City of Pain

dear brett,

go away. no really. just go back to mississippi. retire. do commercials. haunt us every football game selling aftershave or bbq sauce or coors light or vicodin. because after all this bullshit, i’ve had enough of you.

as an eagles fan, this is probably a good thing because it hurts the packers no matter who the quarterback ends up being this year. you’re old and fading. aaron rodgers is young and awful. if the reid kids’ anger and heroin hadn’t distracted him from finding a punt returner last year, the eagles would have won that game, it would have changed the makeup of your entire season, and you wouldn’t have had the honor of throwing a game ending interception as the last play of your career. even then, you didn’t have to retire. just make up your mind and stick with it.

and this is also a big giant fuck you to the media. from espn to profootballtalk to cheeseheadhomos.blogspot.com, this has been the ultimate non-event. oh, he got on a plane. oh oh, he got a plane. fucking hell. there’s a war, an election, a pennant race, and $4 gas. there are actual stories in actual training camps but who cares? a washed up quarterback can’t stand being at home with his wife and kids.  but you know what? even i’m writing about it now. some members of the media have had enough of brett’s antics like don banks on si.com. and i thank them for that. only you can prevent these egomaniacs from thinking they’re special. 

so enjoy tampa or your retirement or sitting on the bench, you ass. you’ve earned every ounce of hatred from packers fan and the general sports following public. and i hope the people who can pay you money in the next phase of your life realize this. we don’t want any more brett farve.

fuck off, 

dj robbie

I always get a little pep in my step on days when I see Old Man Moyer taking the hill against the Florida Marlins. Not only does he own them, but he’s officially in their heads now. The Marlins see him on the mound and their heart and pride just get flushed down the toilet. Just imagine, the Fish are little Billy sitting on the bus, happy to be with his fellow Boy Scout troops going away for a weekend at a nearby camp site. The bus starts up, the troops are ready to roll, happiness finally seems imminent, when suddenly the bus door opens at the last moment and….Father Moyer steps on the bus, shit-eating grin and all, ready for a weekend of ‘Hide the Rosary’. He’s got sweaty palms, dirty fingernails, and reeks of whiskey and Underoos. It’s all over from there on. Old Man Moyer has a bag of tricks. He’ll dink and dunk you to death with 81 mph fastballs, picking his spots perfectly, and rendering the Marlins big bats almost useless. Sort of like the way Father Moyer must open his bag of tricks come nightfall. Ecstasy-spiked holy water, communion wafers made out of crack and laxative, rubber studded crucifixes, and altar boy outfits with strategically placed holes cut into them, just to name a few. How can you compete?

so profootballtalk.com talks steve smith could be traded. and our very own philadelphia eagles are mentioned as a possibility. it’s an intriguing thought. smith’s contract is through 2012 and it’s relatively cheap for the next couple of years. the panthers have two decent cornerbacks in chris gamble and the bruised and battered ken lucas, so lito could be an option in the trade. i suppose we could always trade them back their first rounder for next year.

and we have the added bonus that steve smith would likely strangle howard eskin with his chinchilla scarf the moment he says anything to him about anything.

Just a guess here, but maybe the reason this guy isn’t in training camp is because he has spent the entire off season gorging himself on fried foods, soda, pizza, or humans. Only in Philly do we draft a guy who immediately turns out to be a Pro Bowler and then three years later the guy falls into a deep depression and doesn’t want to play football anymore.  Nothing says ‘star athlete’ like a food orgy and missed training camp. Come on, depression?  Hey Shawn, you want to know what depression is?  Depression is your fat ass missing training camp, eventually coming back and being out of shape to start the season, and then you fucking up our chances to be decent this year because you couldn’t keep your fat fingers out of that bag of Doritos. This is bullshit. If I have to see Max Jean-Giles or Winston Justice starting the season because of you, people will start dying. One by one, people will die. 

Not to intentionally keep the sexual orientation theme going today but…..My guess as to what is going on here? This whale found out he was gay. No seriously. And by ‘found out’ I mean he saw pictures of penises and liked them. A lot. And really, statistically speaking there are probably a handful of guys on each roster who play for the pink team. He goes into a depression about these feelings, goes ballistic with the food, gets fat, realizes he will have a heart attack on the first day of training camp if he works out in the blazing sun, and decides he doesn’t want to play football anymore. It’s a shame he wasn’t drafted by the Giants because then he’d be able to feel comfortable around other gay teammates.

The Mets got swept this weekend by a disgusting Houston team that began the weekend 7 games under .500. Yes, the same shitty Houston Astros that play in Houston. Yes, the same Houston Astros that gave up on Brad Lidge. Please read that again. Then laugh. The cloud of sadness that currently hovers from Queens and all surrounding areas is looking a little thick this morning. It’s bad enough that most Mets fans have to endure being called “gay”, “homo”, or “shit pusher” by every Yankee fan in their office….but after this weekend in Houston, even the most die-hard Mets fan was unable to muster up the strength and energy to finish off his boyfriend Sunday night. Poor Mets fans. It’s gotta be tough watching your team go 18-8 in July, taking over first place while the Phillies take a nose-dive, and then find yourself three games back on August 4th. Now with Maine on the DL, Pedro enduring his 6th injury of the year, and the team unable to consistently get Johan Santana some runs, it’s gotta be panic time. And Mike Piazza is still gay by the way.