When I’m watching a sporting event at home I sit on a couch during the national anthem. Sometimes I stand to go use the bathroom. Most of the time I watch something else until the game starts. I know the song is playing, but it’s on a different channel. Does the mere knowledge that the national anthem is playing somewhere require some sort of action?
If you camped outside the house of a pro-stander (or anti-sitter) and played the song continuously would they never sit down?
If you did the same thing at the home of a pro-sitter (or anti-stander), would they never stand up?
If the song is performed acapella using sign language in a forest, does it make a sound?
It’s been a rough week for perfect Minnesotans. The superior breed is really letting Blair Walsh have it after the Vikings kicker missed a 27-yard field goal near the end of the team’s 10-9 loss to the Seattle Seahawks. Here are thoughts on Blair Walsh from people who have never made a (televised) mistake in their lives:
“Kickers make that 27-yarder 99% of the time. People are going to remember this for years to come,” said a cow milker who one time couldn’t figure out how to open a condom wrapper, and instead of using the 99% effective rubber birth control device, decided to have unprotected sex and now has to make child support payments for years to come.
“I could have made that,” claimed a vending machine repairman, whose bathroom floor is puddled with urine that never made it into the toilet.
“He stinks,” said an out-of-work dog whisperer who never learned to wipe properly and is perpetually surrounded by a faint poopy smell.
“Little purple gnome miss point and I mad,” said a camouflage enthusiast who does not fully understand English, his first and only language.
“He didn’t focus,” observed a fast food connoisseur who bit her own finger off after thinking it was part of a batch of chicken fries.
“I like to drag my ass on the carpet. Like a dog,” said a guy who likes to drag his ass on the carpet like a dog.
The recent Adrian Peterson controversy is one with many possible angles and viewpoints. Is it okay to beat a four-year-old child with a switch and rip open his scrotum if it is going to make him behave? We’ll never know. Is it okay to beat a 29-year-old man with a stick and puncture his nugget pouch for tearing into a four-year-old’s gonad bag? There is no scientific answer.
But the most disturbing question of all is this: why has no one offered up a proposal that would force the NFL star to change his name to Adrian Beat-his-son? It shames him, it’s a fun play on his real name, and the NFL would make even more money when Vikings fans have to re-buy updated number 28 ‘Beathisson’ jerseys.
All I’m asking is for the government and NFL to give some good old fashioned public humiliation a shot.
From The Sports Desk—————-Over the weekend, a multitude of NFL teams drafted heterosexual men, franchises including the Houston Texans, St. Louis Rams, Jacksonville Jaguars, Buffalo Bills, Oakland Raiders, Atlanta Falcons, Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Cleveland Browns, Minnesota Vikings, Detroit Lions, Tennessee Titans, and New York Giants, as well as every other organization in the league.
After months of analyzing, speculating, and debating, each team looked at its personnel needs and took into account every available player’s potential, skills, knowledge of the rules and strategy related to American football, attitude, discipline, size, 40-yard dash time, bench press, vertical, personality, criminal record, mental health, vision, weight, height, body fat percentage, and collegiate performance, seemingly with little regard to the fact that the near majority of athletes chosen were sexually attracted to women.
Draft analysts are still searching for evidence as to whether preference for intercourse with female genitalia or a man’s rectum, or both, is of any relation to performance on an NFL gridiron. It takes a dedicated, mentally-tough individual to show up every Sunday, wriggle into skintight spandex pants and haul around a leather air sack reminiscent of an enlarged, sickly-looking testicle. Time will tell if the heteros can handle it.
When the 2014 season concludes, franchises will evaluate how the straights handled life on and off the field during the grueling 17 week work year, and possibly break down more barriers in the 2015 draft, where it is whispered that a white quarterback may be chosen, if the whole event doesn’t turn into a violent pansexual free-for-all first.
I hope the Vikings lose the rest of their games. Here’s why:
/1/ I don’t care (emotionally) about sports.
/2/ I derive a sick, twisted pleasure from observing sports fans get sad about millionaires losing at a game.
And, #/3/, the most interesting reason of all: The ‘1’ from the current 1-6 record came against the Pittsburgh Steelers at Wembley Stadium in London. So, this season, the Minnesota Vikings are undefeated outside America. Inside America, they are winless. Has any team ever been so dominant in one country and so impotent in another? That’s gotta be some sort of record.
From the Sports Desk:
This past Sunday, thousands of Minnesotans let the impotent performance of a man in tight purple clothing ruin their day. For some, the baffling emotional connection to fully mature adults toting a piece of dead animal over lines painted on grass is so strong that their mental health will be in jeopardy for the entire week, and most likely the next four months.
“Ponder will be lucky if he turns out to be an average quarterback. He’s inconsistent. He frequently underthrows receivers,” said Teddy Bloat, a man whose most recent job performance review contained the phrases “below average,” “inconsistent,” and “frequently underperforms.”
Roger Mexico, an obese man who resides in Minneapolis, believes he could do better. “Put me out there, even I could hit Jennings in stride,” he claimed. “Terry—think fast!” Mexico shouted as he threw a small rubber ball at his friend across the room, who was completely and utterly stationary in a recliner. The ball bounced off the wall four feet above Terry’s head, hit a plate of nachos on the coffee table, scattering the popular snack everywhere, and finally settled under the couch next to a similar sphere that had come to rest there two years ago when Mexico was comparing his abilities to those of Donovan McNabb’s.
“I thought they said he was smart. He’s no smarter than a steaming pile of octogenarian,” said Laszlo Jamf, who works as a low-level data entry clerk deep in the bowels of a large corporation. “It’s funny, because ‘octogenarian’ literally means ‘octopus shit.’ So what I’m saying is that Ponder has less intelligence than the fecal matter of a cephalopod.”
Kurt Mondaugen, a German mystic, had this to say: “I think what we learned from this article is that everyone, everywhere, is good at their job, and everyone who isn’t that person sucks at their job.”
The Minnesota Vikings have wrapped up another season. The year-end analysis:
I’m thankful that a group of grown men in tights trying to carry part of a dead animal across a chalk line doesn’t affect my emotions.