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.

It's the playoffs! WOOHOO! FUCK YEAH! EVEN THE SEAHAWKS CAN'T RUIN IT! Now, there are going to be people who will tell you that these could very well be the last NFL playoffs we see for quite a while, and to those people I say SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP I CAN'T HEAR YOU LALALALA MOMMY AND DADDY STILL LOVE EACH OTHER AND ALWAYS WILL!


Now, if history serves, at least one of these games will turn on a pass interference call. Pass interference has always been the bitch of all penalties. No other penalty can cover as much yardage or have as dramatic an impact on the game. You could conceivably get a 98-yard pass interference penalty called on you, and I'm sure one day that will happen to the Ravens and we'll all have a good laugh about it. The problem with pass interference is that there's no leeway to it. It's a spot foul whether or not the call is obvious, or if it's total fucking bullshit. In theory, you could create two categories of pass interference, with Aggravated PI (which would entail pinning down a wideout's arm, openly shoving him before he catches the ball, or penetrating his anus with some kind of crudely made shiv) getting the spot foul and a regular PI penalty (which would entail bumping, grinding, and dry humping) getting the 15-yard flag. But that makes far too much sense for the League to consider.

So I have a much more unreasonable and pointless solution to this whole pass interference business, one that would level the field for defenses but still allow for all those cheap game-winning penalties the League just adores. Keep defensive pass interference as it is. It's a spot foul after 15 yards, no matter the degree of interference. But change OFFENSIVE pass interference so that it's an opposite spot foul. So if a wideout pushes off 30 yards down the field? BOOM BITCH. Thirty-yard penalty in the opposite direction. FUCKING OWNED. And if he pushes off 60 yards down the field? Your offense goes back to the 1.

Sure, this solution only makes an already overly severe penalty doubly worse, and it still does nothing to prevent a cheap defensive PI call from helping a team win a game, as it did for the Jets against the Broncos earlier this year. In fact, it's probably the worst solution ever conceived. To which I say… FUCK YOU IN HALF! OPPOSITE SPOT FOULS RULE. Man, what I'd give to see some asshole wideout get his team stuck in a 3rd and 46 that ends up getting the quarterback murdered. The fun is in the pointless cruelty.


The Games
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms. And during the playoffs, I pick the games, because why not.

Five Throwgasms

Eagles (-3) 38, Packers 30: I saw Mike McCarthy's postgame press conference after the Packers got into the playoffs last week and HOLY SHIT that guy is barely alive. WHOA, TURN DOWN THE EXCITEMENT IN HERE, MIKEY! SOMEONE IN HERE MIGHT ACTUALLY BLINK IF YOU DO! Mike McCarthy strikes me as the kind of guy you walk up to ask directions to somewhere only to instantly regret your choice of person to give you directions. "Oh, Christ. I never should have asked this asshole for directions. Now I have to stand here for three hours while he stammers out the three steps necessary, and they won't even be right."


Jets 26, Colts (-3) 16: In case you haven't seen it, here's Media Take Out posting more pictures of Mrs. Ryan doing fun things with her feet. Let's check the legendary MTO comment section for some further insight on this story, shall we?

I'm a bisexual rapper and I saw this [EXPLETIVE] last week, but it might feel good to bust some sperm in between some toes. – Misfit

Notice that Misfit said "some" sperm. Not necessarily his own!


Four Throwgasms

Chiefs 38, Ravens (-3) 10: I wonder what the final straw was for Charlie Weis with Todd Haley. It had to be more than just a fat joke. I bet it was something like, "Nice call, fuckface! I BET THAT'S WHY YOU LOST YOUR MALPRACTICE SUIT, YOU BLEEDING CUNT!" Something like that.


Three Throwgasms

Saints (-10.5) 17, Seahawks 9: Your NBC jayvee team for Saturday consists of Tom Hammond, Tom Hammond's terrifying plastic skin graft mask, anddddddd (please not Theismann and Gibbs, please not Theismann and Gibbs)… MIKE MAYOCK! Hey! He's not Joe Theismann or Joe Gibbs. That's a huge improvement! Thank God. Now, onto the random crap:

-I had the flu last week, which I then passed onto both my kids, who then proceeded to behave as if they were going through heroin withdrawal. My wife avoided catching it. She got a flu shot this year. I did not, because the idea of going to a Minute Clinic at CVS and sitting there for 75 minutes between a homeless person and an old person trying to cut their toenails was too much for me to bear. Anyway, if you have not gotten a flu shot, I'd strongly recommend you get it.


-As always, the rule holds: if someone is sick in your house and you have kids, you always want that sick person to be YOU. I had no real issue with being sick the first day or so. I got to lie in bed and read and masturbate. My wife had to do all the horrible shit like take care of the kids and wash their vomit out of the rug. If SHE had been sick, I would have had to do all that stuff, and that's a troubling thought. Watching your spouse go down sick leaves you completely shorthanded at a crucial position. You end up doing triple the parenting because you have to take care of the kids (who are also usually sick) as well as the sick spouse. And the sick spouse always milks that shit for AGES. I know I did. NAPTIME FOR DADDY! Let me close the door so I don't have to hear your screams of frustration!

-I spent much of the Flupocalypse eating nothing but chicken soup. I find it highly amusing that humans find soothing comfort in chicken soup. Because it means, in order for me to feel better, a chicken must die and its bones must be stewed in boiling hot water for hours on end. "Oh, man. I scraped my knee real bad. Mom, can you do me a favor and go gun down a cow and cut out its heart and rub it against the open scrape? Oh, man! Oh, that feels so much better! What a warm, wonderful feeling this dead cow heart provides me! Quick! Skin a buffalo alive and cover me in its ripped off flesh for warmth!"

-I'd gladly pay $100 for a Flu Blame Tracker app that showed you EXACTLY who got you sick and where it happened. Every time I get sick, I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out who the cocksucker is that passed the illness onto me. As if you could ever really know. "I was at the gym, and there was this one swarthy fellow… I BET IT WAS HIM! Mystery: SOLVED." I'd love to know if I got the flu because I barehanded a toilet flush at the gym and then ate a sandwich seven minutes later. I totally bet that was the case.


-I'm the sort of person who has violent coughing fits that end up with it sounding like I'm half-coughing, half-vomiting. If you were in the bathroom stall next to me and you heard this, you would flee in terror. I'm an appealing person.

-There is nothing on Earth slower than a DirecTV receiver that needs to be reset. And the worst part is that the receiver openly LIES to you about how long it will take to reset. "Almost there. Just a few minutes." I counted, okay? That was 14 minutes. MORE THAN A FUCKING FEW, BUDDY. And once you get past that fucking screen, you aren't even done yet. Then you go to another screen, and then you go to the Acquiring Signal bar, which takes fifty goddamn years to reach 100%. It's the Space Mountain of cable boxes.

-I took a trip to Los Angeles back in the fall and I didn't know my way around, so when I got in the rental car, I programmed the GPS to show me where I needed to go. Only I fucked up and somehow the only part of the address that the GPS got was "Los Angeles, CA". So it proceeded to lead me to what I presume was the exact center of Los Angeles and then proudly announced to me, "You have now arrived at Los Angeles, California." I swear I detected a hint of smugness in the lady's voice when she said it. I almost ran the fucking thing over.


-I still don't understand why in the fuck FOX has Terry Bradshaw announce all of the halftime highlights. They've had him do it for years and he's gotten no better at since when he started. There's a perfectly fine studio host sitting right next to him in Curt Menefee. Why don't you have HIM do the fucking highlights and let Terry chew on some hay for five minutes instead of having him jizz poor syntax all over an otherwise nice video package? He always sounds like he's doing this for the first time.

-Watching Lovie Smith ice his own offense last week by calling a timeout just before the ball was snapped on a 3rd and long (which the Bears converted only to have it nullified) was one of the greatest things I've ever seen. It really did look like he was waiting right until the snap of the football specifically to fuck his own offense over. "Hang on, ref… Let me just make sure Cutler has the play exactly right… NOW NOW NOW!"

-My kids have a wooden train set with little sections of track that you can use to configure pretty much any kind of track you want. It has bridges and tunnels (you know, for the Jersey folk) and switches and even a little engine wash it goes through. This thing is fucking awesome. I could sit there and configure new tracks with it all day long. The problem is that the children ALSO want to play with it, and they invariably build tracks that are poorly engineered. Hey, kid! You didn't connect the loop on the end! The track just falls off! YOU THINK THE ENGINEERS AT BRIO WOULD BE HAPPY WITH THIS KIND OF RUSH JOB? Passengers will DIE now because of you. Move out of the way and let a real man complete this figure eight for you. WHEE! Look, Honey! I figured this out all myself!


Two Throwgasms



One Throwgasm


2010 Playoff Picks Record: 6-5 (5-6 vs. the spread)

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

"Still of the Night," by Whitesnake, which is still a song I like quite a bit. The money section, of course, comes at the 3:30 mark, when they bust out the violin bow. OH SHIT YEAH. THINGS JUST GOT FUCKING REAL.


Tawny, by the way, is just as delightful in this video as she was in the "Here I Go Again" video. She gets blindfolded, tied up, and thrown into the back of a van with the word SEX spray painted across it… It's another gold medal performance. I think Tawny probably sits at home now and watches both videos on a constant loop, the way an old athlete probably watches old game tape of himself all the time. I WAS THE NUMBER STAR… IN THE WOOOOORLD. BANG! THE WOOOORLD!

The "Still of the Night" video is shot in the style of many videos from the 1980's. They got a soundstage, they filled it with shitloads of smoke, and then they put each of the band members on their own little piece of scaffolding. If I were a billionaire, I would have my own soundstage built into my home so that I could recreate every 80's music video. With added hardcore porn elements.

Embarrassing Song I Once Liked That Will Not Fire You Up

"Lollipop," by the Chordettes, because the Stand By Me soundtrack was a staple of my lily-white middle class upbringing. God, the father in that movie was such a heartless bastard. Anyway, listen closely to this song and you'll notice that none of the Chordettes can sing. At all. I mean, it's just brutal. The one on the far right doesn't even look like she knows the words, and the song only has ONE word! All you have to know is fucking LOLLIPOP! How hard can it be? You'll also notice from the video that only one of the Chordettes (third from the left) is attractive. The rest of them are far homelier, and I have to think that fostered an awful lot of resentment among the band members.


Oh, and that popping noise they make with their cheek in the song? I can never do that. Annoying.

Fantasy Player That Deserves A Quick Finger In The Ass
Ryan Mathews, who of course waited until Week 17, when nothing fucking mattered, to go and have a monster game. Seriously, Mathews. You're an asshole. Reader Mike gives a firsthand account of the suffering Mathews inflicted upon him this season:

I drafted him in the 1st or 2nd round in all three of my fantasy leagues and he completely fucked me. And then he goes all Tiki Barber and decides to have his best game in Week 17. There is a special ring of football hell in which these players should be subjected to. He should be traded to the Raiders and be forced to lick Al Davis's feet until he officially dies. Ryan Mathews better hope I never get stationed at Camp Pendleton.


The Tiki Barber comparison is pretty spot on. Tiki always fucked people over by having a great Week 17 after doing nothing all year. I checked the game logs. He had over 200 yards in the final week of 2006. Same with 2005. AND in 2002. What a dick.

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 Green Bay getting 3 points on the road against Philly. Good news, everyone! They've uncovered a new Nazi-era mass grave near an Austrian psychiatric hospital! You talk about buried treasure!"

2010 Nazi Shark Record: 10-6-1

Great Moments In Poop History
Reader The Learned One sends in this story I call BROWN CHILDREN OF THE CORN:

When I was in high school, conversations between my friends and me often turned to poop and pooping. It was during a particularly blurry evening that the conversation turned to the amazing ability of corn to pass through a man's system undigested, to appear wholly formed in the dookie. Amidst this rousing discussion the question surfaced that if I man were to eat solely corn for a week straight would it result in a turd that was so speckled with corn that it in fact looked like a corn on the cob? A poop on the cob? Of course I bet my comrades that I could make it a week eating only corn and would document the experiment as I went along.

That evening I went to my local Stop and Shop and purchased a flat of canned corn and more than a dozen fresh cobs. And while I confess I made various soufflés and other such delights with my staple ingredient I did manage to eat almost strictly corn for seven days. My parents were not impressed with this behavior. Unfortunately my experiment was a complete failure. Initial results were your standard various yellow kernels stuck in the poo. This progressed around day 2 and 3 to a fairly sizeable brown to yellow ratio. Thereafter my dream fell apart. I started to get a stomachache, followed by a violent stomachache, followed in the end by terrible diarrhea. And you would be right to think that the liquid poo was horrible. But what made it worse was the machine gun fire of corn pellets that came streaming out of my ass. You hate it when your turd drops and splashes back up at you? Well, this was a thousand dirty bombs jackknifing upwards, a brown bidet washing any measure of dignity I had left. This went on through day seven. It got no better and no worse, it just happened."

Now, with a significant amount of time having passed I can look back on this event fondly. The guy who developed the photos I took daily to document my progress probably still has nightmares. I have those photos if you would like to see them.


No, I would not.

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:

Wade Phillips (FIRED!)
Brad Childress (FIRED!)
Josh McDaniels (FIRED!)
Mike Singletary (FIRED!)
Eric Mangini (FIRED!)
John Fox (FIRED!)
Tom Cable (FIRED!)
Jeff Fisher
Tony Sparano


Goddamn Bengals and Texans. I can't believe Gary Kubiak survived another year and got teamed up with Wade Phillips, the only person in the league who managed to have a worse pass defense than the Texans did. Houston will be the most explosive 5-11 team in the world next year.

Every year has a surprise firing, and I can't believe I was actually surprised that the Raiders fired Tom Cable. But there you have it.

Gametime Snack Of The Week


Slim Jims! When I was in prep school, my lunch every weekend consisted of an extra long Slim Jim, a pint of Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream, and a jumbo blue raspberry slush puppie. I was an appealing person. Did you know you can buy your own Slush Puppie machine for on eBay for a mere $1,295? Every home desperately needs one.

I bought a Slim Jim the other day and when I opened the package it was clear that the Slim Jim was not in prime condition. This made me sad, because I assumed a Slim Jim could NEVER decline in quality over the course of time. But this definitely had. I ate it anyway.

Last year, three people died when a Slim Jim processing plant in Raleigh blew up. According to Consumerist, it was the only place in the country where Slim Jims were produced.

"Slim Jim loyalty is very high," food industry consultant Jim Degan told the New York Post. "If you eat Slim Jims, you aren't going to find brand B or C to be an acceptable substitute."


And it's true! I went to the 7/11 to buy that ancient Slim Jim and the store had its own variety of competing beef sticks to buy alongside the Slim Jims. And I was like, "No way. I don't trust my dried stick of lips and assholes to just anyone."

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week


ROCK ICE GOLDEN MONKEY! MONKEY MONKEY MONKEY! From reader Jack in sunny Costa Rica comes our apiest cheap beer yet.

It's game day in San Jose, Costa Rica! If you're like me Saturday was a long night. You're head kills and your digestive tract is rebelling against the powdered laxative you commissioned from a Nicaraguan cab driver. The situation is dire. Strong beer and citrus are needed in short order. While Corona and lime is a possibility, real hombres will reach for the "Rock Ice: Golden Monkey".

In essence the makers of this beer just combined ice-beer and grapefruit juice. The concoction isn't all that bad, rather sweet but not overwhelming. As long as it is served cold, the Golden Monkey is actually quite refreshing. At about 400 colones (80 cents a can), the Monkey is not necessarily cheap. However it boasts 5.2% ABV and they probably overcharged since I'm a gringo. Regardless, the Golden Monkey is an ideal beer for getting a decent buzz and briefly forgetting the nipple-petrifying conditions back north. Adios!!


And buenas tardes to you, my fine expatriate friend. And may I just say, that can is BEAUTIFUL. Look at the detail in the background. Someone put real time and care into this can's design. And that someone was almost certainly a Costan Rican sweatshop worker who was paid only in malt liquor and grapefruit juice. It looks like it belongs in a museum, or in a bodega where it can be sold for cash and/or half a cigarillo. I MUST HAVE IT. The monkey's eyes are so expressive! He kinda looks like Liam Gallagher.

There aren't enough monkey-themed cheap beers here in the United States. I think Coors Light would overtake Bud in a heartbeat if they put a silver monkey on the can. YOU CANNOT RESIST THE SILVER MONKEY.

Robert Evans' Super Bowl MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's Super Bowl 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 Super Bowl MVP is Tom Brady of the Patriots! Now let me tell you about a showbiz legend by the name of Stanley Kubrick! Yes! THE SAME! Genius? YOU BET! Elusive? LIKE A GREENLIGHT FOR A RICK REILLY SCREENPLAY! Many people know that Stanley was a recluse, but they don't know just how much of a recluse. He was known to lock himself inside a trunk for months on end. MONTHS! With no bathroom or pillows or anything! He had a small slot in the trunk, and his wife Christine, bless her soul, would come in thrice daily to put a little bit of Stanley's favorite lemon cake into the slot. Then he'd pass her a bag of feces. Now that's a marriage! He'd go in this trunk, and he'd come up with the screenplay for his next picture the whole time. Christine told me he wrote in the dark, with a white highlighter, on the back of a Polaroid of a can of Fanta. He'd refuse to write in ANY other way. Someone sent me the original screenplay for Barry Lyndon once, and it was just four thousand of these stupid Polaroids, and none of the writing was legible. And half of them were coated in urine. And yet it STILL made more sense than half the shit Robert Towne would send me! Weird guy, that Kubrick. Didn't like sex. Said he could never get enough takes, if you catch my drift."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Panthers Fans

Annie Hall, which I have never seen. Everyone has that one classic movie they've never seen and really ought to, and this would be mine. There's no real reason I haven't seen it. I just never got the chance. I'd like to. It's in my Netflix queue. But I always pick new movies over it because, shit, they're NEW, you know? I always go with the newer movie.


Lawrence of Arabia was also one of my "Shit I Haven't Seen It" movies, but I finally rented it a while back and… well, shit. I just couldn't do it. I tried my best, but fucking A, man. When someone is riding in from three miles away in the desert on horseback in that movie, they stay with that shot until the fucking horse has finally arrived. I felt like I was actually IN the desert, and not at all in a good way. Lawrence was gay, right? I think I definitely got the gay vibe before I turned it off.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
TV host: Okay, the capital of North Dakota was named for what German ruler?
Homer: Hitler!

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Facebook cleavage courtesy of The Chive. Facebook cleavage is the best cleavage of all!
-For the gals: Jim from Outsports sends in this photo of Kerry Rhodes and Devin Thomas sans shirts. Oh goodie.


Enjoy the playoffs, everyone.