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Compared to the Great Wall of China, the Lions defense is like a raised crack in the sidewalk. If someone's not paying attention, they might accidentally stub their toe on it.
If you've been lucky enough to have the last few games blacked out, then I need you to do me a favor right now. I need you to pull out your driver's license and sign the organ donor section on the back. Because if, God forbid, something happens to one of you before me, I'm going to need your retinas.
Gawd the Lions defense is bad. You could literally push a bus through it and there would be nobody there to stop it. Well, except for Daniel Bullocks. He'd be standing in front of it, waving his arms and screaming, "Stop! For the love of God, stop! Trip on a crack or something!"
I shouldn't make fun of Daniel, because at least he tried. But did you see him get run over? He looked like he was strapped to the barrel of a Civil War cannon during the battle of Gettysburg. Of course it made ESPN's Top Plays. I'm not sure if it was because that Saint ran him over or because we actually had a Lions defender get in the way of him.
Rob Parker actually asked Marinelli during a press conference if he wished his daughter had married a better defensive coordinator. Well, that is just downright unprofessional. Parker shouldn't even be allowed to call himself a journalist after that. Because the obvious question should have been, "Don't you wish your daughter would have married 'a' defensive coordinator?" Or better yet, "Don't you wish your daughter would divorce a defensive coordinator so that you can fire his ass without feeling bad?" Seriously, if Joe Barry is a defensive coordinator then I'm a gay porn star. And I gag on my toothbrush.
Marinelli keeps saying, "It's on me. It's on me. It's on me. Blah, blah, blah." No, Rod. Do you want to know what's really on you? A big ass monkey. And he's not only on your back. He's dry humping the shit out of your ass like a horny Pomeranian on a stuffed chew toy.
And to top it all off, our fearless leader - William Clay Ford, Sr. - has said that he wants the same front office people who helped architect this current mess to stay with team next year. Wha?? Are you serious? This team needs to be rebuilt from the ground floor up. We need a freakin' MacGyver. We need a guy who can rebuild the World Trade Center with some duct tape, a screwdriver, and a can of spackle. These current geniuses couldn't rebuild a stack of Legos if you spotted them half a stack of Legos.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I want the record. I want 0-16. Because we've earned it. We've earned it because the Lions have sucked for over 50 years. We're the anti-Buffalo Bills. The Bills were good for a pretty long stretch of time and never won it all. The Lions have been bad for a long stretch of.............well, forever..............and we've never lost them all. Well, dammit. I want it. And when they do go 0-fer, the NFL needs to give us a trophy. A big, bronzed, steaming, ice cream-swirled pile of shit. And it should be named the Ford Trophy. And every year they should give it to the shittiest team. And every season the Lions need to man down, give it their least, give 10%, bring their F game, dig themselves a hole, know what it takes to lose, think it's always over before it starts, pound the pud, play zero plays at a time, leave it all in the locker room, count yourselves out, keep turnovers to a maximum, play defense like you did this year, pray to 3-and-out Jesus and make sure you retain that sumbitchin' trophy.
Oh, and Mr. Ford. You owe me $3,000 for 15 years of the NFL Sunday Ticket and $300,000 for retinal transplant surgery. You can write it off as a donation to charity.
It's so flat you can watch your dog run away for three days.
It's the morning of December 28, 2008, and I'm getting ready for my Sweet 0-16 Party. My invited guests include me, Bud Light, my recliner, Bud Light, the big screen, Bud Light, popcorn, Bud Light, Doritos, Bud Light, my dog, Bud Light, and Jack Daniels
Everything is perfect. And then................disaster.
Yep. You guessed it. I forgot it was also my wife's office Christmas party at our house. She works at the Farmer's Corner Senior Citizens Home And Grill And Flea Market. They employ physical therapists and "bedpan sanitation specialists." <snicker>
Next thing I know my basement is full of gay people, Filipinos, and a transexual. Apparently, that is the only kind of people who will work there. Illegal Mexicans think those jobs are beneath them. Before you judge, my wife is not Filipino or a transexual. But she did meet Dano before, and if anyone can turn a woman gay..................it's him. Ironically, I met DWT at the same time, and he actually turned me straighter. Two words for ya, DWT. Don't tell.
Where was I? Oh yeah. So, honestly, it's really not my fault that I forgot about my wife's office party. I mean, I already drank a lot of my invited guests that morning in preparation for the Sweet 0-16 Party. But I rebounded and was pretty cordial until the Filipinos started hooking up a Karaoke machine to my big screen.
I don't know if you know this, but the Filipino lust for Karaoke makes the Japanese look like Clay Aiken in the Playboy Mansion hot tub. They love this shit. Their Karaoke machine is more expensive than my car. They were stringing cables and connecting tweeters, woofers, sub- woofers, sub-tweeters, tweeter-woofers, sub-tweeter-woofers........................I actually think they brought a road crew.
But! I put my foot down and said, "None of your Karaoke until the game is over!" To which the lone transexual says, "It'th over already. It wath over when your team clashed the black shoes with the blue and the thilver. Now, if they would've color-coordinated with an almond-white pump or perhapth a toeleth ankle-thtrap then...."
Geezus!
Anyways, we watched the game. I drank so many of my invited guests that for the first time in my life I peed while sitting down...................in my recliner.
And then..................the Karaoke started. The transexual was up first. Before the operation, his.......um, her?....... name was Fred. As he/she would say, "I work with your wife and I'm a phythical therapitht." He/she decided to become a Packers fan just that day because............well.............duh........... and also because the "G" on their helmet reminded him/her of his/her G-spot.
Now, I know medical technology has come a long way, but......................<shudder>
In celebration of the Packers' victory and the Lions pathetic defense, he/she sang, "Tonight I'm gonna party like it's 19 to 99."
Yeah, real funny.
But I gotta tell you. He/she was pretty good. In fact, when he/she sang "party over oopth, out of time", I had some serious goose bumps because it summed up the Lions season perfectly. I even teared up a little.
After the song, the roadies re-adjusted the stage lighting and the reverb on the mic, and then I found out there was a surprise Secret Santa.
Apparently, everyone's name goes in a hat and then you have to give some sort of spontaneous gift to the person whose name you draw. For most of the people at the party, the gifts included a hug, a kiss, etc.
Guess whose name I got. That's right. Fred. Or should I say, Fredericka. Not only did the Lions lose, go 0-fer, and give a transexual enough ammo to make up a song about them................I actually have to give that same person a gift.
I decided a hug or a kiss was out of the question. I mean, I'm really hot and I didn't want to start a fire I couldn't put out. So, I ran upstairs and rummaged around for some crap he/she might like. I came back down with a "Green Bay Sucks, Brett Favre Swallows" t-shirt, my son's pet gerbil, and all my wife's lingerie she used to wear when we used to have sex.
Their Karaoke machine is more expensive than my car. They were stringing cables and connecting tweeters, woofers, sub- woofers, sub-tweeters, tweeter-woofers, sub-tweeter-woofers........................
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