In my first blog post, I said I was going to temper my expectations and enjoy this season for what it is, beautiful. Well, I am failing. I was up until almost midnight sweating out the end of the Chiefs – (S)Aints game hoping that Rasheed Amakbar Mohammad Saheed Hezbollah didn’t haul in another pass so that I could win my week 5 matchup. Not ideal. I envision us all trying to relax, have a glass of brown (4 fingers), when all of the sudden…THWACK. You’re getting rolled up into a Jean Paul Gaultier bag at midnight on W. 81st St.. I didn’t ask for this. None of us did. We work tirelessly to give our players a home. To feed them. To bathe them. We think we have a real winner, but all we have is a shitty bone colored business card with the lettering being something called Silian Rail while our opponents have subtile off-white coloring, a resounding tasteful thickness and a watermark. Let’s dive in to the let down:
Zach Robinson is a creep. Okay, now that we got that out of the way, let’s dive in:
I was going to say Aaron Jones, but he actually did well up until getting hurt. In a crucial matchup where every point mattered, Kevin, you NEEDED Breece Hall to do more more than 6.7 points. You had illusions of grandeur when you saw that one porno thinking that that’s what you should be doing, that’s what you should look like! But no… Breece Hall fucked you on camera and degraded you, and to top it off, he kicked you in the face. Not the face you stupid bitch!!!
This might be the worst one. Legacy had an outrageously good performance. One that would have netted a win >80% of the time. PC Bryon squeaked out a win due to Jordan Mason’s lowest output all year. Coming off a 29 point performance, Mason returns home to face off a fading Cardinals defense that hasn’t been all that impressive. You know what Jordan Mason said about women, Legacy? When he sees a pretty girl walking down the street, he think two things. One part wants him to take her out, talk to her, be real nice and sweet and treat her right. The other part making him wonder what her head would look like on a stick… That’s who you trusted you season with. A fucking psychopath and now your condemned to to a fake trip to Europe. And no, Harold Carnes didn’t have dinner with you twice in London. You’re dead af breh.
Baltimore D/ST -5pts. Xavier Legette 1.8 pts… Caden, we all thought you were on the clear path to stardom this year. Gooners were gooning. Then you got trade hungry and tried fixing an unbroken roster. Sorry, thought you were a winner, but you’re just a dickhead Marcus Halberstram who has a penchant for Valentino suites and Oliver Peoples glasses.
Taran, I don’t even now where to begin. Your 3rd highest scoring output of the year delivered a nearly 80 point defeat. You can’t catch a break. With 3 scoring outputs of more than 120 points, you find yourself involved in that Yale thing.. You know, that homosexual and cocaine fueled get togethers. That sort of Yale thing. You think you’re better than you really are, but you’re losing a grip on reality. There are no more barriers to cross. Your pain is constant and sharp, and you do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, you want my pain to be inflicted on others. You want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis; your punishment continues to elude you, and you gain no deeper knowledge of yourself. No new knowledge can be extracted from your telling. This confession has meant nothing.
Now, excuse me. I have to go return some some video tapes…
