The AFC East will always be Tom Brady’s kingdom until he
decides to retire to a life of singing Huey Lewis hits while he sanitizes the
kitchen after that rat he forced into that lady’s vagina ate through her
entrails and just made a huge fucking mess and he’ll be damned if Gisele
catches him, not because she would be angry but because he didn’t share with her.
And that is where the king of the NFL stands today, another
year older, another psychotic training regimen and diet to keep him from
decomposing like a ghoul. I am roughly the same age as Tom Brady, a year or two
younger maybe, and I understand the ravages of time. I get it. I feel it, and I
know he does too, but while I escape from my own disintegration in a haze of drugs
and possibly illegal hormones that keep my testosterone where I want it to be,
Tom Brady is in an entirely different universe of anti-aging techniques or
wizard spells or whatever the fuck obscenely rich and powerful people do to
slow the inevitability of decay. He could probably keep this up for several
more years, only leaving on his own terms when he finally finds whatever the
fuck kind of satisfaction a competition freak can find.
But that is the rub for Tom Brady. Dudes like him never find
satisfaction. They are always chasing down more titles, more glories, more
proof that they are superhuman demigods who can fucking beat time and death and
the inevitability of a universe’s collapse, a pathological will that takes
control of the meat puppet and forces it to win win win until it finally all
just breaks apart in a horrid cacophony of injuries and a stubborn refusal to
acknowledge that you cannot play quarterback until you are 90 years old. Michael
Jordan had to quit, more than once, because of this sickness. It was either
that or face the possibility that one day he would no longer be capable of
being the best, physically or mentally.
But Brady lives in a different world than Jordan did. Brady
lives in the 21st century, in the fucking future, where every tiny
little thing can be micromanaged and controlled and perverted to your needs. He
can hire an entire team of dieticians and kill them all and then process their
bodies, their marrow, into a tonic that no peasant could ever hope to taste. He
can get gorilla cum flown in daily from Africa to lube his aged joints. He
could purchase a child from some shithole and nourish himself on its brains, getting
only the good stuff because he knows how to do that because he hired the top
cannibals to aid him in his quest for more more more.
Brady will do this until one day something crazy happens and
he becomes broken. And when it does, the entirety of the Patriots universe will
collapse in on itself, Bill Belichick won’t be able to do a goddamn thing about
it and Robert Kraft will end up dumping the team so he can move to Florida and
hit up the rub and tugs every goddamn day. At some point they will simply all
be too goddamn old for all this bullshit, and that is the only thing that is
going to stop them. When that happens is anyone’s guess. I wouldn’t count on it
happening this season. The Patriots and Brady are fresh off of conquering the
world yet again. They have taken their slaves, raped the women and some of the
children too. They are all conquering and you know that they will be there in
the end and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.
So, until that day comes, when even Tom Brady can no longer
cheat the universe, the Patriots are the pick to win the AFC East. Nothing else
really matters. The defense will ebb and flow, the running game will be
featured more to allow Tom to protect himself from the horrors of age, but in
the end it will all come down to that man, Tom Brady, winning until the
universe finally kills him.
It helps that the rest of the division is largely a tire
fire. The Jets might make a move since they picked up Le’Veon Bell, but in the
end, the Jets are always going to be the Jets. I am not sold on Sam Darnold,
the latest USC dream machine, echoing Todd Marinovich and Matt Leinart, old
butt fumble himself Mark Sanchez, who lest we forget was also supposed to be
the savior for the New York Jets.
That’s how fucked up this team is. Their grand plan is a
copy of a plan that already hilariously failed. That is not something that
engenders a whole lot of hope and optimism from a fanbase who, uh, aren’t exactly
calm and patient people. Darnold will wither in New York because that’s what
happens in New York. It eats its own and then wonders why it can’t get a
fucking quarterback to save the day. It’s been a long time since Joe Namath
called his shot, but even Namath only lasted for that one year and flamed out.
And that’s Joe fucking Namath. That is the most charismatic dude, a drunken
swagger that fucks anything that moves and knows that he can get away with it.
That dude broke in New York, so who the fuck else could handle it?
It’s always the same story with the Jets. They are a team
perpetually on fire, and whether that fire just burns in a shitheap that goes
nowhere or explodes spectacularly in an out of control run that inevitably
still ends with the entire franchise being burned alive, they will be right
back where they started, playing with matches and throwing young dumb cum
machines into a madhouse of unreal expectations and absurd self importance.
Fire burns it all down in the end, and it cracks the foundations and this is
the world of the New York Jets in any given year.
The Jets might make a little wild card push, but that’s
about it, and they’ll have the Bills nipping at their heals, hoping that
finally they get this goddamn thing right.
But they probably won’t. They are all in on Josh Allen,
which I don’t think will work out. He is the sort of athlete that can allow you
to get exotic with your playbook, but as a passer, he just isn’t good enough
and I doubt he ever will be. The Bills will be better this year, just running
the fuck out of the ball with Allen and LeSean McCoy and Frank Gore, who is a million
years old but still gets after it better than most of the younger dudes.
But that is a pretty brittle house to trust to last through
the winter. McCoy is getting older too and didn’t have a good season last year,
and what happens when your two backs both break down, which will happen to Gore
eventually because the universe is cruel and indifferent, and Josh Allen is
left to save the day with a passing game that is almost an afterthought? The
Bills will then revert to their base form and lie dying and twitching like a
poisoned rat.
Defensively, the Bills will probably be pretty tough, and
the hot new kid on the block, Ed Oliver, has the potential to be a dominant
sort of dude. But he is also a dude who tried to throw down with his college coach
last year because he felt disrespected or some shit. I think it had something
to do with a jacket, which is ridiculous, but these are ridiculous times and
these are ridiculous people. Whatever the deal is with Oliver, it’s obvious
that this could go hilariously wrong. Then again, if those crazy energies are
properly harnessed, the Bills might have something here.
But it won’t be enough, because it’s Buffalo, and its people
are doomed to a life of slow decay, sitting fat and miserable under an
avalanche of snow, trying to revive a heartbeat of a city that had a heart
attack 100 years ago, when that part of America, that belt of Buffalo,
Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Detroit was a goddamn furnace, making things and
making hard ass people until one day people in China started making things
cheaper and goddamn that aorta just fucking exploded and left everyone feeble and
in need of a transplant that will never come. That sort of energy blankets the
Bills. It is haunting and terrible, but that is just the way it goes in this
fucked up world.
So, the Jets and Bills are both spiritually fucked and couldn’t
topple the Patriots even if Brady suddenly combusted in a hell fire, demons
clawing at him, dragging him down down down to pay the fucking bill. And that
just leaves the Miami Dolphins, a team rooted in its own decay and misery, a
swampland of the soul that they just can’t get out of no matter how hard they
try.
For some reason, the Dolphins just can never get their shit
together, and whatever vestigial glories remain from the 70’s when Don Shula
and Bob Griese were turning out championships aren’t helping at all. In fact,
they’re probably hurting the Dolphins, what with Shula and Griese and whoever
is still alive infamously toasting themselves whenever the last undefeated team
goes down. That sort of slavery to the past can only ruin the team in the
present.
And this year, the Dolphins almost seem content to just say
fuck it and run this thing into the ground once and for all and then maybe
build something new from the wreckage. They’ve dumped a lot of salary and haven’t
bothered to replace any of it, and they traded for Josh Rosen, who was kicked
out of Arizona after only one year because a shiny Kyler Murray turned up. That’s
not exactly a sign that Rosen is a real deal type.
I like Rosen. I think he’s got a weird sort of energy that
is probably off-putting for some people, and if he could bend a team to his
will, they could really have something. But he probably can’t, and that’s just
gonna lead to a lot of hate in the locker room and then who knows what the fuck
will happen because Miami is all out of options. They have tried everything and
nothing has worked. Maybe they will get lucky with Rosen, but I doubt it.
And so that leaves the AFC East looking the same as it does
every other goddamn year, with Tom Brady and the Patriots owning it so
completely that the other three teams should just sublet their places and get
the fuck out of there.
It’s possible the Jets or Bills sneak a wild card out, but
they won’t go far. Meanwhile, we all know that in the end it will all come down
to Tom Brady, who has conquered the NFL so thoroughly that there can be no possibility
of an heir. He has killed them all, eaten them like Saturn devouring Cronos,
and the only real intrigue is whether he does a Jordan and gets out before Time
comes for him. Everybody hates him and the Patriots, but he doesn’t give a
fuck. None of that matters. All that matters to Tom Brady is that he gets a
chance to win one more time, no matter how small or petty the game is. He has
to win it. It is the only thing about him that is real. It is the entirety of
his being. And he will keep on winning until he is broken down and then he will
pathologically crawl towards death and start gnawing its toes, gnawing and
gnawing and gnawing until he gorges himself and chokes on it or until death
separates his head from his body and buries his dismembered corpse in various
places around the kingdom, each hexed and looked after by a witch so that no
necromancy can bring him back.
Projected Standings:
1. New England Patriots 12-4
2. New York Jets 9-7
3. Buffalo Bills 9-7
4. Miami Dolphins 3-13
