Friday, January 14, 2005

Coming full circle: Patriots-Colts II

My last post before going on hiatus was a cracking good ANALysis of Peyton Manning and the Colts in which I eschewed excessive discussion of "strategy" and "X's and O's" and "sexual habits of the cheerleaders" and instead kept my thoughts on a different level:


Let me tell you something about Peyton Manning and the Colts. Manning takes it up the ass. The Colts take it up the ass. And they will continue taking it up the ass until they beat the Patriots and Tom Brady.

Well, their day of judgment cometh, and that right soon. Manning and his posse come riding into Foxboro this Sunday, in a game to be broadcasted on the jaundiced Eye. Over the last three months, the feckless rumbswabs in the sports media have done everything but elect Manning the Pope of Greenwich Village and it irks the bejesus out of me. Look man, the Colts had a good year and all, but they were the 3-seed (and came within a SD collapse in Indy of being the 4-seed) and putting up 5-TD games against the Cowardly Lions or the Tennessee Tuxedos is great, but how about we hold off the goddmaned coronation until the Colts earn it?

As I said before, most of the dopes who follow this shit like superstar worship because it relives them of the obligation to think. Anyway, if Manning were to lead the Colts to victory, the orgy of approbation would be likely enough to make me write another vituperative blog post.

And I am concerned--if the Colts and Manning are firing on all cyclinders, they will be tought to beat. The Patriots have the home field but don't have their cornerbacks. I think that guy Poteat they signed had been standing on Route 1 holding a "Will play cornerback for food" sign. But they are the World Champions. And they have Belichick.

But irregardless of the creeping acceptability of the despicable word "irregardless," and regardless of who wins Sunday, the Manning love fest sucks dick, smokes pole, and performs fellatio.

BONUS: the old Colts helmet had two horseshoes on the lower rear of the helmet, which in a fusion of geography and metaphor, would mean that backs of the asses of those Colts are the backs of their heads, which makes them all assheads and makes their helmets, literally, asshats.

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