It seems the only jab Aaron Rodgers will take is one at Travis Kelce

There is no antidote or vaccine available for Aaron Rodgers’ brain worm infestation. He’s always been a doofus of his own making. During an appearance on The Pat McAfee Show, a humbled Rodgers used his opportunity to applaud the New York Jets defense to insert a dig at Travis Kelce by referring to him as “Mr. Pfizer.”

If you’re a Swiftie or just a regular NFL consumer whose life doesn’t revolve around litigating COVID vaccines for the rest of your adult life just to protect your fragile ego, then the reference likely made no sense.

However, the Pfizer reference is a jab at Rodgers mocking our greatest living sportsman’s participation in an obscure ad promoting the COVID and flu vaccines where he shouts “two things at once,” which is an accurate job description for tight ends too. I’m not even sure his beef is all about the vax. See, Aaron I can do conspiracy theories, too. Two can also play this game!

Conspiracy theory 1: The Pfizer ad briefly features Donna Kelce, which possibly reminds Aaron that he hasn’t spoken to his parents in years. We should all feel kind of bad for Rodgers at this point. He constructed his own fortress of personal solitude, so I could see how that ad might strike him right in the feels. It must have been disheartening coming out of the darkness retreating and the only missed messages were all “WYD” texts from Adam Schefter.

Rodgers lives a sterile life devoid of family. He’s almost cut off entirely from his family and probably jealous that the opposing team’s tight end brought his more famous date to upstage him while he watched from a suite. Sunday night was supposed to be all about his triumphant return to MetLife and instead, all anyone could talk about were Swifties and Brittany Mahomes. He was likely ticked off that Ryan Reynolds randomly tagged along instead of attending some C-List soccer match in Wrexham.

Conspiracy theory 2: Rodgers lives for the attention, which is why he calls into Pat McAfee’s show every week. Every time NBC’s camera cut to Swift, Rodgers died a little inside. I bet he regrets breaking up with Shailene Woodley now. I could definitely see him muttering angrily, “Travis Kelce?!! They’re excited about a glorified slot receiver?? We’re only on the Sunday Night schedule because of ME!!”

Aaron tried climbing the celebrity relationship ladder himself and he somehow reached Olivia Munn’s level. That version of Rodgers was less weird, didn’t espouse as much meshuga about the health benefits of dolphin sex, alternative COVID immunization, ayahuasca journeys, and whatever else he printed out from forums he visited at 3 a.m.

Then, he screwed it up with Munn like he’s nuked every other relationship in his life. Everything’s gone downhill from there. At his age, he’s turning into the weird fella his celebrity friends have stopped introducing to their single celebrity friends. In a way, his antipathy for modern medicine is a metaphor for his habit of self-sabotaging. Look how happy Green Bay looks without his dark energy hovering around. Can’t blame that on Pfizer.

Latching onto fringe Internet theories is essentially how his descent into becoming the Curt Schilling of quarterbacks snowballs. I hate the Experian commercial where Kelce fawns over some rando and his credit card payment history. His delivery is wooden, but it doesn’t linger in my head like anything Pfizer-related does to Aaron’s psyche.

Ironically, Rodgers trusts board-certified surgeons to perform experimental surgeries on his Achilles that would supposedly have him ready to play in time for the postseason. If anything, he’s the one who can’t get Pfizer out of his head. It’s not like Kelce is raking in touchdowns and then breaking it down in post-game pressers by explaining how Mahomes exploited porous coverages in a manner that rivals how mRNA vaccines pass through the negatively charged phospholipid bilayer of the cell membrane.

I guess we should be thankful that Aaron didn’t call him Mr. Bud Light.