My crush note to Paul Schwartz
Jul 31, 2008 David Carr has Post-Concussion Syndrome, Open Letters, Zoolander's snazzy handwear
Dear Paul,
It was with much interest that I read your moronic fluffing deeply insightful article on Houston’s most wanted favorite son, David Carr, aka Mr. Mittens. As a tribute to your l33t reporting skills, I will give your article the proper respect it deserves: a full-on Fisking.
Let’s begin, shall we?
ALBANY - David Carr plans on using the Giants. The Giants plan on using David Carr.
Holy crap. You actually write for a living? Write in English? And for a major newspaper? I’d say this is cliched, but you’d probably just take it one day at a time.
“I told Coach [Tom] Coughlin I want to help the team any way I can, and I’m looking for them to help me as well,” a relaxed Carr said yesterday in between practice sessions at Giants training camp. “If we can both do that, it’s going to be positive for everybody.”
Hmmmmm, yes, I can see how this is an important quote to have in your “paper.” A player says a cliche, and you are more than happy to gobble it up. Well done!!! That’s the precise definition of journamalism!
Consider this the ultimate user relationship.
What in the fuck does that mean? I have no idea. Please clarify.
This can be viewed as the last roundup for Carr, 29, who in 2002 was the No. 1 pick in the NFL Draft, a great honor that devolved into a great headache when he languished within the moribund offense that was the Houston Texans.
Wow, where to begin. Last roundup, you say? Nice Texas reference, if it was at all amusing. A “moribund offense,” you say? Did it ever occur to you that the weak-working pretty boy was a primary reason for that “moribund offense?” Do you think that the guy who didn’t attend team meetings and showed no passion for the sport might be a cause of the “moribund offense?” My Durga, you are a fucking moron.
Five years later, he was mercifully released, the best option for his body and mind…
…to say nothing of Texans’ fans bodies and minds…
…and last season struggled through an unsatisfying and unsuccessful one-and-done stay with the Panthers.
Lemme guess. That was the fault of the Texans, as well? It had nothing to do with the fact the guy played dead on the field more than a passive opossum?
Can a career in tatters be repaired by the Super Bowl champions?
W.T.F? Do you mean to infer that Super Bowl champions have some super-healing powers like de Leon’s Fountain of Youth?
“Being around a good group, guys who had the camaraderie these guys had, I watched them all through the playoffs, that was neat to see, man,” Carr said. “You don’t see that at this level, you see it in college and high school, there are no selfish guys. Seemed like the place I wanted to be.”
Because it is a proven fact that the Texans have 14 guys on death row, so this obviously makes sense.
This is a one-year trial for Carr, who after 262 career sacks - including a ghastly 76 as a rookie - is looking to reclaim the form and confidence that once made him a hot commodity. The backup role for the Giants is the cushiest job around, as long as Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning remains healthy.
No, the cushiest job around is being a writer for the New York Post because you have no editor, no knowledge, and no accountability.
Given the impossibility of Manning getting unseated, the security of five returning offensive linemen and the winning attitude permeating the franchise, Carr hopes he can get himself right in a pressure-free and hospitable environment and then head elsewhere to reclaim a starting role.
If there was one part of this article that proved you have no idea about football, this was it. Your argument is, basically, that if he can hold a clipboard without dropping it or tripping over his own feet, it’s proof that he’s suddenly of starter quality? And New York is a “pressure-free and hospitable environment?” Personally, I’d like to know how you are still alive because breathing and walking at the same time must be terribly confusing for you.
One caveat: He first has to make the team.
But…but…but…it’s all the Texans’ fault!!!! By himself, Zoolander is a god! You’ve spent the entire article telling me so!
Carr missed the first handful of practices with a sore foot (plantar fasciitis) and watched while last year’s backup, Anthony Wright, hit the ground running.
Texans’ fault. And, once again, this sentence negates everything above. Your ability to self-contradict is awesome.
“He has been good in camp,” Coughlin said.
There you go again. He missed practice, but he looks good in camp. You are the one who inserted this quote, asshole, and you’d better be able to justify it.
Wright, 32, is in his 10th NFL season and a journeyman. If the Giants truly believed in him, they would not have signed Carr to a one-year deal. The No. 3 quarterback spot likely is reserved for rookie Andre’ Woodson.
Wow, you cited some facts and you didn’t fuck it up. Well done.
Despite his pedigree, Carr is no lock.
But you spent the first part of this article telling me how nothing was Carr’s fault. Ever.
This version is skinnier, has shaved off almost all his hair and certainly has been humbled.
Kick ass! We have found the keys to his world domination! If he wasn’t a dirty fucking hippie while he was with the Texans, he would’ve been good!
His offensive coordinator in Houston, Chris Palmer, is the Giants quarterback coach, which is a big plus.
Why? Because Palmer was so successful with him the first time around? Because Palmer has suddenly become the best QB coach in the history of man-kind? Why? Please tell me why this is good.
The question is whether the pummeling Carr has taken has turned him into a shell-shocked, jittery quarterback.
You really don’t know football, do you?
Asked to sum up his mentality with the protection-challenged Texans, Carr said “Survival, man, I was just trying to get back to my kids.”
And there you have it. If you had any reason to doubt David Carr’s class or Paul Schwartz’ reporting ability, it’s captured right there.
Mr. Schwartz, let me finish this post with one, simple message: If you are going to report on football, at least take the time to watch a game or two and learn about it. Otherwise, you’ll just post needless trash like this.
Oh, and FOAD.
Yours in Christ,
bfd
An Open Letter to Chris Brown
Jul 29, 2008 Open Letters, RB free-for-all, Ranting
Dear Chris,
I hope this letter finds you not dead. The reason I’m writing is this: PLEASE don’t make me hate you.
You see, I am a bitter, angry little man and I have more than enough hate to go around. I give some hate to Travis, I give some hate to Petey, I give some hate to Coach Smith…but I have more. Lots more. And a good bit of that can and will be yours unless some shit changes.
Thing is, I don’t want to hate you. Hell, I even told people before camp that you were my darkhorse candidate to be the number one guy this year. I thought, “hey, here’s a kid with a lot of talent who has just gotten some unlucky breaks.” Sure, maybe you run so upright one has to wonder if you have something up your ass, but that was no biggie. I figured you could handle the load and be a surprise 1200-yard back under Coach Gibbs.
Then camp started. Not for you, though, as you chose to go to a wedding thing. Hey, I kind of understand that. Maybe. I guess.
Actually, no, I don’t. Plenty of people—even those without football players in their families—plan their weddings so that the nuptials don’t interfere with camp. These dates are set WAY in advance, man. If the family member didn’t care enough about having you there to make sure the date wouldn’t interfere with camp, why would you even go? I honestly don’t get it.
Maybe the wedding was “spur of the moment.” If so, that’s cool…for the couple. YOU should have said “congrats, but I can’t make it because I am trying to win a job on a football team that will not hesitate to cut me if I suck or do stupid things.” Because, well, Kubiak will not hesitate to cut you if you suck or do stupid things.
And, yeah, the back spasms aren’t totally your “fault,” per se, but…well…they kind of make you look like a pussy. I’m just sayin’. Don’t get me wrong—I have a bad back and I know how painful such spasms can be. But I also know that they can be treated AND I know that, for me at least, they require me to actually DO SOMETHING before they flare up. Now, it could be that I am just tougher than you are. Totally possible. But, if so, that’s definitely not a good thing.
ANYWAY…yeah, you are really working my last good nerve, bro. But, because I am trying not to hate you, I have a tiny piece of advice: hike up your skirt and and get on the fucking field NOW, Nancy. It’s really the only way to prevent some serious unpleasantness.
Kissies,
Matt
An Open Letter To Peter King
Jul 28, 2008 Open Letters, Peter King sucks balls, Ranting
Dear Ass-Sucking Cockmaster,
It has come to my attention that you don’t think Texans fans are passionate. Apparently, we do not consume our team with the same joie de vivre with which you consume metric tons of frosting and Brett Favre’s smegma. I find this rather interesting—in the same way I find a monkey playing with his own shit interesting—mainly because it makes no sense whatsoever. You fucking retard.
Consider, when the team opened certain Training Camp dates to the public and made tickets available, ALL of the tickets were gone within days. Most practices were full within hours of the tickets being released. Let me spell this out for you:
THOUSANDS OF TEXANS FANS DECIDED THAT SPENDING THEIR RESPECTIVE WEEKENDS IN 95-PLUS-DEGREE HEAT AND 90-PLUS-PERCENT HUMIDITY WHILE WATCHING A TEAM THAT HAS NEVER MADE THE PLAYOFFS WAS A GOOD IDEA. BECAUSE THEY LOVE THEIR TEAM.
Sure, it’s probably hot where most teams hold training camp, but until a team starts running cone drills underneath your flabby mantits, I cannot think of a less hospitable place to play football than Houston, TX, in late July and early August. Yet every single open practice is full and, as soon as that practice ends, those same fans light up blogs and message boards across the internet breaking down everything from Duane Brown’s physical shape to who the third wide receiver and/or dime cornerback are likely to be.
Don’t get me wrong, shitbreath—I am not comparing us to the Redskins one way or the other. Maybe they are crazy fucking passionate. Maybe they are the greatest group of fans in the history of organized sport. Maybe many of them have sacrificed their own children at Dan Snyder’s altar in the hopes of bringing a Super Bowl ring back to D.C.
But to simply throw out the line that “Texans fans aren’t passionate”? It sure seems like you are basing “passion” on how much the fanbase hates you and how many negative comments you get in response to your shitty columns. Perhaps if you ever talked about the Texans, we fans would feel the need to waste bytes on you. But, speaking only for myself, I tend to avoid really poorly written sports materials unless they refer directly to my team, so I don’t encounter your work too often.
That said, if it is vitriol that proves passion to you, I mean it with the utmost sincerity when I say…
I hope you get sodomized to death with a piece of white-hot rebar, you twinkie-huffing piece of shit.
I hope you choke on a dick-flavored scone.
I hope your daughter finds a boyfriend whose sexual predilections make Osi Umenyiora’s look like missionary with the lights off.
I hope Brett Favre takes you out to a nice dinner and then never calls you.
I hope someone at SI jerks off in your latte.
I hope your wife pays three guys to fist her, videotapes it, and leaves it playing in the living room when you come home.
You have any pets? I hope they bite you and then die.
I hope SI realizes that you write like old people fuck (sloppy, boring, not something you particularly want to look at) and shitcans you.
I hope the Starbucks closest to your house closes down, simply because the idea of you getting irritated about driving an extra four or five blocks pleases me.
I hope you choke on a chicken wing and no one in the restaurant has long enough arms to properly apply the Heimlich.
I hope SI’s buildings catch fire while you are taking a giantic shit, forcing you to either burn to death or run outside without wiping.
I hope Tiki Barber gives in to his primal urges and taps your flabby ass in the greenroom, then teases you about how small your dick is whenever you are around the rest of the FNIA crew.
I hope you walk in on your daughter in the middle of a bukkake circle.
I hope Brett Favre comes back this year and sucks, then blames you for all of it.
I hope Travis Johnson knees you in the skull for talking to Trent Green. God hates ugly, Peter. Hates it.
How’s that for “passion,” you obese fucking hack?
Yours in Christ,
Matt Campbell
An Open Letter to David Carr
Mar 14, 2008 Anger, Blasphemy, David Carr has Post-Concussion Syndrome, Open Letters, Ranting, Sandy Vag, Teams that aren't the Texans, Zoolander's snazzy handwear
Dear Homo,
When you lost your job first to a 44-year-old QB and then to an undrafted rookie, I assumed we were done hearing from you. I mean, any QB with any fucking sense would just go away, but I suppose “any fucking sense” is giving you way too much credit. After all, if you’d had any fucking sense, you wouldn’t have spent half a decade scrambling into opposing rushers and working “Fetal Position Blue on 3″ into the playbook, right?
What I don’t get, though, is why you feel the need to continue saying shit that makes you seem borderline retarded. Because, really, it seems like every time you get a change of scenery, you say some kind of ignorant-ass thing that makes it seem like YOU are not the cause of your own problems. Which we both know is a goddamned lie.
Here…allow me to refresh your memory. When you got signed by Carolina [Author's note: Scoreboard, bitch.], you remarked:
As far as the talent on this team, it’s something I haven’t been around. It’s fun for me, just coming out here and playing with a group, both offensively and defensively, that has (so) much skill. […] If you’re not having fun, it’s going to be like what I had the last couple of years where you almost don’t even want to come to work.
How’d all that “talent” and “skill” work out for you, cockmouth? Oh…wait…that’s right.
Anyway, like I said, I thought we were officially done with you after you lost your job twice and posted a stellar 58.3 rating. At worst, I assumed you’d sign somewhere and quietly collect a paycheck from the sidelines, lest ye really make an ass of yourself. “No way,” I thought, “will he try to claim that his failures were due to BOTH of his teams not being good.”
I guess I underestimated your competitiveness douchebaggedness. How else do you explain this:
I have a lot of calluses, Carr said. I’m like an old carpenter[;] I’ve been through it. If you let that stuff affect you, you’re not going to be able to do your job. One of the reasons I’m excited about coming here is they protect the quarterback well and they have playmakers on the outside.
“Playmakers,” huh? Seriously? Have you taken so many dicks to the throat hits to the skull that you’ve forgotten about Andre Johnson catching 103 balls in 2006 and generally keeping you from looking even worse than you already did? Or about Steve Smith having success with every QB in Carolina last year except for you? Or abou– Hold up! Are you really saying that Plaxico Burress is better than Andre Johnson and Steve Smith? Fuck you, dude.
I know you are probably thinking this is just sour grapes on my part. That’s what asshole losers like you tend to claim when someone points out what an asshole loser you are. But it’s not sour grapes–we are well past that point. No, this is a genuine, unfettered missive of hatred. I went from just being glad you were gone to enjoying watching you fail to sincerely hating you with every fiber of my being, all in less than a year. I only take solace in the fact that pretty much everyone other than you, your wife, and your dad realize how much you fucking suck and, therefore, no one takes your comments to be much more than the insipid drivel they are.
I’ve got $10 that says you don’t see the field next year.
Yours in Christ,
Matt
P.S. I hope you have to watch your mother get sodomized by a pit bull. Twice.
An Open Letter to Bill Simmons, From My Giants-Fan Buddy, Rendhel
Feb 4, 2008 Anger, Cooper Manning gently weeps, Curious Coaching, Fuck the Cowboys, National Media, Open Letters, Super Bowl 2008, Teams that aren't the Texans, Tremendous Busts, Winner winner chicken dinner
How Dare You?
After a year of reading nothing but Patriots/Brady fellating from you, you have the audacity to write THAT as your post-Superbowl column? Where’s the mea culpa on Eli? Where’s the “sky is falling” commentary? Where’s the acknowledgment that the Giants literally beat the crap out of the Patriots?
Don’t write about how we got all the lucky bounces (false), how your offense just didn’t show up (only partially true), how the coaching staff didn’t call the game aggressively (untrue–how about going for it on 4th and 12? How about the fact that we shut you down on 3rd and short all game? How about the fact that you couldn’t block us?) Where’s the acknowledgment that we made Brady look not only human, but average? Where are the questions about why the perfect Tom Brady didn’t audible to max protect sets or 3 step drops once he realized they couldn’t contain our rush? Where’s the reminder to sports fans everywhere that October is NOT January (or February for that matter) and that there’s no substitute for playing tough hard nosed football in the playoffs? You used to know that. It’s how the Pats won their first three titles.
My Giants just punched Brady, Belichick and Rodney Harrison right in the face and reminded them that this is a man’s game. Take that fancy, all-throwing, non-physical ballet you called your offense and shove it up Beantown’s collective ass. The Patsies just joined the Karl Malone Lakers as the biggest poser teams to ever sell their souls for a championship and come up short. It’s the sports equivalent of cheating on your wife for the first time by renting a high-priced hooker only to find out that she’s got an 8-inch Johnson when you get her home. How’s it taste? The Giants are wicked awesome! Masshole.
An Open Letter (from bigfatdrunk) to John McClain
Nov 21, 2007 Dancing With the 'Tards, Houston Chronicle, McTard, Megan Manfull is retarded, Open Letters, Richard Justice is a talentless hack., Suck it bitchez
Ed. note: It’s no secret that I have an active dislike for the Houston Chronicle and, even more specifically, for the trite drivel spewed by most of their sportswriters. Lest ye think I am alone in my disdain, I present the following letter from BFD to John McClain, as first posted at BRB.
Dear Mr. McClain,
As I intimated recently, the Jurassic media, such as the Houston Comicle, jumped the shark many years ago. As if to prove my point with a flourish, you publish this absolute turd of an article.
Forgetting such basic math concepts such as prior performance is no guarantee of future performance or that as variables (aka players, coaches, your BAC) change, the outcome will change, I will again pound on a theme that has become blatantly obvious to any reader with an education level north of Richard Justice, or about the 4th grade.
You, Mr. McClain, hate the Texans. Whether it’s the unrequited love syndrome that so affects Justice due to his man-crush on Vince Young, or whether you seem to enjoy inflicting Solomon-esque pain, I am not quite sure. Perhaps, it’s a little of both? Or am I missing something?
Now, I’m sure your defense will be, “But I mentioned they are .500! Don’t you read? Or do you just read what you want to read?” To answer your questions, yes I read. And, yes, I read what I want to read. You, dear sir, do not fall into the “want to read” category. As for yet another back-handed compliment, we’ll just place that one in the Mario file.
If you are the General, you are the modern-day equivalent of Ambrose Burnside. And with a leader like you, who needs the bleach?
The overall lack of objectivity toward the Texans is incredibly reprehensible, but even when given the opportunity to play a bit of a hometown fan-boy, you showed your true colors. How could, and why should, anyone consider the Houston Chronicle sports section a reliable source of information when you and your cohorts have exhibited such unmitigated and non-negotiable hatred of the Houston Texans?
Your BFF,
XOXOXOXOX,
bigfatdrunk
PS: I’m sure you’ll take full credit for being incredibly right, all the time, once the bandwagon starts chugging.
A Fictitious Letter from Melody Carr
Nov 7, 2007 David Carr has Post-Concussion Syndrome, Fake Conversations with Real People, Open Letters, She is pretty hot, Sucks to be John Fox, Zoolander's snazzy handwear
Dear DGDB&D,
I was doing my monthly Google search for stories for my scrapbook about my husband, David Carr, and I came across your blog. I have to say that it is the most vile, disgusting, worthless piece of trash I have ever seen. You call yourself a blogger, but all you really are is a total fucking jerk.
What did David ever do to you? He might not have been the greatest quarterback the city of Houston had ever seen, but he has HEART, dammit. Besides, there is a lot of pressure when you are the number 1 overall pick, and he never hid from the pressure. I mean, ok, he was usually the last to arrive and the first to leave, and we never had any teammates over the house for BBQs, and he relayed many messages through his dad, but other than that, he never avoided the pressure and the spotlight.
Yet, instead of pointing that out, you call him Zoolander and make fun of his gorgeous hair? Oh, that’s brilliant. Newsflash, dickweed: not everyone who looks like a male model is dumb and vain. Some of them are just hard working guys who love their parents and family more and who happen to like the feel of supple cowhide on their hands while they are playing sports. Is that so wrong???
David is a wonderful person and a great husband, and a big reason for that is that he’s sensitive and emotional. When I showed him your worthless blog, he could have gotten angry and tried to find your address and came and kicked your sorry ass (as I suggested), but he didn’t. Instead, he went and locked himself in my powder room and started weeping. Sure, it took me almost an hour to get him to stop crying, and sure he might have threatened to shave his head, and, yes, there was a long discussion as to whether the Panther uniform makes him look fat, but all of that’s ok by me; most guys are afraid to show that kind of sensitivity. YOU certainly haven’t shown any to anyone, except that you are a grade-A asshole.
While all that other stuff is important, the main reason I am writing you is because of these fake conversations between David and Coach Fox? Boy, you have some nerve. There is no way Coach Fox would be touching himself inappropriately in his office. And he would NEVER attack Vinnie just to get David hurt. Coach Fox loves David–he says all the time that he is so happy David because now he doesn’t have to worry about his nieces getting pregnant. What’s next? Are you going to suggest that David hates Matt Moore because Matt went to Oregon State and David is scared of beavers? Well, let me just tell you right now, Mr. Blogger, David is most definitely not scared of beavers. He loves beavers. He pounds my beaver HARDCORE! (No, he doesn’t do it often, and he normally happens to be really drunk, and it’s usually right after he’s watched Brokeback Mountain or a Clay Aiken video, but still.) You just sit in your mom’s basement wishing you could be an NFL QB and get all the beaver David could get. If he wanted it.
In short, eat my ass, you fucking turdgoblin.
Yours in Christ,
Melody
P.S. All that stuff you said about David’s dad? Totally true. Even I can’t stand that cocksucker.
An Open Letter to God Durga, the Hindu God of Vengeance
Nov 1, 2007 Blasphemy, Demarcus Faggins sucks, Inanity, Might as well piss off as many religions as possible, Multi-culturalism, Open Letters, Self-Referential Stuff
Dear Durga,
Um, hi. We haven’t been formally introduced; my name is Matt. I got your name and address from our mutual friend, Sid.
I understand that you are, like, the Goddess of Vengeance. That is pretty awesome. Insanely awesome, actually. I bet that comes in handy, huh? Like, I read something that said you were the god people prayed to in order to have their personal demons destroyed. That is fucking bad ass.
That’s kind of why I am writing you, too. You see, my personal demon is Petey Faggins in a Texans uniform. That is the one thing in my life that busts the balls of my very soul. So, you know, if that demon could be destroyed, I would be eternally grateful. Now I am not saying I want him killed–that would be going overboard, even for me. I am just wanting him to no longer be playing for the Houston Texans. I’ll leave the logistics of that up to you, you ravishing 10-armed demonsmasher.
Now, I know what you are thinking. That I am not even Hindu and that I should pray to my own deitydamned deity. I already tried that, though, and He is either unwilling or unable to help. Having only one god apparently puts serious constraints on the amount of prayer-granting that can be done in a given week. But you exist solely to, as I understand it, destroy some motherfucking demons.
Just so you understand the gravity of the situation, this other dude named Carlos Rogers went down with a severe injury last week and fans of the Redskins were thrilled. Well I would take Carlos Rogers on a ruptured knee over Petey Faggins. It’s that deep, honey. It’s that deep.
Anywho…I won’t take up any more of your time. Even as a unitasker, you probably have a whole lot of demons to deal with. If you could just pencil me in for some time between, say, now and this Sunday at 11:59 AM, that would be awesome.
With much love and admiration,
Matt
P.S. That “11:59″ thing up there is Central Standard Time in America. I mention this because I am not sure what time zone the eternal realm is in. Probably Greenwich Mean Time.
An(other) Open Letter to God
Nov 1, 2007 Blasphemy, Demarcus Faggins sucks, Inanity, Open Letters, Teams that aren't the Texans
Dear God,
Hey there, it’s me again. But you probably knew that, being omnipotent and all. You are probably also aware that Carlos Rogers is done for the season with a badly mangled knee.
I gotta ask you, big guy, how is this fair? I mean, sure, Redskins fans–who are clearly racist, by the way–have been praying for his injury for a while. So what? I have been doing everything short of sacrificing live animals and virgins in an effort to get you to maim Petey Faggins.
Yet still he walks among us, limp free.
Now, either you choose to ignore my prayers, or you don’t care about football, or you like to watch me suffer. I am not Job, youdamnit.
Anyway…yeah. Um, hurt Petey. Please? If that is not possible, please smite Richard Justice. And Richard Smith.
Yours in holiness,
Matt
An Open Letter to God
Oct 18, 2007 Andre Johnson, Blasphemy, Demarcus Faggins sucks, Inanity, Open Letters
Dear God,
Hey, how’s it goin’, big guy? Things good up in the Big End Zone In The Sky?
Look, I know we haven’t talked in a while. That’s my bad, I guess. But still, I have to ask, why do you hate me? I mean, hating me is pretty much the only way to explain why Andre Johnson is still at least a week away. (It’s also a fairly good explanation for the continued playing time of Petey Faggins, the fact that a twit like Megan Manfull gets access to my favorite team that I cannot get, and even the popularity of Kenny Chesney, but none of that is at issue here.)
Anyway, yeah, why the hate, God? Is it because I laughed at the end of City of Angels? Surely you didn’t like that piece of shit movie. Is it because I called Reggie Bush “GOD’S FAVORITE SON, WHOM HE LOVES MUCH MORE THAN JESUS?” I was just paraphrasing what ESPN keeps telling me. Honest, I know you don’t love any running back who can’t average more than 3.5/carry.
I think we can both agree that I am a worthless turd. That said, please don’t take your displeasure with me out on poor Andre. By all accounts, he’s a hell of a nice guy and totally deserving of your healing touch. Vince Young, on the other hand, is rumored to consider Satan his personal Dark Lord and Savior. I hear he also once punched a priest, drop kicked an infant, and then peed in some holy water. So maybe just take out your aggression on him. Or at least make sure that quad doesn’t heal.
Hugs and kisses,
Matt
P.S. Can Ray Charles see in Heaven? I’ve always wondered how that worked.
An Open Letter to Mr. Randy Galloway
Aug 27, 2007 Inanity, Open Letters, Poetry, Righteous Indignation, Special Teams
Dear Randy,
I just wanted to write and offer a sincere “fuck you” in regards to your column–In Lousy Loss, Cowboys had Trifecta: Stink, Stank, Stunk–from this past Sunday.
To be clear, it’s not the overall message of your post I take issue with. I agree wholeheartedly that the Cowboys played like a bunch of ninnies. (That was the message of your post, wasn’t it? I find it so difficult to decipher poorly-written sports columns.)
No, my “fuck you” is directed at this line:
The Cowboys had an embarrassing “all three phases” first-half collapse against the Houston Texans, a team that will be lucky to win five regular-season games.
Lucky to win five, eh? And you are basing that on what, pray tell? My guess it that you’ve spent far too much time writing love letters to Tony Romo this offseason to actually look at the Texans. Of course, coming from Fort Worth–the ugly sister with an inbred crush on her drug-addict brother, Dallas–I suppose it only makes sense that you would be busy worshiping at the Altar of Botched Snaps.
Fact is, you were fed a steaming turd sandwich by a team that played its starters less than you did, rendered your blitzing defense more or less null and void, and featured a running back that your own announcers were laughing about until he ran all over you. Do you really want to say that this team is unlikely to wi–
Wait a second… did you really paraphrase “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” in your title?!? Did your group home arrange this job for you as a way to get you out in mainstream society? Do you wear a helmet? Are you going to treat your readers to “Romo Hears a Who” next? Would my message be easier for you to comprehend in some sort of rhyme?
I do not like you, sportswriting jerk
I do not like you, I hate your work
Your city’s a joke
Your analysis is too
From the depths of my heart
Randy, fuck you
I hope this helps. Keep up the good work.
Sincerely,
Matt
An Open Letter to the NFL Network
Aug 11, 2007 Batman, Inanity, NFL Network, Open Letters, Preseason 2007, Righteous Indignation, Teams that aren't the Texans, The Schaub Experiment, Vinsanity
Dear NFL Network,
I appreciate the fact that you are re-airing tonight’s game, albeit at 11PM CST. That is very nice of you. As someone living well outside the Texans’ regular viewing area, it is nice to know that I can see the game, even if it’s after the fact.
What puzzles me, however, is why you would choose to air the Titans-Redskins game live in lieu of Texans-Bears. I really don’t understand. We are playing the reigning NFC champs. The Titans are playing… um… the one NFC East team that didn’t make the playoffs last year (and who finished with a worse record than Houston). We have a new QB and a new RB, in what could be seen as the launch of Texans v.2.0. The Titans have Vince Young and a whole sack of ass. ‘Tis puzzling.
I have to be honest–I feel like you are giving me the finger from your cushy little office. That’s not cool. That’s the type of shit Matt Mosley would do. And we both know how badly he sucks. So, next time, maybe ask yourself “does airing this game make any fucking sense?” Because right now, the answer would be a fat “no.”
Sincerely,
Matt
