop patty. The steam from the onions does as much cooking as the griddle. The buns are placed atop the onions, absorbing the pungent aroma and flavor.

A slider is at once a hamburger and, yet, something more. (Maybe because you eat a bunch of them at one sitting.)

You listen to me, Big Boy. It's MY very small hamburger, and if I want to call it by the adorable nickname of slider, I will. And if I want to use the top of the bun to wipe the sweat off my face and then eat it, I may also do so.

Gametime Beer Of The Week
People, I need recommendations. I'm not a beer snob. I just buy whatever the fuck is on sale. Got a beer you want showcased in this spot? Email me. I'll do right by your suds.

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 this year is still Peyton Manning of the Colts! A lot of people are getting down on my old friend David Letterman for sleeping with his co-workers, but Evans says that's what co-workers are for! How could you trust a casting director if you never mashed her face into the pillow? Sexy? You bet! Fosters loyalty? DAMN RIGHT."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Rams Fans

From the legendary ZODIAC MOTHERFUCKER of the Onion AV Club comes the very necessary video series GREAT MOMENTS IN OWNAGE. Nothing but clips of people getting their SHIT RUINED. Like this one from Thinner, featuring Joe Mantegna throwing acid into a woman's eyes. "ACID, BITCH." Now that's great cinema.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Don't be alarmed, Apu. Just go about your daily routine like I'm not wearing the hat."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: If you've seen it already, you know damn well once isn't enough: Susan Sarandon's daughter, Eva Amurri, naked as a stripper on Californication. I'm a big fan of any woman with large breasts opening a garment to reveal said large breasts. A bra. A corset. A shirt. It's like a jack in the box, only fantastic.
-For the gals: Logan from Project Runway. You know damn well he nailed Althea. It's not even a question.

Enjoy the games, everyone. BROWN AND OUT.

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.

It's October today! OCTOBER! WOOHOO!!! The greatest month of all, dammit. I wish every month were October. That means YOU, August. What are you fucking good for? You just sit there, useless as Dick Jauron's penis. October rules your shit. It's got football, watchable baseball, long pants, candy, EVERYTHING. You get that fall smell in the air. And your taint isn't sweaty anymore. Oh, man. I love it. October rules, and anyone who doesn't like it can go fingerblast a bull. Here are the months, ranked in order of awesomeness:

1. October
2. May
3. November
4. December
5. September
6. June
7. July
8. April
9. January
10. March
11. Smarch
12. August
13. February

I fucking hate August and February. If you could be put into a safe, voluntary coma for both those months every year (in Feb's case, right after the Super Bowl ended), would you? FUCK AND YES, you would. Let's savor this month, people. Motorboat that fucker.

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

Five Throwgasms

Packers at Vikings: Everyone's given ESPN shit for this stunt already, but allow me to pile on. ESPN, YOU ARE FUCKED. For everything nice thing you do, you pull something out of your ass that's at least ten times worse. Are you fucking serious? Deliberately trying to break the record for mentioning Brett Favre in a single show? And having Colin fucking Cowherd be the one to do it? WHY DON'T YOU JUST STAB ME IN THE FUCKING EYE WITH A CORKSCREW? Honestly. It's not enough to piss everyone off. No, you have to actively declare to the world, "HEY, WE'RE GONNA PISS YOU OFF!" Are you people fucking deaf? Is it really worth the publicity to openly antagonize fans like this? What is wrong with you? No, seriously: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Die.

And fucking Cowherd, Jesus. Cowherd openly admits the shit he says on the radio is purposeful bullshit meant to goad people into angrily responding. That's the epitome of what ESPN is about now. No genuine sports discussion. Not even an honest opinion. Just asshole bullshitters deliberately trying to enrage you. Thanks for that, MSNFOXSPN. I'm really glad that's the business model you chose. I fucking hate your presence in the world. EAT SHIT. And that wasn't a purposefully antagonistic opinion of you meant to get attention. I mean every word. Find a pile of shit, scoop up a dribbly brown chunk, and stuff in right in your stupid fucking mouth.

(Oh, and here's David Fleming debunking the Favre as comeback king myth. I'm glad he won the game for the Vikings, but I'm well aware of the pain that little miracle has caused the rest of the universe.)

In other news, I'll be at this game. WHEE! Time to pack my dop kit. Will I forget saline solution again? You know I will. Ever sleep with your contacts on and try and pry them off a few hours after you wake up? You may as well cut out your own iris.

Chargers at Steelers: I'm getting a little tired of the Coach Ratings in Fleaflicker fantasy football. It's this little stat graph that grades your coaching job for the week depending on whether or not you started the right players. I never get 100%. I never put the optimal lineup in. And the coach rating is always there, more than happy to tell me what a complete shithead I am.

Ravens at Patriots: Who dropped Fred Taylor for Correll Buckhalter an hour before he put up a hundred and a touch last week? - - > this asshole < - - Goddamn you finally settling on a running back, Bill Belichick. I hate you and your sweaty, sweaty sideline clothing. Watching you coach a game is like watching Aaron Altman anchor the evening news.

Yahoo fantasy ball has a new feature called BLOWOUT OF THE WEEK that features the most lopsided score in your respective league. I have already been on the losing end of this twice. It doesn't feel good.

Jets at Saints: Rex Ryan fined David Clowney for tweeting a complaint about playing time last week. CLOWNEY, FROM NOW ON YOUR NICKNAME IS SHAKES!

Four Throwgasms

Cowboys at Broncos: You really need to start watching the NFL Network's postgame show if you have access to it (unlike Leitch, who has to suffer without in his chic Brooklyn hood. NOT SO FUN TO BE HIP NOW, IS IT?) Oh, Rich Eisen. Rich, you are safe haven from the Bermans and Castases of this world. So affable. So charming. You are my little Jimmy Halpert. You even make Deion entertaining. This man surely can walk across backyard pools.

Three Throwgasms

Seahawks at Colts: There was an ad for the Marines on last week that showed Marines training by performing the Joust challenge from American Gladiators. I swear I saw it. They had the helmets and giant padded batons and everything. AND MARINES ALSO HAVE TO SCALE WALLS TOO. This can't be a coincidence. Ufford would like to note that the Marines do NOT use tennis ball cannons, however. So, when you think about it, doesn't that make American Gladiators TOUGHER than Marines? I say yes. I think all Marines deserve gladiator nicknames stitched into their unis. Nitro. Valkrie. And such and such.

By the way, a lot of people like Bill Maher still make fun of that old al Qaeda footage showing terrorists training by using monkey bars. It may look stupid, but you have ever tried crossing monkey bars? AGONY. If they can cross monkey bars, we're fucked.

Titans at Jaguars: When Jack del Rio gets fired after the season is over and the Jags move to French Guyana, he'll finally be able to devote all his time to what ought to be his true calling: fronting an Eddie Money cover band. IF I COULD WALK ON WATER, WOULD YOU BELIEVE IN ME? MY LOVE IS SO TRUUUUUEEE…

Two Throwgasms

Lions at Bears: Give Jim Schwartz a messier haircut and a droopy eye, and he'll look like a tan Thom Yorke.

One Throwgasm

Bengals at Browns: I have heard from reliable sources that one of Eric Mangini's coaching techniques is to place motivational slogans all over Brown's facilities and order players to memorize said slogans. This makes sense, seeing as how they don't have time to remember USEFUL things, like how to tackle, or run a crisp post route.

Giants at Chiefs: "Hmm. Looks like Matt Cassel isn't playing up to snuff. Let's TRADE his potentially useful backup." Oh, Todd Haley. Your downfall will be swift and oh so delightful.

Bucs at Redskins: Someone asked me the other day who the worst local sports talk radio guy is in the universe. I can't answer that because I haven't lived everywhere, but here in DC, Doc Walker is fucking putrid. Like Schlereth, he confuses analysis with motivational speaking. "It's time for this team to GET TOUGH. No more excuses." Repeat that quote ad nauseam and you get the idea. Who is he talking to? Who is supposed to get fired up by this? The team can't fucking hear you, Doc. Go home and stare at your old jersey some more, you old prick.

Raiders at Texans

Bills at Dolphins

Rams at 49ers

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

"All Secrets Known," by Alice in Chains. Dude, the guy they hired to replace Layne Staley sounds EXACTLY like Layne Staley. And the new guy is BLACK! And has a huge Afro, which is badass! Listen to this song. It's fucking eerie. It sounds as if Staley is still in the band.

Is that fucked up not?

It's been fourteen years since Alice in Chains last released a record, which makes the release of "Black Turns To Blue" an understated version of the "Chinese Democracy" hoopla that went on last year (anyone still listening to that album? Nope.) Layne Staley died seven years ago, so anyone would be right to assume that AIC would (and should) have died with him. It's easy to think that continuing the band without Staley would be a waste of time, that would end up tarnishing the band's legacy, or some shit like that. Only one band has ever replaced a beloved, suddenly dead lead singer successfully: AC/DC. I think. I'm sure I missed another example there. Fuck.

But think about it from the band's perspective. You were a wildly popular, well-respected band in the 90's. Then your singer killed himself with heroin. Does the rest of that band really OWE Layne Staley anything? Haven't they been more than respectful to be on hiatus for this long? As men trying to earn a living, don't they have a right to use the AIC brand name to help make money on the road and with album sales? Jerry Cantrell was an equal, if not larger, contributor to Alice in Chains than Staley was. On their last album, Cantrell was the one who sang lead on arguably the best songs ("Over Now," "Grind," etc.) Often, due to the mixing, it was easy to get his voice and Staley's confused. Now, here he is again, making music under the Alice name, and singing the same kind of harmonies with William DuVall he once did with Staley. It's either sacrilege, or a great comeback. I'm not sure which. All I know is that it's nice to hear the sound of this band once again, even if the record is uneven. It's been a long goddamn time.

Also, to all the bands who tried to sound like Alice In Chains and failed miserably (Godsmack, Puddle of Mudd), I hope your lead singer dies from a heroin overdose. Seriously, Godsmack is from Mass and their lead singer is named Sully. FUCK THEM.

Embarassing iTunes Track I Once Kept That Will Not Fire You Up
"Clocks," by Coldplay. My mom called me the other day, very excited.

Mom: Drew, I just started listening to Coldplay. I love them!

Me: That's great, mom.

Mom: What kind of music would you call their music? Is it a kind of folk rock?

Me: Shit, mom. It's shit.

Mom: Get me more of their albums for my birthday.

My mom has listened to a grand total of three other musical artists in her life: Elvis, Norah Jones, and kd lang. Coldplay now joins that very select and distinguished group. Congratulations, fellas. Now lose the goddamn uniforms. You look like rejects from the fucking Nutcracker.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? A record whacking time, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like. Reader Cody beat my time:

48.18 seconds. I am the Michael Phelps of dolphin flogging.

FIEND! I'LL FIND A WAY TO OUTWHACK YOU SOMEHOW!

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Felix Jones. Goddamn you, Felix. I've never been so excited to see one of my fantasy players hit the field. Marion Barber was out. YOU had the whole game to yourself. You got over 12 yards a touch in the first half. Victory was in my grasp. And then you fucking got hurt. YOU FUCK! THIS WAS YOUR NIGHT TO SHINE, YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE A SLEEPER, YOU COCK. FUCKING ACT LIKE ONE. GAHHHHH!!!

/tears out own pubic hair

This happened with Frank Gore last weekend too. You get all excited to see your players play, and then they get disappear from the field early on, and you don't know why. And then you realize that they're hurt, and they're never coming back into the game, and all you can do is sit there while some asshole with HEALTHY PLAYERS shoves it right up your fucking ass. God DAMMIT. I can't even talk about it. So awful.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Baltimore was correct, making me 3-0 on the year. That puts the 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? Houston, and Trent Dilfer. Last week, Dilfer used the term "NFL position of quarterback" during ESPN's postgame show. Now, Trent Dilfer is by all accounts a really nice person. So all I ask of you, Trent, is that you use only the words you need. TAKE ONLY THE THINGS YOU NEED TO SURVIVE.

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 Bucs getting 7 points on the road against the Redskins. Say, when do those Obama death panels start? I'm very good on death panels. Any panels, actually. I was on the ‘Liar's Club' game show panel with Leslie Easterbrook and Jimmie Walker once. I had a wonderful time. The object in question was a lamp. I lied and said it was a Jew firelighter. The contestant totally bought it!"

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 2-1

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was J. Dugan. He gets a free rant space here.

I can imagine many people are baffled as to how Drew makes a living as a writer. 'He's disgusting and vulgar and everything that is wrong with America, and his writing sucks too,' they might say. But to answer the question 'Why does Drew Magary have a job?', one only needs these words found in a Google Image search for Drew's name.

As for Daulerio, it's hard to effectively insult someone who describes himself as 'Selectively aloof dago mustache bon vivant who can't have nice things.' But fuck that guy in the ironic facial hair, anyway.

This week's winner was Things Trebek Sucks. Mr. Trebek Sucks, kindly come claim your insult prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
J Dugan also sent us a poop story. Here it is. I call it, "Poop Simple."

One night in college, myself and 10 other guys decided to purchase and finish off a keg in one night. All of us got appropriately shitcanned, but one friend, Tyler, apparently went a wee bit too far. He passed out around midnight, the first to go down, in the bed of one of the hosts, Alex. The rest of this story is surmised from best guesses, as no one knows exactly what happened.

At some point, Tyler gets up in the middle of the night to take a shit. He sits on the can and quickly realizes he's going to puke, but decides to barf into the bathtub rather than the toilet. In leaning towards the tub, he falls off the toilet onto his knees, where he proceeds to simultaneously puke into the tub and shit all over the back of his pants (but not actually IN his pants). Being completely hammered, he doesn't realize he's shit on his pants and sits back on the toilet, smearing shit all over the underside of the toilet. He wipes (unnecessarily, of course), then heads back to Alex's bed, which he absolutely COVERS in shit. It looks like someone filmed a German scat orgy in the goddamn thing. In the morning, the rest of us wake up to find Tyler gone, a bed practically doused in shit, a tub full of vomit, and a shit smeared all over the underside of the toilet.

Confronted, Tyler pleads ignorance, and his case actually holds water: he was so hungover when he woke up in the morning, he drove home without knowing he had shit on himself and passed out in his own bed, smearing shit all over his own car upholstery and bedsheets in the process.

Oof, the car? DAGGER. Once you get a bad smell in your car upholstery, even Jesus himself cannot unpoop it.

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*
Wade Phillips
Dick Jauron
Gary Kubiak*
Jack Del Rio
Todd Haley
John Fox

I'll use the asterisk from now on to denote a potential MID-SEASON firing, the best kind of firing of all.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Fig Newtons! Eat one Fig Newton, and you need to drink about a gallon of water before eating a second. Fig Newtons are the rare food that gets better the staler it becomes. If there were a ten-year-old Fig Newton lying on the side of the road, I would eat it. Mmmm…. Chewy.

Ever skin a Fig Newton? I have. You gently pull off the sides with your teeth, and then peel off the top layer of cake. You are left with just the fig filling on a small canapé of cake. One time, I combined two together, not unlike two twisted off Double Stufs. I didn't do this because it was any better than just eating it straight. I just did it because I'm retarded and fat. That was one figgy cookie. Like eating a sand-filled caramel.

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Gritty McDuff's Original. I like it because it sounds like both Duff Beer AND Gritty Kitty cat litter. This beer is brewed in Maine. I spent four years of my life in that state. One day, that state will be walled off and turned into a Federal prison. You mark my words.

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 this year is STILL Drew Brees of the Saints! I like that he's grown his hair out. It looks like mine! Wild? You bet! Untamed? ROWR! Ali McGraw used to play with my hair all the time. ‘Evans,' she'd coo, ‘why can't I have hair like yours?' And I told her baby, you shoot a movie in Bangladesh, and you get a free bottle of tiger semen from the President for shooting a major Hollywood production there, and you can! All my thanks in the world, President Zbubaumptu! This hair is a David Lean epic!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Chinatown! In honor of Roman Polanski's arrest. Jake Gittes has his revenge at last, you little fucker! I saw the beginning of this movie when I was, like four. Polanski's character walked up to Jack, raped his nose with a knife, and I was scarred for life after that. Thanks for showing me that, Mom. No Coldplay records for you.

"Polanski! THAT SLY JEW! Lemme tell you something, baby. Lotta people were outraged that Polanski nailed a 13-year-old. BUT HE'S HAD YOUNGER, BELIEVE YOU ME! Champagne with 8-year-olds? YOU BET! Trips to Istanbul with toddlers? THAT WAS ROMAN'S SIGNATURE MOVE!"

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Tough times, huh? I've lived through twelve recessions, eight panics, and five years of McKinleynomics. I'll survive this."

That quote comes from the Burns Casino episode, which is one of my favorites. I usually get all Jamboroo Simpsons quotes from The Simpsons Archive. In terms of thoroughness of research, the site's more comprehensive than the 9/11 commission. It's got quotes, background details, all that shit.

And then, there are the reviews. I like to check out the reviews of classic episodes from time to time. Most were written right after the episode aired. And the reviewers are absolutely fucking BRUTAL on the show. Look at this review from the $pringfield episode. It'll sound familiar:

Neil Berkman: I thought it was by far the worst Simpsons episode ever. Not a laugh in it. I could pull a better cartoon out of my...Hey kids!! Bill Oakley, if you're reading this, sorry, but that episode was the absolute bottom of the barrel. Just when I was regaining some faith in the show after the dismal start of the season...

Snippets from five more:

overall, I would have to say that a fully complete plot was lacking. Rating: C/C+…

…Well, as a story and plot, it was rather fair…

…it had the form of a Simpsons episode, but there was just something terribly wrong with it…

…the plot was weakly developed…

…Didn't work for me. Kissinger, Cooney, and Goulet were excellent, but I didn't get the Howard Hughes thing, so I was going "Huh?..."

Keep in mind, this was from Season Five, during the peak of the show's powers (Season 4-6 pretty much represent the Mona Lisa of television comedy). We're talking about fucking brilliant episodes, and the SNPP community shit all over them. Is it any wonder the show's writers threw up their hands and eventually put the show on autopilot? I'd give my prostate for the show to do episodes this good again.

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Argentinian TV personality and overall very hot person Silvina Luna. This gallery allows you to sort by categories such as "sheer," "beaver," and "pokies." Now THAT is user-friendly design.
-For the gals: This dude. He's all wet and shirtless. GET SOME.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

You've seen the Nike ad roughly 50,000 times now. Adrian Peterson: filmed in ethereal, portrait-perfect black and white, hands on his knees, waiting for the snap of the ball as fat snowflakes waft about him, fluttering down onto the muddy field where he's playing. He's not wearing a Vikings uniform. His uniform is generic, though his helmet is not. He could be any player on any team, and that's the point. Because Adrian Peterson's style of running needs no surrounding context to be admired. At the snap of the ball, he is his own dramatic arc: anticipation, action, conflict, violence, triumph. All in a mere 60 yards or so. When he retires inside after the game, he sits at his locker, his skin covered in embossed, hexagonal scaling. And he turns to the camera and gives you the same look an invading alien would before clawing out your insides.

It's fitting that Purple Jesus is the spokesman for Nike Pro Combat, because "combat" is the precise word for how he engages would-be defenders. Few runners are as violent (Earl Campbell, Ottis Anderson, and young Larry Johnson come to mind). Few runners are as downright DRAMATIC. Technically, DeAngelo Williams had a better year than Peterson last year (less yards, but more TD's, better yards per carry, and no fumbles compared to Peterson's nine of them). But Peterson runs with a primal intensity that no one else can match. There may not be another runner ever who has displayed such violent desperation to move the ball FORWARD as Peterson. He never dances. He rarely doubles back. Every cut, every twist, every juke – Peterson does all of things while always relentlessly going forward. It's what makes him not only the best running back in football, but the most popular one as well. It's also the reason he probably isn't going to be around much longer.

Since Peterson was drafted, people have cautioned that he's an injury waiting to happen. His upright running style, his affinity for contact, his injury history – all of those factors have played into the speculation. Now, obviously, ALL running backs (and all football players, really) are injury risks. Every snap is a prelude to human demolition. But, in a game that is inherently violent, Peterson's game is somehow even MORE violent. He runs the ball with an iron fury. Even alone in the open field, Peterson runs like a steed charging down to the battlefront.

Twice last week against Detroit, Peterson eschewed running out of bounds in favor of lowering his head and crashing into a defender. And I don't just mean he lowered his head. I mean he angled his head so that the crown of his helmet was face-to-face with turf, allowing the defender to blast him right in the back of the head or the base of his neck. He may as well have sent out invites to come break his fucking spine.

Peterson can get away with this kind of shit because he's stronger than most anyone who hits him. But he's not THAT strong. There's always a chance that he'll contort himself into a defenseless position, or that someone will find a seam in his seemingly indestructible exoskeleton, of that he won't see someone coming from the side to crush his vertebrae into cracker crumbs. The more he leaves the back of his neck open for any and all to plow into, the more likely that outcome becomes. Lesser players probably would have had their neck broken doing that last week. That doesn't mean an extraordinary player like Peterson is guaranteed to avoid that fate.

The problem with the solution – avoiding contact, stepping out of bounds a hair earlier – is that it takes away from what makes Peterson such an alluring player to begin with. We like to watch PJ specifically because he's willing to break his goddamn neck to get that extra yard. We're watching him perform a death-defying act, one that provides suspense each time he touches the ball. So, if he decided to heed the advice of others and begin "letting up," would he be as magnetic? Peterson's willingness to destroy himself is what makes him… him. Asking him to let up is like watching Evel Knievel go from jumping over buildings to jumping over go-karts, or like hearing your favorite band after they decide to stop doing cocaine.

It's one of the odd things about football. Players are asked to give every thing they have, and that's exactly what Peterson does. He never compromises on a carry. He never gives up. Yet, for the sake of his body and his team, that's exactly what he SHOULD do on occasion. And that's a hard thing to accept in a game where giving anything less than your entire body and soul makes you a pussy. It's woven into the fabric of our society. We're a grandly ambitious race of people, willing to do anything and everything to get what we want. The idea of compromising, or being happy with what you already have, is not a terribly American one. You're supposed to have your asskicking switch on at all times, or else you're a loser. And football is a pursuit that punishes you more the harder you push. The level of damage your passion inflicts is a severe one, much more so than if you were a track star, or a concert violinist, or something less awesome than a football player.

So Adrian Peterson is going to have to think hard about whether or not doing a makeshift headstand to get an extra yard on first down (against Detroit, no less) is worth the catastrophic risk he's taking. Because, at some point, and sooner rather than later, that catastrophe WILL happen, and all the flirtation with danger that makes him such a brilliant runner will be made manifest. Ask LaDainian Tomlinson how quickly it can all turn.

It doesn't seem logical that you can help your team more by being a less aggressive player. But it's true. Peterson needs to play with greater awareness of his own fragility: smarter, more in control. He's going to learn it at some point. And he'll have to learn to accept the inherent contradiction that giving it your all isn't always the best idea, and accept that it doesn't really detract from the essence of what makes him a wonderful football player. The only question is, will he find out the hard way, or the way out of bounds? If he wants to be remembered as the greatest of all time, as he has stated, he needs to choose the latter before it's too late.

Then again, maybe Peterson wasn't meant to be around for very long. Maybe, like Prefontaine, or some other rare talent, he is meant to exist at the peak of his abilities and desires and not a game longer. Regardless of how his story plays out, my only hope is that it doesn't end with his skull bolted into a halo brace. (He is, after all, on my fantasy team.) Running the ball like every carry is your last is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

So stop lowering your head there, Champ.

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

Five Throwgasms

Titans at Jets: There is nothing worse in the fantasy world than one of those weeks where every player on every team decides to blow the fuck up at the same time. You see one of your guys score three TD's or something, you figure you have a win in the bag, and then you get FUCKED because everyone else had a player do the same goddamn thing. Call it Orgy Week. I'll give you an example. Last week, Leitch's team had Chris Johnson, Drew Brees, and Marques Colston. And he still fucking LOST! Imagine watching Chris Johnson have the absolutely INSANE game he had, only to see it all go to waste. Will Johnson have a game like that again this year, where he's left COMPLETELY UNCOVERED when split out wide? No. No, he will not. He'll have plenty more good games. But you can't even do that in Madden (especially Madden these days, where the game is annoyingly realistic). I asked Leitch to comment on his staggering loss. His reponse:

"All that matters to me is that my guys went out and played hard. When you're facing a guy like Nick Folk, you have to expect a loss is always a possibility."

So diplomatic. Leitch is always polite like that. Deep down, I know damn well he was engorged with corn-fed ire.

Falcons at Patriots: I have Tony Gonzalez on a couple of fantasy teams this year. I've never had him before, and goddamn, he's a joy. Just consistently productive every week. None of this maddening up and down shit, like every other player out there not named Drew Brees or Adrian Peterson. I can't recommend him enough. I didn't even win last week, but it's always nice when you know at least one player you own won't turn around and STAB YOU IN THE KIDNEYS LIKE THE EVIL PRICKS THEY ARE.

And loogit, the Patriots might kinda blow this year! Even the blinding white Jewish power of Julian Edelman may not be able to prevent it! FUCKING NICE!

Four Throwgasms

Panthers at Cowboys: If you missed it during the pregame last Sunday, the Cowboys Stadium video board displayed a series of the great world landmarks – the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall, the Colosseum in Rome, and then Cowboys Stadium. This was done without a trace of irony. Let's go ahead and get our Gratuitous Simpsons Quote out of the way here:

"Once in a great while, we are privileged to experience a television event so extraordinary, it becomes part of our shared heritage. 1969: Man walks on the moon. 1971: Man walks on the moon... again. Then, for a long time, nothing happened. Until tonight."

Seriously, it's just a fucking stadium. All the accoutrements in the world can't hide the fact that it's still a collection of arranged seats in a building with no historical import. It's only an interesting place if there's an event being held there. Taken on its own, it's not the fucking Eiffel Tower.

49ers at Vikings: Again, I'd like to point out that Purple Jesus fumbled NINE goddamn times last year. Nine times?

Niiiine times. He fumbled last week. He nearly fumbled the week before. It's getting to be a problem. Also, the Vikings can't pass block for SHIT.

By the way, be on the lookout for announcers verbally fellating Antoine Winfield any time he plays. "He's so small, but he still tackles people! HE MUST HAVE THE HEART OF A LION!" If Winfield were white and played quarterback, you'd hate him more than Brett Favre.

One last thing about the Vikes, not to belabor them this week. I didn't realize this until last week, but the U. of Minnesota has a new football stadium this year. There had been plans to build a stadium for both the U and the Vikings. That never happened. The new stadium is gorgeous, and could potentially seat 80,000 Minnesotans (one assumes tightly) with a few modifications. So why would anyone in Minnesota build a SECOND football-only stadium just so the Vikings can make more money? It would be idiotic, right? Well, Michael Rand says it'll happen anyway:

"No governor or legislator wants to let the Vikes go on their watch. They'll work in some painless trickeration such as a small sales tax increase (we're funding the new Twins stadium with a 3-cent tax increase on every 20 bucks spent in Hennepin County) and convince people of the economic impact (jobs, tax base, etc). It'll get done. Mark it."

And that's democracy for you. It's just like Contact. Why build one stadium when you can build two for twice the cost?

Oh, and nice game last week, Frank Gore. Not that I haven't needed a game like that out of you FOR THE PAST TWO FUCKING YEARS, YOU GODDAMN CUMSWILLER.

Colts at Cardinals: I always wonder, when the players introduce themselves on SNF, why some choose to say the name of their high school and not their college. I'm sure some of them just want to mix things up, or they feel a greater affection for their high school. But I wonder how many of them just flat out fucking HATED the college they played for. Randy Moss never says he went to Marshall on those telecasts. I wonder if he thinks Marshall ate hog.

You'll again see lots of promos for the Jay Leno Show on SNF this week. I haven't seen it, but I do know Brian Unger is now a correspondent for Jay. BRIAN! I always like tracking the career arcs of lesser-known Daily Show alumnae not named Mo Rocca. Beth Littleford appears in ads ALL THE TIME. Gah! Why did she ever leave? Beth was awesome.

Three Throwgasms

Jaguars at Texans: Here's an indisputable case for why the Jags need to move immediately. Read it. It's fun knowing they're a hopeless failure!

Steelers at Bengals: Is there any doubt that Steelers fans were first people to hop online they second they saw an ad for Skinit.com? "Doy-uh, if I put Stillers stickers on mah pickup, girls will fuck mah pee pee bone!" 90% of all retarded NFL merchandise – skins, Fatheads, inflatable pool lounges – are made specifically because Steelers and Packers fans will buy them.

Saints at Bills: Apart from my favorite team winning it all, I can't think of a more delightful outcome for the season than Drew Brees and the Saints kicking the shit out of everyone. Drew Brees is awesome. If you don't like Drew Brees, then you hate wounded puppies, Shake'n'Bake drumsticks, and beating off after a nap.

Dolphins at Chargers: And then Marmalard went all (cups hands around mouth) MARMALARDDDDDD!!!!

/LL Cool J'd

Two Throwgasms

Giants at Bucs: Most ads are awful these days. But that Old Spice ad with the dude ski jumping? Tremendous.

Bears at Seahawks: Bump this up a throwgasm if Hasselbeck plays.

Broncos at Raiders: Didn't forget the Raiders this week! WOOHOO!

Chiefs at Eagles

One Throwgasm

Browns at Ravens: Ray Lewis wore a BEST DAD t-shirt during his postgame press conference last week. It's funny, because he's been hauled to court twice for failing to pay child support!

Redskins at Lions: I learned last week that Calvin Johnson is a die-hard Red Sox fan. Et tu, Megatron? EAT SHIT, JOHNSON. How can you root for Boston? YOU'RE FROM FUCKING GEORGIA. And you're black! Red Sox fans would arrest you for breaking into your own home.

Packers at Rams: The Packers have a receiver named Jordy Nelson. Not to be mean, but Jordy is a total retard name. Full retard, with the plaquey teeth and the bad smell and everything.

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

"Gideon," by My Morning Jacket. Spud posted this song on the site this summer, but it's worth tossing it in again. I like any song that climaxes with a man screaming his lungs out. Hey, that last sentence didn't sound gay at all!

Embarassing Cassingle Reader JRW Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

I have long had a desire to divulge to you my own personal Embarrassing Cassingle I Used to Own: "Owwww" by Chunky A. That's right, Arsenio Hall's fat alter ego.

I was a fellow fat child and, looking back, I think I honestly believed that owning this tape somehow would make me cool, somehow overcoming my grotesque body, bad hair, acne and my wardrobe, which was purchased exclusively at Sam's Club. It was Arsenio Hall! No one was cooler than Arsenio Hall.

In retrospect, I was wrong. Suffice to say, after breaking that bad boy out during a field trip thinking I would wow the kids with my edgy taste in music, I quickly learned that my expectations regarding the cool factor of that particular cassingle were a bit overblown. Instead of becoming an instant celebrity, I just became even more sad and pathetic (and correspondingly, even fatter), sinking further int a depression that didn't end until high school when being a fatass suddenly became a plus for its usefulness in blocking.

Now that I have divulged that tidy bit of information, I will cross it off my list and bid you adieu.

I'm right with JRW here. As a fat, unpopular kid, I tried to devise many schemes like this one to gain more friends and chicks. We'll get into those more later in the year.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? A dead grandma, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like. But please, no more human centipedes.

/shudders

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Steve Slaton. Nothing worse than seeing your player take part in a game where everyone scored a fucking shitload of fantasy points, thinking he scored a bunch, then checking the stat sheet and realizing he was THE ONE GODDAMN FUCK WHO DIDN'T HOLD UP HIS END OF THE BARGAIN. STEP UP YOUR GAME, STEVIE. OR I WILL SEND YOU BACK TO WEST FUCKING VIRGINIA.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Washington was (barely) correct, making me 2-0 on the year. That puts the 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? Baltimore, and those Lunch with Benefits promos during the FOX telecast. What's this "with benefits" thing mean? You trying to fuck us with no emotional strings attached, Jay Glazer? That is so typical of you.

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 Lions getting 6.5 points at home against the Redskins. About goddamn time you changed my picture back, you Jew fuck."

I'm not Jewish, Nazi Shark.

"If you try and fuck me over, you are."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 1-1

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was Gobias Some Coffee. He gets a free rant space here.

Ya know what really grinds my gears? Having to write a goddamn rant because I randomly made some NFL picks one day. I wanted to check out of work at 5:24 but had to wait until 5:30 to leave, so I went to Deadspin and made my picks for Week 1. My reward? A homework assignment. I gotta sit here and try to be hilarious in 100 words or less. J'accuse Big Daddy Drew! How 'bout I stick to making the picks and you write your own damn column. Fuck this, I'm out.

Maybe we should rethink this prize. How about free space to mock me and Daulerio as you see fit?

This week's winner was J. Dugan. Mr. Dugan, kindly come claim your insult prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
Reader Jewda sends in a brilliant one:

When I was 16 I went to this really intense nature camp, all hiking and roughing it in the woods and all sorts of other latently homoerotic activities that society deems 'manly'. Anyway we get a one day break in the middle of the camp and we get to rejoin society, stay in a hotel and sleep indoors for an evening so naturally me and my best friend at the camp decide to do an all you can eat chinese food buffet that night because you see, we're retarded. After eating nothing but granola and campfire hot dogs and shit like that, the stomach has a tough time handling a Chinese food buffet but nevertheless we both made it through the night ok and then returned to our campsite. The next day we are on a hike in the middle of fucking nowhere and my buddy turns to me and tells me his stomach is not feeling so good. So as we were taught to do, take a buddy with you when you go off trail and we decided we would take turns shitting. My buddy looks everywhere for a nice tree to hug so he can begin the festivities (we were taught to shit by hugging a sturdy tree, then squatting down and shitting away from you)..

Usually, one would survey the area and pick a really good tree or branch to get a hold of but my friend is so frantic and so desperate to void his bowels that he grabs the first decent looking tree and drops his pants and goes to work. Now normally I wouldn't be watching this happen but the sounds coming from the woods are so fascinating and so grotesque that I decide I need to take a peek. As he enters my field of vision the first thing I see is the tree he is holding onto with all its might, snap and break and my poor friend waves desperately in the air hoping to catch his balance but its too late, he falls ass backwards into his own nasty diarrhea. He immediately gets up screaming and trying to brush himself off when he looks down and sees that the diarrhea he just had came out a weird green color and this causes him to start throwing up in his own pile of green shit while he is also still covered in his own green diarrhea.

And that my good sir, is a wonderful poop story.

Yes, it is. I saw the broken tree coming, and that's what made it so perfect.

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
Gary Kubiak
Jack Del Rio
Lovie Smith
Marvin Lewis
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Wade Phillips
Dick Jauron

One and done for Mangini? Oh, it's gonna happen.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Twinkies! How'd they get the creamy filling in the cake? Like the kid in the old ad says, it's just born there.

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Bud Light Golden… Wheat? Is that right? Bud Light has a golden wheat variety now? Christ, that sounds like shit. Also, I'm getting really sick of smug Bud bartender lady giving me all her goddamn "lager lessons." Pour it right down the center? Lady, you ever pour fucking Bud down the middle of a glass? You get a fucking bubble bath. Kiss my fucking ass, sweetheart. Just gimme my cheap, crummy beer and go the fuck away.

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 this year is STILL Drew Brees of the Saints! Now, everyone knows Evans likes himself the occasional blowjob. Relaxing? You bet! Exciting? Damn right. But you know what's even MORE exciting than getting a blowjob? Getting a blowjob from Dennis Hopper's wife, with Dennis Hopper watching in the corner with a pistol in his hand! YOU TALK ABOUT SUSPENSE!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Hud! Everyone wants to bone Patricia Neal! And shoot cows! Nice.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
See the Cowboys game capsule.

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: The links have been broken the past two weeks. I am sorry. I am an asshole. Here's Kayla Collins. Hope she makes up for it somehow.
-For the gals: The shirtless men of True Blood. I'm told this show has lots of tits and blood. I'm in.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Week 1 of the NFL season featured a miracle 87-yard touchdown pass, two brutal late game fumbles, the awesomest Purple Jesus double-stiffarm ever, Cutlerfucker imploding on impact, Drew Brees nearly breaking the season-long TD record in a single half, Delhomme spiraling deeper into Steve Blass Disease, and Brady Quinn making like Garo Yepremian. Holy shit, is it nice to have football back. And this week's slate of games looks to be even BETTER somehow.

But before we get into that, let's give a second round of applause to the gents at Fire Joe Morgan, for coming in yesterday and absolutely KILLING it. If you're not inspired by the antics of those brilliant gentlemen, you must be Joe Morgan.

Now, let's light this candle.

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

Five Throwgasms

Saints at Eagles: Shouldn't the Eagles just cut Michael Vick? I get signing him as a luxury during training camp. That kinda made sense. But now they're in a situation where they need someone who can play quarterback, you know, effectively. That's why they brought in Jeff Garcia this week. Now, to keep Vick, they had to get rid of Hank Baskett and his Zodiac boat of a wife in order to keep four QB's on the roster. I'm not saying Baskett was the shit, but that roster space is valuable. And that doesn't include the roster issues they have if they want to play Vick in the Wildcat when he gets back. They don't NEED Vick. They never have. If McNabb had busted his ribs the first week of training camp and Garcia had been available then, you never see Vick in a Philly uniform. They signed him to a relatively small contract. Is it really worth dicking around with the roster this much to accommodate him? Am I asking rhetorical questions just to be an arrogant cock?

Patriots at Jets: Rex Ryan is fucking awesome. I wish he coached my team. Shit, I wish he was my dad. He'd make me a sundae, and then kick the shit out of me. Such a lovable man. You need six Gatorade coolers just to get his shirt properly drenched. AND HE DON'T TAKE SHIT FROM BELICHICK! I like that. Sure, Brad Childress has criticized Belichick before, but Brad Childress is awful. Here's a GOOD coach standing up to that MILFhunter. I adore him.

Note from that Pats-Bills game last week: I hope they keep the retro ref unis around all year, particularly the hats they have that tell everyone they went to Auburn.

Giants at Cowboys: YEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWW!!!! Did you know Jerry Jones is opening a new stadium? Did you know it cost a fuckload? Did you know it has, like, art and shit? You will after Sunday Night. By the way, the stadium is expected to have well over 100,000 people on hand for Sunday Night, despite having only 85,000 seats. Oh, Party Passes. Is there nothing you can't do? Next time, I suggest someone build a luxury stadium with no seats of any kind. Just ramps. It would be like the Guggenheim Museum, only I'd be drunk and could throw up over the rail and down onto the floor of the atrium. Everyone wins. While we're here, a couple things about the new, Madden-free SNF telecast:

-They did this before, but I hate live player graphics, the ones where the player's head pops up on screen and stares at you, blinking, without saying anything. It's like Stryker's kid staring at people in X-Men 2 and telling them to go commit murrrrrder. Just use a goddamn still photo, NBC. Stop turning your player graphics into such awkward moments between me and the screen. It's like reliving the Garlin podcast over and over again.

-I know some people aren't fans of Cris Collinsworth. They don't like his voice, or his mannerisms, or the fact that he nailed their sister the day of her bat mitzvah, or some other inherent quality he possesses that he can't really help. But I have to say, he was awesome on the Thursday and Sunday games last week. You could tell he spent the offseason doing everything he could to be prepared to fill Madden's shoes. He happily criticized players who fucked up, which occurred at virtually any point of the Bears-Packers game (at one point, I really thought he was going to turn to Al and say, "Jesus Al, these guys can't play for SHIT"). He pointed out shit you wouldn't have noticed otherwise. He was genuinely passionate, enthusiastic, and didn't try and do any bullshit schtick. He was great, and I'm glad he's there now.

The Vikings and Packers played a playoff game a while back that featured Brett Favre throwing a pass in the red zone when he was well past the line of scrimmage. The mistake cost the Packers a possible touchdown, and Collinsworth did nothing but heap praise on Favre for his childlike exuberance on the play. I bitched for ages for about that, because I am a petty human being and I have nothing better to do with my time. Sorry for the grudge, Cris. NOW STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM KID, YOU GODDAMN CRETIN.

(Side note: The NFL pulled the Collinsworth vid from YouTube. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO)

Ravens at Chargers: Anytime you mention defense with regards to football, you must pronounce it DEfense. But use it in any other context, and it's deFENSE. I demand the accentuation of this word become uniform, in favor of DEfense. It would be particularly effective in the legal profession. "The DEfense rests, you son of a bitch." Also, the word defend must also follow suit.

Four Throwgasms

Steelers at Bears: James Harrison is a fucking huge person. Even in comparison to regular NFL players. Maybe he wears enormous pads, or maybe it's a trick of lighting. All I know is that when he lines up against a left tackle, he looks like he could hold them between his thumb and forefinger and eat them in one bite, like an amuse bouche. It's like someone took Galactus and pulled a black jersey over his helmet. It's like two Levon Kirklands in a single uniform. They could have put him in the Stones' "Love Is Strong" video without having to use model buildings. He's just an enormous person. If I were on the field against him, I'd void every chamber in my body.

Also, why is Ben Roethlisberger incapable of playing well until there are only two goddamn minutes left in any given half? And why does this team call dive plays on 3rd and 1 when they can't run for shit?

By the way, any time Heath Miller catches a pass in Pittsburgh, the crowd yells out HEEEEEATH. If you're white, and you're a tight end with a long vowel sound in your last name or nickname, the crowd does that sort of thing for you.

Regarding the Bears, Collinsworth somewhat absolved Lovie Smith for the fake punt play in the Packers game, pinning the blame on the Bears long snapper (Patrick Mannelly) for seeing the 12th man on the defense and quickly snapping it to the upback. But here's what makes no sense to me. If the snapper is coached to hike the ball when he sees 12 men on the defense in order to get the penalty, why does he have to snap it to the upback? If he's just trying to draw the flag, who gives a shit who he hikes it to? Shouldn't he be coached to snap it to the PUNTER in case something goes awry, like if it turns out there AREN'T 12 defenders on the field? That way, you can punt the ball and not be, you know, FUCKED. I know Mannelly made a stupid play. But someone coached him to make that stupid play.

Three Throwgasms

Colts at Dolphins: It took roughly seven seconds for Behrens' prediction of Anthony Gonzalez shitting the futon to come true. It's a fantasy law now. If everyone in the league lauds your pick during a draft, that player is DOOMED.

Panthers at Falcons: Best $20 million in guaranteed money ever spent? Best $20 million in guaranteed money ever spent.

Two Throwgasms

Texans at Titans: Jeff Fisher has a thicker mustache this year. It's fuller, pushbroomier, more semi-Holmgrenish. It's really quite nice. It now grows past the top ridge of his upper lip. It makes me wonder how long you could grow a mustache of you were someone gifted with the ability to grow facial hair (I am not). Yeah, I've seen those guys who do the handlebar thing and wax the ends of the ‘stache out to the sides. But what about growing one DOWNWARD? So that it falls over your mouth, like a filled-in goatee? Or what if you parted the mustache in the center, like a big hairy mouthcurtain? Then you could put finger puppets on your tongue and perform a little kid's show. YOU COULD PRETEND YOUR MOUTH IS A CAR WASH. Facial hair allows for so many intriguing possibilities. I wish I had gone through puberty.

By the way, when Cortland Finnegan picked off Big Ben and ran it back at the end of the half last week, he could have scored if Michael Griffin had blocked someone. He was out in front of Finnegan and could have cleared an open path. But he didn't block SHIT.

Also, Kyle Vanden Bosch looks like a WWE heel.

Cardinals at Jaguars: I'm not one to get excited over books, but that Krakauer book about Pat Tillman is gonna be awesome. Krakauer has already gotten me to hate and fear both Mormons and socialite mountain climbers. I can't wait to hate the shit out of the Pentagon.

Seahawks at 49ers: Peep the cross dangling from Mike Singletary's neck during games this year. It's almost actual size. You could nail James Harrison to it. Do not mess with this team.

One Throwgasm

Browns at Broncos: Spencer Hall wrote this week that, "People who don't like Gus Johnson also hate noises during sex, dogs for their pawprints, and messy, delicious foods." Now, I like all three of those things, preferably all in bed simultaneously. But I can see why people like Leitch are less than enthused about how Gus calls plays like the Stokley miracle TD from last week. He sounds like he's ejaculating out of his throat.

Me: What did you think of the Gus call on the Stokley TD?

Leitch: I ultimately can only take so much of that. I think it makes more sense in the tournament than the NFL. And keep him the hell away from my baseball.

Me: Do you think he fakes every Gusgasm?

Leitch: You mean do I think he's not that excited, really? Yes. But that said, I'll take fake excitement over fake outrage any day.

As will I. At least Gus is trying to show some enthusiasm. You have to shoot an Artie Lange sperm bank sample onto Joe Buck's chest to get a reaction out of that asshole. And if ANY sports needed Gus Johnson's help, it's baseball. Sorry, Leitch. Still, it's possible Gus went juuuust a bit overboard on that Stokley TD. He maxed out there. They only way he could convey more excitement to the audience is if he chainsawed his own head off.

As for the Browns, I find it odd that Eric Mangini got fined $25,000 for hiding an injury when Bill Belichick has hidden every injury that has ever happened to his team ever. Few people know this, but Tedy Bruschi's stroke actually occurred seven years ago.

Vikings at Lions: Brad Childress is from Aurora, Illinois. Ahackcoachwhounleashesaretardedonsidekickintheopenersayswhat? I remember Garth had a dad called Beav in the "Wayne's World" skits. And Wayne always used to imitate Beav by saying, "Hi, I'm Beav, and I'm a big fag." Oh, for the more innocent times of my youth, when you could hurl FAG at someone on national TV and get away with it.

I was listening to Brian Billick and Thom Brennaman call the Vikings game last week. Brennaman said, "You can't deny that Brett Favre LOVES playing football." Billick called Favre, "one of the all time great quarterbacks of all time." Say hello to FOX's worst announcing team. Fuck you both in headset.

Bengals at Packers: Ooh, Charissa Thompson is blonde again! No more sexy grad student look for her!

By the way, I'm not homosexual (my qualifying statement that I'm not homosexual proves it), but Aaron Rodgers has lovely eyes. Take a look sometime. They're quite striking.

Rams at Redskins: You should have seen the look on KOGOD's face when he realized on Sunday that the Skins are still the same boring, criminally passive on offense team as they were last year. Priceless. Couple that with the show Mark Sanchez put on for the Jets and it's like a double kick to the prostate. It's just about time to say, for certain, that Jason Campbell officially blows. He's not gonna get faster. He's not gonna get more decisive. He's not gonna get better. He doesn't need more weapons, or more support. He just blows. Once you admit it to yourself, things get much easier. Todd Collins starts by October.

Bucs at Bills: Anyone else notice last week that all the NFL coaches, across every team, were wearing the same pleated chinos? It was epidemic. The top half of them said football, while the bottom half said lunch at the turn. Not a sharp look.

Raiders at Chiefs

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

"Eiffel Tower High," by Husker Du. I used to work at an ad agency in Manhattan located way downtown. They had a gym on the roof of the building with an outdoor track. Every day, you could go running on the track and get a 360-degree view of the city on every loop. If you went at sundown, you could see the light reflecting off the sides of the World Trade Center, giving both towers a supernatural lavender glow. I listened to this song I lot when I ran on that roof. It's one of the very few times in my life I haven't wanted to stop exercising. Run with that kind of view and you feel like you're sprinting across the shoulders of giants.

Embarassing iTunes Library Track I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

"Don't Know Why," by Norah Jones. In the past, I have made love (to a person!) while this song was playing in the background. It does not help male performance to have a woman crooning in the background over and over again that she doesn't know why she didn't come. It does not help ONE GODDAMN BIT. Maybe instead of sitting there waiting for the sun, you could put a little more effort into this thing, Norah. I'm doing all the work here.

My kid likes watching clips of Elmo on the computer, and one of them is a guest spot featuring Norah Jones singing "Don't Know Why" in a duet with Elmo (link above). Only the lyrics have been changed to, "I don't know why Y didn't come." So any time my kid hops on the computer, my brain does one of two things: 1) It pictures the letter Y trying to bang someone (I vote for the number 3, because it looks like a sideways ass presenting itself for insertion) and failing to achieve orgasm, or 2) It reminds me of the time Norah Jones' voice destroyed my erection. If any knows the number of a good lobotomist, I'd be most appreciative. I don't want this brain anymore.

From now on, I'm going back to the "Harder They Come" soundtrack for all my sexual affairs.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Email me any question or observation you like. "You're ripping off Simmons by answering mail!" was a popular one last week.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Pierre Thomas. It's one thing for a player like Steve Slaton or Cutlerfucker to be unproductive in Week 1. But at least they played. PIERRE THOMAS, GET OFF YOUR PUSSY ASS AND GET BACK ON THAT GODDAMN FIELD.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of New Orleans was correct, making me 1-0 on the year. That puts the Saints 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? Washington, and those ads with GM's new CEO limping around and begging you to buy one of his cars. There's nothing more depressing than when a car company busts out their CEO and sticks him on awkwardly camera to explain to you, "Hey, we don't suck! We make good cars! I SWEAR! PLEASE BUY ONE! PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE?" Just come back when you have the Volt ready, Gimpy von Oldpants. And make sure it's cheap as shit.

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 Panthers getting 6 points on the road against the Falcons. I see the Jewish Michael Jordan officially retired this week. Bet he led his Yeshiva league in steals."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 1-0(!)

New pic of Rolf via the mysterious Zebra Is Food.

Great Moments In Poop History
Hard to top Uff's story from last week, but reader the Earl of Weaver will give it a go:

When you're only 8 years old, there are only a few certain things you desperately cling to: an old Playboy magazine you found stashed in your uncle's closet, your bike, icy pops and your favorite sports franchises, to name a few. This particular poop story involves the bike and my revered football franchise, the Washington Redskins.

It was January of 1991 and I had the pleasure of riding my sweet Mongoose BMX over to a friend's to watch the Skins beat down the Eagles in the NFC Wild Card game. Unfortunately I hitched a ride back home and left my bike at my buddy's, deciding I'd pick it up another day. Later on that week I trekked over to snag it only to find that no one was home. Undeterred, I concluded the best course of action was to simply break into the garage and retrieve the bike myself. Due to the combination of excitement and dread, a bout of doo doo suddenly decided to make its presence known inside my lower intestine. With nowhere to relieve myself, and knowing that time was of the essence before either a neighbor or the returning family found me trying to forcibly enter their home, I shat myself. Somewhat fortunately I wasn't wearing any underroos and the relatively clean and tightly-packed clump easily found its way out of the bottom of my pant leg and onto their driveway. You'd figure I was plenty relieved at this point, but instead I panicked and fled.

Did I mention I was wearing full Redskins garb that day? Later that week the Skins followed suit and put up a shitter of a game against the '49ers. Oh sweet, foul-smelling irony.

That's not irony. That's verisimilitude. Poopy brown verisimilitude.

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
Gary Kubiak
Jack Del Rio
Lovie Smith
Marvin Lewis
Jim Zorn
Wade Phillips
Dick Jauron

Shouldn't Lovie have been fired on Monday morning? I think so. I'd replace him with a scarecrow holding a lanyard whistle.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Lollipops! Any time I eat Tootsie Pop, I somehow manage to create a slit in the lollipop so razor sharp, it could cut through fucking granite. Ever cut your tongue on a lollipop ridge? Agony. WHY MUST SOMETHING SO SWEET BE SO CRUEL?

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Magic Hat! Yes, Magic Hat, one of the pioneers in the field of "Beers I'll purchase just because they have a cool label". Look at that label. Maybe that beer has quaaludes in it! Together, the beer industry and the hot sauce industry represent 95.6% of all funky labels printed in the United States. The beer's pretty solid, too.

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 this year is, once again, Drew Brees of the Saints! Ah, New Orleans. Lemme tell you about the time I was an uncredited consultant on the set of Angel Heart. Had a chance to spend an evening or two with a feisty young ethnic girl, name of Lisa Bonet. Was a HUGE TV star back then! Gorgeous? YOU BET! Freaky? You know it! Remember that chicken blood scene? She improvised that! She brought her own bucket to the set! We even had a frolic with it later on that night. Kinky? Damn right! Sticky? Let me tell you something: that chicken blood was harder to wash away than the box office returns from The Cotton Club!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Point Break. Rest in peace, Mr. Swayze. You know, Patrick Swayze starred in some pretty cheesy films over the course of his career: Dirty Dancing, Ghost, Black Dog, and all that shit. But then there's a role like this, where he plays one of the most charismatic villains you'll ever see. From start to finish in Point Break, Swayze is just a fucking badass. I know he's a badass in Road House, but that was in a cheesy way, with the feathered hair and bad one-liners. He's not cheesy here. He's just awesome. Tom Curran says he was a STAR.

I know Swayze likely passed away at his home, in a bed, surrounded by his family and friends. But I'll still always picturing him leaving the mortal plane the way he did in this movie, swallowed whole by the giant wave he's been waiting his whole life to ride. I'd like to think it takes a mountain of water that large to consume a presence that enormous.

Also, remember when Anthony Kiedis shot himself in the foot in this flick? That was solid.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"I've been scorched by Krusty before. I got a rapid heartbeat from his Krusty brand vitamins, my Krusty Kalculator didn't have a seven or an eight, and Krusty's autobiography was self-serving with many glaring omissions. But this time, he's gone too far!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Irish reality TV star Noirin Kelly. Noirin is a big star on the UK's version of "Big Brother." Do they separate contestants over there into Upstairs and Downstairs? They should. Mmmm… snooty class warfare.
-For the gals: 500 Days Of Summer star Joseph Gordon-Leavitt, sans shirt. JGL was also the star of Brick. I hated that movie.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Love, as a rule, fades over time. The first time you meet a girl you really like, or the first time you hear a song that you know you'll want to hear again and again, those little sugar rushes of infatuation never seem to last. The giddy excitement you feel when you first encounter that one THING – the instant you realize that yes, this might be something you love and yes, this really IS something you love, and you're just so fucking jazzed that you found this thing and you're so energized by how it makes you feel – that's a hard thing to sustain. It just is.

I have two kids, and part of the joy of watching them grow up is seeing them get really excited over things I started taking for granted long ago. You watch your kid eat a lollipop, and they are fucking enraptured by the thing. They're so excited to see you unwrap that lollipop, they nearly dance out of their skin. Whereas me, I'm just an old asshole. It's just a piece of candy to me. I've been eating that shit for years. It's nothing new to me. But to them, HOLY DOGSHIT. They get psyched.

There are very few songs I can listen to a decade after I first heard them. There are very few movies I'm willing to sit through more than two or three times. I'll go through phases with food where I like to cook one thing a lot, and then after a while I'll never make it again. Virtually every TV show jumps the shark for me at some point. Everything gets old when you get old. There are very few things in my life that I love more each and every day, that always manage to go in surprising directions I never would have mapped out. My family is one of them.

The NFL is the other.

I will never get tired of the NFL. Ever. Not when the Vikings leave town. Not when the NFL expands to 26 regular season games. Not when they put an expansion team in Macao. Every year, the NFL arrives for a few months to baffle, confuse, and delight me. At its core, it always remains the same: blocking, tackling, horrible pregame shows, etc. But within that framework it manages to be this giant, shape-shifting animal that evolves constantly and unpredictably. Jerry Seinfeld once said that cheering for teams is like cheering for laundry. Jerry Seinfeld is a fucking hack. The player turnover is part of what I love about the NFL. I love the idea that there will be an new group of players for my team each year, with different personal dynamics and different skill sets. And I love seeing how that new assemblage will fare against the 31 other new assemblages spread out over the landscape. And I love seeing how the shitty fantasy team I cobbled out from those 32 assemblages turns out as a consequence.

Then, the league goes away long enough for me to ache for its return. And it's never quite the same when it arrives back on my doorstep. There are new coaches. There are new draftees. There are new rules. There are new, very expensive video boards that block goddamn punts. Every year, the league reinvents itself, so nothing you see is quite like the way it was before. And that's what makes it the most quintessentially American of all sports. We are a country that HATES old shit. We make fun of cell phones that are ten years old. We make fun of pop culture trends that are even less aged (Remember Joe Millionaire? OMG that was so fucking lame!!111!!1!). We are in constant demand of something new that we can then discard immediately. And that's exactly what the NFL provides. It gives us four months of both the spectacular and the bizarre, then it all gets chucked at the end of the year and reworked entirely for the next.

Before this season began, I wrote a series of posts detailing why each and every team in the NFL sucked. Now, there's nothing more enjoyable than hating on teams and getting angry readers to join in on the fun. But the fact of the matter is that I love all 32 of these teams, even the Packers. They do NOT suck. Quite the opposite. I could as easily write 1,500 word tributes to every NFL team as I could 1,500 word hit pieces. I won't, because that would be kinda gay. But I COULD. I love seeing how every NFL team changes and grows from year to year. And I love that every season that passes by serves to add to the backstory of each. The history grows deeper and richer with each passing year. The year I was born, 1976, only three teams had ever won multiple Super Bowl titles. That number now stands at twelve. The context deepens as we go along. Traditions are conceived. The games mean even more, somehow.

That's why, against the rules of infatuation, I enjoy every NFL season more than the last. Ufford is right: the excitement for football only grows stronger as you get older. It seems impossible, but it's true. Nothing else in the world seems to possess that quality. Not alcohol. Not a new car. Not even some relationships. Nothing else outside of my family seems to give me the kind of ever-growing, ever-present rush that the NFL does. It's the thrill of first love, made perpetual.

Until they throw that first flag, and then it all goes to shit. This is your Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Jamboroo. Cue the music, boys!

Now, I say this every year, but this time there's no exaggerating: this could be the most exciting NFL season yet. There are storylines bursting out all over the place.

Brady's Back. I know I poke fun at the Pat fans, and I even put out a gag bounty on Tom Brady. But secretly, I love watching Tom Brady play football. The man is ice fucking cold. I'm a big fan of watching people react calmly in highly pressurized situations, because I know damn well I'd shit a cinder block if placed in the same scenario. I can barely breathe on most third downs during the playoffs, and I'm just an asshole sitting at home. To see guys like Brady deliver like it's nothing… it's a pleasant viewing experience. I've missed the guy. Now $500 to the first fucker that tears his dick off.

Twitter! If you had told me when I was a kid that an All-Pro LB would be arrested for slapping around a TV star, then immediately send direct messages to the population asking for jokes to cheer him up afterwards in a digital forum, I would have called you a liar. Then I would have pooped in your helmet. But here we are. It's the 21st century, and every day brings us at least 50 tweets featuring Ocho rambling on like a fucking idiot. It really adds to the whole fan experience.

Eleven New Coaches! And some of them might even be competent! Even the shittiest teams could show real promise this year. A 5-11 year in Detroit would be like a 12-4 year anywhere else.

Cutlerfucker! Put that game frown on, fella!

Red Zone Channel is on all cable systems! I think! About goddamn time.

LAND BARON! Fucking cock.

Confusing new rules! So, refs can now review fumbles ruled down by contact, but only if there's an "obvious" recovery by the defense. I'm sure that won't be subjectively interpreted at all!

No Madden, No Kornheiser. All we have to do is make a pact to poison Berman, and the cleansing of the networks' coverage will be complete. Unfortunately, this is also the year Matt Millen returns to the booth. And while I fucking hate Millen with every fiber of my being, I do welcome that pure, black invective back into my life with open arms. I've missed cursing at the TV whenever I hear your voice, you incompetent stack of deer shit.

But I do like Gruden in the booth, especially when his voice goes really high when he gets excited, which is every five seconds. Calm down Jonny Boy. You're gonna get ejaculate all over the telestrator.

And that's merely the tip of the iceberg. Let's get into this thing.

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

Five Throwgasms

Titans at Steelers: It's NBC's first telecast of the season, so I assume they'll have horrible new reworking of that Joan Jett song from Faith Hill for the opening credits. And I can live with that, because it's avoidable. But I beg of you, networks: Please don't subject me to anything like that Kenny Chesney song that now runs all through every ESPN college football telecast. Holy shit, that is awful. It makes me not want to watch football, that's how bad it is. It makes me feel UNWELCOME to the game. It aggressively tells me that I am watching the wrong sport. I feel out of place, like I stumbled onto a NASCAR broadcast. Please, NFL networks. Never do that. Just keep the MNF theme, the FOX "Sleigh Ride" music, that horrible shit CBS plays, and what not. Don't change. Whenever networks change sports music, it's almost always for the worse.

By the way, I'll be spending the opening game at the 18th Amendment bar in DC for Tunison's book reading. Drop by and pay the Ape your respect.

Eagles at Panthers: Wanna see something fucked up? Not one of ESPN's so-called experts picked a team from the NFC to win the Super Bowl. In fact, the 16 experts ESPN used chose a grand total of three possible champions. THREE! San Diego, Pittsburgh, and New England. WHAT FUCKING PUSSIES. Seriously, ESPN experts. Grow some fucking balls. None of you even picked Philly, you were afraid to even be THAT mildly unpredictable. Jesus Christ.

Bears at Packers: Peter King picked the Bears to go to the Super Bowl. He picked them to lose to the Pats, like a gash. But unlike ESPN, King at least he tried to be a little adventurous. I enjoyed SI's NFL preview. But every issue of SI I get in the mail now includes a cardboard insert for Camel Snus, which has to be the gayest tobacco product ever introduced to the American marketplace. This is the dipping equivalent of Zima. You may as well fellate a roll of Breath Savers in public. Buy real cigarettes, kids. That's how cool people do it.

By the way, this game will either end up 10-7, or 41-38. There is no in-between.

Redskins at Giants: I was listening to talk radio here in DC the other day, because I enjoy being pissed off. One Skins fan called in and started babbling about some shit or another. At one point, he told the host he never watches the playoffs or the Super Bowl unless the Skins are playing in it. That's not uncommon around these parts, and I find it utterly fucking bizarre. DC people love their Skins, and that's to be admired. But to willfully ignore the playoffs, just because your precious Skins didn't make it in? To pretend like the rest of the NFL doesn't exist, like you're some provincial baseball town? Seriously, what the fuck? This town is so goddamn weird.

Four Throwgasms

Dolphins at Falcons: Tony Sparano has already said that Ronnie Brown would continue to run the Wildcat formation, and not Pat White. So if you still drafted Pat White in your fantasy league, you are a moron. You were a moron even if White DID run the Wildcat, but you're even more of a moron now.

Three Throwgasms

Cowboys at Bucs: The Cowboys don't open The House That The Double J Built for another week. But when you see that stadium on TV, one thing will catch your eye besides the giant teevee that will almost certainly one day come loose and fall onto a poor Punt Pass and Kick winner: the field level luxury boxes. They encircle the entire field, and they are fucking weak. They're the equivalent of the seats behind the backstop in baseball where rich assholes sit and play with their iPhones. I'm not even sure patrons of those boxes can see over the bench players' heads to the action on the field.

Jaguars at Colts: I've seen some of the new Peyton Manning commercials for this season, and they leave a lot to be desired. I especially don't need those ads where Peyton and Eli rib one another. I get it. You're siblings with missing chromosomes. Find a new schtick, showboy.

Jets at Texans: I picked Houston to win the AFC South this year. As did SI. As did MJD over at Yahoo! Then I saw their o-line in the third preseason game. YOU PEOPLE ARE GOING TO FUCKING LET ME DOWN AGAIN. In fact, fuck it. The season hasn't started yet, and I made those predictions right before all those offensive coordinators were fired and shit. Let's revise.

NFC North
Green Bay 12-4
Minnesota 10-6
Chicago 9-7
Detroit 3-13

NFC South
New Orleans 9-7
Carolina 8-8
Atlanta 7-9
Tampa Bay 5-11

NFC East
Philadelphia 12-4
Washington 10-6*
NY Giants 10-6*
Dallas 6-10

NFC West
San Francisco 9-7
Seattle 9-7
Arizona 8-8
St. Louis 6-10

WILD CARD
Saints over Skins
Giants over 49ers

DIVISIONAL
Packers over Saints
Eagles over Giants

CHAMP
Packers over Eagles

AFC North
Baltimore 12-4
Pittsburgh 12-4*
Cincinnati 9-7
Cleveland 3-13

AFC South
Jacksonville 9-7
Tennessee 9-7
Indianapolis 7-9
Houston 7-9

AFC East
New England 11-5
NY Jets 9-7*
Miami 6-10
Buffalo 6-10

AFC West
San Diego 10-6
Kansas City 6-10
Denver 5-11
Oakland 4-12

WILD CARD
Chargers over Jets
Steelers over Jaguars

DIVISIONAL
Patriots over Chargers
Ravens over Steelers

CHAMP
Ravens over Pats

SUPER BOWL
Packers 31, Ravens 19

There. I feel better now.

Two Throwgasms

Lions at Saints: A shitload of college games last weekend featured those Papa John's ads with that Cinnapie pizza you can buy for dessert. I find it alarming that both Domino's and Papa John's are now repurposing their pizza dough so that you can have it for both dinner AND dessert. They will stuff their sticky dough down your gullet at all costs. They will starch you right to your fucking grave. Beware.

Bills at Patriots: It's never a good sign when you dump your offensive coordinator right before the season starts, then he says your head coach wanted a Pop Warner offense, then your team cuts the left tackle it hired to replace a Pro Bowler in order to start a seventh round draft choice at the position. And your first game is against the Pats in Foxboro in prime time. Nothing screams "41-0 asspillaging" quite like that.

One Throwgasm

Vikings at Browns: Many people were annoyed I used this column as a Vikes preview, in lieu of a full "Why Your Team Sucks" job. And they were more than happy to tell me why my team blows. Reader Paal:

The Vikings can have Favre, for all I give a damn. I hope he feel better in his new purple dress. The fans are all excited, like they finally got the hot chick to notice them, and now they get to take her to prom. I don't know how they don't notice that their hot chick is pregnant with cold sores all over her mouth.

But nothing sums up the suckitude of the Vikings like this photo reader Cian sent me:

Oh, that's bad.

If you want more reasons why Minnesota sucks, take it from someone who lived there for seven years. Minnesotans are reputed to be the nicest people in America. They are not. They are only pretending to be nice. Underneath all those smiles and "you betchas" are the most passive aggressive race of people mankind has ever known. On the East Coast, people are far more upfront about their assholishness, which is far better. Minnesotans coat every gesture in a fake, cloying glaze of insincere pleasantness. You just want to shake the shit out of them and give it to you straight.

And they don't like people who aren't originally from Minnesota, which is to say Jews and blacks.

Also, I saw last week that Wrangler has already busted out the Favre ads. Really, Wrangler? You think anyone wants to buy anything from that asshole anymore? Pony up cash for new ads, boys.

49ers at Cardinals, Rams at Seahawks: Oooh, an NFC West twin-bill!

Chargers at Raiders: This is the second year in a row that ESPN has added a second, late MNF game to the start of the year featuring the Raiders. A quick note to ESPN: If you're including the Raiders in your doubleheader, you don't have a doubleheader. You have a singleheader with a bag of diarrhea immediately following it. Steve Young joins Mike & Mike in the booth for this game. Expect Young to use lots of big words Golic proudly doesn't understand.

Chiefs at Ravens
Broncos at Bengals

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

"Hall Of The Dead," by ISIS. You know, 95% of all death metal bands would improve their music if they simply hired a lead singer who fucking SANG. Barking out lyrics like you're the lead singer of Cannibal Corpse drives away roughly 99.9% of potential listeners. Cut that shit out and sing like normal musicians. That's how Mastodon ended up making the best album of the decade. Still, kickass shit from ISIS here. Go to the 5:20 mark for the musical money shot.

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

"More Than Words," by Extreme. I also had "Play With Me" by that band on a mixtape, a song that features the #1 guitar solo preferred by competitive Guitar Hero players the world over. The solo to that song and Judas Priest's "Ram It Down" will cause your hands to fucking DIE.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
I wanna do a sister column to the Jamboroo on Tuesdays. Let's make it an open mailbag and see how it goes. Email me any question or observation you like. Or vent about your team, or the fantasy player that fucked you over, or something you saw on Deadspin that gave you a good dick joke to tell. Or send me that question you've sent to Simmons seven times that he never got to. I'll answer it. I'm not particular like that. Save the questions about maintaining your erection for the KSK mailbag, though.

Whicker Or Simmons?
"Terrell Owens now resides in Buffalo. It's true. And weird."

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
No one yet. But I just can't WAIT to see who among my three teams will bend me over a tire and go to work on me. I own Larry Johnson on two fantasy teams. There's just no way that won't cause me grievous suffering the whole year through. He's the new Curtis Martin.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
I'm fresh out of ways to commit suicide, which means the Suicide Pick Of The Week will now feature a team to choose for your suicide pool, along with something that makes me WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? New Orleans, and having to watch Thomas the Train videos with my kid. These videos creep me out. All the trains have creepy, plaster faces. It's like a clown mask mated with the Shatner mask Michael Meyers wears. And when the trains talk, their faces don't move, so it's like they're trying to talk to you via mental telepathy. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, TRAINS. YOU'RE NOT TAKING MY CHILDREN AWAY.

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 Jets getting 4.5 points on the road against the Texans. I saw Inglorious Basterds this summer. I haven't seen a movie that hilariously far-fetched since Schindler's List. Jews being avenged? Yeah, right! The only payback Jews like is when they sue. I nearly blew out my dorsal fin."

2008 Nazi Shark Record: 10-13

New pic of Rolf via the mysterious Zebra Is Food.

Great Moments In Poop History
Oh, we've got a real treat for you poopers out there to start the year. It's a poop novella from our favorite combat vet, Matty Ufford.

I had pretty bad diarrhea at the 1999 Tibetan Freedom Concert (this was the one in Wisconsin — Rage and the Roots stole the show). If you've never had intense diarrhea on a hot day at a concert where port-o-johns with long lines are the only option, I don't recommend it.

But that isn't my poop story: it is merely the foundation of it. The diarrhea-in-public thing inspired me to take some Immodium. But I was still pissing out my ass, so I took some more. And then some more. Then, a little more. Eventually, it worked — really worked. I didn't crap for something like three days. My guts were heavy with waste.

Three days later, I'm over at my girlfriend Kristina's apartment. She and her three attractive roommates are downstairs hanging out with our friends who live downstairs, but I decide to lay down in my girlfriend's bed because — surprise — I'm not feeling well.

And then the tidal wave hit. I rushed to bathroom and crapped my guts out. Oh, how I crapped. It was orgasmic. Three and a half days of feces in one bowel movement. So. Much. Shit. More shit than you've ever seen in one toilet. Zookeepers don't see shits this big. It wasn't identifiable turds so much as a mold of my intestines. In retrospect, I kind of wish I'd taken a picture.

So I go to flush and —

FLASHBACK TO 90 MINUTES EARLIER

Kristina: Hey, our toilet's broken, so if you have to go, use Ben and Lindsay's downstairs.

Matt: Right.

— the toilet handle does nothing. I have just taken the most gigantic dump of my life in my girlfriend's toilet, and it ain't going anywhere. My life has just become the most preposterous poop joke in cinematic history. To this day, I no longer laugh at Jeff Daniels' misfortune in Dumb and Dumber. And let me tell you something else: if that happens to you, you will try everything that Harry Dunne does. That scene is fucking REAL.

So I go downstairs and find Kristina, pull her aside. "You must call a plumber IMMEDIATELY."

"What? Why?"

"Uh, I kinda forgot about your toilet not working, annnnnd..."

The plumber is unable to get to the apartment until the next day. I make Kristina swear a solemn oath to not look in the toilet — "No matter what. I'm serious. You will never be attracted to me again if you do" — then I go upstairs and put a sign on the lid that reads something like DO NOT LIFT THE SEAT UP. SERIOUSLY. DON'T. YOU WILL REGRET IT.

After all this excitement, I go back to bed. From there, I see one of Kristina's roommates enter the bathroom. Theoretically, I could have gotten up and told her what happened. I could have called out to her. But no: I was paralyzed, helpless but to watch events unfold, a spectator in my own life. Fate had stolen my mobility, my voice.

The door to the bathroom closes. I can hear the pause; I can feel it. The pause is a living, breathing creature. No: it is a storm front. Meteorologists are reporting about the pause's arrival, warning of the damage that might ensue. Buy jugs of clean water. Duct tape the windows. This is the big one, folks.

Then: "Ohmygod." It is said as one word, quietly. Said with awe, shock, wonder, fear. Like coming home, opening your front door, and in place of your living room is a sunny meadow with a slaughtered unicorn. That is the fearsome size of this dump.

Bravo, sir. Bra-vo.

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
Norv Turner
Gary Kubiak
Jack Del Rio
Lovie Smith
Marvin Lewis
Jim Zorn
Wade Phillips
Brad Childress
Josh McDaniels
Dick Jauron
Andy Reid

All it takes is one crummy season for any of those gents to get the boot. LET'S HOPE IT HAPPENS, AM I RIGHT?!

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Yogurt! I got fatter this offseason. No question about it. I looked at my gut in the mirror the other day. There was definitely an overhang. That's not good. You don't want an overhang. When I sit at the computer for too long, the backside of the overhang gets sweaty and my waistband gets moist. That's repulsive and horrible and makes me want to die. I thought briefly about bringing my waistband out from under the overhang and across my belly. That's right. I thought about going for the gunt. I refused. I can beat this nascent FUPA.

Anyway, yogurt. Hooray. Woo. Yogurt isn't a snack. It's a drink. By the way, have you seen all the flavors of yogurt at the store? Jesus, you can get key lime, and caramel, and all kinds of crazy shit. Yogurt is the infused vodka of cultured dairy products.

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Natty Light returns to the roo. And you know why? Because I saw an ad for it on TV the other day. A real ad! With a budget and everything! You don't need ads to sell Natty Light! Doesn't the $3 price tag for a case of 75 cans do all the selling for you?

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 this year is Drew Brees of the Saints! I hope you all had a great summer. I know I did! Spent three months over on the Amalfi Coast! Surf? You bet! Sun? Hey, I'm good and tan, aren't I? Got a new sunbathing consultant, Dr. Goran Zrdnvkc. He injects molasses straight into my epidermis thrice daily, and Chocolate Evans is the result! Joan Van Ark nearly took a bite out of my ass last night, she was so ravenous for me!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Good Morning Vietnam. Watch this movie today, and you realize that it's where the trouble for Robin Williams began. Since this movie, all other movies starring Robin Williams are specifically designed to show other characters laughing at something Robin Williams is doing. It's like a scripted laugh track.

I grew up watching Robin Williams' "Night At The Met" HBO special over and over again. I didn't get a lot of the jokes, but I assumed I would know what they meant once I grew up. That was not a correct assumption. No, most of Robin Williams jokes really don't make any goddamn sense. By the way, that clip of GMV above is dubbed with a Spanish voice, and it's just as coherent as the original English version.

All that aside, great fucking movie.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"So, a graduate student, huh? How come you guys can go to the moon but you can't make my shoes smell good?"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Actress Grace Park. I'm not being facetitious when I tell you I would really like to have sex one day on a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace. That would be awesome. As long as the overhang doesn't get in the way. I bet Evans does it all the time.
-For the gals: Once again, we go to the Taylor Kitsch well. Yeah, I've used him before. I don't see you complaining. PLUS I gave you the pic at the top. Who's that handsome, horned devil? GRRRRR!

Your Motivational Pregame Quote For The Weekend
You don't need any quote. You people are pros now. I shouldn't have to motivate you. FOOTBALL IS BACK. NOW GET THE FUCK OUT THERE AND SIT AND WATCH. Your Super Bowl picks in the comments.

Enjoy the games, everyone. We're back!

The NFL Draft is this weekend, so time for a special offseason edition of Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo. Enjoy.

I once worked at a large company that forced me to attend a company-wide meeting that was called to pay tribute to a company director who was retiring. If you've ever worked at a large company, you at some point have been forced to attend a company-wide meeting or two, which is the business world's equivalent of assembly. I fucking hated company-wide meetings, especially if it was done in conjunction with the company holiday party. "Hey guys, we want you to eat and drink all you like. But first, sit there for two hours while we bore the fuck out of you."

Anyway, this particular party consisted of speaker after speaker coming up to the podium to talk about how awesome this retiring guy was. Then they played a video tribute to him. Then I think they gave him a parting gift of, like, a Hawaiian vacation for his whole family and shit. It's always fun to sit there while someone you don't know, who makes oceans more money than you (this guy was retiring before fucking 50), is heaped with additional prizes and adulation they don't really need. It's never you on that podium getting the love at work. It's always some other asshole.

And what I find interesting about the NFL Draft is that each draft pick (particularly those who are invited to attend the event in New York) gets the same kind of treatment before they've ever done anything. It's a premature Hall of Fame ceremony of sorts. It's the exact inverse of how the real world works, which never stops blowing my mind.

People who hate the draft always bitch that it's idiotic to focus on the draft when you never know which players will pan out and which won't. But I'd argue that's exactly what makes it so interesting. Because, for roughly half the guys who walk onto that dais come Saturday, the draft will soon come to represent the absolute apex of their professional careers. The draft is either the beginning, or it's the beginning of the end. There's something fascinating whenever ESPN cuts to the draft footage of an old bust like Ryan Leaf holding up his new jersey at the Draft, smiling, totally unaware of the shit blizzard that's about to rain down upon him.

True, every draftee in attendance on Saturday will become rich beyond measure. But many of them will have dreams and ambitions that go beyond money. Many of them likely envision themselves as future football immortals, men who earn not only huge sums of money, but also the never-ending adoration from fans all over for their dominating play on the field. But that won't become a reality for all of them. For some draftees, the NFL will become a joyless vocation (as Stefan Fatsis has ably pointed out), full of unfulfilled expectations, jackoff coaches, and merciless fan criticism. It will fucking suck, just like any other job.

This comforts me. I like knowing Mr. Hot Shit Football Player up on that stage, unlike the retiree I had to see feted, still has the potential to fail miserably, his draft day serving as a bittersweet high point not only in his career, but in his entire goddamn life. That's good stuff.

There's a parallel experience for fans watching the draft as well. Your favorite team drafts a player. You watch Mel Kiper go through the tape and tell you all the awesome shit your new player can do. And then you start to daydream about all the ways Draftee X is going to fuck shit up and help your piece of shit team finally win a Super Bowl. Does it work out that way? Usually not. But that's what makes the NFL so interesting. Because the league only plays 16 games a year (and I hope they don't go beyond that), the NFL, more than any other sport, allows time for fans, players, and coaches to sit and ponder what will be. It allows you to build up a grandiose vision of how things will play out. More than any other sport, the NFL is a league that thrives on the joys of anticipation.

I can't vouch for every fan on this, but I know I personally spend more time THINKING about football than I do watching it (and I watch a great deal of it). That's part of the fun of being a fan. It's why I play fantasy football, why I read books about football, and all that other shit. Because not only is it fun to watch football, but it's fun to see how the real game ends up confounding all the expectations you had in your head for it. And it's fun to see how Draftee X really plays versus how you imagined he would play on the day he was drafted. Unless that draftee's name is Tarvaris Jackson. Fucking T-Jack.

So when people tell you they don't like the NFL Draft because they'd like to watch ACTUAL sports, you can kindly tell them to suck the latte off of Peter King's nutsack. Because the NFL Draft is ACTUAL sports. The idea that a sporting event is irrelevant without game competition fails to account for all the contextual factors that can make a game more interesting to begin with. If you watch a Lions game next year, and you aren't aware of all the time, money, and personal stakes that went into the process of drafting Matt Stafford (if that is who they end up taking), then chances are that game won't be as interesting for you as someone who IS aware of it.

Every game is an answer to a series of questions about a team and its players. The Draft is an event that helps provide a lot of those questions. And if you don't like it, you can still suck it. This is your 2009 NFL Draft Jamboroo.

The Offseason

All offseason events in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer interest on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Jay Cutler To The Bears: The thing that still blows my mind about the whole Cutler incident is that Cutler, while always known to be a boastful douche, was never a real problem for the Broncos until Josh McDaniels came aboard. For three years, Cutler steadily improved under Mike Shanahan. The idea of trading him would have been idiotic. Then McDaniels comes aboard, and all of a sudden the Broncos are like, "This guy is a CANCER!" Really? Because he didn't seem to be one five months ago.

Keep in mind, nothing about Cutler as a football player had inherently changed in that time. Only the circumstances around him had shifted. And now Broncos fans are supposed to buy that somehow Kyle Orton is a better fit for the team than Cutler was? I hate taking the Simmons attitude of "Every GM is every league is a retard and I'm the only person who has any common sense," but that trade will always strike me as one of the most fucking bizarre moves in NFL history.

Michael Vick Getting His Own Reality Show: I think Vick's reality show should consist of him having to live with one of the families that adopted a Bad Newz dog and saved it from being destroyed by the government. "Hey dog, sorry I tried to, like, have you raped and killed for sport and shit. Friends?"

Gruden Getting Shitcanned: Nothing beats an unexpected coach firing. It makes me feel like a big man.

Four Throwgasms

The Story About Travis Henry Going Broke: I loved this quote best of all:

My counselor asks me, ‘How can you do the same thing over and over?'" he said, unable to provide an answer.

You know damn well that if a girl walked up to Travis Henry right now and said, "Hey, wanna go have unprotected sex?" he'd be balls deep in that chick within five seconds. Available pussy makes you forget things quite easily.

Matt Cassel Traded: The real shame of this trade is that it pushes Brodie Croyle even further down the Chiefs' depth chart. And the less there is of Brodie, the less there is of his wife's breasts.

Oof. Not to mention the striking brunette hair that helps frame said breasts. It's like seeing a majestic stage curtain opening.

Three Throwgasms

Madden Retiring: One thing that used to annoy me about Madden was back when he had his All-Madden team, and he'd have 83 players on it every year. I swear there was one year when he had the entire Cowboy and 49er rosters on the All-Madden team. Or he'd pick a guy for the team just because he did something particularly footballish. "Look! Dat guy rubbed mud on his pants! BOOM! ALL MADDEN!"

Fuck, he even put Tony Mandarich on the All-Madden team once, and Mandarich wasn't even in the NFL yet. That was the real problem with Madden: he'd always get enamored of certain guys and stay enamored of them forever. There wasn't much rhyme or reason to it. I also hated the fact that he refused to address Brett Favre by anything other than his full name.

Collinsworth Replacing Madden: I don't mind Collinsworth. But he begins nearly every sentence with this phrase, "I tell you what, this ____ team…" Like so: "I tell you what, this Indianapolis Colts team… They're gonna miss Marvin Harrison!" Once you notice him doing it, it's impossible to stop noticing it.

Adam Schefter Going To ESPN: Schefter, together with Jay Glazer, breaks roughly 95% of the league's important news. I can't tell if he'll make ESPN better, or if ESPN will make him worse. I can see some ESPN guy walking up to Schefter and going, "Hey, nice scoop on Matt Stafford there. You mind if we give that one to Michael Smith? Thanks, champ!"

Two Throwgasms

Gay Rule Changes: I understand not wanting players to get hurt. But this is getting fucking out of hand. You can't sack a quarterback from the ground anymore? You know what? Just put a red jersey on him and be done with it. And let's also soak the red jersey in jellyfish venom, so any defender that touches the quarterback goes into toxic shock for doing so.

So fucking dumb. Yeah, you don't want every player to be injured. But injuries are part of what make the storyline of a season interesting. I don't remember the Super Bowl suffering from Tom Brady's absence last season.

The other rule change that sucks is the elimination of wedge blocking on kickoffs. Not only will this reduce the number of long kickoff returns (and long kickoff returns fucking rule), but other outlets have already noted that it will also make recovering onside kicks more difficult. That's retarded. I want recovering onside kicks to be MORE likely, not less. Shit, I'd like all punts to also be considered live balls after 10 yards. Why the fuck would you go out of your way to make the game less interesting? All to protect a few special teamers? Fuck that. Those guys play special teams specifically because WE DON'T NEED THEM. Meanwhile, the PAT still exists for no good reason.

That One Mel Kiper Draft Promo: Reader Burt Destruction (not his real name, I would gather) writes in: "I was watching a commercial for the NFL draft this weekend and in the spot Mel Kiper is moving stats and pictures of draftees around with his hands like he was Tom Cruise in Minority Report. I don't know why I found it so funny but I think it has to do with how awkward he looks doing it and that someone thought this was a good idea. Please check it out if you get a chance." I too saw this ad. It's like they want you to believe Kiper creates these players in a fucking lab. Not that he hasn't tried.

One Throwgasm

Donte' Stallworth Killing A Guy: I think Stallworth's problem was compounded by the fact that, not only was he drunk, but he hit the dude while driving a damn Bentley. Even if he had been stone sober during the collision, and obeyed every traffic law, no one ever takes the side of a Bentley driver in an accident. If you drive a Bentley, you are an asshole.

ESPN Hiring Matt Millen: Gee, I wonder who might have pushed for that to happen:

Matt Millen is great on TV. Not good, he's great. The booth that he walks into will become the best booth. Even if he walks over my body and sits in my seat, it's going to become the best. He's just great at it, and in six months or less people will forget.

Oh, you really think we're going to forget how badly Millen sucked as a GM, Tony? Really? You think he's that fucking dazzling of a commentator that our memories of that spewing volcano explosion of retardery will be wiped clean from the collective consciousness? FUCK YOU. "Hey Jaws, how about having Matt Millen in the studio? IS THAT NOT A HUGE COUP FOR OUR NETWORK? Would you have ever guessed, IN A MILLION YEARS, that we would have such an incredible talent in our midst?"

This is so fucking annoying. Don't tell me he's so awesome, Tony. I remember Millen as a commentator, and I've never fucking liked that prick. This is why people get so fucking pissed at the media. Someone goes and hires a gasbag like Millen just because he's buddy-buddy with a bunch of other assholes in the room. I'm glad this site would never stoop to bringing in poorly informed contributors strictly out of cronyism.

Favre Retiring: Whatever. Fuck that old shit. I hope your land turns fallow, Favre. FALLOW!

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

"Oblivion," by Mastodon. And holy living fuck does that band's new album BLOW UP MY SHIT. Even the concept behind it fucking rocks:

The album follows a quadriplegic who learned to astrally project and on his journey he flew too close to the sun, burning his umbilical cord which connected him to his body and he flew into oblivion. At the same time in Czarist Russia Rasputin and his cult were channeling spirits and brought the quadriplegic to their time. He explains his situation and foretells the assassination of Rasputin. Inevitably Rasputin is assassinated and Rasputin guides him back to his body.

Why does the quadriplegic have an umbilical cord attaching his spectral body to his physical body? BECAUSE THAT'S FUCKING METAL, THAT'S WHY.

These guys aren't fucking around. This isn't like some typical boring metal shit where the band changes time signatures seven times mid-song without giving the song any kind of real foundation. Like old Metallica, Mastodon creates songs that echo classical music in terms of scope and structure. You could listen to "Crack the Skye" dozens of times and still find new things on each successive listen. That's what great albums do. They invite you to come live inside the music. They have songs you want to learn in your mind inside and out. To this day, I can still replay in my head the entirety of Metallica's "Master of Puppets" from start to finish. Every lyric. Every riff. And that's what I want to do with this incredibly badass piece of work.

Say, how exactly does Mastodon pull off a concept album like this? Acid. Lots of acid.

The Mastodon brain trust of Hinds and Dailor get their weird lyrical ideas the old-fashioned way: "It comes from us doing too much acid," Hinds says. "Acid is the best drug in the world. It did the most amazing things for my creative psyche, and it still is doing it for me."

Seeking refuge from an operatically awful childhood, drummer-lyricist Dailor tripped almost nonstop from the age of 14 until his early 20s. "I went to high school on acid," he recalls. "Droppers filled with liquid acid on my tongue and just going for it, fully exiting what I consider to be an earthly plane. And when the acid wore off, I had a connection with that kind of music, with Frank Zappa and Yes and King Crimson."

I want to do acid now. I really do.

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up
"Candy," by Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson. Fun fact: if you shaved Madonna's head and Iggy Pop's head, they'd look exactly alike. Oh, Kate Pierson. I have no doubt you were a stone cold tigress in the bedroom back in the day.

Ten Quick Ways To Improve The Draft Telecast
1. Increase the number of prospects invited to New York to 30. Make them all sit on stage until their name is called to step up.
2. Wiretap all draftees' cell phones.
3. Fire everyone on ESPN set but Tirico and Kiper.
4. All draft picks announced by drunken fans of respective teams and/or Chairman Kaga from Iron Chef.
5. Force the Top 10 prospects to live in a house together between the combine and the draft and film it. Right before the draft, have them each vote on who they think should be the top pick (they can't vote for themselves). Winner with the most votes gets $500,000.
6. Tits (preferably Kelli Croyle's).
7. Announce combine drug test results right before draft begins.
8. Force teams to show their draft boards once the draft has ended.
9. All seventh round picks decided by fan poll.
10. Ritual Pussycat Doll sacrifice to hooded cobra.

Nazi Shark's Vegas Futures 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 Saints at 10:1 to win the NFC title next year. Kudos to Bernie Madoff for Jewing so many rich Jews out of their hard-swindled Jew money. I wholly support this new epidemic of Jew-on-Jew wallet violence."

Great Moments In Sports Poop History
Reader cowbell204 sends in this poop story. Take it away, fair reader.

"A couple of years ago when I was a junior in college, I drove down to Bloomington to see and Iowa-Indiana football game. On my way back, I'm driving on a pretty empty stretch of Interstate when I realize i have a poop coming. I figure, "no big deal, I'll stop at the next exit". 15 minutes pass with no gas stations/rest stops. I'm trying to drive and not die while clenching my ass. Realizing that shitting my pants is favorable over death, I shit myself going 75 mph on I-35.

"After driving 10 more miles while trying not to sit on what felt like warm ice cream, I pulled over at a gas station to find shit leaked out of my pants and onto the seat. Waddling into the bathroom, I duck into a stall to find my underwear and shorts are encased in poop, after using half a roll of tp to clean myself off, I threw my underwear away and got back on the road. Having to work when I got home, I pulled off at the next rest stop to change out of my shitty shorts into clean pants."

The question there is: Why didn't you pull over and poop on the side of the road? You could have pulled over, opened the right two side doors to create and makeshift stall partition, and dropped trou between them. Alas, you stuck yourself with a poopy car seat. To counteract car poop, I strongly recommend the "New Car Smell" tree car freshener. As car fresheners go, "New Car Smell" is the winner. Never get Cherry Vanilla. You'll regret it, I assure you.

Draft-time Snack Of The Week

Blister peanuts! You can get those fuckers at Trader Joe's. It almost is worth the douche stigma of going to Trader Joe's. According to the nut literature:

"Generations ago folks soaked peanuts in water to removed the red skins prior to roasting. This caused the peanuts to 'blister' during roasting, resulting in an incomparable crunch."

It's true. Those things are none more crunchy. I had no idea you could make peanuts even better simply by giving them third degree burns. We should do that with all foods, like almonds. And baby calves.

Draft-time Beer Of The Week

Genesee! This old Genesee ad from 1958 combines two things I've always adored: shitty beer and horrible Asian stereotypes. Genesee with fortune cookie? YOU CLAZY, STERRPID AMELLICAN!

Robert Evans' Top Pick Watch!
Who's gonna go in top slot? Legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans joins us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

"Baby, your top pick in Saturday's draft is Matthew Stafford! I like the cut of his jib. Young? You bet! Impulsive? You know it, baby. Reminds me of my early days on the Paramount lot. I remember meeting this one tour guide from Georgia. Had an ass made of helium. Tits like two fresh sourdough rolls. I took her to an alley between two of the sound stages and gave her a taste of the Kid. Fucked her until she was red on the ass. Upon seeing her rosy backside, I shouted out, 'TORO!', as I am often prone to doing.

"Little did I know a producer was watching us from a nearby window. Surprised? You bet! Embarassed? Not a chance. And that's how Evans ended up getting the role of Pedro in The Sun Also Rises, gang!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Cowboys And Panthers Fans (No First Round Picks)

Shoot To Kill. I forgot how shitty this movie was. Tom Berenger looks like the lead singer of Loverboy here. And you really haven't lived until you've seen the great Sidney Poitier make goofy faces to scare off a grizzly bear. You can actually see him losing his precious dignity around the 90-second mark. Speaking of Sidney…

BONUS Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Cowboys And Panthers Fans (Hey, It's A Long Draft)
Sneakers. "Hello. My name is Werner Brandes. My voice is my passport. Verify me." Restaurant drive-thru speakerbox cashiers are not amused when you repeat this line over and over to them.

I find Sneakers to be an exceedingly pleasant and watchable movie. The only thing that bothered me about it was when everyone on Redford's team at the end starts demanding shit from James Earl Jones. Whistler only wants peace on earth? Bullshit. If I'm a blind guy, I'm demanding some of the government's secret robot eye implants. And all River Phoenix wants is some broad's phone number? Like someone who looks like River Phoenix would need top secret government intervention to help score hot Fed pussy. Not a chance, my friend.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Oh, Mr. Burns, we'll thaw you out the second they discover the cure for seventeen stab wounds in the back."

Draft-time Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Egotastic brings you nude stills of Jessica Biel's strip scenes from the movie Powder Blue. (NSFW) I find it immensely gratifying when an actress not only gets naked in a film, but gets naked the way you'd like them to get naked. Look at Biel here. Back arched? Ass out? That's good nudity. No lying on a bed with her nipple grazing the corner of the screen bullshit for her. We salute you, Jessica.
-For the gals: Some ripped dude in a blue swimsuit. It's like Dr. Manhattan come to life!

Your Motivational Pre-draft Quote For The Weekend
"Don't be lost when the time comes, for the day of the Lord cometh like a thief in the night!"
-Rev. Cleophus James

Enjoy the draft, everyone. See you back here in September.

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

Before I get into closing down the Jamboroo, a couple of quick programming notes. This will be the last Jamboroo until the beginning of next season, with the exception of the NFL Draft Jamboroo, which drops anchor the week of the Draft in April.

Also, I regret to inform you that Balls Deep, the regular Thursday column I ran in place of the Jamboroo during the offseason, will not be returning. Much to Buzz Bissinger's relief.

Instead, I'll be continuing my editor at large duties here by popping in for random posts every so often. My hope is to litter the site with more Great Moments in Poop, polygraph tests, Nazi Shark picks, and poorly worded, profanity-filled rants. I believe I also owe the editor of this site a Cultural Oddsmaker column, so look for that, too.

Lastly, not that you needed the incentive, but I've joined Penthouse magazine as a new monthly columnist. Someone on Facebook told me they only masturbate to it for the articles. Me too!

So anyway, the NFL offseason is here. Fuck. I mean really, fuck. And we're only at the beginning. There's a seven-month stretch of football-free badlands laid out in front of us, and we've only gotten a few steps in. I've said it before: The older I become, the longer every NFL offseason seems to get. I miss football already. I miss everything about it. Except for Jerome Bettis. Fuck that guy.

But it's not all bad. Despite my pessimism, every offseason brings any number of non-football sports diversions. So let's break them all down now, THROWGASM STYLE.

All offseason sporting events are evaluated for sheer awesomeness on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

March Madness: There are only two sports where you'll go to a bar for the expressed purpose of watching games all day. Football is one. College basketball during March Madness is the other. Have you ever gone to a bar to watch an all-day NBA playoff tripleheader? Fuck and no, you haven't. March Madness also has the added value of those Thursday and Friday day games in the first round. It's like having two consecutive NFL Sundays in a row (four if you count the second round), only you get to skip out of work. And drink. NICE.

Bill Simmons recently sneered that the NFL playoffs have become as unpredictable as March Madness. Well, what the fuck is wrong with that? March Madness rules. "Oh no! These games aren't predictable enough! They're too interesting!"

The Golf Majors: All self-contained within a single four-day period. That's useful for a sports fan as lazy as I am. And the great thing about golf tournaments is that each round takes fucking forever, and takes place during the day. It's not like when you have to wait around until 9:30 for some goddamn basketball game to start. You've got a solid six-hour block of daytime weekend programming with each of the Majors, which means there's always a solid anchor in your channel flipping rotation. And that's important. You need those anchors.

The Draft: And it'll be a doubly amusing draft this year when the Lions take Matt Stafford at number one.

Four Throwgasms

Wimbledon Finals: I'd enjoy the Wimbledon Finals even more if I ever remembered that they were on. But by the time I turn on the TV that morning and realize it's the Wimbledon Finals, Serena Williams is already hoisting a big silver plate in the air. And eating a whole wild boar off of it.

Boxing/MMA/Pro Wrestling: Watch while stoned, if at all possible.

The Actual Kentucky Derby Race, Not The Six Hours Of Gay Coverage Beforehand: There's nothing worse than those Tom Hammond-narrated, soft lit puff pieces that try to wring human interest out of filthy rich Saudi oilmen buying up horses, shooting them full of winstrol, and then racing them for money. I don't need another profile of Bob Baffert. That guy looks like an asshat. Spare me.

NBA Finals: Take two throwgasms off if the Spurs or Pistons are involved. I especially like watching LeBron James. It's like watching Adrian Peterson play running back, only no one is allowed to tackle him.

Olympics/World Cup: No World Cup this NFL offseason. No Olympics either. Dammit! Just when I was curious about how far Sasha Cohen has advanced past puberty. No inappropriate boners for me until 2010.

Three Throwgasms

NBA Playoffs: I'd enjoy the NBA playoffs more if the good Western Conference games aired sometime before 3AM. Kobe? Who is this Kobe you speak of? Is he the famed backdoor intruder I've heard so much about?

NHL Playoffs: Although I'm sad Gary Thorne doesn't do NHL telecasts anymore. I quite enjoyed hearing Thorne broadcast a game and seeing just long he could go without taking a breath. "And here's Fetisov on the wing looking for Kozlov passes to Kozlov now Kozlov passes back to Fetisov who's looking for Federov he gets the puck to Federov now Federov setting up looking back to Fetisov who looks back to Larionov and it's Kozlov now with the puck looking for Fetisov (face turns aqua) gets the puck to Federov THE ONE TIMEEEEERRRRRRR… SAVE BY BRODEUR! SAVE BY BRODEUR!" (inhales zeppelin full of oxygen)

To think this guy only does Orioles games now. What a waste. He can take all the fucking breaths he wants during an Orioles game. I'm not even sure he has to talk.

PBR Bullriding: Don't sleep on bullriding. It's men riding bulls. That's solid.

Two Throwgasms

Baseball: "And now there's a beach ball on the field! And the ball boys are discussing which one of them's going to go get it!"

Tour de France: I bump it up one spot this year because Armstrong is back, and because daddy loves him some French podium girls. One look at them makes me want to paint the word BASTILLE on my underwear and ask them to storm me.

One Throwgasm

NASCAR: One year in college, I decided to give NASCAR an honest try and watched over two hours of the Daytona 500. But no one died, and the announcers said the phrase "pit roo" four hundred times a minute, and that more or less ended the flirtation.

WNBA: I still think this league could thrive if they made all the players play in Easy Spirit dress pumps.

Super Bowl Pick: 0-1 (1-0 vs. the spread)

2008 Playoff Picks Record: 6-5 (7-4 vs. the spread)

Song to Get You Through The Offseason

"Infinity," by Queens of the Stone Age. Yup, that's about how long it feels.

Embarassing Album I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

"Pride," by White Lion. I like the fact that, in the video for "Wait," White Lion lead singer Mike Tramp has teased his hair to the point where he does, indeed, look like a white lion. (Tramp, by the way, is the sole inventor of the Tramp Stamp, for which he is paid a very small royalty any time a young woman of loose morals decides to have a giant heart with angel wings inked onto her lumbar region).

I'd like to state right up front that I bought this album strictly because I liked "Wait." I purchased it well before the band released "When The Children Cry" as a hit single. I fucking hate that song and I always have. That song may very well be the single gayest power ballad in the history of recorded music. It violates the number one rule of power balladry. And that rule is this: If you ever record a power ballad, it must be about woman who left you, and it must be written as a completely cynical ploy to get other women to fuck you.

Any band that eschews this formula and writes a power ballad about social issues like poverty and injustice deserves swift and brutal ridicule. Here now are the five gayest power ballads of all time:

1. "When The Children Cry," White Lion
2. "Wind of Change," Scorpions
3. "Something to Believe In," Poison (horrible, horrible song)
4. "After The Rain," Nelson
5. "Time For Change," Motley Crue ("Change! Now it's time for change! Nothing stays the same! Now it's time for change!" And now you know where Obama plagiarizes all his oratory from.)

"Cherokee" by Europe would also make this list if it were actually a ballad. But it isn't. It's just a rock song. A totally gay rock song.

Nazi Shark's Futures Lock Of The Offseason
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 his Super Bowl winner for 2009. Take it away, Nazi shark.

"For the 2009 Super Bowl, I like Denver getting 35-1 odds to win it all. I'd you all to bow your heads in silence for a moment in memory or Dr. Aribert Heim, a brave and courageous leader in the field of involuntary Jew surgery."

Dr. Heim was accused of performing operations on prisoners without anesthesia; removing organs from healthy inmates, then leaving them to die on the operating table; injecting poison, including gasoline, into the hearts of others; and taking the skull of at least one victim as a souvenir.

"This man was the original Patch Adams. Remember him as such."

2008 Nazi Shark Record: 7-12 (3-1 playoffs)

Great Moments In Sports Poop History
Female reader Missile Envy sends in this high school dance squad poop story.

"Like many high school dance teams, mine went to a four-day camp every summer to learn new routines, win meaningless trophies, and haze the new freshmen. Every pep squad has its traditions, and our dance team had two that are of note to this story: 1) for the duration of camp, freshmen were not allowed to do anything (speak, eat, go to the bathroom) without first asking permission from a senior, and 2) for the duration of camp, absolutely nobody on the team was allowed to shower or bathe. The smell on the bus ride home every year was legendary.

"My junior year the food was particularly bad and pretty much half the camp ended up with a wicked case of the shits. On the second day of camp, one particularly shy freshman was learning a routine and desperately needed to use the bathroom. Unable to locate a senior to gain permission, she ended up shitting her pants. She kept dancing and didn't tell anybody because she hadn't been given permission to speak. When we got back to the dorms, she wiped off, but couldn't clean herself up because showering was against the rules. She then literally spent the next two days dancing in ninety-degree heat with encrusted shit all over her ass.

"The best (worst?) part is that none of us knew this had happened until the girl told the story at camp the next year. We were so rank that a freshman wandered around for two days covered in shit and nobody noticed."

Jesus, teenage girls are fucking brutal. "I kept shit in my pants for two days when I was a freshman, and you'll do it to the freshmen when you're seniors. But you're doing great. Now fry like bacon, you little freshman piggies!!! Fry!!!"

Robert Evans' Super Bowl MVP!

"Baby, your Super Bowl MVP was Santonio Holmes of the Steelers. And I gotta tell you, that was one exciting Super Bowl. Thrilling? You bet! Emotional? Damn right. It was up. It was down. In a way, it reminded me of the torrid love affair I had with a young Tuesday Weld. Oh, she was a spitfire, that Tuesday! Brassier than my towel rack!

"Oh, things she used to throw at me when she got mad. China, vases, cats, film canisters. I tried to get the little pistol on lithium, but I'll be damned if she couldn't taste it in her lemonade! It was always something with her. I remember one night when I whisked her off to Redford's lodge in Telluride. Bob let me borrow it for the weekend. Caviar? You bet! Fresh bearskin rugs? Absolutely.

"Tuesday adored being in that lodge, gazing out at the mountains. I used to just enjoy sitting with a drink and looking at her young naked body standing by the window, set off against the white snow. I always thought, in that instant, that she was the perfect woman. I just wish I could have frozen her in that moment, when she was gorgeous and happy and full of excitement. I suppose every man wishes he could do that to the woman in his life. But you can never do it. They always change, baby. They never stay in one place. And that's why I never stay with them.

"Nice girl, though. Fucked like a mountain lion."

Snack Of The Offseason

Cotton Candy. I'll never understand the appeal of cotton candy. "Hey, you know what would taste great right now? A pillow!" Apart from Kevin Spacey, I can't really picture any grown man eating it.

Beer Of The Offseason
I'm gonna need something strong to get me through this. I know. CRAZY HORSE.

I think more alcoholic beverages should be named after famous Indians. It gives any booze a certain air of credibility.

You'd be a drunken race too if Europe wrote gay songs about you.

Random FKS-Style Tidbit
When you have a new kid, ninety percent of your energy goes into trying to get the kid to fall asleep so that you can either sleep yourself, or relax and go be a normal human being for five seconds.

But babies, I find, are rarely willing to cooperate. Rest assured that, if you have a baby, that that baby will sleep like a fucking angel all day long, and then pop its eyes wide open juuuust as you're settling into bed for the night. It doesn't matter what you do. You can feed it, burp it, swaddle it, give it a pacifier, change its outfit, subject it to white noise, change its diaper, give it a bath, dunk it in chloroform… no matter. Even if it LOOKS like the kid is falling asleep, it isn't. It's just lulling you into a false sense of security. Then you'll stop singing or rocking the kid or doing whatever it is you're doing that's keeping them momentarily quiet.

Then the kid will open its eyes again. And you will be fucked. The lesson: get an au pair.

FUN BABY FACT: Right as they're about to get fussy, all babies look exactly like John Belushi's impression of Joe Cocker.

Offseason Movie For Lions Fans

Clockers. Still my second favorite Spike Lee movie of all time. I crossed the street with Spike Lee once. We crossed Park Avenue and both got caught stuck on the median because the light had changed too quickly. This was our entire conversation.

Me: This sucks.

Spike: (nods)

And that automatically qualifies Spike Lee as my best black friend. Say hi to Tonya for me, my brother!

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Kids, your daddy and his daddy are involved in a very sticky, nutty, chewy, chocolatey… PUT IT AWAY, BOY!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: It's Holy Taco's tribute to women on all fours. Special acclaim goes to the girl doing the bridge.
-For the gals: The always buff Mario Lopez. I'm pretty sure that guy doesn't even own a shirt.

Your Motivational Pregame Quote For The Weekend
"I want something good to die for. To make it beautiful to live."
-Homme

Enjoy the offseason, everyone. See you in April.

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

I have a new kid, so I won’t be going to any Super Bowl party this week. This doesn’t bother me much, because all I truly need to enjoy the Super Bowl is the game, food, alcohol, and a spank break at the end of a quarter. I don’t really need unwanted socializing awkwardly jammed into the mix. But if you, Good Spinners, are having a party this week, you’d best follow these guidelines:

If there are people at your party who don’t know shit about football, they better fucking all be women. I don’t actually mind having football newbies at a Super Bowl party. It helps make me look like I know way more about the game than I actually do. “You see that there, little lady? That’s the cornerback. He mans up against the wide receiver to prevent him from catching the ball. By the way, my cock is so large, I can troll for marlin with it.”

But I’ll be damned if I’m explaining the game to some dipshit asshole fuckface GUY who doesn’t know anything about what’s going on. “The Steelers are usually pretty good, aren’t they?” Yeah, asshole. They are. Now fuck off. I don’t ask you stupid questions at your beat poetry reading.

You must have a high definition television. Guests are legally allowed to shoot the TV if you’re subjecting them to standard definition.

You must have enough seating for all guests, and clear sightlines to the screen. And that seating has to be comfortable. The $10 plastic wok chair you bought at Ikea doesn’t count.

Do not mix partisan guests and nonpartisan guests. Don’t invite two diehard Steeler fans to a party with 40 other people. The other 38 guests will annoy the Steeler fans, and the Steeler fans will annoy the other 38 guests. Make it nothing but one team’s fans, or make it an entirely neutral crowd.

Buy three times the amount of food and alcohol you need.

Make the volume of the TV loud enough to shut down any potential conversation. If people want to have a free range discussion during the game, they can do it in the fucking kitchen.

Buy a plunger. Especially if I’m at your party. When the game is over, my cargo bay doors fly right open.

Unless you are a fan of one of the teams, do not decorate your place for the occasion.

Mandatory food items: Wings, Nacho Cheese Doritos, Nachos, chips and salsa, chili (recipe below), guacamole, eight foot long italian sub, cookies, jar of frosting with spoon in it (for me only), hooker covered in barbecue sauce.

Have weed handy in case the game goes to shit. Hugely improved the Colts-Bears Super Bowl for me.

You must instantly give an capsule review of any ad that comes on during the telecast. “The fuck is EDS? That was retarded.”

You must have Super Bowl boxes or some other sort of gambling pool ready to go. Because if the game sucks, and you DON’T have weed, then I better damn well be able to lose some money.

No spaghetti sauce orgies until the game is over

No fucking kids

No kids fucking

If you have a yard large enough to accommodate an out door boxing ring, you must rent one.

No ethnic food. What are those, samosas? Fuck you. If it’s not featured on the appetizer menu at an Applebee’s or some other purveyor of horrifyingly unhealthy American cuisine, it doesn’t belong here.

Supporters of the winning team may fire guns in the air if they like.

Always keep a separate room to stage monkey fights in.

And finally, your Super Bowl party is not really a party. It’s just you hosting a game. Stay the fuck out of the way of the game. No one cares if you threw a great social event or not. You’re just the sap who made brownies, bought beer, and opened your door. Don’t try and upstage the game. Or I’ll brain you to death with your own remote.

The Games

All Super Bowls in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms. And, like last year, I’ll be picking scores for every playoff game, something NO OTHER WRITER HAS EVER DONE IN HISTORY. It’s a bold move, one I’m sure will end up landing me any number of honorary ribbons and engraved silver chalices.

Five Throwgasms

Cardinals 27, Steelers 20: I don’t really care to pick against the Cardinals when Kurt Warner has evidently returned to his 1999 form, getting off perfectly thrown deep balls just as he’s about to get drilled in the chin. It’s odd that Warner would enjoy a career renaissance now, after struggling for so many years. OR IS IT? Perhaps there’s a more sinister explanation at work here. I recorded Warner having this exchange just after the end of the NFC Championship Game…

Warner: (to Suzy Kolber) My thing is, Suzy… I try not to get too high when things are going well, or too low when things aren’t working. I’ve been here enough times to know you can’t let those things affect you. You have to just keep focusing on making the next play. And if we end up winning when the game is over, great. But you can’t worry about winning and losing until the clock has run out.

Suzy Kolber: Kurt, thanks so much for your time and good luck to you in the Super Bowl.

Warner: My pleasure, Suze.

(leaves stadium, drives to empty warehouse, drops to one knee)

What is thy bidding, Master?

Satan: (emerges from dark red portal in the ground) I see your team has advanced, my son.

Warner: Oh, it’s true, my Dark Overlord! It’s true! We did it!

Satan: Do you doubt now my ability to manipulate your destiny?

Warner: No, Your Lowness.

Satan: Are you pleased with the extension we have made of our arrangement?

Warner: Yes! Yes, absolutely. Best decision I ever made. But I must ask: what duties must I now fulfill, O Unholy One?

Satan: You must cause another 9/11 to happen.

Warner: But the first one was so perfectly executed! I don’t know if I’ll be able to pin it on the Muslims again. NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING EXCEPT FOR JOAQUIN PHOENIX.

Satan: SILENCE!

Warner: Yes, sir.

Satan: You must stay with Brenda FOR ANOTHER DECADE.

Warner: Oh, man. That’s rough. What else?

Satan: You must bring me cherries. GOOD CHERRIES. Get the Bings if you can. Also, my dry cleaning must be picked up every Thursday. No exceptions. Make sure the Korean lady gets ALL the consumed soul out of my collars. AND NO LIGHT STARCH. They say it’s light starch, and then my shirts come back stiffer than my erection after a flood.

Warner: Anything else?

Satan: You must bring me more fresh dead babies to eat.

Warner: More fresh dead babies… got ya.

Satan: Hey, Kurt.

Warner: Yes, Satan?

Satan: What's the difference between a Cadillac and a pile of dead babies?

Warner: I don’t know, Prince of Darkness. What?

Satan: I don't have a Cadillac in my garage.

Warner: HA HA HA

Satan: HA HA HA

Warner: HA HA HA

Satan: HA HA HA

Warner: HA HA HA

Satan: HA HA HA

It’s true. I have it all on tape. Cards win.

Four Throwgasms

None.

Three Throwgasms

None.

Two Throwgasms

None.

One Throwgasm

None.

Championship Week Picks: 1-1 (1-1 vs. the spread)

2008 Playoff Picks Record: 6-4 (6-4 vs. the spread)

Drew’s Chili Recipe
Reprinted from last year. I like to eat chili until you can smell it through my pores.

FOR THE CHILI:
2 packs ground beef or turkey (I use one pack of ground chicken and one pack ground turkey)
1 onion, chopped
8 cloves garlic, chopped
1 shallot, chopped (optional)
1 jalapeno, chopped
1 large can crushed tomatoes
1 can tall red kidney beans, drained
1 can corn, drained
1 can beer
1 can chicken broth
1 tsp liquid smoke
1 tsp sugar
2 tbsp cumin (add more at end if necessary)
2 tbsp chili powder (add more at end if necessary)
The merciless peppers of Quetzlzacatenango, grown deep in the jungle primeval by the inmates of a Guatemalan insane asylum (optional)
1/4 cup white vinegar
Salt & Pepper to taste
Ashes from a joint (optional)
Lotta Frank's Hot Sauce (Frank's is the fucking best.)
2 glugs olive oil

FOR THE SIDES:
Shredded cheese
Tortilla chips
Sour cream
Frank's hot sauce
1 bunch scallions, chopped (As always, don't skimp on the fucking scallions)
Beer

Put a big pot on the stove on medium. Pour in the oil. When it's hot, toss in the onions, garlic, jalapeno, and shallots and stir them around until soft. Toss in the ground meat. Salt and pepper the ground meat in the pot. Sautee the meat until it's good and brown. Drain the fat. Add the tomatoes, beans, corn, beer, broth, liquid smoke, sugar, cumin, chili powder, joint ashes, vinegar, and Frank's. Bring it to a simmer. Half cover the pot and leave it on low medium heat for 2-3 hours, stirring occasionally and always tasting. The liquid in the pot should reduce into a nice, thick stew. Dip in a chip to see if the chili sticks to it. If it does, it's ready to serve. Now teabag the pot. TEABAG IT, CHILI BALLS!

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

“Hangar 18,” by Megadeth. Accompanied here by what might possibly be the most ludicrous heavy metal video of all time. I had no idea Vic Rattlehead ran the all of the Black Ops for the US government. Or that many of the sinister aliens we keep in New Mexico look just like the gay alien from Mac And Me. Did you know this video was the inspiration for the entire plot of Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull? True story.

It’s hard to take in all that this video has to offer in just one viewing. It’s got Dave Mustaine dressed like a pirate. It has hot chick lab researchers. It has over 500 examples of unconvincing alien puppetry. It has an abducted alien that is clearly just a stripper wearing a mask. The song itself has a time signature change halfway through that’s more abrupt than a fart during intercourse. All it needs is Gamera to come flying in at the end for it to be an all-out masterpiece.

I really wish Dave Mustaine had set his ego aside and hired someone else to be lead vocalist for Megadeth. This man is a horrible, horrible singer. He sounds like a ferret being sexually abused. And that’s annoying, because Megadeth has riffs that will pummel your fucking balls. Dave Mustaine is the guy who helped write “Ride The Lightning” and “Call Of The Ktulu”. He knows how to write songs that will DESTROY YOUR SHIT, but he sure as fuck can’t sing any of them.

BONUS Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall
“Smoke Machine,” by The Giraffes. Special thanks to the handful of readers who recommended this band. Not only do they kick ass, but they also have a crazy as shit backstory. According to the Wiki, lead guitarist Damien Paris was once shot in the leg at a White Castle by a fire marshal (I’m assuming the chain’s “What You Crave” tagline does not refer to gaping bullet wounds). Lead singer Aaron Lazar “suffered two heart attacks in early 2005, for which he is in six figures of debt and is now outfitted with an implanted defibrillator”. Holy shit. Get this man a gold album and a decent PPO immediately.

BONUS Helloween Song Of The Week
”Gorgar” by Helloween! I love foreign 80’s speed metal bands, and Helloween was among the most ridiculous. And if you think the name Helloween is kinda gay, keep in mind that the band was formed out of the ashes of two other bands named Iron Fist and Powerfool. Outside of Scorpions, Germans don’t name their heavy metal bands terribly well. Anyway, I always thought “Gorgar” was about some evil fantasy world demon and shit, because the chorus goes…

GORGAR WILL EAT YOU… GORGAR… (long German scream)

Not so. The song is about pinball. To the lyrics:

You're runnin' around in the gamblin' hall
Every night it's the same
You're lookin' for something new to play
To win and have fun is your aim

Oh, this was so written by Germans.

A pinball speaks to you
His metal voice is knockin' in your head

“I’m a pinball! Play me! SEE IF YOU CAN GET THE MATCH AT THE END! NO ONE EVER DOES!”

You can't resist you'll have to play
You're just another victim caught in the trap

The deadly trap… of pinball! GORGAR WILL EAT YOUR QUARTERS! HE’S THE REAL GAMBLOR!

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

“Wild World,” by Maxi Priest. It’s lame enough if you like the Cat Stevens version of “Wild World”. But to enjoy the soft reggae version of it probably earns me a full ticket to Douchetown.

We had to move a bunch of shit in our place this week, and one of the things I unearthed was a 15-year-old Caselogic of mine that had about 60 of my old tapes from high school, including all the shitty mixtapes I made. This song was on one of the mixes. The name of that mix? “Nuclear Summer, Volume 1”. Sadly, there was never a Volume 2 in that series. Other titles for my mixtapes included “Metal Mix” (very creative), and “Mr. Softee’s Mix” (Mr. Softee was my nickname for my penis in high school). I am not good at naming mixtapes. Or penises.

I used to make mixtapes for girls and give to them, hoping they’d want to hook up with me for it. I can’t think of a less effective way to score chicks. It only works in dipshit Cameron Crowe films. I may as well have given those girls a Frankie Goes To Hollywood album and picture of my balls being sawed off.

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.

“For the Super Bowl, I like Arizona getting 7 points against the Steelers. I saw The Boy In The Striped Pajamas this week at the Sharkplex. BEST MOVIE EVER. That’ll teach you, little Bruno.”

2008 Nazi Shark Record: 6-12 (2-1 playoffs)

Great Moments In Sports Poop History
Reader REM sends in this wrestling poop story.

“So, I'm covering a wrestling dual between a local city team and an out of area team. The local city team's 112-pound wrestler is state ranked and facing a decent, but not outstanding wrestler from the visiting school.

“From the beginning, the ranked wrestler looks uncomfortable and not at all like himself. He falls behind early and at each stoppage appears to be favoring his right leg or knee, taking his time to get up.

“The small gymnasium is kept dark except for one spotlight lowered over the center of the mat. At one point during the second period, my eyes start telling me that there is some sort of dark stain towards the rear of this young wrestler wearing a white singlet who is struggling with an opponent he should dominate. I quickly tell my eyes to stop lying to me.

“The match continues with the home wrestler struggling until he is turned to his back and pinned late in the third period. Having been defeated, the freshman quickly disappears, and I lose sight of him.

“The dual does not continue, however, and the home coach is forced to a nearby supply closet. He begins spraying the mat with a chemical and mopping up. Turns out that stain was not a figment of my imagination. This young freshman had shat himself — liquid shat — into his white singlet during the match.

“I don't know who I felt worse for — the kid who shat himself in front of the home crowd as a freshman in a white garment or the kid who won the match against a superior opponent but probably left with another's fecal matter on his person.”

I don’t get it. If this kid was such a great wrestler, then WHY didn’t he use his diarrhea to his advantage? That’s Grappling 101 right there, to use all available elements at your disposal. If you have beard stubble, you grind it into your opponent’s skin. If you have persistent body odor, you NEVER shower for at least three days prior to the match. And if you’ve got a doodie shake in your back pocket, YOU ATTACK.

There are any number of shit-related wrestling moves out there this young man could have employed, such as the Cross Arm Smear, the Corn Nelson, the Caca Cradle, the True Rikishi Stinkface, and the dreaded Mud Pie. Dan Gable used to poop before every match. That’s how they do it in Iowa. One whiff, and your opponent will pin himself!

Fire This Asshole!
Here’s who has been fired or retired so far:
Tony Dungy
Rod Marinelli
Eric Mangini
Mike Holmgren
Lane Kiffin
Scott Linehan
Mike Nolan
Romeo Crennel
Mike Shanahan
Jon Gruden
Herm Edwards

That Edwards firing was weeks overdue. And I still think we have at least one more surprise firing in store before all is said and done. I mean, look at this list of future goners:

Brad Childress
Wade Phillips
Marvin Lewis
Norv Turner
Andy Reid
Dick Jauron
Jack Del Rio
Mike McCarthy
Jim Zorn

I’ll go ahead right now and predict at least seven of those losers will be out before the end of next season. So really, owners, why wait? Quit delaying the inevitable and fire these men. It’s not fair to the 50,000 people who lost their jobs this week at places like Intel and GM to see that Brad Childress still receives a salary and health benefits for his wife and children. He should be laid off, and forced to attend mandatory weekly job-hunting seminars just so he can continue to collect unemployment. Ever go to one of those seminars? Holy shit. Those things are more depressing than dog cancer.

Super Bowl Snack Of The Week

Wings. Always wings for the Super Bowl Jamboroo. Have you ever been to a Super Bowl party where they order wings, only they order wings that are just completely fucking wrong? “Well, we got teriyaki wings and zesty Cajun wings!” Excuse me? You WHAT? Those are not wings. Those are an abortion. Get the classic buffalo style wings or go sit on a railroad spike.

Super Bowl Beer Of The Week

Tecate! I’m going to tell you a story about drinking in Mexico. My gay prep school had a senior year program where a group of students were allowed to live for 10 weeks abroad in Cuernavaca, Mexico during the winter. I got into this program. This made me very happy.

The only problem with the Cuernavaca trip was that we, as students, were still subject to all of the draconian rules that applied back on campus. That meant getting caught drinking risked immediate expulsion. Of course, we all got drunk every night anyway.

The city of Cuernavaca is laid out in such a way that all of the houses are located behind very tall fences. So, to access the house where we were staying (all of us stayed with various Mexican families), we needed both a key for the fence door and a key for the house door.

One night, my friend and I got shitfaced and staggered back home from a discoteca (In 1994, Mexican discotecas were required by law to only play two songs: “Rhythm Is A Dancer” by Snap and a cover of the Village People’s “Go West” by The Pet Shop Boys). We had a key to our fence, but when we got to the house door, we realized we had no house key.

We spent hours trying to break into our own house when, out of the clear fucking blue, a dark figure walked through the fence door. We thought it was our Mexican Daddy with the house key. YAY, MEXICAN DADDY. But when the figure stepped into the light, it turned out to be the nefarious “DINGO” DON FOSTER, Exeter’s program director.

Oh. Fuck.

Dingo Don pinned my friend against the outside of the house and smelled his breath. This led to my favorite drunken exchange of all time.

DINGO DON: Have you been drinking?

MY FRIEND: Uh… no.

DINGO DON: No?

MY FRIEND: No, I HAVE been drinking.

We got probation. The rest of our group spent the night at a discoteca called Babyrock, where Harrison Ford showed up. DAMN YOU, DINGO DON!

Random FKS-Style Tidbit
Two inches of snow fell in DC on Tuesday. My kid’s school was cancelled as a result. For two fucking inches. Hey DC, GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH A TIRE IRON. We are the most powerful nation on Earth, and yet a fucking dusting of snow causes our entire Federal government to shut down? THAT IS SHIT. “Oh no! Look at all this snow! IT’S THE BLIZZARD OF AUGHT NINE! WE’VE BEEN WHITED OUT!” Pathetic.

Schools in our nation’s capital have been known to close for fucking RAIN on occasion. No joke. Local DC and Maryland officials are the biggest fucking bunch of weather pussies ever produced by mankind. God forbid you actually send kids to school in mildly inclement weather. No, no, that would make you liable! Well then, why send kids to fucking school at all, you spineless sacks of fuck? I NEED THAT KID IN SCHOOL. I HAVE SHIT TO DO. DID THAT EVER CROSS YOUR FUCKING MINDS, OR WERE YOU TOO BUSY LISTENING TO SOME BREATHLESS FUCKSTAIN WEATHERCOCK FROM CHANNEL 5 TO NOTICE? THE PREZ SAYS YOU PEOPLE ARE GAY.

Fuck DC. Fuck weathermen. Fuck the government. Fuck it all.

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Fire In The Sky. Note to Megadeth: THIS is how you do creepy alien shit. God damn, this movie freaked me out. I don’t really believe in ghosts, or aliens, or any of that shit. But I so very badly would like to believe in them. And movies like this help make it see, that much more plausible. Because if you can’t trust an alien abduction story from a drunken redneck, what CAN you trust?

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
“Hi. I'm Troy McClure, you might remember me from such public service videos as Designated Drivers, the Lifesaving Nerds and Phony Tornado Alarms Reduce Readiness.”

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: The web’s finest compendium of Alyssa Milano photos. Teen Steam… you gotta let it out. GOTTA LET IT OUT!
-For the gals: Actor Jesse Metcalfe. Is it me, or are Jesse’s jeans about seven sizes too large in that photo?

Your Motivational Pregame Quote For The Weekend
“I’m gonna hit ya… AND YOU’RE GONNA FALL.”
-Ren

Enjoy the Super Bowl, everyone. I’ll be back with a season ending Jamboroo next week.

Thankfully, Awful Announcing snagged it for us. Of course, it's the same day I run a video of myself getting hit in the face with a cookie sheet. Perfect. It's been an active couple of days.

Also: I apologize for that Jamboroo did not run today. Drew told me in the beginning of the week that he would not be writing his next column. I was supposed to substitute for him, but actually thought it was to be done Super Bowl week. He had a legitimate family reason for not writing this week (plus, there's no football, so that's another legitimate reason), but I apologize for not letting his readers know yesterday that he would be absent. I'll do my best to replicate some of his weekly genius Jamborooishness tomorrow. I have so many great Jew jokes that I want to share and blame on an inanimate shark image.

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin and ass ointments.

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

Before I get to the two championship games this week, a very brief message to those people who were disappointed by the results of last week’s divisional playoffs. I’m not going to refer to those kinds of people as “B. Simmons,” so let’s just refer to them as “Bill S.” You should have heard the insane bitching that came out of Philly and Arizona meeting the NFC title game. “Wah wah! They don’t deserve to be there! They aren’t really the best teams! The regular season means nothing! It’s just luck at this point! MY GAMBLING PICKS WERE ALL WRONG AND THAT ISN’T FAIR. I liked football better when it was predictable!”

Jesus Christ. You know, sometimes in sports, results don’t always flow in accordance with everything you know (or think you may know) about the game. And that’s exactly the fucking point. That’s why sports are fun to watch. No, the proverbial best team doesn’t always win. And you know why? Because the world would fucking suck if they always did. And maybe, just maybe, the supposedly lousy team like Arizona DID deserve to win a game or two. Maybe, despite all their past transgressions, they’re actually playing inspired football (and they are).

This is what pisses me off about sports fans sometimes. We’ve all been brought up to believe that being a sports fan means you have to be some kind of armchair analyst. That you have to argue with your fellow sports fans about who’s a better team, or who’s a better player, or why some asshole belongs in a Hall of Fame, or whatever shit like that. And you know what? YOUR ARGUMENTS MEAN NOTHING. THEY’RE FUCKING STUPID AND YOU SHOULD BE DRINKING AND LISTENING TO MEGADETH INSTEAD OF WASTING EVERYONE’S TIME WITH YOUR SUPPOSED “I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT SPORTS” BULLSHIT.

Does Carolina win that game 9 times out of 10 if its played ten times? I guess. Then again, WHO GIVES A FUCK? Sometimes, in sports, the unexplainable happens. Why did Jake Delhomme decide to turn into the worst quarterback ever on Saturday night? Who knows? But you’ll find no shortage of dipshit sports fans ready to offer some kind of explanation in hindsight. “I told you he couldn’t be trusted!” Whatever.

We need to end this whole culture of “I know sports!” type people. I suggest punching them while they’re babies. Preferably as newborns, because younger babies are softer.

Otherwise, we’re going to be stuck in this seemingly endless, ESPN-fed era of asshole mini-Schwabs, fuckhead sports fans who think they have a knowledge of strategy and personnel that trumps that of anyone they encounter – other fans, coaches, GMs, etc. Because the truth is, anything anyone (including me, ESPECIALLY ME) tries to tell you about what will happen in this weekend’s upcoming games is WORTHLESS BULLSHIT. And anyone who bets on sports with any regularity, thinking they have a good feel for what will occur, is a fucking retard. More than that, an ANNOYING fucking retard, who goes all John Nash when the results don't go his way ("THE GAME IS FLAWED! THE GAME IS FLAWED!").

So the next time someone tries to dazzle you with some inherently unknowable sports argument or prediction, tell them to fall down a fucking gorge.

Now, that said, LET'S PICK THE GAMES!

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms. And, like last year, I’ll be picking scores for every playoff game. WHY? BECAUSE I KNOW A LOT ABOUT SPORTS AND I WANT TO IMPRESS YOU WITH MY BREADTH OF SPORTING INTELLIGENCE. It’s a bold move, one I’m sure will end up landing me any number of honorary ribbons and engraved silver chalices.

Five Throwgasms

Eagles 34, Cardinals 21: The Cardinals got here by beating two teams that weren’t terribly good at pass defense. It seemed like Carolina was a good bet to destroy Arizona last week. And then they played the game, and then Richard Marshall took the field for the Panthers secondary, and HOLY SHIT RICHARD MARSHALL YOU ARE FUCKING TERRIBLE. YOU ARE THE BLACK BRIAN RUSSELL. GOOD GOD MAN, YOU LOOKED LIKE A TEN YEAR OLD TRAPPED IN A BURNING BUILDING, FOR SHIT’S SAKE! Larry Fitzgerald could blow by you even if he were trapped in a fucking burlap bag!

Well, thankfully for Philadelphia, Richard Marshall does not populate the Eagles secondary. And I, ever the soothsayer, have done some crack research. It turns out Carolina and Atlanta ranked 16th and 21st in overall pass defense during the course of the season, respectively. The Eagles ranked third, and had more picks than any team in the league. Therefore, I believe the Cardinals will not pass the ball as successfully against Philly as they did their last two opponents. Oh, I’m sorry. Did I just impregnate your brain with my incredible wealth of football knowledge? ONCE AGAIN, MY ASTONISHING FIELD WORK SHINES A LIGHT WHERE THERE WAS ONCE DARKNESS. You would never have known this critical information had I not procured it!

Now, if this is the last time we end up seeing the Buzzsaw this season, it warrants mentioning before they depart that Edgerrin James pays crackheads $20 to spot him in the weight room during the offseason. It’s an old story, but really, does a story about crackheads EVER get old? From Michael Silver:

"I know it doesn't sound like much," James says jokingly, "but for crackheads, that's two hits and a solid meal."

The way the night owl James saw it, to regain the form that enabled him to lead the NFL in rushing in each of his first two seasons, 1999 and 2000, it was imperative that he work out on his own schedule, peculiar as it might have seemed. So James created Alligator Alley's answer to a 24-hour fitness center. As for his spotters and running partners, he didn't have a lot of options. "At that time of night the crackheads are the only ones awake," James says. "I'd roll down Second Street, find a dude stumbling around and say, 'Yo, come rack my weights.' Other times I'd pay one to run with me."

This man is the ballsiest man in history.

Edge: Hey, crackie! Could you stand by and make sure a rich fellow like me doesn’t get crushed by the 400 lb. barbell he’s trying to bench press?

Crackhead: What’s in it for me?

Edge: Breakfast. And more crack! A crack brunch!

There are about 800 things that can happen if you ask a crackhead to help you lift weights. One of them is not horrible. The rest involve a 25-lb. plate being implanted in your skull and your body being set on fire. Although RUNNING with a crackhead isn’t such a bad idea. All crackheads run a 2.8 forty time when blazed.

In other news, Daryl Johnston and Tony Siragusa worked the Cards game for FOX last week. Two things. First, I never thought I’d say this, but Goose actually pointed out something useful. And that is that when your defense stays off the field, they not only have more time to rest, but they also have more time to adjust. If your offense goes three and out, you’ve barely sat down before you’re on the field again, which means you don’t have time to go over all the horrible ways you may have fucked up during the last series. Which means you are less prepared than a defense that gets a decent series to rest. A rested defense gets better and better prepared as the game goes on. And I never thought of that. Because I was far too busy thinking of slice and bake cookies.

The second thing about the Moose and Goose creampie tag team you need to know is something KSK readers pointed out several times during the course of the game, and that is that Daryl Johnston has stunning eyes.

I’m not gay. Or, at least, not in public. But even I must admit those eyes are downright ravishing. “These eyes… AAAAAARE CRYIN’!” They’re so blue! They’re beyond blue. It’s as if Daryl Johnston’s eyes house some alternate marine universe, where mermen duel with harpoons and evil gillmonsters riding black seahorses try to steal their precious sapphire amulets. But perhaps I’ve said too much already. Must… stop… looking at Moose’s eyes…

What’s that, Daryl’s eyes? You want me to hunt down Jay Novacek, shoot him with a bow, and then mount him on a car? And then crash that car? And then turn his ashes into a potent elixir to help preserve your perfect, crystalline features? So you’ll always be Aikman’s favorite? Is that your deadly secret? DAMMIT, YOUR WILL IS MY COMMAND! I AM HELPLESS AGAINST YOUR UNPARALLELED BEAUTY!

Thank God Daryl’s eyes are gone for the year. Who knows how many babies I’ve abducted at their behest.

Steelers 24, Ravens 10: Out of any team in the league, I think the Steelers know how best to defend the Ravens’ offensive strategy of “have Sylar Flacco throw it 100 times to Derrick Mason in order to set up one really longass throw to Mark Clayton”.

And by the way, that whole thing about it being so hard to beat a team three times in one season? It’s bullshit. From Aaron Schatz comes this handy article in the Dallas News detailing the results of third-time meetings. The team with the chance to sweep has gone 11-7 in those games. Maybe it’s not so hard to beat a team three times. Maybe beating a team twice is a good indicator that you know how to, you know, beat them again. THAT’S MY POTENT ANALYSIS, ONE THAT IS SURE TO WIN YOU MONEY THIS WEEK.

And so, if the favorites hold, we’ll end up with an all-Pennsylvania Super Bowl that will take place in Florida. People, I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say this kind of mass influx of Pennsylvanians into the greater Tampa area will result in A FUCKING DRIVING HOLOCAUST.

I’ve driven in lots of states, and I’ve encountered a whole lot of shitty drivers. But Pennsylvania drivers and Florida drivers are among the fucking worst of the bunch. I don’t even know why they bother painting lines on the fucking road in either of those states. It’s not as if traffic markers are obeyed at any time. I’ve seen better driving in fucking Egypt. “Lemme just go 40mph in the left hand lane, and then pull alongside another Pennsylvania driver going 40mph in the right hand lane, so that we might form a completely impenetrable wall that you have no chance of advancing past! Oh, did I just merge into a bridge support?”

You don’t want to be anywhere near Tampa two weeks from now if this matchup happens. It’ll be an unholy wreck of retard Steeler fans plowing their rented Ford Tauruses into a bunch of crippled retirees’ Crown Victorias. No one will be spared. Four-way stop signs will be CHAOS. Cars will be parked diagonally in every available space. 400-car pileups will occur just because some lady from Sarasota was trying to get a photo of her dog to be the wallpaper on her cell phone screen. Turn signals will mean NOTHING.

You’ve been warned.

Four Throwgasms

None.

Three Throwgasms

None.

Two Throwgasms

None.

One Throwgasm

None.

Last Week’s Picks: 2-2 (2-2 vs. the spread)
2008 Playoff Picks Record: 5-3 (5-3 vs. the spread)

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

“Zombie Eaters,” by Faith No More. You’ll be hard pressed to ever find a finer song about evil babies. Let’s go to the lyrics.

Hey look at me lady
I'm just a little baby
You're lucky to have me
I'm cute and sweet as candy
As charming as a fable
I'm innocent and disabled
So hug me and kiss me
Then wipe my butt and piss me
I like to make a mess
I laugh at your distress
I sit all day in my crib
Absorbing all you give
I'm helpless
I'm flawless
I'm a machine
Give me, I need my toys...

Jesus, that’s uncannily accurate. How did Mike Patton know so much about my future children? These damn babies… they just take and take and take. NO ONE TOLD ME PARENTING WAS A ONE WAY STREET!

I’m telling you, as time goes on, FNM’s music only grows more and more badass. You know what? Fuck it. Let’s add one more of their videos in here.

“Surprise, You’re Dead!” Greatest name for a song ever? Fuck and yes. I should make this song my ringtone.

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

“Around The Way Girl,” by LL Cool J. Sweet as brown sugar with the candied yams. You hear LL, ladies? He don’t want no stuck up tuna. He doesn’t want Ivana, he wants TAWANA. Peep the video. THEY’RE SUPERIMPOSED IN FRONT OF THE CITY! WHAT TECHNOLOGICAL WIZARDRY WAS DEVISED TO CREATE SUCH AN ILLUSION?

I still like this song. Along with my Babyface tapes, I used to listen to this song when I was 14 and imagine myself as a suave ladies’ man who had mastered the art of getting pussy. You should have seen all the imaginary women I banged: Lisa, Angela, Pamela, Renee… I took them the world over. We’d dance in front of the Central Park view at the Rainbow Room… and then screw. We’d rent a cozy hideaway at Vail and sip champagne in front of the fireplace… and then screw. We’d helicopter into Anguilla… and then heliscrew.

Oh sure, in reality, I only got to fuck fruit. But Imaginary Muscular Drew was a force to be reckoned with between the sheets. I’d like to see YOU try and get that much pretend pussy, rookie!

Towel That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death

The Titan Towel. Wanna know why you lost to the Ravens, Tennessee fans? It’s because of these stupid fucking things. How is this intimidating to another team? “Oh no! Light blue terry cloth!”

This is, by no means, a defense of The Terrible Towel. I fucking hate those things too. You’re in the stands, having a beer, and some asshole won’t stop waving his goddamn arm around you. You know what, people? JUST FUCKING YELL. Yelling works best. Twirling a fucking washcloth, or banging a couple of inflatable dildos together, does not.

And I say this as someone who was once guilty of waving a Homer Hanky. Yes, I was a Twins fan back in the day. And yes, I owned one of these supposedly magical snotrags. I offer no excuse for it. In fact, a hanky is even gayer to twirl around than a towel. Nothing says, “Hey Cowboy, come fuck me in half!” quite like waving a handkerchief around.

But that doesn’t mean the whole world had to adapt this stupid fucking trend. If you’re gonna twirl something during a game to fire up the home team, you should be twirling a mace, or a dead child from the opposing team’s city. “We have your dead infants! TRY AND CONCENTRATE NOW, FUCKOS!”

(NOTE: Lotta dead babies in this week's Jamboroo, which reminds me of a joke. How do you make a dead baby float? Two scoops of ice cream, two scoops of dead baby, and some root beer.)

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 Philadelphia giving 3 points on the road against Arizona. I can’t believe the season’s almost over. That means I’m gonna have to start watching college basketball. And you know what that means. GO DUKE! DUKE RULES!”

2008 Nazi Shark Record: 6-11 (2-0 playoffs)

Great Moments In Sports Poop History
Reader Phil F. sends in this poop story that will PISS YOU OFF.

“My roommate in college had a buddy, Rob, who used to come visit from time to time. So on one of his visits, my roommate mentions "The Shitting Bandit". Naturally, I am curious. I guess the story was that Rob would go around to different restaurants in the state of Connecticut and take a dump on the bathroom floor. He then would wait until someone complained about it and watch the poor sucker who had to clean it up, laughing to himself the whole time. Afterwards, he would go back and mark the spot on a map he had in his truck. His hope was the police were tracking his pattern on a giant map of their own (like they were tracking a serial killer) and that it would finally spell out "Rob" across the map. Thus, he named himself ‘The Shitting Bandit’.”

This guy Rob is a fucking dick. No wonder he’s from Connecticut. I’m not kidding when I say he deserves to be put to death, preferably by being buried alive in other people’s shit. Oh, it’s funny to make some poor working sap clean up your shit? That’s humorous? What are you, fucking Drunkasaurus Rex? “Hey, I’m drunk and I’m an asshole! I’m so funny!” DIE, ROB. I HOPE YOU GET ASS CANCER.

Fire This Asshole!
Here’s who has been fired or retired so far:
Tony Dungy
Rod Marinelli
Eric Mangini
Mike Holmgren
Lane Kiffin
Scott Linehan
Mike Nolan
Romeo Crennel
Mike Shanahan

Tony Dungy retired this week. He made the playoffs ten years in a row. He won a Super Bowl. He’s arguably the most well-liked person in the entire league. Forgive the homerism, but this man could have been coaching the Minnesota Vikings that whole time. He served under Denny Green as d-coordinator for ages, yet never once did the Vikings’ brass stop and think, “Hey, that man seems talented, rational, and non-assholish. Perhaps he’d be an improvement over the complete asshat we currently have.”

The Vikings have long had a habit of letting talented assistants go coach other teams while retaining whatever shitty head coach they presently have – Dungy, Mike Tomlin, Leslie Frazier in the coming weeks. This makes me want to die. Because not only is my team poorly coached. But it has also, through the years, employed any number of men who would have been perfectly able to coach the team well. God damn you, Vikings. God damn you.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Potato chips and onion dip! Chips and salsa is a goddamn Weight Watchers snack compared to this robust pairing. Oh, sure. A potato chip is good and fatty. But what if you were able to make it more fatty and delicious? What if the potato chip were merely reduced to a vessel for something even more hostile to your pancreatic system? That’s the magic of sour cream and onion dip. It’s almost as evil as those Old El Paso jarred cheese dips you see in the store, but not quite. Do you trust any sort of cheese that comes in a jar? I do not.

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Asahi! We go for three Japanese beers in a row. Some readers complained last week that Japanese beers like Sapporo aren’t very good. To which I say, GO GET FUCKED. It’s beer. It’s cold. It’s good. If you want to be a beer snob, leave this column and go sniff some hops like a fucking asshole.

Last week, I regaled you with the story of my trip to all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant Yuka, where I ended up stashing rice cakes to the shitter to prevent supplemental food charges. I got away with it. But reader Kevin R. knows of a sushi restaurant where such tomfoolery is not so easily pulled off.

“I read that during your all you can eat sushi experience, you balled up the rice cakes and tossed them into the bathroom garbage. Well, tossing the extra rolls is definitely a good option if you have to pay for anything left on the plate. That is, unless, the sushi place has CAMERAS.

“Let that sink in: a hole in the wall sushi restaurant here in Chicago has SECURITY CAMERAS to prevent buffet patrons from doing precisely what you did.

“House of Sushi and Noodles is the Pentagon of maki roll buffets.”

Terrifying. Imagine those sneaky bastards catching you in the act. BILL PARCELLS SAYS THAT’S A JAP PLAY! And to think, they have someone there who is specifically hired to watch the shitter to make sure patrons aren’t smuggling ngiri. Diabolical! 500-mile death march for you! In all honesty, I’d rather be caught masturbating.

You know what needs to be done, don’t you? We need to build a competitive eating restaurant. You bring three friends. You eat as much as you want. Whoever eats the least gets the tab. Any food not eaten (wings, hot dogs, rectums) gets a supplemental charge. IF YOU SMUGGLE FOOD INTO THE SHITTER OR YOU VOMIT, then you get stuck with the tab.

This would be a huge hit in Pennsylvania.

Why Is Jeneane Garofalo On 24 Now?
That makes no fucking sense.

Also, judging by the show, there is no worse explosion flopper in the world than Jack Bauer. The explosion could be miles away, and he’s still spazzing his way to the ground. He’s the Manu Ginobili of vigilante secret agents.

Random FKS-Style Tidbit
I took my kid to a “Truck Touch” the other week. This sounds like something disgusting, or like a junior level “Hands on a hard body” contest, but it is not. It’s just a thing where the county puts all their emergency vehicles out in a parking lot and lets neighborhood kids climb into them. My kid climbed into a fire truck. There was a fire hat on the opposite seat. She put the hat on. I took a picture.

Surly Fireman: She can’t wear that hat. It’s too heavy. It can break a kid’s neck.

Me: Jesus H. Fuck, what’s it doing there then? Why didn’t you tell everyone a fire hat was a spine-crushing instrument of child death?

Surly Fireman: I dunno.

Fucking fireman. All uppity ever since 9/11. YOU’RE NOT AS COOL AS YOU THINK, COCKWALLETS!

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Commando. Not to be ever be confused with Suburban Commando. I approve of any Arnold film where Arnold, at the end, decides to gear up and start blowing some assholes apart. Deeply satisfying.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
“More testicles means more IRON!”

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Ashley Day. She seems approachable.
-For the gals: James Dawson Martin, who goes by the nickname Jamerjay. I’m almost certain this link is strictly for gay men. Or men who think Daryl Johnston has gorgeous eyes.

Your Motivational Pregame Quote For The Weekend
“Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night.”
-The Gaslight Anthem

Enjoy the games, everyone.

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

Before I get to this week’s playoff games, a word about this whole Matt Millen hiring over at NBC. Hey NBC: FUCK YOU IN THE FUCKING GOAT ASS. Are you fucking shitting me? Do you really think you can just bring Matt Millen back to TV as if nothing has happened? Am I supposed to accept that his opinion somehow has fucking merit after what he’s done? That fucking asshole is a goddamn shining beacon of fucking FAIL. And now you’re going to have him broadcasting during the fucking SUPER BOWL? I HOPE SPIDERS LAY EGGS IN YOUR RECTUM.

I didn’t a hear a word Millen said during halftime last week, because every time he appeared on my screen I randomly began shouting out “0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! 0-16! FUCKING TITANIC HINDENBURG NEW COKE VIVA LAUGHLIN FUCKFACE!” You can see how that might distract me.

The whole reason Matt Millen was laughed at when he started out in Detroit was because EVERYONE FUCKING HATED HIM AS A BROADCASTER. He took John Madden’s broadcasting style and somehow managed to make even more inane, spawning a legion of similar broadcasters in the process. Wanna know where fucking Bill Maas came from? MILLEN. Mark fucking Schlereth? MILLEN. Any shithead analyst that has nothing to say outside of, “I tell you one thing, Eli Manning is a COMPETITOR”? MILLEN.

That’s all Matt Millen’s doing. Why the FUCK would anyone bring him back to TV, especially in light of what he did to the Lions? The man has all the credibility of fucking InventHelp. And anyone who tells you, “Hey, Millen was actually an okay broadcaster!” is fucking wrong. That means you, MJD. And you, Tony Kornheiser. No wonder you like Millen. He’s just like you: as useless as Mariotti’s fucking dick.

This is why people hate the fucking media. Some asshole like Matt Millen, who couldn’t even open a door without consulting an owner’s manual first, gets a cushy broadcasting gig after years of failing on an unprecedented level. Why does he get the gig? Because he knows other people in the media who think he’s a nice guy. And because he’s done some broadcasting before. Never mind that he was fucking shitty at it. Or that he took a historic NFL franchise and BURIED IT IN THE CORE OF THE FUCKING EARTH. That doesn’t matter. He’s in the fraternity. He gets christened an expert.

And you, Mr. Viewer, are expected to just sit there and accept it.

Well, I don’t fucking accept it. I am fucking tired of watching shithead analyst after shithead analyst go on TV and offer me NOTHING. I end up knowing LESS about the game of football whenever I tune in. And not only do networks keep those shithead analysts on the air, they add MORE of them to the mix. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s add six more retards to the set! THAT WOULD BE WACKY!” Jesus fucking Christ.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re doing this kind of thing, NBC. After all, you’re nothing more than A FUCKING PUBLIC ACCESS CHANNEL NOW. Ooooh, “Superstars of Dance!” That looks awesome! Chinese kung fu experts doing an interpretive dance! “Everyone was kung fu DANCING!” And look! There’s Howie Mandel posing as a waiter! With a wig on! That’s so goofy! He’s Pistachio Disguisey! Oooh, there’s a “Bachelor” ripoff that throws in some douchebag’s rotten cunt of a mother! Original! OOOOH, BIGGEST LOSER! THEY FOUND THEIR BIGGEST MANBOOBS YET!

LENOOOOOO!!

Nice lineup there, NBC. I think the fucking Robin Byrd Show has a bigger production budget than your sub-Bravo primetime schedule. I tried to hear the audio feed of the game Saturday night, but all I could hear was the death rattle of your fucking fifth-class, piece of shit network. You’re a pathetic broadcasting company with pathetic shows that hires pathetic assholes like Matt Millen to populate that Central Tard Command of a pregame show you put on.

AND YOU CAN GO GET FUCKED. THIS FUCKING MILLEN THING IS THE LAST FUCKING STRAW. I HOPE 30 ROCKEFELLER CENTER IS CONSUMED IN GIANT BALL OF FIRE THAT LEAVES NO SURVIVORS. DIE. DIE FOREVER.

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms. And, like last year, I’ll be picking scores for every playoff game, something NO OTHER WRITER HAS EVER DONE IN HISTORY. It’s a bold move, one I’m sure will end up landing me any number of honorary ribbons and engraved silver chalices.

Five Throwgasms

Ravens 27, Titans 10: Kerry Collins against the Ravens? Oh, I don’t like that matchup. I can see it now. Ol’ Kerry drops back in the first quarter, then he gets picked off by Ed Reed, who then takes it back to the house. Suddenly, Kerry’s having flashbacks to 2000. “Oh no,” he thinks to himself, “It’s all happening again!” Then he throws six more picks. Then he fumbles. Everyone boos. But there’s nowhere to hide, Kerry! Everyone’s looking at you! And then a little tiny voice pops up in Kerry’s head.

Voice: Why don’t you have a little drink there, Kerry?

Kerry: NO! No. I can’t do it. I WON’T do it.

Voice: Come oooooooon. Just a little nip.

Kerry: NO! No, I’ve worked too hard to get to this point. I won’t slip.

Voice: You know you want to. Whiiisky whisky! It burns so good!

Kerry: I don’t need alcohol anymore! I WORK THE LAND NOW, DAMMIT! SOIL IS MY WHISKY!

Voice: Just oooone sip. You’ve been so good! You deserve it. I can make it all gooo awayyyyy.

Kerry: NO! NO! Brooke… our little girl… I can’t… OH FUCK IT!

Then Collins charges into the stands and grabs some fan’s beer right out of his hands. “GIMME THAT!” he screams. Then he grabs and guzzles 12 more beers. Then he grabs a cheerleader’s tit. Then he drunkenly calls LenDale White a fat welfare baby.

Don’t think it can’t happen. It totally can.

(By the way, Ed Hochuli reffed the Ravens game last week. And Phil Simms said on the air that Hochuli and his crew were the highest graded officiating team in the league all year long. Really? Jesus. How the fuck is that possible? Do other refs surf Brazzers.com during games and I just haven’t noticed? Simms didn’t bother to explain HOW Hochuli ended up being graded so high. So thanks for keeping that handy bit of information to yourself, Phil. Goddamn redneck.)

Giants 28, Eagles 7: It’s a crime that Eagles defensive coordinator Jim Johnson has never been an NFL head coach. Over the past decade, Johnson has helped produce 24 total Pro Bowl selections for Philly defenders. It doesn’t matter who Philly brings in to play. Jeremiah Trotter shined in Philly, went to shit with the Redskins, and then became great again once he returned to Johnson’s defense.

Johnson knows exactly when to blitz and who to bring. After adjusting in the second half last week, the Eagles forced the Vikings into three-and-out after three-and-out, and all but reduced Tarvaris Jackson to a blubbering pile of shit. Lord knows how many games Johnson has helped the Eagles win when Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb collectively decide to push the offense down a well, as they will this week in the Meadowlands.

So why hasn’t Johnson ever gotten a head coaching gig? Why hasn’t he been mentioned for any of the recent openings around the league? Because he’s old. He’s 67. So he gets nary a mention while unproven coaching dreck like Brad Childress and others get top jobs. This is bullshit. If there’s gonna be a Rooney Rule, there should also be a Matlock Rule, wherein all teams must interview candidates who are over, I dunno, fifty or something.

If you fail to abide by the Matlock Rule, Jim Johnson will weakly beat you with his cane and then talk to you for six straight hours about his various liver ailments. Then he’ll make you spend an extra hour helping him figure out how to send an email. DEAL WITH THAT, YOU DAGGUM GM’S.

Panthers 31, Cardinals 13: And then Will Leitch can finally, much to his great relief, stop pretending to like football for a good long while.

By the way, they cut to Matt Leinart a handful of times last week. And I swear to God, even when he isn’t moving a muscle, Matt Leinart can still manage to come across like the world’s biggest asshat.

Steelers 17, Chargers 7: Ben Roethlisberger has a concussion. At first, I thought this might affect his play. And then I realized that no player in NFL history would be less affected by a concussion than Ben Roethlisberger. If anything, a concussion would only serve to improve his mindset. Now he won’t have all those pesky thoughts bothering him while he plays.

As for the Chargers, NO ONE rides a bike on the sidelines and grabs the front of their shoulder pads quite like LT. The man has perfected that pose. Watch and learn, Reggie Bush! He’s got it down cold, just as Marmalard has perfected the art of throwing screen passes to the ground when they fail to develop. I swear he does it at least 25 times a game. You could make a bong hit game of it.

I’m sad if the Chargers get bounced this week, because then the possibility of seeing the Charger Girls back at Qualcomm Stadium for one last time will be extinguished. And that’s a damn shame. You know what the key to the Charger Girls success is? The laces.

I swear, laces make everything better. Even if they serve no functional purpose, they still make it appear as if something is just aching to burst out of there. I'd buy that for a dollar.

(Screencap by Christmas Ape.)

Four Throwgasms

None.

Three Throwgasms

None.

Two Throwgasms

None.

One Throwgasm

None.

2008 Playoff Picks Record: 3-1 (3-1 vs. the spread)

A Note To NFL Playoff Advertisers
I never, ever, need to hear the song “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet in an advertisement ever again. You hear me, smug Budweiser stockroom guy? Oh, you think your beer is so superior, don’t you? The fuck do you know about beer, fuckface? You unload trucks. YOUR BEER IS SHIT.

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

“Blood and Thunder,” by Mastodon. GAHHHH CLOWNS! AN AUDIENCE MADE OF NOTHING BUT CLOWNS! MY NIGHT TERRORS HAVE AT LAST CROSSED OVER INTO THE TANGENTIAL PLANE!

Many thanks to readers last week for suggesting a shitload of kickass new bands for everyone to sample. From those suggestions comes Atlanta’s own Mastodon, a band I had heard of but didn’t bother listening to until just recently. Why? I think it was because Pitchfork liked them so much. Keep in mind, any time you read Ptichfork, you may stumble on a sentence such as this:

When much of the critical conversation this year focused on Brooklyn's nü-primitivism coldly capitalizing on globalism, TVOTR proved that the borough can give us so much more than Keffiyeh scarves.

If I could slit a sentence’s throat and leave it to die in a ravine, that would be the sentence I would choose. What a bunch of fucking cocksockets. I’m shocked they like a band that actually kicks ass. Perhaps they got it mixed up with some gayass Fleet Foxes CD.

Fuck Pitchfork.

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

“All for Love,” by Sting, Bryan Adams, and Rod Stewart. Yes, perhaps the worst trio in history this side of Hitler/Mussolini/Hirohito, or Patrick/Maguire/Theismann. It’s one thing to pair up Bryan Adams and Sting, or Sting and Rod Stewart. But to bring ALL THREE together… well, that’s one potently mild recipe right there. Bryan Adams has a prison haircut in this video, and he’s also dressed like a mime. Or a gay Russian dance instructor. And why is Sting wearing a skirt over his pants? I haven’t been this terrified since that Mastodon video.

“All for Love” was the theme song to The Three Musketeers (starring Charlie Sheen, Keifer Sutherland, and Mariotti lookalike Oliver Platt), a stupid movie that was made to capitalize on the slight success of Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves, which occurred during a very short-lived swashbuckling trend in the early 1990’s. And “All For Love” was made to capitalize on Adams’ “Everything I Do (I Do It For You)”, also from Robin Hood. So here you’ve got a song that was ripped off from another song, for a movie that was ripped off from another movie. Noel Gallagher is impressed.

Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Tarvaris Jackson. I swear to God, if fucking Tarvaris Jackson is on the Vikings roster next year, I will personally fly to Minnesota to choke Brad Childress with his own intestines. For two years, the Vikings have wasted a perfectly good roster (14 total Pro Bowl selections) to help cultivate this drooling heap of suck. And he can’t even run a two minute drill without looking like he’s in some kind of hostage crisis. FUCK YOU, TARVARIS JACKSON. I HAVE WASTED GOOD YEARS ON YOU.

25 Extra Nicknames For Darren Sproles
Toto
Runbelina
Amoeback
Darren DeVito
Squirt
The Little Sperm That Could
KOGOD
Hans Sproleman
The Tampon
Lupica
Ranatouille
Pinky Dinky Doo
Jukebug
Sprud
Mini Cooper
Jiminy Cricket
The Appetizer
Eighthback
Teabag
Clementine
Termite
Wee Mack
Whopper Jr.
The One Who Isn’t Injured All The Time In The Playoffs
Peapod

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.