Thansgiving With The Lions Part Please Let Me Die Now

The Lions have led in all 12 games this year. They are 3-8-1. That is the kind of chaos nonsense fuck your luck bullshit that has always torn at our broken asses. Now some would say that this is evidence of an oh so close just need a little patience baby kind of deal, but fuck all that. If The Patriot Way is a bunch of coin flips with shitty luck then fuck it and the con men trying to sell it to us.

Of course, I’ve already railed about how incompetence is bad enough and when mixed with evil becomes a nightmare of hellfire and shit no one should have to deal with, and I’m not going to keep nattering on about that, but I mean, fuck, man, come on.

The worst part about this whole deal is I feel like the whole “led in all 12 games” thing is going to be a get out of jail free card for these fuckers, which means next year is just more of the same and I don’t know how much more I can take of this. I mean, obviously, I will take just about anything and I am a coward as I have already proven by dragging my ass back to these shitheads with my mouth open begging for more shit to be shoveled into it year after fucking year. But there are children right now who are being introduced to this nightmare, which is honestly kind of abusive, and if this damn team can’t get its shit together for me, at least it could do it for them.

That’s right, I’m at the point where I am flinging innocent children into this shitstorm in the hopes that it doesn’t all land on me. I am past the point of decency and I fail to see why I should start trying to pretty this up now. 

Anyway, it was yet another quarterback being thrust into the fire and poor David Blough never stood a chance, did he? And now Mitch Trubisky of all idiots gets to play the hero while Ford Field burns and Bob Quinn plays his fiddle and Matt Patricia rapes all the women trying to flee the stadium.  This is not a good scene, man, not good at all, and the only ones left alive will be the vampires and ghouls feeding on the flesh of the dead, sucking at our souls like the greedy little monsters they are. Welcome to Detroit, baby, you’re gonna die.

It was a bad day, just like it always is with these shitheads. I ate too much and I feel like shit and I managed to escape and flee back to the compound here where I am with my cat who can sense that something awful has happened and I just fed her and she will probably shit all over the place later and I will too, and this is what it means to be an American and a Lions fan in this outhouse year of our lives, a wretched people, a loathsome bunch of gluttons stuffed with our own hubris and poison holiday food, waiting to see what end it all oozes out of before we pass out in a pile of poor choices as our cats eat our sick.

But fuck all that. I was loaded with leftovers and sent on my way, as my dear mother worries that I waste away in this addict’s skin, and I love her for it, but I honestly just want to puke it all up and never have to think about it again, and now I have a refrigerator stuffed with food that I don’t even really want which makes me feel guilty as hell in this consumerist hell world we have made for ourselves in which so many go hungry, but I am too cowardly to give it away and I will stuff my idiot face with it all week long and feel like shit about myself and about this whole fucking country and about my shitty football team.

But that is all psychic emotional baggage that none of you need to hear about, and I guess I can feed some of it to my deer sweet kitty, who is already starting to show signs of being a hefty lady, but what the hell, we will die together in our gluttonous misery, both victims of one too many poor choices. 

So yeah, anyway, back to football related miseries. I still have the rest of my Gambling With Sanity picks to fire off either tomorrow or Saturday depending on how wretchedly loathsomely I spend my time between now and then, a victim of my own insatiable gluttony for this comfortable holiday food and poor choices that will leave me feeling like fucking Caligula stumbling out of the vomitorium with who the fuck knows attached to his dick and poor choices in his heart. 

It is always good to see a ne’er do well quarterback get the chance to rise up and make a name for himself on Thanksgiving, but sadly for David Blough he failed where so many others have failed before. I don’t even know what happened to Jeff Driskel, such is the shitty state of my fandom these days, but I can only assume he was eaten by Lions Disease or maybe just by Fat Matt in between courses of rape and vomiting. 

I like our new running back, that Scarborough kid, which means he’s, what, the 5^th string dude or some shit and also that he will likely suffer a gruesome career ending injury before we even get to really know him. But fuck it, that is life in the NFL meat grinder, and dudes like him will be lucky to even get their medical bills covered before being sent to the glue factory.  This is a hideous league that takes no prisoners and leaves its players broken and destitute more often than not, much like ancient gladiators back in the day. Sure, there are less killings now, but don’t tell that to OJ or one of the many soup brained warriors who puts a gun in their mouth or against their chest so their brains can be studied by ghoulish scientists eager to figure out where man exactly loses his ability to comprehend his own concussed existence. At best, you go out a tragic figure, a cautionary tale of what this fucked up sport can do you. Or you can go out like Chris Benoit and have the Bixes of the world snorting your brains through specially made straws which liquify it before being greedily swallowed by the fat maws of our troubled youthful muckrakers. 

None of it is good, man, none of it at all, but at least we got to watch you boys die for our sins on Thanksgiving as we stuffed our fat faces with blood food commemorating the genocide of the native peoples of this fair land.  Everybody wins except nobody really does, maybe the Failure Demons and cardiologists, all so your racist uncle can stuff his face and talk about how he’ll only eat white meat with a knowing guffaw.

So Happy Thanksgiving, from me to you. I’m glad we could spend it together with our beloved Lions as we vomit into the nearest house plant and listen to grandpa bitch about the Jews and Mexicans while grandma weezes her way through cleanup, nobody helping her, and she thinks bitter thoughts about people with darker skin than her because she’s also horrible, just like the rest of them, and then she’ll cry because you don’t call her enough and it’s all you can do to not vomit into her wrinkled old face and send her nasty ass back to hell.

But that’s just life in America in these strange and terrible times, brutal and uncompromising in its miseries. At least you got to eat yourself into a coma and watch a football game played for the delight of fascists everywhere and a league full of corrupt and evil billionaires who would sell you to some Arabians for a second helping of that pumpkin pie. Eat until you puke, my fellow Americans. Eat until you can no longer control your own bowels. Eat and watch more football as men destroy their brains for your dumb enjoyment. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

Gambling With Insanity: Week The Great Willie Young, Part One

It’s Thanksgiving and instead of trying to cram two posts in before the big day, I thought I’d just roll it all into one big craptacular bunch of gibberish, with some help from my good friend, The Great Willie Young. If you were expecting some earth rattling spirited defense of Detroit, I apologize but the goddamn Lions have worn me the fuck out and also I pushed my poor choices to the brink and I’m out of time. So, I’m sorry, but not that sorry, and anyway, I went 5-9 last week, which means thumbs were broken, spirits crushed, etc. and now I am not welcome in Las Vegas upon pain of dismemberment and likely death, but I never liked the desert anyway and those fuckers are all evil and corrupt, so fuck them and fuck you, let’s just get to this week’s picks.

Chicago (+1.5) at Detroit

The Great Willie Young appeared in more than a couple of the Lions Thanksgiving games, but new records have revealed that he was actually involved in many more, most during the Lions early run of success, in which they did some stat padding in knowing fear of the future, to buttress this shitty ass franchise so it could show up today with the stubborn ass record of 37-40-2 on Thanksgiving, which is honestly better than I expected but also sadder too.  But thanks to the efforts of my man, The Great Willie Young, the Lions managed to clean up in those early years, most notably against the loathsome Packers during the 50s glory years before the devil himself could worm his way into Green Bay.  Now I’m not sure exactly what role The Great Willie Young played in those affairs, most likely a dual coach/player role and also a fucking the owner’s wife role, but a man can only do so much, and so eventually even The Great Willie Young was exhausted by trying to carry this shit heap of a team. In his last breaths before being sucked through the vortexes of time by his father, the cheetah god, so that he could help mankind throughout these many centuries and eons of poor choices and outright shit behavior towards each other and the planet, The Great Willie Young implored Bobby Layne to do the right thing and go gracefully into that long goodnight, but Bobby was too drunk to listen, as per usual, and The Great Willie Young’s pleas fell on deaf ears, and the last 60 years of horror and despair has befallen us. Fuck Bobby Layne, a man too terrible for even the Great Willie Young to reach. But now I am hearing that The Great Willie Young is sending his love through time and while he might not make it back in time for this year’s game, his psychic energy and fuck powers are enough to ensure that the Lions will run that record to 38-40-2 because fuck the Bears and fuck everyone who would dare take Thanksgiving away from the Lions as it is the only good thing we still have left.

Pick: Detroit

Buffalo (+7) at Dallas

It was June 12, 1994, and The Great Willie Young stumbled out of the club, drunk as fuck with his boy, the Juice, OJ Simpson. The Juice had been carrying on all night, crying about his ex and spilling his guts to The Great Willie Young, who as a lover himself, could only offer a compassionate ear to his boy. After all, even The Great Willie Young is powerless when it comes to the affairs of the heart. They left the club together and The Great Willie Young offered to share a cab with The Juice, but OJ drunkenly waved him off, crying and sobbing into the chest of the great one, and the Great Willie Young did what he could for the man, holding him and telling him that it was all gonna be okay. The next morning, The Great Willie Young went to check on his boy, but The Juice wasn’t home and so The Great Willie Young went looking for him. He didn’t find him, but he did find Mother Kardashian and so The Great Willie Young gave her the wood and made her promise to tell him if The Juice turned up because he knew that she liked it when they went tag team on her. Later that night, The Juice showed up at The Great Willie Young’s place, all sweaty and disheveled and said he needed to stash some gloves at the great one’s place. But The Great Willie Young was all “Man, what the fuck do you think this is, some kind of goddamn fashion house??” and turned The Juice away. He would later regret this decision, but then again he was glad that he didn’t end up an accessory to whatever The Juice was allegedly into. Many months later, The Great Willie Young’s blood ran cold when he thought of what he was almost dragged into. On the other hand, he could appreciate not wanting your old lady to be fucking a goddamn waiter and so he decided to let bygones be bygones and that is how he ended up fucking Marcia Clark in a McDonald’s bathroom.

Pick: Dallas

New Orleans (-5.5) at Atlanta

The Great Willie Young always loved New Orleans, home to his boy Heinie, and also the scene of many a crushed ass, a couple of vampire dealings too, but only with the sexy ones, not the effete weird ones from Paris who were always offering to suck his dick among other things. Anyway, it was one particular incident in the 1870’s when the city was getting it shit back together after the shameful Antebellum South days when dudes just like him were owned by the white crackers in the vicinity, when The Great Willie Young happened upon the young wife of a former slave. Well, they had both been slaves, but the old boy had run off on her once they were free, getting a taste of his new freedom by sampling some previously forbidden Southern Delights aka white bitches and so The Great Willie Young was left to console the scorned lady as only he could. Nine months later and The Great Willie Young was refusing a blood test, not because he was a bad father figure, but more because he couldn’t afford the child support, no matter how much he and Heinie scammed the white drunks as they stumbled into the late night New Orleans streets.  Anyway, the lady wouldn’t let up, and that’s when The Great Willie Young introduced her to some of his old vampire friends, who made of her an eternal bride and everyone was happy. Well, all except the kid, but The Great Willie Young eventually took the brat on as a helper around his place, which meant that she ended up doing Heinie’s laundry and also washing his nasty ass feet after long hard days traipsing through the floodwaters with his illicit beers. Years later, and Heinie knocked that girl up and she had a kid of her own which made The Great Willie Young an alleged grandfather and also made Heinie into something of a son. But that is just one little taste of the many scandalous tales of The Great Willie Young in the city of New Orleans

Pick: New Orleans

TUNE IN ON FRIDAY (OR SATURDAY DEPENDING ON HOW CERTAIN CHOICES GO) FOR PART TWO OF THIS THANKSGIVING WEEKEND GAMBLING WITH SANITY EXTRAVAGANZA WITH OUR GOOD FRIEND THE GREAT WILLIE YOUNG

Evil

Matt Millen was a buffoon. But he wasn’t evil. Wayne Fontes was a buffoon. Still, he wasn’t evil. Jim Caldwell? Buffoon. Yet, still not evil. Jim Schwartz? A Jackass and a buffoon, but not evil. But these motherfuckers now are buffoons and they are evil. Matt Patricia is a fat piece of shit who almost certainly raped someone. Bob Quinn is a Patriot Way loving fake tough guy who stalks the locker room with a baseball bat like Crazy Joe Clark living off the fumes of the jet trail left behind by Tom Brady. He is not a man who helped build the Patriots dynasty. He was basically the fucking janitor. And now he has adopted that sociopathic way of doing things and sublet all of that into the disgusting arms of that fat piece of shit Matt Patricia, and it’s all just so ugly and evil and gross and I want these motherfuckers shot out of a cannon immediately over the Detroit River into Canada.

Yes, it has come to that. I hate these fuckers. They are buffoons and they are evil, which is the worst of all worlds. They have hijacked my own misery and injected their vile evilness into it, and I’m not having any of that shit. My relationship with the Lions is one of endless misery and suffering but it has never been evil, and now these fucking gargoyles are making me live this worst of all worlds scenario and fuck them forever.

It’s hard enough being a fan of the Detroit Lions. It’s hard enough watching your heroes be broken and quit because it’s all just too much to bear. It’s hard enough knowing that the best quarterback we have ever had is being run down and it won’t be long before he is just another body sent to the glue factory. It’s hard enough watching all of this, knowing all of this, living all of this, tangled up in our collective history, this horror show that goes back more than 60 years now of futility and frustration with only one goddamn playoff win to show for any of it.  It’s hard enough dealing with all of that, and now I also have to sit here and put up with these vile evil fuckers along side all of it. It’s just too fucking much and I demand an immediate cleansing.

I won’t get one, and these fuckers will probably survive into next year because they are the ones with all the power and Old Lady Ford doesn’t have a fucking clue, and she’s too busy sucking on gin and holding bible study with her sycophants and thumbing through the OG Ford’s diaries which are riven with Nazi sympathies and it’s all too much evil to bear.

This whole organization needs a cleansing. Just go in there and scrub all these evil fuckers out and start over. Sell the team to someone who isn’t an evil piece of shit. I don’t even know who that would be given the billionaire class whose foundation is rooted in evil. Anyone who could afford to buy this team is going to be involved in some evil.

Still, there has to be someone out there who at least feels guilty about their complicity with evil who can rescue this franchise from the hellmouth that has been the last 60 plus years.  There has to be somebody who can finally wash away all the ugly bullshit that surrounds this team like a shit cloud constantly threatening to rain shit water all over all of us. There has to be somebody who cares, somebody rich enough to deal with all the evil bullshit and give us a team worth loving and worth rooting for.

I don’t even give a shit about the Redacteds beating the Lions this past weekend. I don’t care that the Lions have led in every game this season and yet are on their way to another draft pick in the top ten with double digit losses looming in the record books. This is a shitty team of buffoons, the same goddamn story we’ve had to read time and again over these past 60 years, but they’re also a shitty team of evil buffoons and that is just too goddamn much for any of us to have to put up with.

Like I said, I won’t get the cleansing that I demand because nobody gives a shit. And that sucks. That means that I’m tied to this evil shit heap of buffoons because I was pooped out in this goddamn place where these goddamn loyalties are too tough to shake. And so I have to just eat shit just like the rest of you and ask for more and it’s all so goddamn horrible. This is the worst I have ever felt about being a fan of the Detroit Lions, and that is an amazing thing to say given the incredible amount of suffering we’ve had to endure over these many mind numbing years here in hell.

I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is that I hate being a fan of the Detroit Lions right now, more than ever before. And that’s so much worse than just being a fan of a bad football team that I can still love as my own, you know? I can stand the losing. I mean, I’ve had to stand it my whole life as a fan of the Detroit Lions. But I can’t stand the evil shit. I can’t stand the Matt Patricias and the Bob Quinns. I can’t stand that shit and I shouldn’t have to. So fuck them, and fuck me for still letting myself get dragged by this hideous beast of a team. I don’t know when it will get better or if it ever even will get better at all, and yet here I sit, writing this goddamn gibberish again, a slave to my own idiot loyalties, complicit in evil and hating myself for it all. Fuck this team. Fuck you and fuck me, we don’t deserve this, but we do because we can’t let go, and so all that’s left to say is that I will see you all in hell. Fuck it all.