Bloodbath. That’s the word I’d use to describe Week 7 of the 2011 NFL season. It was like watching an old school horror flick chock-full of grisly decapitations and buckets of oozing viscera. Halloween struck a week early. It was as if Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Freddy Kruger and Jigsaw descended all at once upon stadiums throughout the league hacking and slashing their way in a frenzied pitch, leaving nothing but a crimson swath riddled with chunks of shredded flesh and scattered bone fragments.
A line of battered bodies limped away writhing in pain, a rookie running back entered Dallas Cowboys lore and the Manningless Colts were victims of one of the most vicious pigskin pillagings I have ever witnessed. Sunday night’s episode of The Walking Dead was less horrifying. Many a fantasy owner was left cowering in stunned disbelief, reciting the immortal words of Private William Hudson from the sci-fi masterpiece, Aliens.
Oh, it happened alright. I became so enraged, so overcome by bitterness, so distraught by the turn of events, I couldn’t help but channel my inner Ron Burgundy as my girlfriend passed in front of the television, humming what I’m certain was a mocking tune.
God damn right it’s science. I read it in a scholarly journal, or maybe it was a Burger King bathroom stall. I forget. All I know is it’s a proven fact. Anyway, she just laughed and called me a dipshit, which is what smelly pirate hookers do rather than empathize with their boyfriends’ fantasy football woes.
If you were lucky enough to escape Week 7’s wrath unscathed, fuck you and your abundance of good fortune. May the fantasy gods smite you with thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening me. I loathe those untouched by catastrophic injury, unless of course it’s me.
Welcome to the Terrordome — Matt Stafford, Darren McFadden, Earnest Graham, Tim Hightower, Willis McGahee, Santana Moss, Beanie Wells, Marshawn Lynch and Percy Harvin. Enjoy the accommodations.
Big ups to the Colts, Ravens, Broncos, Raiders, Browns, Seahawks, Titans, Jaguars and Dolphins for taking offensive football back to the Mesozoic era. A tip of the hat to Charlie Whitehurst, Curtis Painter, Blaine Gabbert, Joe Flacco, Matt Cassel, Kyler Boller, Carson Palmer and Quarterback Jesus (for three quarters) for spraying diarrhea up and down the field. And a bow and curtsey to the Rams and Colts defenses for putting forth the absolute minimal effort in allowing a combined 96 points and 1002 yards.
You gotta love sports!
Behold, bullet points!
- There’s something wrong with Philip Rivers. I have no idea what it is, but the guy isn’t passing the eyeball test. I mean, when Mark Sanchez outplays you, there’s a definite problem.
- In his first three starts, Matt Stafford averaged 25.3 fantasy points. In his last four, he’s averaged 17.1 points.
- Quick, which running back leads the Gulfman League in scoring? If you said Matt Forte, slap a gold star on your forehead. I hope he tells the Bears to go screw and signs with the Lions this offseason.
- Chris Johnson has three runs over ten yards. He had 37 in 2010. But it’s not his fault — just ask him.
- Darren Sproles has scored 30 more fantasy points than Rashard Mendenhall.
- Steve Smith has 818 yards in seven games. He had 554 yards in 14 games last season. 982 in 15 games two seasons ago.
- Pierre Garcon ranks 7th in wide receiver scoring. Reggie Wayne ranks 30th.
- Darrius Heyward-Bey averaged 11.1 points in the last four games. Vincent Jackson averaged 7.
- Jermichael Finley has scored less than 8 points in six of seven starts. Jimmy Graham has scored less than 8 points once.
Now is the time at Stud Running Back when we exploit chicks for being hot and/or slutty. It’s childish and boorish and totally sends the wrong message to impressionable young girls, which is precisely why we do it.
The Minka Kelly Wonders of the Week
The Negotiators (125 points) – It’s been a rough year for Minka. Friday Night Lights ended its run, Derek Jeter gave her the ol’ heave-ho and Charlie’s Angels was cancelled after four episodes. She’s in need of some consoling. Well, it just so happens I have a spare soundproof crawl space in my apartment with her name scribbled in blood all over it. It’s a tad cramped and entirely devoid of sunlight, but rent is free and the exterior double cylinder dead bolt will provide her the necessary privacy to repair her wounded ego and fractured emotions. She can yell and scream and sob all she wants without fear of disturbing the neighbors. It’s a win-win for both of us.
The law firm of Rodgers, Foster, Smith and Crosby presented an ironclad case on Sunday, crushing the ‘Cuse by 66.5 points. It was a massacre of Biblical proportions. How Biblical? If they had started just Foster and Crosby, they still would’ve won. Jeebus! This type of brutal ass-kicking is worthy of praise, but it still doesn’t make up for the inexcusably ridiculous decision to DROP Antonio Gates when Chad Ochozero was rotting on the bench. That’s the opposite of shrewd. It’s, what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh yeah, moronic. The only time you dump a player of Gates’ caliber is if he’s 100% ruled out for the season. If The Negotiators ever stop being dumb, they have a chance to inflict some serious damage.
The Lindsay Lohan Disasters of the Week
Walker’s Talkers (46.3 points) – Ms. Lohan makes a triumphant return to SRB for two reasons: 1) she was incarcerated again for failing to complete the required number of community service hours, and 2) she posed naked for Playboy last weekend and was paid between $750,000 and $1,000,000. Good call, Playboy. I hope the airbrush department gets overtime because correcting all the flaws on Lindsay’s emaciated, pasty, riddled with STDs and pumped full of collagen and Botox body is a thankless chore. Too bad she didn’t lose her self-respect five years ago. Then we could’ve been treated to her pre-meth addict hotness in all its glory. Rats!
The Blabbers are learning the hard way that relying on Redskins to win in fantasy football is a foolish endeavor. Ryan Torain was a big fat zilch and Santana Moss broke a paw that will keep him sidelined over a month. Percy Harvin is still useless and LeGarrette Blount has yet to heal from a bum knee. Vick and Gore return in Week 8, adding a much-needed boost, but the red-hot Obesities are next on the schedule. Despite their problems, the Talkers are tied for the final playoff spot at the half-way point in the fake regular season.
The World According to Shanahan
Mike Shanahan is a curmudgeonly jizzbag clinging to a bygone reputation that labeled him a “genius” due in large to the exploits of John Elway and Terrell Davis. It’s no secret Shanny despises fantasy football. I’ve never actually heard him declare this publicly but based on the way he handles his backfields, it’s clear the beet-faced shitbird wants nothing to do with one of the key demographics responsible for transforming the NFL into the billion-dollar international cash cow it is today. The same cash cow that pays his bloated $7 million per year salary. Yeah, a fucktard who hasn’t sniffed the playoffs since 2005 makes that kinda bank. The hell with Wall Street, we should be occupying Dan Snyder’s office.
I digress. Besides fantasy football, there’s a whole bunch of stuff Shanny hates just as much if not more. Like for instance:
Rainbows – Too gay.
Live music – Too noisy.
Backyard barbeques – Unless he’s on the grill.
A summer breeze – Not harsh enough. Prefers biting cold wind.
Sunsets – Again, gay.
Ice cream – Too soft. Prefers chewing on ice cubes.
Christmas morning – The opening of gifts takes time away from him devising new ways to fuck fantasy owners.
Rom-coms – Sappy… and gay. (Tough to argue with him on this one.)
The War in Afghanistan – Has gone on too long. Just like his coaching career.
Adrian Peterson – Touches the ball way too much.
Walks on the beach – I think ya know.
Week 7 is mercifully in the rearview mirror. Have yourself a spooktacular Halloween.