Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season.

At this point, Rex Ryan needs to just pick a quarterback and stick with him. The whole strategy of sending in Tim Tebow for a play or two once a quarter is such a massive disruption that it's almost as if opposing coaches implemented the idea. You can see it every time Tebow runs out onto the field. Everyone in the huddle is like, "Oh, hey, this is one of the Tebow plays? Should I be here? Where do I go? Is Shonn Greene playing center in this formation?" No one knows what the fuck is going on. And then the second Tebow's play is over, Mark Sanchez comes SPRINTING back out onto the field to make sure that the offense is still his. Like, "Thanks for taking care of my 'Vette for a few hours, bro. BUT DADDY'S BACK NOW."


Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at drew@deadspin.com.

Meanwhile, Tebow just ran two yards and is screaming, "LET'S GOOOOOO! ALL RIGHT! TWO YARDS FOR GOD'S GLORY!" And you can tell that he's just waiting for the moment when he goes out onto the field and stays there, without Sanchez coming back to relieve him. And you can see Sanchez desperately trying to prevent it, to reassert himself every time he goes back out. I know the Jets will be fucking terrible no matter which QB they choose—judging by Monday night's game, Sanchez is the least of their worries—but this whole flaming shitwreck is just making things worse. They brought in Tony Sparano specifically to implement this stupid Wildbow package and they can't even get the personnel right. They burned two timeouts against the Texans needlessly because no one knew what the fuck was going on. Just pick a quarterback, Rex. If you're not gonna make Tebow the starter, don't put him in the game at all. All that does is make Tebowtards fap even harder. Choose your fate and go down with it.

The Games

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


Five Throwgasms

Giants at 49ers: As someone who lived in New York for six years, I would just like to ask the people at P.C. Richard & Son to DIE. DIE IMMEDIATELY. For years and years and years, the New York metropolitan area has been subjected to this company's jingle. It is the single most evil commercial jingle ever devised. You need to hear it only once for the tune to bore down into your skull and reside there for eternity. Sometimes, I'll be sitting there at night and that fucking whistle will pop into my head for no reason and stay there, forever. It's basically a form of headache at this point. They played it over the loudspeaker during the Jets game Monday night and I heard and now it's been in my head all week. It needs to be wiped off the face of the Earth, forever. It is jingle terrorism. I'll vote for any candidate who promises to outlaw the P.C. Richard theme.


Packers at Texans: It's just like the Ginger Hammer to run a series of PSAs showing how the NFL is getting all the beautiful children of the world to play "Heads Up Football":

I guarantee you that all the 10-year-olds in that spot immediately forgot everything they were taught and proceeded to spear the shit out of one another during live game action. That happens with 10-year-olds. They try to "play the game safely," then they realize that bashing fuckers with your head is way more fun. But sure yeah, FOOTBALL IS TOTALLY SAFE NOW, GUYS. Please let your kids play so that the talent pool doesn't dry up.


Four Throwgasms

Vikings at Redskins: Have you seen Kirk Cousins's hair? He's basically an '80s sex-comedy villain. "Those nerds are a threat to our way of life."


Cowboys at Ravens: I usually watch the NFL Network highlight show that comes on at 7:30 p.m., but I found out last week that the NFLN highlight show that comes on after the Sunday night game has NO Mooch on it, and that's a goddamn blessing. I can take Deion and Marshall Faulk and the Stabmaker Michael Irvin in his "intelligent person" glasses blabbering on over highlights, but Mooch is the fucking WORST. He tries so hard to be all fun and zany and it makes me wanna die. One day, he'll get a low-end FBS coaching job and go 6-6 five years in a row before getting fired. I very much look forward to it.

Three Throwgasms

Rams at Dolphins: The other night I was playing outside with my kids when I came up with the idea of playing a bastardized version of Red Rover. I had them stand at one edge of the yard, and whenever I shouted RED ROVER RED ROVER COME OVER, they'd try to make it to the other side without me tagging them. I can't play football anymore. I can't even play touch football because the last time I played I ended up in back surgery. So Red Rover is as close as I'm gonna get to live game action, and it is AWESOME. When the kids come sprinting at me, I break down like Ray Lewis and NEVER get faked out. The kids have no chance. And then when it's my turn to run, I can put all kinds of crazy moves on the little fuckers and they fall for it EVERY TIME. I can fake to the left and then blow right past them. It's exhilarating. I'm able to get separation so quickly that I can just waltz to the end zone. Sometimes, I high-step it in, or I turn around and taunt my children as I'm walking backward to safety. I even put a spin move on my kid the other day. It's the greatest thing ever. I feel like Barry Sanders.


And sometimes I let them win, but even that's satisfying because I know, deep in my soul, that they won only because I let them. If I wanted to, I could crush them at any time. And that's a nice thought. RED ROVER ALL DAY, BITCH.

Broncos at Chargers: I bitched about sideline reporters last week, but even worse is when MNF cuts to Stu Scott on the field to tell you what's coming up on SportsCenter after the game. I know what's on SportsCenter after the game: SHIT. You don't need to tell me. And you don't need to cut to Stu Scott on the field to let me know. Five seconds of that idiot is five seconds too many. STRAIGHT FLEXIN'!


Lions at Eagles: Every October, people send us letters complaining about all the pink accessories the NFL busts out in the name of breast cancer awareness because DURRR PINK THEY'RE GAYING UP MY FOOTBALL DURRRRR. But have you seen the pink cheerleader uniforms? NOT UNAPPEALING. I'll happily take a month of the pink cheerleader unis. I'll buy a dozen of them if they're available in the Adam & Eve catalog and wear them myself.

Patriots at Seahawks: How many facelifts has Phil Simms had? He looks like Kenny Rogers without the beard.


Two Throwgasms

Colts at Jets: Do you have a fantasy team that's playing well? Well, time for you to eat shit, because this is about the time of year when every fantasy league turns, when all the good teams turn to shit and all the bad teams suddenly start beating up on everyone. It happens in every league, every year. One year, I'll start 0-5 and that's how I'll know I'm on the verge of winning my first fantasy title.

Bengals at Browns: Ever watch Red Zone and see Andrew Siciliano scramble to change the game the second an ad begins to appear? I think he gets docked $15 any time a trace of a commercial appears. "Whoa holy shit, AN AD. That's not supposed to happen. Let's take you to ANYTHING else: a punt, a timeout, a challenge break, anything."


I watched Red Zone Channel on a plane a couple weeks ago, and any time they went to two games simultaneously on the little plane monitor, my head exploded. Watching two games at once is not good for your eyes. I'm always staring at the wrong game. And even though I like Siciliano a lot, he has no issue glossing over amazing shit when it happens. "And there you have it, a fourth-down Statue of Liberty play that is fumbled into the end zone and recovered by an escaped monkey. Let's go full screen on Titans-Dolphins now."

Also, I don't give a shit what channel that game is on that RZC is currently showing. "You can watch ALL of this Rams game on Channel 713!" Motherfucker, if I wanted to watch that game in full, I wouldn't be here. I have a program guide, you know.

Raiders at Falcons: I don't know why defenders don't get credit for a sack when intentional grounding is called. That's a SACK. The spot foul and loss of down essentially announces to everyone, "This person was sacked." It should count, if only so we can finally get Michael Strahan's bullshit record off the books.


Bills at Cardinals: I have a six-month-old baby and the baby was in the NICU for a month after he was born. And when he was discharged, he had to go see an eye doctor, as a kind of routine checkup. But the eye doctor in question was a piece of shit, so we called another eye doctor for a followup appointment. And that eye doctor told us that they couldn't take our son as a patient because the other, shitty eye doctor had an exclusive agreement with the hospital that FORBID patients from using any other eye doctor in the area. THAT'S BULLSHIT! You call this America? I'm supposed to be able to see any doctor I want and have that doctor charge me a 700 percent markup. THIS IS NOT FREEDOM. I demand the entire American health care system be completely overhauled to suit my personal needs.


One Throwgasm

Steelers at Titans: I watched the Titans last week and Matt Hasselbeck is done. He's done two ways: braised and in a lovely carpaccio. He shouldn't be employed by an NFL team anymore. He needs to be remanded to the eighth tier of NFL Live analysts, the ones that pop up at 3 a.m. on ESPNEWS and you're like, "Who, hey, Qadry Ismail? He has a job?"

By the way, I wonder if an announcer will ever say DERP on the air. Surely, there's a brave soul out there willing to call out, "There's Matt Hasselbeck rolling and A HERP DERP DERP." Whoever breaks the DERP barrier will instantly be the greatest announcer of all time.


Chiefs at Bucs: Think about how desperate you have to be to cheer for Matt Cassel's injury when you know his replacement is Brady Quinn. It's not like there's some cool third-round rookie waiting behind Cassel. It's Brady Quinn. You're trading SHIT for SHIT. "If you starvin' ... and somebody throw you a cracka ..."

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

"The Enigma of Fate," by Martriden. Bonus points for the naked-lady album cover. Is it wrong to have a fetish for comic-book drawings of big-breasted women? Because it doesn't FEEL wrong. Reader John:

I roomed with the lead singer of this band back in college. As much as I loved rock I had never listened to anything this heavy in my life. But this CD, and this song in particular make me want to fucking bury everyone in a ten-mile radius if I'm in a bad mood.


And again, naked lady.

Nazi Bill Simmons Lock of the Week!

Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals and random celebrities pick games to see if they can outwit their expert counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked a fictionalized, Nazi version of popular sportswriter Bill Simmons to pick one game a week for us. Take it away, Nazi Simmons.


"This week, I like the Ravens giving 3.5 points at home against the Cowboys. A lot of people say the late Jeff Hall was a rising star in neo-Nazi circles. Please. NOT A STAR. Haven't we spent the past decade emphatically proving that he's NOT a star? When you're talking to your grandkids about all the great Nazis in history, you're not gonna mention Jeff Hall. He's a Level 4 guy in my Nazi Hall of Fame pyramid at best. He certainly doesn't go up on Mount Nazimore. That's Himmler, Goebbels, Hitler, and President Obama. NO ONE DENIES THIS.

"In fact, I'd argue that Obama is the only star Nazi we have left in the world today. No less an authority than William Goldman agrees with me. "


2012 Nazi Simmons record: 2-2

Chris Johnson Memorial Fantasy Player Who Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death

Cam Newton. Jesus Christ, what the fuck? WHO ARE YOU? What have you done with the real Cam Newton? Are you telling me that your career is already over? What a load of shit. Entertainer and icon my ass.


Gregg Easterbrook Is A Haughty Dipshit

Oh, Greggg has many things about which to wax wroth this week. Will the zinc lobby ever release its iron grip on our nation? Will BIG BUCKS players with their BIG BUCKS AND NO WHAMMIES ruin football for good?

What is Minnesota's secret? The Vikings threw out complex schemes and went simple.


Or they had a really good draft class. But go on.

The Vikings employ 22 coaches, most in the NFL. Having 22 coaches sounds like having five girlfriends — way too many to juggle.

Never a problem you've had, to be certain.

In sports, the more coaches, the more schemes and the more egos that must be mollified. Maybe teams should just line up and play!


But you just praised the Vikings for keeping things simple. I DEMAND THE FOOTBALL GODS WAX WROTH AT YOUR INCONSISTENCY.

Nearly all teams now use multiple checks, "sims" and audibles at the line of scrimmage. [...] Yet for all this complexity, game statistics have changed only a little in the last half century.

TMQ one week ago:

For a generation, the football establishment has been tweaking rules to favor offense. Maybe the pendulum has swung too far and it's time to tweak rules to favor defense. [...] The NFL scoring average is now 23.7 points per team per game, up from 21.7 a decade ago, from 18.7 two decades ago, and the highest average ever.


WHICH IS IT, DAMN YOU? I've seen bigger logic holes in Taken, I have!

San Diego leading 7-0, New Orleans faced third-and-6 on the Bolts' 40. Devery Henderson, split right, ran an out-and-up. Highly drafted cornerback Quentin Jammer bit so badly, he'll need to see a dentist. Highly drafted Eric Weddle, the safety on that side, bit so badly on a middle fake that he will need new cleats, since his appeared glued to the turf.

CONCLUSION: Highly drafted players are useless. Weddle and Jammer bit on those fakes because they are paid too much and are therefore horrible, lazy people. Why not simplify your team by adding 60 undrafted tight ends and seeing where that gets you?

Score Giants 34, Browns 17, Cleveland faced fourth-and-3 on the Jersey/A 23 late in the third quarter. Don't send in the placekicker! As the very sour field goal attempt boomed, TMQ wrote the words "game over" in his notebook.


Reader Andy: "There have to be games where Easterbrook has written 'game over' in his notebook and the kicking team ended up winning in the end anyway. Of course, he could just be making it all up and simply attaching his pre-conceived narrative to events that fit it. But a writer for the ATLANTIC would never do that!"

Of course not. Never. I wonder what Greggggggg's notebook looks like. I bet it has random bible quotes and stray pubes inside it.

Oh by the way, Gregg wrote a thousand words about Battleship this week.

Needless to say, Hollywood blockbusters do not aspire to realism. But the opening scene of "Battleship" raises a question that needs debate.


Peter Berg: "It does?"

Now that the Kepler probe, launched in 2009 and designed to detect other worlds, has begun discovering "exoplanets" in great numbers, it seems only a matter of time until an Earth-like place is located. When that time comes, should we send a message?

Indeed, a question worth debating. If there are aliens out there, should we try to make first contact with them? But what if they're all first-round draft picks? I think it's best not to explore the most important potential discovery in human history. I don't want to be friends with some GLORY BOY exoplanet.

Imagine the import of an alien to answer the yes-or-no question, "Does your society believe in God?"


ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING? We just hypothetically discovered aliens, and that's what you want to ask them about? "Oh, hey, aliens! Listen, I'm sure you guys can tell us all kinds of cool shit, like how you evolved and what your home planet looks like and how your bodies work physiologically. But first I NEED YOU TO VALIDATE MY FAITH. IT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THIS WHOLE THING." Jesus. They can't even speak English, you dummy.

Whether humanity should attempt to contact another Earth-like world is a debate worth having.

What debate?! "Whether or not oxygen is good for us is a debate worth having."

As for the Houston offense, it continues to be a shame that tight end Owen Daniels was not named Godfrey Daniels. That way announcers could cry, "Godfrey Daniels, he's open!"


O HAHAHA GOOD ONE. I hope the aliens get that joke. Otherwise, it's totally not worth reaching out to them.

Kansas City put tight end Kevin Boss on injured reserve last week after he suffered his third severe concussion in four seasons. A generation ago, coaches would have told Boss to get back on the field. If his NFL days are over, he'll be sad — but better to walk away under his own power.

Concussions, solved! Meanwhile, Skins wideout Aldrick Robinson returned to the field a week after being knocked out for a full minute. Kudos to Gregg for supporting the Heads Up Football whitewashing initiative.

Musicians of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra briefly went on strike last month, outraged by a contract offer of a minimum of $145,000 annually.


That is disgusting! We should replace these GLORY OBOISTS with a group of replacement winos who get every third note wrong. Then we should give them dibs on the first violin chair when it comes open.

Last week, Tuesday Morning Quarterback opined that it was time for defenses to assert themselves. This week, five NFL teams were held without touchdowns.

GREGGGG MADE THAT HAPPEN. No need to ask the aliens if they believe in God. We can just show them a picture of Greggggg and they'll nod fervently.

Trailing Miami 17-13, Cincinnati faced fourth-and-5 on the Dolphins 23 with three minutes remaining. Don't send in the placekicker! After a field goal you'd still need to score again! As the kick boomed, TMQ wrote the words "game over" in his notebook.


There's that notebook again.

Sharing my outrage, the football gods pushed the attempt wide.


The Seahawks are allowing just 14 points per game, with corner Brandon Browner, who went undrafted then played five seasons for the Calgary Stampeders, becoming a TMQ favorite.


Could a team of 22 Brandon Browners win six straight Super Bowls? This is a debate worth having.

Suicide Pick Of The Week

Last week's picks of the Giants, Cincinnati, Chicago went 2-1, putting me at 9-6 for the season. Again we pick three teams for your suicide pool and something that makes you want to commit suicide. This week, the picks are Atlanta, Tampa Bay, Pittsburgh, and watching your fantasy player fumble into the end zone. The dreaded eight-point swing. God, that's horrible to watch. YOU HEAR ME, MIKE VICK? WHAT ARE YOU, A FUCKING AMPUTEE? HOLD ONTO THE BALL.


Great Moments In Bat Killing History

Reader Dusty sends in this story:

When I went to college I was 21. I had worked for 3 years to save up enough money that I could put myself into college and rent a questionable apartment. This apartment was a studio in the attic of an old Victorian home, when I looked at it I thought it would be cool because of how old it was and the attic had all stain glass windows, and that is funny to look at when you are stoned. I moved in the weekend before class started and met all the other people that lived on the other floors.

The first night came and I was a little nervous, I was out of school for a while, in a new place, and high as a kite. I called my girlfriend at the time to tell her goodnight. I only had the TV on and I caught a flash of something out of the corner of my eye. I kind of shrugged it off and kept talking to her, but then I got hit in the chest by something that was furry and screaming. I leapt off my futon sprinted to the light switch and on my bed lay a bat. I live in the country so I have seen bats before and killed a few in my folks house. Then one flew over my shoulder, and all my confidence was sucked from my body. I fell into the bathroom while screaming, with my girlfriend still on the phone. At this point she thought I was getting gang raped and was panicked. I told her what was going on, she had a good laugh and we hung up. So I am sitting on the can, thinking how I am going to get these two bats out of my apartment. Easy, I open the giant windows I have and they fly out.

I work up the courage to open the bathroom door and make my move. I open the door to what could only be explained as a colony of bats flying through my apartment, I shriek and slam the door shut. Now what the fuck do I do? I call my drunken father and he utters two words to me "start swinging". I look through the bathroom and I don't have shit to swing at the 1000 bats in my apartment, I don't have phone numbers to anybody else in the house to call for back up, so it was just me against them. I look through my 3' X 6' bathroom for anything useful, I rip the small cabinet door off said cabinet, grab the Lysol, and rap a towel around my face only letting my eyes peaking out. At this point I am hearing "Walk" by Pantera playing in my head getting pumped. I throw open the door and start spraying and swinging the door like a knight wielding a sword. I make it to the windows, at this point I know I hit a few of them and pissed even more off. Unlock the windows and they don't fucking open! It's war now, I knock down the remaining bats with pin point Lysol diversion mist followed by knockout hits with a door. 14 bats total met the fury of my door that night. In my head I still want to think I looked bad ass doing it, but I am sure I looked like an epileptic man catching a case of the shakes.


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 potential 2012 chopping block:

• Whatever janitor is currently in charge of the Saints
• Norv Turner
• Mike Munchak
• Jason Garrett
• Greg Schiano
• Jim Schwartz
• Pete Carroll
• Rex Ryan*
• Romeo Crennel
• Pat Shurmur
• Ron Rivera
• Mike Shanahan
• Andy Reid


(*-possible midseason firing)

The Chargers had second-and-goal at about the three-yard-line early against the Saints and had been running the shit out of the ball. Which is why Norv Turner immediately called a shotgun rollout with Philip Rivers, the least mobile quarterback in the universe. That's such a perfect Norv thing to do. I wonder if he stops at green lights.


Gametime Snack Of The Week

Fruit & Veggie Shredz. From the packaging:

Now you can get a blast of real fruits & veggies anytime, anywhere—so grab your board and shred it up!


FUCKING SHRED THOSE VEGGIES, GUYS. Just hop on your extreme skateboard and CRUSH a few fruit shreds. THEN IT'S TIME FOR PUSSY.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week


Coors Original. It's the banquet beer! You know, the beer you drink at banquets! Real classy like. I love the ads they have now with Sam Elliott on the voiceover, talking about how their shitty beer is made and being like, "Now some might call us uncompromising." NO ONE has ever accused Coors of being uncompromising. It's like the perfect straw-man argument. "Now a lot of people might say we at Coors make beer that's TOO delicious. But we care too much about AMERICA to settle for anything less. Sorry. commie fags."

I always wonder if there's some rube out there who believes Coors or Bud or Miller when they try to convince you their beer is brewed by trappist monks using organic field grains. "Why, I never realized how Budweiser was brewed before! I'm seeing it in a whole new way!"

Robert Evans's MVP Watch!

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 still Matt Ryan of the Falcons! I see that new Ben Affleck picture about a fake movie spy mission is coming out this week. Based on a true story, eh? Well, Evans was the MASTER of making fake movies for the CIA, baby! Two years after that little Argo mission, I got a request from the Reagan White House to help provide cover for a top secret mission in Cambodia. Classified? YOU BET! Thousands killed senselessly? YOU KNOW IT.

"It was my job to produce a convincing fake movie for the CIA, so I sat down with old friend Roger Corman and we drew up a quick outline for a sequel to Apocalypse Now, titled Apocalypse Later. In the followup, Martin Sheen is lording over all of Marlon Brando's disciples out in the jungle, only to find out the army has been ordered to terminate him. With extreme prejudice? YOU BET! So Sheen enlists a ragtag group of disaffected soldiers—including Sly Stallone, Kurt Russell, and a young Michael Jackson—and together, they take on the dreaded Colonel Kilgore (played by Alan Arkin due to scheduling conflicts) in the final battle between good and evil. AND SEX! SEX EVERYWHERE YOU LOOKED. We dreamed up a tribe of huge-breasted Cambodian jungle women, all played by white actresses in yellowface. It was gonna be the hottest fake movie of the year!


"Well, the second we touch down in Southeast Asia, everything goes to shit. Sheen has ANOTHER heart attack. Stallone can only remember his lines if they're drawn for him on an Etch-A-Sketch. And Jacko kept bringing little boys back to his jungle tent to play pattycake. Meanwhile, I'm smoking too much hashish and I start hallucinating that the movie is real and the CIA is fake! By the end, we spent $5.4 billion of the government's money and six local villages were burned to the ground for reasons that were never disclosed to me. But lemme tell you, when I saw Farrah Fawcett in yellowface, it made everything worth it. AND HOW!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. There's a sex scene in this movie, but it takes place so far away from the camera that you can barely make out anyone's privates. This is why all DVDs and Blu Rays need an extreme hi-def zoom-in feature. I'm not letting the director's good taste stand in the way of my self-gratification.


Gratuitous Simpsons Quote

"My foolish capering destroyed more young minds than syphilis and pinball combined."

Enjoy the games, everyone.