I have decided to break up Gambling With Sanity into two parts. The first, this fucking thing, will concentrate only on the Thursday game, allowing me to let loose a little bit (lol what the fuck, he hasn’t already let loose?) on the teams, the fans, the cities, the culture and all that horseshit that you come here to step in because stepping in horse shit is good luck according to The Sopranos. And then on Friday/Saturday/scrambling in a panic on Sunday, I will get the rest out. I’m still not sure what I want to write about the Lions, but I need to get something out about them too because they are chasing me right now like the clown in IT with 66 yard field goals destroying the will and allowing that fucker to do whatever the fuck he does. The clown in IT was a parable about child molesters, wasn’t it? I mean, Stephen King isn’t exactly subtle in his menagerie of stupid horrors. Anyway, I’ve already got us in some deep water, so let’s paddle like mad and get back to land where we can write and talk about this football game between the Jaguars of Jacksonville and the Bengals of Cincinnati.
Jacksonville (+7.5) at Cincinnati
Urban Meyer is already coaching USC In his mind, and he probably has an escape plan from that job already once he takes it, thinking 9 moves ahead, not so much like a chess master, but more like a fucking sociopath mapping out his future with all it’s possible permutations which as a man with no soul he has seen and vectored or whatever the fuck all the possible outcomes of the various rapes, murders and the darkness which follows him everywhere, and so while you’re reading this he’s already having backchannel talks with the English Premier League because at some point he knows he will be run out of American football and will need a fallback plan with some slithery English barons or whoever he can con. Because right now, this con is not going so well.
Trevor Lawrence is a classic Golden Boy, and sometimes that works out and you win Super Bowls and sometimes you end up in Vivid Videos or whatever porn empresario is running that shit. He is not a man of letters and science. He is just a dumb fucking golden retriever and everyone thinks he can be a good dog, but that monster Urban Meyer is fucking the golden retriever!
Aaron Hernandez’s ghost is creeping in from all corners of that kid’s room and maybe we’re back to the clown from IT, but Urban Meyer might be something even more evil and Trevor Lawrence might end up with PTSD, crying every time he hears a loud noise, hysterically wailing for his mother as memories of the time that Urban took him into the swamps around Jacksonville and introduced him to the King in Yellow or whatever horrible Carcosa is going on down there. His soul is lost, broken forever, and if Urban himself didn’t eat it, he almost assuredly traded it to some Arabs or whoever the fuck has the money on some yacht in international waters.
But Jacksonville has its own billionaires in the Khan family, who are not Star Trek villains, but a man and his son willing to throw all that money around to play with toys like the Jaguars or Fulham in the aforementioned English Premier League (you see, Urban’s already making the “right” relationships) and on professional wrestling in a company almost literally birthed by the internet wrestling crowd.
Tony Khan once posted on the same message board that I did, that a lot of you reading this did. Fuck, Harpo used to chat with him about what he would do if he owned a wrestling company, and now he does, or his dad does through him, and somehow Urban Meyer got sucked into all of this and even ended up on a PPV during those dark, cold Covid months and wrestling and football threatened to become the same thing. There is a lot of decadent red flags flying in Jacksonville, and at some point Tony might end up getting imprinted with that wrestling sleaze and do something that makes Papa Khan pull his allowance. I mean, if the wrestlers don’t turn Tony Khan into a man crawling on the floor so he can get more blow hidden in a stripper’s cooch Urban Meyer will be right there to guide him down the depraved steps into hell.
It will be a sad final act for Jacksonville, who went from Lynyrd Skynyrd shredding guitars, voices and eventually their own lives in the pursuit of art to Fred Durst screaming like someone paid an ape to start a band, and now there are professional wrestlers running around everywhere, and even though they are mostly just nerds these days, you can never, ever trust in their carnie souls. They will try to con you the best they can, and when you combine that energy with Urban Meyer’s own Super Predator conman energy you’ve got a fucking wild situation and people are probably gonna die.
But Urban Meyer will escape it all. He always does, and a couple of years from now, he’ll just laugh it up on the yacht while he’s plowing a Kardashian about the time he conned Jacksonville out of their football team. And that is already in motion because the Jaguars are fucking awful, no one seems to know what they’re doing and it’s possible this is just a big grift designed to swindle the Khans or the entire city of Jacksonville when Urban Meyer shows up on a billionaire’s yacht with a full football team and challenges any team in the world to face them in international waters.
It’s a chaotic scene and that is where grifters do some of their best work, and this is why Joe Burrow has to be thankful he wound up in Cincinnati instead of that fucking circus. Imagine Cincinnati being the land of milk and honey. That’s how fucked up things are in Jacksonville. Joe Burrow knows a thing or two about late-night swamp dumps, probably sinking a coed or two after some college “experimenting” that all the young sociopaths do. Yes, Joe Burrow is probably a sociopath, just like Urban Meyer, because that is essentially the job description for an NFL quarterback.
But whether or not Joe Burrow and Urban bumped into each other in a late-night swamp dump\Taco Bell run, Burrow is in a far better position than Trevor Lawrence. Urban Meyer is fucking that golden retriever!!!
So, I mean… yeah, Jacksonville has no identity beyond circus freak show shit and the Bengals are probably going to beat the shit out of them, just like their star running back, Joe Mixon, beat the shit out of some girl when he was at Oklahoma. That girl ended up with a broken jaw and had to have surgery to put her face back together. Sure, she spit in his face after apparently he made some homophobic remarks about one of her friends, but a little spittle is not worth Tysoning her.
It’s a terrible fucking world out there, and there are monsters in it. Some of them are held up as heroes and icons for a fucked generation, their millions of dollars and self-assured swagger teaching kids to do all manner of vile shit so long as you get that cash that comes from making yourself into a modern gladiator. They don’t keep them in the slave pits anymore, but don’t tempt Urban Meyer. He is already lost and on to the next to the next to the next to the next scheme in his lizard brain while Trevor Lawrence lies in ruins, that golden retriever won’t even lick the Khan’s hand after what Urban does to him, and that means that Cincinnati’s villains will continue to flourish in the shadow of the death of the American Dream and Urban Meyer doesn’t care. He can’t feel human emotions, he is Anton Chigurh stalking the horizon as the sun sets on this goddamn country and this tragically ruined world.
Pick: Bengals
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