The Poorest Choice of All

The living nightmare that is Detroit Lions football was brought to us all once again and let’s just take a moment to reflect on the endless suffering we have had to endure over the years, the decades, the centuries? Sure, fuck it, why not. I mean, you could do what the mocking ghosts of human beings known as commentators did as the game ended in depressing fashion yet again. You know, the oh you’re so close trust the process bullshit, or you could recognize that this is Year Infinity in the maybe next year gibberings, or you could just set fire to the whole fucking stadium and shoot everyone who tries to escape.

Okay, that might be a little harsh, but fuck it, I don’t care. Not after seeing Ford Field get turned into the waiting room for the overflow of all the shittiest Dallas Cowboys fans alive. Not after seeing Jerry Jones, with his rictus I’M GONNA EAT YOUR SOUL grin cackling in his suite or wherever the fuck he was inside Ford Field, surrounded by bootlickers and lost souls. This is the hideous place we find ourselves in today. Cucked by a man with no dick.

This is just wretched nonsense. The entire identity of this Lions team is supposed to be the running game backed up by the defensive genius of Fat Matt and Uncle Paulie, but those are the two places where the Lions are even more apocalyptically shitty than normal, so I don’t know what you fucking want me to tell you. This is all bullshit and I’m not okay with it.

I could natter on about firing the both of them or about selling the team to someone not entranced by the smell of Hitler’s last fart or about razing the stadium to the ground, stripping our clothes off and rampaging through the city like feral apes, hooting and fucking and throwing shit at everyone and everything or about moving across the world to become a Buddhist monk or about suicide pacts or about giving your dick paper cuts and then pouring acid in the wounds, but what is the fucking point? We all know that this is simply life as a fan of the Detroit Lions, an endless suffering that must be some level of hell no one dares talk about.

Jerry Jones just sitting there cooing over his America’s Team that has once again swallowed us in the anaconda jaw of failure and regret and there was nothing anyone could do about it because we are a humiliated people, shamed and broken. They have taken away our dignity and all that’s left to do is to just sit there and try not to make eye contact as these motherfuckers celebrate. I mean, even one of the goddamn team doctors or handlers or whatever the fuck they are was prancing around the sideline is a fucking cowboy hat like his mom had just dropped him off at the Shitty American Jackass Stereotype Dance.

It is all too much to take. I don’t even know what to ramble about here, this idiot space that I have made for myself, where I entertain my idiot friends with my subhuman wit and make you feel like putting your dick into an electrical socket swarming with fire ants. What the fuck am I supposed to say to make sense out of any of this, to try to rationalize it or work it into some hideous narrative, a metaphor for all the worst things in life or whatever the fuck? I don’t fucking know, I’m just the idiot who works here.

All I know is that sometimes in the last haze of a weekend, I fucked up my tailbone in the midst of making some poor choices so I have a literal pain in my ass, my football team is a metaphor for my entire life and I mostly just want to lay in the middle of the street and just fall asleep and let nature take its course.

This is not an ideal condition to be in, especially when I am already tightrope walking sanity and common decency with my poor choices as it is and at some point this just becomes my own damn fault for still caring about this idiot team at all.  I mean, what is there to be optimistic about? There are no feel good stories here, no silver linings to be seen, There is just this endless parade of buffoons and idiots who keep swaggering in and telling us to relax because they know how to fix this while they skid across the floor like a dog dragging his shitty ass over everything and they can all get fucked.

These latest failures are maybe the most hideous yet because they are so goddamn unlikable. A probable rapist who obviously has no self control just by looking at his slovenly obese appearance and a fake tough guy asshole who is trying to mimic The Patriot Way without having any understanding about what that means because he was just a glorified funky when he was there and even if he did know what it means it is a way of sociopathy and hideous contempt for the human soul and so fuck all this, this is worse than Millen to me. He was just a buffoon. These people are evil buffoons, the lowest scum there is.

This is like the 14^th secretary to the secretary etc. to Hitler trying to start a new Reich on some blasted island somewhere, all while a complicit fat piece of shit slurps his pasta like Mussolini and coaches the world into oblivion.

This is not a nice place to be and I welcome napalm death now. I wish for the morning to light up with the glow of fire and chemicals coming to melt the skin off my body as I shrivel away like one of those dudes who looked in the Ark in an Indiana Jones movie. The Lions are a dogshit team with no hope and no future and no past except that there is a past and that is the only thing that is real and it so fucked up and horrible that it renders the concept of a benevolent god a moot point, leaving us all contemplating the idiocy that is fandom and why we care about any of it at all.  I mean, who gives a fuck about any of these idiots? Fuck ‘em all. Set fire to the stadium and shoot anyone who tries to leave.

There is no hope on the horizon. You are a fucking idiot for reading this. I am a fucking idiot for writing this. And so, yeah, that’s all I have left to say to all you ghouls and lady ghouls who somehow still support me and care about the shit I have to say. I may be the best sportswriter alive, but why do I have to waste it on this shithead of a team? This is a question that strikes to the entire foundation of the human problem, in which we are doomed to be fucked over by the very things that should make us great. No one cares and no one wants to read the ether and gasoline tasting words of some idiot who is too stupid to just quit watching this team altogether. I make a lot of poor choices, as evidenced by my fucked up tailbone or coccyx or whatever the fuck it’s called. My tail cock. Okay? I fucked up my tail cock. But even that fucked up tail cock and the poor choices that led to it are nothing compared to the poor choice that is still caring about this goddamn football team at all, which has never done anything nice for me, only taken and taken and taken until I understood that I was doomed to be a fuckup my whole life. This right here is my poorest choice of all and I will see it in hell.