Week 8 Warpath: No Love for Roethlisberger


In a few hours the sons of Washington will hop on Interstate 270, then to I-70, where they’ll travel the lovely fall countryside and then merge onto on I-76 for a  brief journey to their final destination.

Are they just taking a weird circuit around the northern suburbs of Denver, you ask?

Ahahaha, no.

Because the ‘Merican road-numbering system is schizophrenic, this is instead how you get from Warshington, DeeCee to scenic Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Make sense? Of course it don’t. Dime-bonics!

[Read more…]

Who Got the Best Deal from the Champ Bailey – Clinton Portis Trade?

Earlier this week, the former Denver Broncos and Warshington Redskeeins tailback Clinton Portis formally retired from the National Football League at the age of 31. A victim of abdominal and groin injuries, Mr. Portis had been released by the Skins in February of 2011 having managed to play in only five of the team’s games in 2010.

Herr Portis’s levity and knack for a good quote always livened up the news cycle. A colorful person on and off the field, Portis will be revered in the nation’s capital for his Method acting in press appearances, originating several memorable characters including, but not limited to: the legendary Coach Janky Spanky, Bud Foxx, Bro Sweets, Dolemite Jenkins, Dolla Bill, Dr. Do Itch Big, Sheriff Gonna Getcha, Prime Minister Yah Mon, Coconut Jones, Choo-Choo, and your correspondent’s favorite, Southeast Jerome. [Read more…]

The Second Coming of Black Jesus?

There are some things about Our Nation’s Kapital (War-shington, DeeCee) that will never change:

  • Muggy nights in September, hanging out on the back porch whilst listening to the loosely harmonized symphony of crickets and locusts announce the end of a summer spent on an overbuilt swamp, followed by the perennial and deafening subtropical thunderstorm that slays the vernal and heralds the arrival of autumn (by some distance the most pleasant of the seasons);
  • The ongoing embarrassment to America, Congress, which simultaneously marshals an ever-growing share of the nation’s resources as inefficiently as possible and fails to push back against the accelerated post-Nixonian tendency of the executive branch towards opacity and the police state;
  • Epic levels of collar-popping douche nozzles practicing their love of date rape just north of the intersection of Wisconsin Avenue and M Street, NW; and
  • Marion Barry, Jr., still tempting Congress to revoke the City’s meager home rule powers after all these years.

Maybe your correspondent should be less cavalier in this assessment, for there are also many things he thought would never change and have in the thirteen years since he left:
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Race Week Continues: The Generational Quarterback?

Via National Football Authority
Imagine that you are the general manager of the Indianapolis Colts. Do not close your eyes, but take a moment to truly imagine this circumstance. It is April 26, 2012, and you are one year removed from one of the greatest 13-year runs in NFL history. In those thirteen years, with Peyton Manning under center, your team won 147 out of 208 games, eight division titles, two AFC titles and one Super Bowl. Your fans watched arguably the game’s greatest quarterback play every game in that span. Since Manning’s second season, your team had been a legitimate Super Bowl contender every year.

Then, armed with the first pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, you released Peyton Manning on March 7th. Manning wound up in Denver after a whirlwind tour while your Colts organization had to decide on the franchise quarterback that you would draft with the 1st overall pick in April. Fortunately for you, one of the best quarterback prospects in the history of the NFL was on the board. You had total control of this year’s draft, sitting in the enviable position of being able to draft a sure-fire franchise quarterback.

This prospect’s physical tools include exceptional accuracy, great arm strength, and extraordinary athleticism. As a three-year collegiate starter, he threw for 10,366 yards, 78 touchdowns, and only 17 interceptions. His completion percentage was 67.1%. Last season alone, he threw for 4,293 yards, 37 touchdowns and only 6 interceptions. In three years, he prospect led his program from the depths of college football irrelevance to double-digit win seasons and bowl victories. This guy is a can’t miss prospect, a once-in-a-generation talent, and you are sitting on the number one pick in the draft.

And then, you drafted Andrew Luck. [Read more…]

Just Livin’ the Dream, Bro

OH HEY, happy Monday you no-talent ass clowns!

Do you remember your dreams? Your correspondent rarely does unless they are especially annoying or terrifying, like being sentenced to hard labor on Newt Gingrich’s moon colony, mining precious stones to make trinkets for his Aryan wife of the week. I’m sure I deserve it for something I’ve done in life.

The dreams I tend to remember are in a class I call “frustrated athlete” dreams. At the beginning of ski season I find myself driving up to the base of the mountain, looking forward to a great day ripping through the trees with my harem of ski bunnies. This should be outlandish enough to wake me immediately, but the iron laws of logic, probability, and physics become mere suggestions in the dream state. Case in point: I keep pinching myself / stabbing myself in the face with a red-hot retractable pencil, and after three years America still has a black president. THAT DON’T MAKE NO DAMN SENSE! [Read more…]

Fail To the Redskins, Episode Eleventy Billion

Everyone’s favorite National Felon League laughingstock, the Warshington Redskeeins, soared to new heights of craptitude this weekend by taking out three first mortgages and a second mortgage to play a $50 million game of roulette, betting the house on black (THASS RAYCESS!) quarterback Robert Griffin, a gifted athlete, noted gentleman, and the greatest scholar in the history of Baylor University, situated in scenic Waco, Texas.

It’s an extraordinarily risky maneuver, even for an organization known for splashing the cash. Whereas they once pissed away their salary cap space on failtards like Deion Sanders, Adam Archuleta, Brandon Lloyd, and Fat Albert Haynesworth, the Skeeeeeins will now pray to Sweet Baby Jesus that Young Master Griffin can lead them to the promised land, i.e. out of the cellar.
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The Education of a Redskins Fan, Part One

Why can't it just be like this every season?

Whenever I tell people outside the D.C. metropolitan area that the Washington Redskins are estimated to be the second most valuable National Football League franchise, they look at me like I’m a space lizard from the planet Zog.

“The Skins, really? Don’t they suck? I’m not sure I’ve ever met a Redskins fan…”

/nervous laughter

[Read more…]

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