Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Find more of his stuff at his Twitter feed.

There were a handful of Christmas ads on the Monday Night Football telecast last night, and CBS still had a Happy Holidays graphic up for Sunday's games. This made me intensely angry, because I want nothing to do with Christmas once the clock strikes midnight on 12/26. Just this Tuesday night, there was a Christmas special on ABC called, "Rudolph's Shiny New Year". It was produced in 1976, it featured the voice of Frank Gorshin, and it was fucked. Rudolph was stuck in a whale at one point. I don't like dragged-out holiday shit like this.


I'm all good with Christmas frivolity during the month of December. I like the songs and the tree trimming, and watching A Christmas Story and all that. But once Christmas is over, I go through an instant holiday detoxification process. I listen to as much old Metallica and Iron Maiden as humanly possible, to wash away the stench of all the Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra records. Seeing Christmas decorations after Christmas is like seeing a political candidate's bumper sticker the day after an election. It looks retarded. I want regular life back, with the senseless drinking and the wonderful lack of numerous relatives around. That's what the end of the NFL regular season and the playoffs mean for me. It means the end of the holiday bullshit, and back to my wonderful life of ignoring the shit out of everyone around me. Let's get into this thing. Gimme a glazed donut and a bottle of anything. TO GO GO GO GO GO GO...

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


Five Throwgasms

Eagles at Cowboys: Here's something I'll never understand: Why do the networks have the analysts in the studios do the halftime highlights? Bradshaw does this on FOX. And Esiason, Marino, Cowher, and Sharpe do it over on CBS. They're all fucking horrible at it. It's worse than Reilly doing SportsCenter. They're analysts. They aren't meant to do play-by-play type shit. It's not why they're there. Sharpe can't get through narrating a game without stuttering 57 times. CBS is paying James Brown shitloads of money to be their studio guy. Let HIM do all the highlights, and let the fucking analyst shitheads chime in while he's doing it. That's how it should work. Even ESPN isn't dumb enough to do this. I don't get it.


Four Throwgasms

Bengals at Jets: Peter King keeps saying this was the only logical choice for the flex game on Sunday Night. I say fucking bullshit. Both the Eagles and Cowboys will play their starters for the entire game. What do the Bengals have to play for? They don't give a shit whether or not they get the 3 or 4 seed. They'll sit Palmer, and the Jets will be handed a playoff spot so long as Johnny Damon doesn't fuck it all up. Would you rather watch that than the NFC East title game? FUCK AND NO, you wouldn't. Goddamn Peter King.

Packers at Cardinals: Because these two play each other this week, it eliminates the possibility of all six NFC playoff teams having 11 wins or more, which has never happened in either conference since the league expanded to 12 playoff teams. HOWEVAH, regardless of what happens on Sunday, the NFC will have all six playoff teams with 10 wins or more. I checked the standings, and the last time that happened within a conference was in the AFC in 2005, when the Pats, Colts, Jags, Broncos, Bengals, and Steelers all had at least 10 wins. The Steelers were a sixth seed that year, and won everything. It's potentially the best NFC playoff field ever, which means next weekend is going to be so fucking awesome I can hardly stand it.


Ravens at Raiders: When I got home from my Christmas break, a light bulb had blown out in the TV room, which caused a circuit breaker switch to go out. In turn, this caused the fridge and freezer to go off, spoiling everything inside. Inside our freezer was a small bag of frozen mixed berries (You nuke them and put them on top of ice cream. It's a delight.). The bag leaked out of the freezer and down onto the kitchen floor, creating this giant puddle of red/purple liquid.

So when I walked into our house after our drive back, it looked like there was a massive pool of blood on the kitchen floor. For a split second, I thought someone had been murdered in our house and stuffed in the freezer. The prospect of this, on one level, was terrifying. But it was also totally awesome. I mean, it could have been someone I knew dead in that freezer, and that would have been a buzzkill. But what if it had been a stranger? What if someone I didn't give a shit about had been butchered and then frozen solid? Holy shit, that would have been exciting.

Secretly, I've always yearned to be tangentially involved in a murder case of some sort. I would have loved to be the limo driver in the OJ Simpson case. I wouldn't want to be the murdered, or the murderer. But I constantly envision scenarios where I am in the general vicinity when SHIT IS GOING DOWN. So you can imagine my disappointment when I opened the freezer and found out it wasn't the headless body of a Congressman's niece, but a warm bag of fruit. I was devastated.


Also, any time I walk into any store or bank, I try to think of ways I could rob it. I look at the security cameras and everything. I'm not saying I case the joint, because casing is only done by REAL criminals. But I definitely assess the security of any small business and wonder if I could get away with stealing all the cash inside. I'd fail in every instance. But in my imagination, I am MASTER OF THE HEIST.

I also flip it around and eyeball everyone else in the store, wondering if they're going to pull a gun and try and rob the joint themselves at some point. Where would I hide? What stray object would I use as an impromptu weapon to foil their plans and become a local hero? What if I saved a woman's life and never had to pay for dinner or a hooker in this town again? That would be sweet.

I apologize for the digression. When I think of the Raiders, my brain always turns to crime.


Patriots at Texans: Of all the teams left in the AFC playoff mix, I'd far prefer Matt Schaub and the Texans make it over the Jets, Ravens, or Broncos. They'll lose in the playoffs, but they'll score 30 points doing it.

Steelers at Dolphins: I was in my keeper league's title game for the second straight year this year two weeks ago. I also lost the title game for the second straight year. Before the title game this year, I vowed not to say a fucking word about it to anyone, or trash talk with my opponent (ESPN and SportsPickle's DJ Gallo, who can rot in fucking hell). So, during the buildup to the title game, Gallo kept emailing me about the title game, and I refused to email him back. Here are the emails he sent me:

1st email: "I will destroy you next week."

2nd email: "I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOU! Your failure to acknowledge your upcoming destruction at my fantasy hands is very disheartening."


3rd email: "I said I WILL DESTROY YOU AT FANTASY FOOTBALL!!! Good god, man. You're psyching me out now with your silence. I'm tempted to start Brady Quinn."

4th email: "One final time: My fantasy people are going to destroy your fantasy people."

Because I am stupid, I was convinced my refusal to engage was a clear karmic path to victory. But noooo. No, fucking retard Big Ben had to throw for a zillion yards against Green Bay and ruin my fucking strategy. And yet, I know damn well that if I had been the one to talk trash, I DEFINITELY would have lost. So Gallo is allowed by God to talk shit prior to a title game, and I'm not? You go to fucking hell, God. Curse you for making me the Susan Lucci of this fucking game. So fucking mad.


I was the top seed in my league going into the playoffs. I'm convinced that, in fantasy, top seeds NEVER win the league title. Ever. Maybe that's a stretch, but I'd guess that top seeds' postseason results are not in direct correlation with their regular season success. I asked Andy Behrens of Yahoo if there was any statistical validity to that idea. I wanted to know the aggregate win percentages of seeds in all Yahoo leagues. I was also curious to know which players were on the largest percentages of title-winning teams (the obvious answer to this, you would think, is Chris Johnson). He said that Yahoo's engineers were too busy with fantasy baseball to investigate the issue. Baseball? In December? You go to Hell too, Yahoo engineers. You and God. I demand answers to things I'm far too lazy to research on my own.

Three Throwgasms

Giants at Vikings: Now that fantasy season is over, I have to go through the whole process of adjusting how I watch these games. There's no more constant need to check stats or team updates, even though I will anyway. Whenever a runner goes for 150 now, I have to stop thinking about how this affects my team or the team I'm playing against, and be content to simply be impressed with the performance. Most fantasy haters say this is the problem with fantasy football. But those people are stupid and gay. If you play fantasy, you know this is an easier adjustment to make than it sounds. By the time next week rolls around, I'm fully prepared to enjoy the games for what they are. I'll even be able to watch the same game for more than five minutes at a time.


Jaguars at Browns: I'm going to a wedding this weekend. It's a black tie affair. CLASSY! Ever have drunken sex while wearing a tux? I can't recommend it enough. DRUNKEN TUX SEX IS THE WAY TO GO.

/puts on tux with no underwear
//dances poorly to "Forever"


Two Throwgasms

Chiefs at Broncos: A reader sent in this item about Andrew WK in which AWK confirms he was an actor hired to play the role of "Andrew WK", and that the persona of Andrew WK was created by a collective of record producers and corporate interests (and Coors Light, I would imagine). I guess this is scandalous, except that I don't really give a shit. Plenty of bands out there weren't spontaneous creations, including the Sex Pistols. "I Get Wet" was still a kickass album (rumors that Dave Grohl wrote the whole thing persist, and I totally buy it, since his AWK's subsequent albums are horrid). Also, I saw AWK in concert during the "I Get Wet" tour and it was a fucking blast. If he was the Milli Vanilli of the 00's, so be it. I'll take it over the actual Milli Vanilli.

Titans at Seahawks: I spent the week of Christmas in the same house as my five-year-old nephew, who is obsessed with poop and boogers. And I had to go around chastising him for talking about poop and boogers around our three-year-old, so as not to corrupt her. Meanwhile, I'm 28 years older than this kid, and ALL I do for a living is write about poop, boogers, and jerking off. The hypocrisy is staggering. The five-year-old has an excuse for talking about poop. He's five. I have no excuse. I'm just a fat asshole.


One Throwgasm

49ers at Rams: So the regular season is over on Monday. I'm excited for the playoffs, but it's always a bittersweet time. This week marks the end of 16-game slates. No more Sunday Ticket. No more of that magic hour at 4Pm every Sunday when all the 1PM come to a head at the same time. No more fantasy, unless you do one of those fantasy playoff deals. Worst of all, no more shitty teams to make fun of. Goodbye, Rams. I'll never forget the way Keith Null appeared from out of nowhere to bring your season even further down into the abyss.


Colts at Bills: You'll find no shortage of people out there who will happily defend Jim Caldwell's decision (which was really Bill Polian's decision) to pull the Indy starters against the Jets. This is fucking dumb. There's already historical proof that the Colts, in the Peyton Manning Era, fail in the playoffs when they pull this shit. It's not a small sample size, either. This has been a pattern for years and years now, where the Colts rest their starters, then come out flat in the playoffs and can't recover in time to win. Only in 2006, when they had to play to the wire, did they win it all.

Using the 2007 Pats to refute this argument doesn't work. That team didn't lose the Super Bowl because they lost players to injury in the last weeks of the season, when they kept the starters in despite clinching everything. Avoiding injury is at the heart of the Colts' strategy. Well, those Pats avoided injury just fine. They lost the Super Bowl because they were outplayed, and even then they still had every chance to win the game anyway. It had nothing to do with being 18-0 instead of 17-1.

And this Colts team wasn't a dominant 14-0. They had to come back in the fourth quarter seven times to win games this year, which is an NFL record. It's juuust the slightest little edge that allowed the Colts to win those 14 games in a row. And now, that shit is gone. At this point, you'd be more surprised if the Colts won their first playoff game than if they lost it. Stupid Caldwell. You let a whole city down, Nien Nunb.


Saints at Panthers: I can't watch Mike Goodson play without announcing to myself that the game he's playing in was a Mark Goodson television production. Stupid brain.

Falcons at Bucs: In the mailbag earlier this week, one reader lamented that his wife only bakes banana bread for other people, and not for him. An addenda to this is clothing. If your wife is going out for an evening on the town with the ladies, she will get DECKED THE FUCK OUT. Or, if she's heading to work, she will put on some business suit outfit that will have you going out of your goddamn mind with raging horniness.


YOU: Why don't you wear that suit when I'm around?

HER: This is for work.

YOU: Fuck. That. Can't you at least keep it on for an hour after work, so I can attack you in it?


HER: Oh, goodness no. I have to get right back into sweatpants when I get home.

YOU: Damn you.

Redskins at Chargers: Do you realize that penises are ageless? They are! When you're born, your cock and balls already come pre-wrinkled. Take away the gray pubes and I bet you couldn't tell the difference between a 50-year-old's penis and a 20-year-old's penis. Penises are immortal.


Bears at Lions AROMASHODU!

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

"Everybody Is A Fucking Liar, " by The Posies. I like it because they swear.

David Lee Roth Video Of The Week

"Yankee Rose," by David Lee Roth. Oooh, breath mint! OUR LIPS ARE SO CLOSE!

Truly, this video is a masterpiece of grossly offensive racial humor. Within the first sixty seconds, you get astonishing caricatures of Latinos, Indians, AND blacks. Let's see a sketch from the Jeff Dunham Show top that! Then comes the fat lady who needs a laxative. Then comes two hot 80's skanks. I love hot 80's skanks. They have huge hair, and they jiggle a lot. You can trace the death of rock and roll directly to the unnecessary disappearance of skanks from rock videos. Mainstream rock bands today are way too serious and angsty to have skanks parading around in their videos. Asses. MORE SKANKS, PLEASE. This is why hip hop is the dominant force in music today. They have the honeys.


Then you get Roth himself dressed in African tribal blackface. But there's more! You get Roth wearing a thong! And you get Roth having a conversation with Steve Vai's guitar. AND Vai makes his guitar laugh! He totally fucking does. He uses that whammy bar for all it's worth. WAH wah wah wah wah wah! NICE.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Want us to name your baby so that your hubby doesn't name the kid Sonic? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Jerome Harrison. This is twofold. First of all, you know damn well there was some lucky prick out there who stole a fantasy championship because he threw Harrison into his lineup out of necessity, only to watch the guy blow up the fucking Earth over the past two weeks. So fuck him for that. But also, FUCK HIM IN ADVANCE FOR NEXT YEAR. You know doubly damn well that Harrison will be rated as a third round pick or so next year. Mark my words: he will fuck you. He'll never have this two-game stretch again. And if he does, then FUCK HIM THREE TIMES FOR NOT CONFORMING TO MY EXPECTATIONS FOR AN AVERAGE CLEVELAND BACK. Fuck you, Jerome Harrison. I hate you the same way I hated Samkon Gado.


Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last Jamboroo's suicide pick of Arizona was correct, making my suggestions for your pool 12-3 on the year. Sorry about the three wrong ones. That puts the Cardinals, Pats, Broncos, 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? San Diego, and digging through your lady's purse. Ladies, I can't find JACK SHIT in your fucking handbags. Can I get you your Chap Stick? Hell, no. Finding a Chap Stick in that magician's hat is like trying to find a dime at the bottom of the fucking Pacific. I know you womenfolk have lots of shit you need to carry around in a leather purse that's insanely expensive despite doing nothing to enhance your physical appearance. But don't go asking me to find shit in that. My wife asked me to find her phone in her purse once. It took me an hour.

ME: Where the fuck is this thing?

HER: It's in the zipper pocket.

ME: There are fifty zipper pockets.

HER: The inside one.

ME: Which inside one? The one inside the open pocket? This pouch thing? Wait a second… there's hard candy in here. I swear I just felt a Nerd as I trolled along the bottom. Why don't you ever offer me any, you heartless beast?


HER: Just give it to me.

Check your own handbags, ladies.

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 Jaguars getting 1.5 points against Cleveland on the road. Happy New Year, everyone. There's a Jewish clown fish in our reef who calls himself Roberto Benigni. My New Year's Resolution is to eat him."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 8-7.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
This week's Pants Party winner was Encore et toujours favori. You French cunt. Come and claim your rant prize.


Great Moments In Poop History
Reader Brian sends in this story he calls "The Poop Knife":

Lefty stands 6'10" with a fighting weight of around 320 and a sit-on-the-couch weight of around 360. Lefty is actually right-handed. Nobody knows why he is nicknamed Lefty, and even Lefty himself is dumbfounded by the fact, but he has embraced the moniker. Lefty was a standout D-1 basketball player(does the Patriot League count other than Bucknell?)and still is among the top-10 all-time rebounders at Colgate. Lefty is not Adonal Foyle.

The poop stories so far have all been focused on remarkable, yet isolated shitting episodes (other than the large intestine one, which I don't know if I really believe). Lefty's story, however, is unique due to its remarkable consistency, kind of like Cal Ripken. Lefty has the ability to take shits that resemble the forearm of a roided-out third baseman circa '97. His ass produces these massive shits each and every day.

Flushing the beasts down is a problem Lefty deals with each and every day. And that is why a knife, affectionately known as the "Poop knife," sits next to his toilet. After each and every one of his shits, he has to dissect his own bowel movement. Like any good Ninja Turtle video game boss, one slicing is never enough to conquer the beast. Each and every one of Lefty's shits needs to be cut at minimum three times. After each use, the shit knife is cleaned using fresh toilet water, and placed in a similar location to the gun from the godfather.


And this one, from Matt. I call it, NIGHT ON POOP MOUNTAIN.

My dad, two younger brothers and myself scored tickets to a Bears game in December 2001 and drove up form central Illinois. After several missed field goals by the Lions kept the Bears close, we had enough and left at the end of the third quarter.

We wound our way out and needed to piss to release several beers before we took the long ride home. We eschewed the long lines inside, figuring we could use the numerous porta-pots outside. My next youngest brother hits the wizz factory first. I was next in line and was utterly amazed. After numerous beers, my brother hit that porta-john, did his business, and was out the door in 5 seconds. He was zipping his pants while coming out the door and had a pale look on his face. I was drunk enough, and impressed enough, not question why and ambled in. He had good reason to make an early exit. The shitter portion of the john had been filled with cups, plates, napkins, bottles, cans, and other detritus of a tailgate, to the point of being 6" over the seat. On top of all this stuff, someone had shit the most vile thing I have ever seen. I didn't know poop came in that color orange. It looked like a shit sundae. The sheer logistics of being able to do this escaped me, let alone adding the factor of trying to push Satan's squirts out of you. I still don't know who impressed me more that day; my brother, who pissed out 7 beers in 5 seconds, or the man who hover-shitted Hell's spawn in a porta-john.


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
Wade Phillips
Todd Haley
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
Gary Kubiak
Dick Jauron – FIRED!
Lovie Smith
Raheem Morris

Wade is doing his best to hang on. DAMN HIM. We can still nudge his fat ass off the cliff, people. All we need is a total Dallas meltdown on Sunday and in the playoffs. I daresay Wade will make it happen. And say hi to Raheem Morris on the chopping block for the first time. I always like it when it's assumed a new coach will have time to build a team, only a horrible season goes by and everyone then changes their mind about being patient. That rules.


Gametime Snack Of The Week

Graham crackers! I'm of the firm belief that every food item in the world would be improved by 80% with a graham cracker crust. I think there should be a graham cracker crust pie, which consists of a graham cracker crust and a crumbled graham cracker crust filling.


I looked at the nutritional info on a box of Honey Maids in our house today, and they consider a serving size to be eight crackers. Eight crackers! Nice! Not a bad helping. But not so fast, fuckos. Turns out that they count one of those cracker sheets you pull out of the box as FOUR crackers, and not its own cracker. This is horseshit. THE CRACKER IS THE SHEET. I DON'T CARE WHAT THE PERFORATIONS SUGGEST. FUCK YOU, NABISCO.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week


Lost Lake! Reader Travis sends in this gem:

Growing up on the reservation afforded me the opportunity to try many terrible beers. None of them topped Lost Lake or it's brother, Lost Lake Ice. Lost Lake is elusive and not carried by many liquor stores, but at $8.50, it's worth the hunt. One weekend, a couple of my college buddies (also from the rez) and I took some home and one of the dads (a seasoned shitty beer reservation drinker) thought he would try it. He took one sip; and immediately re-named it "Lost Lagoon." The name stuck.

Oh man, does that look like horrible reservation beer. Who knew American Indian alcoholics had their own cheap beers they were hiding from us? I MUST HAVE IT. That case looks like the label on a Vestron Video VHS tape. Also, no mountains on the can. BUT THERE IS NATURE. A cheap beer can must have some sort of natural element to it: lakes, mountains, chipmunks. Actually, is that a river on the can? That makes no sense. It's named after a lake.


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 PHILIP RIVERS OF THE CHARGERS! Feisty? You bet! A gamer? Always!


"Now, let me tell you the story of the craziest New Year's I ever had. Paris. 1970. I booked a suite at the Crillon and had the usual suspects over: Beatty, Nicholson, Sidney Korshak, Spiro Agnew. And we're really living it up. Dom? YOU BET! Beluga and Sevruga? You know it! And all on Paramount's dime! Anyway, we have some of France's very finest damsels with us in the suite. And who should be among them but the Belle Du Jour herself, Catherine Deneuve! SEXY! SLINKY! All of us wanted a taste, that's for sure!

"So Nicholson makes us a wager: The first man to get his ejaculate in Agnew's champagne flute gets first crack at Catherine. We all agree, and this sets off a frenzied rush to the bathrooms and boudoirs to get our Hollywood product out as fast as we can! I grab one of the brunette minxes lavishing on the chaise and bring her in to a bedroom. Well, Evans isn't one to kiss and tell, but this little number was able to get my Bordeaux vintage out of the bottle in a hurry! And I tell her, ‘Baby! I need you to spit those little Evanses out into the VP's glass.' I tell her it's an old trick Truffaut used to play on his guests, and it would make a fabulous homage. And damned if she didn't spit my fellas right out into her hand, amble over to Spiro, drape a flirtatious arm around him, and deftly flick my goodies right into his Dom! Outrageous? You bet! I beat Nicholson by ten seconds!

"So I get Catherine in the bedroom. And wouldn't you know it? I worked so hard to get the first batch out, I couldn't produce another for this beautiful creature! Disappointing? YOU BET! I had my chance at Deneuve and I couldn't bat twice in the inning! I blew it! Literally! You never know when a flop will get you, but it sure stings when it hits!"


Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Rams Fans

The Hurt Locker. This was the best movie I saw in theaters this year. It was also the ONLY movie I saw in theaters this year. Stupid kids. Whatever. Still a badass flick. And the drunken wrestling scene wasn't gay AT ALL.


Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Oh, very well, it's time for your bribe. Now, you can either have the washer and dryer where the lovely Smithers is standing, or you can trade it all in for what's in this box."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Via KOGOD, a naked Brazilian girl. (NSFWSC). Is there any other kind of Brazilian girl?
-For the gals: Keeping with the Hurt Locker theme, shirtlessshirtless Jeremy Renner. Hell, even I'd sleep with the guy after watching that flick.

A very Happy New Year to you and yours, everyone. I hope you have a safe night out there, and I hope the bar you visit doesn't have lines seven-deep at the goddamn bar because everyone has a wristband for free drinking and there are only two bartenders there to serve 2,000 people and they're clearly ignoring you in favor of skanky women and just their docuhey buddies. Dicks.


Enjoy the games, everyone.