Drew Magary’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Email Drew here.
The most shocking thing about Bo Pelini's rant about Nebraska fans is that a coach doesn't get caught cursing out his own fanbase every week. Because honestly, fuck the fans. If you were the coach, you'd say hateful shit about them every waking moment. They're loud and obnoxious and they ALL think they can do a better job than you even though they would fail horribly if handed the crown.
And the worst part is that they act surprised when a coach is anything other than 100% deferential to them. Look again at our tipster's emails to Dom: "It's only fair that the fanbase of Nebraska know what Pelini thinks about them. Them being the same people that pay his salary." You can feel the resentment, like this guy believes he truly deserves to have a say in whether or not Nebraska should terminate Pelini, eat his contract, and exhaust numerous resources finding another coach who will probably end up hating Husker fans just as much as Pelini does. Saying you "pay the coach's salary" is the equivalent of a Green Bay Packers fan holding up a certificate of ownership: It means nothing. It's just a fan's way of desperately attempting to inflate their own role in the team's business.
We fans are extras. We are the seat fillers. We don't order our teams around. They order us around. That's how it works. I'm not trying to say Pelini is a good coach and deserves better. Far from it. He probably sucks and he totally looks like Lou from Fargo. But anyone who acts surprised that a coach would secretly loathe his constituents is full of shit. There's something inherently absurd about a drunken fan screaming for his coach's head, and then when the coach lets his true feelings be known, the fan is like Fuck moi? Me, the poor little fan? How dare you, sir! Bug the office of every coach of every team for 24 hours a day and you'll find a quality fan rant from each of them. I can't even imagine what Nick Saban says about 'Bama fans to his old lady. These stupid inbred motherfuckers. Fans are assholes. We deserve the scorn.
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.
Chiefs at Eagles: Speaking of hating your own fans, I know Andy Reid is saying all the right things about tonight, but you know damn well he'd like to win this game by 700 points and then go up to a nearby Eagles fan and piss in his mouth.
By the way, I know Mike Mayock has a lot of fanboys out there, just like Jaws does. He watches lots of tape and is very knowledgeable and friendly and that's very nice. But dude, he NEVER shuts the fuck up. Ever. There is no dead air in that broadcast. If you talk that much, I'm bound to tune you out, no matter what you have to say. Mayock could start reading a Penthouse Forum letter live on the air and I wouldn't even hear it. I just want him to ease off a bit, that's all.
Also, he calls every player "kid". Stop doing that. It's creepy even when they do it in college ball. These are not kids. They are men ages 22 and up and they all outweigh you by a hundred pounds. They should call YOU kid.
Packers at Bengals: I went to "Back to School Night" for my kid's elementary school and the second grade teachers demonstrated how they teach addition to and subtraction to the students now. You know how you add numbers by carrying the one? They don't do that anymore, which blew my mind. They use something called a number line. The teacher went through solving a problem this way and I still didn't understand it. WHAT KIND OF WITCHCRAFT IS THIS?! The teacher explained that it was simpler than carrying the one or taking a one away, and that only served to bring out the old man in me. Making math easy, are ye? YOU'RE A CODDLER!
By the way, they teach kids WAY more shit in elementary school now than they did in the 80s. I saw a decimal worksheet in my kid's class. I didn't learn decimals until, like, sophomore year of college. I don't like these kids being so smart so quickly.
Football is something to be decided by the guys wearing the pads, not a bunch of screamers
I know I said "Fuck the fans" earlier, but fuck Dr. Z even more. Oh, and I hope he is in good health and resting comfortably. But also, fuck him. BILLS WILL WIN THE SUPER BOWL AGAIN YOU GUYS.
Texans at Ravens: Quick drinking game: Watch Deion Sanders on the NFL Network and drink anytime he says the phrase "in the game today," as in, "AJ Green, maybe the most dangerous wide receiver we have IN THE GAME TODAY." You will develop sepsis in your liver by 5:15pm.
Falcons at Dolphins: I was walking my kid to school the other day and the crossing guards at my kid's school are VERY serious. I walked to the edge of the curb and immediately drew a whistle for standing too close to oncoming traffic. Then I got whistled at again for jaywalking. Then I got whistled at again for attempting to cross the parking lot instead of going around. Bag that whistle, crossing lady! GROWNUPS ARE EXEMPT FROM CROSSING GUARD ROOLZ. I should be able to jaywalk and bob and weave between minivans as I see fit.
Chargers at Titans: I hate holding penalties so much that I think that the NFL should make it a rule that all offensive linemen must have their hands wrapped up entirely with tape prior to the game, mummy-style. No hands for you. You don't even get the thumb. All you get is a crude, taped-up flipper to work with. That would eliminate jersey grabs entirely and it would end the arbitrary calling of holding penalties. Plus it would be fun to see 300-pound men flapping around like obese penguins on every pull block.
Rams at Cowboys: Ever get a chest hair on your neck? I swear this happens when you get older and it's horrifying. I saw a tangle of these things on my neck the other day and thought that the hair belonged to another person, or a dog, or that there was a bird's nest stuck to my shirt. Then I yanked and the fucking shit was attached. Do not get old.
Cardinals at Saints: How much money has been spent by the Velocity Channel to promote that show where Patrick Dempsey drives race cars? NO ONE FUCKING CARES. Even Patrick Dempsey's family wouldn't watch that show. Actors are the most boring people alive and actors who drive race cars (80% of them) are even more boring. I'm not just some dipshit actor. My real passion is BLOOD SWEAT AND GEARS BRO. I hope that show is cancelled an hour from now.
Lions at Skins: Oh hey, RG3 doesn't want to run any of last year's read option scheme? Oh, okay. (leaves RG3 for dead on the side of the highway) The best part about the RG3 disaster in Washington is that this will go on all year long because the Skins suck at everything. I can't wait for the next phase of the Griffin/Shanny feud. A benching? YOU BET! Shanahan publicly stating that Griffin is fat? FAT AS SHIT.
Panthers at Giants: During the lightning delay Sunday Night, I watched NBC's studio show in essence for the first time. I pretty much never listened to Tony Dungy and Rodney Harrison yammering before, but they're all right, I guess. Anything's better than Herm Edwards cackling like an idiot. But Harrison and Dungy did say that Eli Manning was struggling because he didn't have enough support on offense, and that is extreme bullshit. He's got fucking Nicks and Cruz and Randle, perhaps the best wideout trio IN THE GAME TODAY! Eli fucking blows.
Steelers at Bears: That's two straight weeks of the Steelers in primetime, and they are just unbearable to watch. They need to develop emergency flexing for situations in which a team has proven immediately that it is unwatchable on offense. You can be horrible on defense and still be a thoroughly entertaining NFL team (like the Eagles!). But you cannot be the opposite.
Browns at Vikings: You dealt away a blue chipper, Mike Lombardi!
Bucs at Patriots: I like it when I'm switched to a different game late and the announcer welcomes me by saying, "We welcome those of you who just watched (x team get curb-stomped by y team)..." Really makes me feel at home. And if I'm watching a game and they truck in viewers from another shitty game that just ended, I'm also totally jazzed. Oh man, extra people showed up! NOW THIS IS A PARTY!
Bills at Jets: I don't know why Curt Menefee can't do all the Game Breaks for FOX all day on Sunday. Some guy named Joel is forced to do them occasionally and he sounds like a dude they dragged over from the craft service table to read the highlights. What is Menefee doing all day, besides gorging on olives?
Jaguars at Seahawks
Raiders at Broncos
Reader Jared sends in "Six Days A Week" by The Bronx. There was a 99.99999999999% chance that a band named The Bronx would be unbearable, but I'm happy to say The Bronx have somehow managed to defy the odds. It's like naming your band Park Slope. Anyway, this is awesome.
Last week's picks of Baltimore, New Orleans and Atlanta went 3-0, making me 5-1 on the year. Once again, we pick three teams for suicide pool and one things that makes you want to commit suicide. This week's picks are Seattle, Denver, Minnesota (oh that's a bad idea) and lightning delays. Seriously, what the fuck is going on? The hour-long delay last week was intolerable, and listening to Al Michaels check out radar maps on his fucking iPad only made it worse. I demand the Ginger Hammer suspend lightning for the rest of the season. It's even striking the commercials. I'm excited for Global Warming to increase worldwide lightning attacks by 400,000%. One day, there will be a lightning strike that is 500 miles across in width. My hope is that it hits Cowboys Stadium.
Verily, I cannot stay away from shitting all over His Royal Greggggggggness. His endless musing are simply tout sour to resist, HUH? HUH?!
Detroit faced fourth-and-4 at its 43... Matt Stafford threw super-short to Nate Burleson — who pulled his pattern up short of the line to gain. Tackle, contest over... Hoover damn, the play was sour.
Jesussudio Christ! Chrysler Jeepers! Josh Gadzooks, viva le sourness!
After your columnist said he liked the FX series "Justified" — entertaining but unrealistic crime drama about a modern wild-west-style lawman...
A fine series, although COMPLETELY FICTIONAL ONE MIGHT ADD (sips tea and strokes kitten)
— many readers suggested the A&E series "Longmire," also about a modern wild-west-style lawman, but realistic. "Longmire," which just wrapped its second season, is thoroughly enjoyable.
But?????? Tell me it's bureaucratic flaws, dickbot!
Walt is a good detective but, like all investigators on crime shows, never takes notes. Few crimes would be solved if real-world law enforcement officers failed to take notes. Longmire always gets the killer to confess, but never records the confession nor has a witness present, nor first gives the standard warning against self-incrimination.
AHAHAHAHA OH MY FUCKING GOD. "You know what would make this show really hum? A SCRIBE. Why are we not transcribing these interrogations in real time?! And how come Longmire never fills out a W9?" You know how Elmore Leonard said to leave out the boring parts? Gregg is the reverse Elmore Leonard.
TMQ's decade-long campaign against the name "Redskins" picked up a lot of support in the last few weeks...
FOLLOW MY LEAD, PIGDOGS! As always TMQ was in on this shit decades before the QUEENSTREAM media finally fell in line. You make me SICK!
...with Peter King of Sports Illustrated and NBC, the Washington Post, Christine Brennan of USA Today and Keith Olbermann jumping on the bandwagon. We need some sousaphones on this bandwagon!
But then we would need proper sheet music, to really jack up the realism.
TMQ gets credit for campaigning against R*dsk*ns on NFL.com itself.
Cookie for you, fuckface.
This column ran there from late 2003 through late 2005, and several dozen times referred to the Washington team as the Potomac Drainage Basin Indigenous Persons.
Hoover damn, that's genius!
My first column on NFL.com, from Nov. 25, 2003, contained this explanation: "I think R*dsk*ns has no polite usage (except for potatoes), though surely neither the team nor its fans intend offense."
"I know you people weren't paying close enough attention to my moralizing in that column, so lemme just paste it here so that you get the hint."
Next week, I may be mentioning something about "The King of Sports" — which just got a starred review from Library Journal.
But not The Economist! Oh, how Gregggggg must have cried out in agony to know such an elite periodical would trash his new manifesto. "Mr Easterbrook’s work is strikingly uneven. He is given to spluttering fits of moral outrage that lead him to contradict himself." Ye Gods! Grand Canyonder! That's a real drubbing!
Reader Anthony sends in this story I call HAIL TO THE POOPERS:
In 2007, I went to Ann Arbor with my buddy to watch Michigan destroy Notre Dame. I love Notre Dame football and have always wanted to go to the Big House, Michigan’s Stadium. We got there on Friday night and did the usual campus drinking. We woke up Saturday morning, tailgated and headed into the stadium. When we got to our seats, I started feeling that “Uh oh” grumble down below.
This is Michigan vs. Notre Dame, I paid way too much for this ticket, so I’m going to fight this off as long as I can. Hopefully the game goes by quick and I can make it back to my buddies’ place after the game. There’s no chance I’m leaving. I’ll just ignore the pain until it’s too much to bear. The Irish are getting mauled and I can barely watch any longer, but there is zero chance I leave this stadium before the game is over.
I figure I’ll head to the men’s room and crap in a stall. It’s a little uncomfortable pooping in a public stall, but I have a tested nesting routine that I have 100% confidence in. Besides, I’ve gone in a stall a thousand times before, it won’t be an issue. When I get up to go, it’s halftime, so every bathroom is packed and the lines are out the door. I walk into the first men’s room and there are only urinals from end to end, not one single commode. No big deal, I wasted a few minutes, I’ll walk to the next one. I walk into restroom two, same issue, all urinals! What the fuck!?
Walking around is not helping my stomach either at this point, now I’m loosened up and my brain is anticipating going. I made the commitment in my head to go and me, my brain and my bunghole have all agreed it’s gonna happen soon. This has now become a full-fledged Emergency Shit. When I walk into the third bathroom, I’m in luck… sorta. There are 24 urinals along the wall and a single sit down commode at the end… in plain sight… with no stall around it. It’s just a random sit down commode in the middle of this room. There is no seat on this thing and hundreds of guys have been pissing all over it, all day.
I grab a handful of paper towels and get in line for this lone commode. The lines are about 5 deep so I have time to go over the tactics in my head, on how to be as low-key as possible. (This is like the Army days of planning a raid on a weapons cache.) However, I am quickly realizing that with 200 guys in this room, all facing the front wall, there is not going to be any way to hide this. I get to the head of the line and the guy in front of me finishes. I take the towels, wipe the seat, then turn and look at the face of the guy behind me in line, who is now staring at me like, “There is no way this about to happen." Oh yes it is my friend, oh yes it is.
I look this guy straight in the eyes, drop my pants to my ankles and have a seat. To a man, every single guy in the room erupts into laughter instantaneously. I sit on this seatless piss-covered commode for what is one of the most relieving dumps of my entire life. Afterwards, I head back to my seat and meet up with my friend, who asks, ”What happened? You were gone a while.” “Nothing."
"My partition is that the San Diego Chargers (+3) will sperm into Tennessee and tipple the Titans on the road.
"Philip Rivers is what I call an Eileen quarterback. HE REALLY KNOWS HOW TO MASTURBATE THE BALL DOWN THE FEEL! I believe that Philip was hamstered by injuries for the past few years. But now he's completely regurgitated!"
Emmitt Smith 2013 record: 1-0
Obviously, the big news this week was that Florida, being Florida, is now overrun with herpes-infected monkeys. Obviously, there's only one way to stop the spread of the monkey herpes, and that is MONKEY RUBBERS. I did a quick Google search for "monkey condoms" and found no actual birth control products for monkeys available on the market. However, I did come across Condom Monkey, a wholesale rubber supplier. "Rest easy, baby. I got these from the Condom Monkey." Also, here is a rubber that is shaped like a monkey. Because nothing turns a woman on like the prospect of having a very small, living monkey being inserted into her vaginal cavity.
Knowshon Moreno. Oh, now you wanna be mildly productive? DIE. DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE. Knowshon has ruined Montee Ball and he will get hurt two weeks from now, just when you've cottoned to the idea of making him a regular flex spot starter. Josh McDaniels has never produced anything good.
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 potential 2013 chopping block:
- Rex Ryan*
- Ron Rivera*
- Jason Garrett
- Leslie Frazier
- Greg Schiano*****
- Gus Bradley
- Dennis Allen
- Tom Coughlin
- Mike Shanahan
- Mike Tomlin
*-Potential midseason firing
LOL GREG SCHIANO. What a fucking clod. Only Schiano would be stupid enough to wage war on his own team on roughly seven different fronts. Here's his idea of being diplomatic with Darrelle Revis:
It was good to see him but not really necessary.
"Darrelle and I have put this behind us. Also, he wasted my fucking time. But we're good." I would love to watch Greg Schiano doing a marriage proposal. DURRRR YOU SEEM USEFUL DURRRR (holds out ring)
Pumpernickel and onion pretzel sticks! OOOOH, PUMPERNICKEL! So exotic. Some people have a real boner for pumpernickel, usually people of German descent.
IC Light Mango! Oh holy Christ. Reader Patrick sends this disastrous fruity beverage for Pittsburgh-area douchebags:
Plain Iron City beer is not nasty enough! Now, dilute your Iron City, and add the "refreshing taste" of MANGOS! Haven't we suffered enough? Monkeys eat mangos, right? I believe their vomit would taste like IC Light Mango.
If the monkeys have herpes, then the answer is yes. I wish there were chunks of mango floating around in it, just to drive the nastiness home. No place on Earth makes me pine for tropical fruit quite like Pittsburgh. And only 95 calories! I MUST HAVE IT.
Time to start thinking about who the leaders will be 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 NFL MVP is Peyton Manning of the Broncos! The wily old coot! I hear a lot of people are crying OSCAR for this Oprah Winfrey movie about a butler. Let me tell you my Oprah story. A smart woman? YOU BET! Horrible bitch? OH GOD YES. I was running Paramount what back when and Spielberg came by to pitch me an outline for The Color Purple 2: Deep Purple. And he brings Oprah with him.
"Well, big ol' Oprah walks right past my receptionist, Fresco, and storms into my office while I'm getting a quality blowjob. Then she begins rearranging the chairs in my office! And I tell her, 'Whoa, baby! I got those pieces in Istanbul!' But before I can zip up my pants and stop her, she's got five assistants barging in with rolls of wallpaper, vases of fresh orchids (to which I am frightfully allergic), and a giant tub of Swiss Cake Rolls! And I'm crying to Fresco, 'Stop her, Fresco! Stop this madwoman!' Then Oprah demanded a role for Gayle King! You should have seen how red in the face Spielberg was. I never even got to finish my blowjob! No class."
Django Unchained. I bet Quentin Tarantino made that entire movie just so he could film that one scene where Jonah Hill and Don Johnson are arguing over whether or not to wear their KKK hoods. And you know what? I don't blame him at all. That scene is fantastic. I bet Jerry Richardson HATED this movie.
"Fire, Man's Oldest Foe. Insatiable, remorseless, unquenchable."
Enjoy the games, everyone.
Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also buy Drew's book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.