Friday Fiction Fix (Saturday Edition): "The Elephant"

I keep imagining a scenario in which I get this job thing crammed into some form of Monday-Thursday, and take three days off each week, but so far it hasn't happened, thus the four-month hiatus from my personal HoG favorite. So I'm effin' up the rotation, and delivering one on a Saturday. This has been quite the week with regard to Chiefs-Broncos football, and obviously I'm referring to the epic trade of Screamin' Jay to the Chicago Bears. Before we get into today's piece, however, I'd just like to say that for anyone who whined about the Chiefs only giving up a second-rounder for Matt Cassel and Mike Vrabel, this is your invitation to shut the hell up. I'm not saying it's a sketchy deal, but for Chicago to give up their starting quarterback, a middle-of-the-draft pick, and two firsts for Schlubby McKidShow is pretty astonishing. I anticipate that the perceived values will pan out for both clubs, but consider my feathers ruffled that the stupid Broncos follow the Chiefs' 2008 draft of 10 picks with 10 of their own. I was really getting used to Denver having only five or six picks and screwing up on three of them. But bygones and whatnot, right?

Aravind Adiga was born in India of October 1974. He studied English literature at Columbia College in New York, and at Magdalen College, Oxford. He won the Booker Prize for his debut novel The White Tiger last year, and today we'll look at a short story of his that was published in the January 26 issue of The New Yorker. As you may have guessed, it's called "The Elephant."

Our story is about a young boy, a coolie, if you will, who pulls a cart. His name is Chenayya.



Coming out of college, "He had been told to take the quick route."



"Once he was over the hump of the hill,



he let the cycle glide."

But he could not maintain such an easy course for long, as things along his path began to change. And these changes concerned him. When these changes began to gravely concern him, "Chenayya closed an eye and examined them one by one."







When he was most certain that he did not like what he saw unfolding before him, "he left the house, grumbling and sulking."

He thought to himself as he retreated “...in the end those who believe always win. That is the way the world works...I can’t go on this way forever,” Chenayya said.

As time wore on, his thoughts grew more intense: "You can’t go on. This was when the sense of resistance to his fate waxed greatest within him, and, as he pushed, the restlessness and anger that had been inside him all day became articulate at last: You will not break me, motherfuckers! You will never break me!"

When the situation grew more difficult still, he recruited the help of others



and said to them, "Take this load from me! It’s more fitted to your size, you motherfucker!”

Chenayya's frustration continued to grow with each day.

“What is wrong with this world,” he asked...“when an elephant gets to lounge down the road,



doing no work, and a human being has to pull a cart with so much weight on it?”

"All at once... he stopped...with the simple and clear thought: I can’t go on like this."

"Why don’t you do something...anything, to improve yourself?"

"The next day...he thought, What a fool I have been, never even to have tried to get work here."



"The doorkeeper slapped him.

I am the biggest fool here, Chenayya thought, back in his alley...It was late at night, and he was the only one who could not sleep. I am the biggest fool. I am the biggest baboon here."

"He came back with a bottle of liquor...He drank the bottle dry, then went over to the liquor shop and bought another bottle.





When he woke the next morning, he realized he had spent his money on liquor.

All of it."

And so continued this cycle, for what seemed like an eternity, until one day it stopped.

“Your number has come up, Chenayya.”



And so it seemed that the endless pouting, cursing, and drinking paid off, and the message was conveyed that every Cutlerfucker has his day.

Check the above New Yorker link to see how Adiga's story finishes. If you like it, purchase The White Tiger here.
Read more

Tradition Tuesday: Gettin' Back to Our Roots

Now then. I reckon that, right around this time each week we're mumbling on about traditions and rough focuses with regard to our favorite football teams. Like most sports bloggers, we go to extensive ends to remind our readers that we are massive homers, heavy drinkers, and not afraid to take pot shots at the wives. Today, if only for a moment, I'm going to abandon that notion. You see, I'm 100 percent sober at the moment. The wife's presently on a mad streak of pleasantness (Editor's Note: Sweet Jesus in Heaven -- show me the way to bottle this concoction.) and well, we're not scoopmasters all that often, though we do have our moments. This naturally leaves me with the lone choice of breaking down the Chiefs and the Broncos with the old-fashioned fuel known as passion. Now it might take me a moment to get the spark, air, and gas to combust, but once I do, hold on to your wood screws hats, 'cause I'm'a blow your doors off.

You know, now that I think about it, I spent most of my day in various elementary schools. I saw everything from identifying nouns versus verbs to simple subtraction problems to pattern-description exercises to drawing pictures of pigs and chickens. So what better way to break it on down than with everyone's favorite tool: the alphabet. Oh yeah. Believe it.

A) is for animosity, boys and girls. Animosity is like a feeling of ill will or hostitlity. And ill will is something Broncos fans feel for Chiefs fans and vice versa. The sad thing is is that from this side of the Missouri River, it's hard to envision just what it is that makes Denver fans feel hostile towards Kansas City fans. From behind the red-and-gold glasses, the orange-and-blue franchise participated in shenanigans to get ol' Horse-Faced Colts Draft, and for most of his career (some 15-16 years), Elway and the Broncos dominated the Chiefs in the sense that they had more playoff appearances, one or two more Super Bowl wins, and a heckuva ride in which to cap the whole thing off. The only thing KC accomplished during this era was to get nearly all of the home wins against (Note: But certainly not the big one.) the Broncos, and an occasional victory at Mile High. Post-retirement, KC got consecutive wins for the last two Chiefs games at the old digs, and since the new one opened, they've not won there once. Throw in the fact that Chiefs fans suffered through the forever-stamped-as-retarded Herman Edwards Experiment and a convenient return to the AFC Championship game for Denver, and I just don't see how the animosity could flow evenly towards Hays, KS from both directions.

B) is for Bubby Brister. It just has to be. In fact, I'll crack into the aforementioned sobriety and a can of Pabst in cheersing you, Mr. Bubby Brister jersey-tucker guy. You. Rule.

C) can only stand for one thing, and that's Cutlerfucker. I have a bit more to say about this neverending nightmare of a story, but for now, get the official word on Denver preparing to trade Jay Cutler here.

D) is for Denver, silly rabbit. Great city. Fantastic scenery in the surrounding areas, and, well, three out of four pretty-darn-cool professional sports teams ain't bad, y'all. Avs, Nugs, Rox -- much love. 'Nuff said.

E) is for Elway. Eli-style.

F) is for Fame. As in the Hall of, also known as Canton, OH, where the true champion of good fortune for all and will toward men is well-represented. The douche faucets...not so much.

G) is for Grbac, because I don't think the English language has ever seen a better 'g' word. I still can't believe that guy was our quote/unquote leader for a time. A deep, dark, painful time.

H) is for horses. They're everywhere around InVesCo. The parking lot. Atop the stadium. On all three versions of the Denver helmet. There've even been horse matter on the team, like that pile of horse-pucky Romanowski, or the horse's ass Maurice Clarett, the horse teeth of Elway, and of course the horse lips of Shannon Sharpe.

I) is for...say it with me now, everybody! "In-Com-Plete!" Liberace just texted me from the grave. His message said "tht iz geigh."

J) is for Joe. The greatest quarterback to ever play the game. No I don't mean Namath, and no I don't say it solely because he was a Chief. Though that does help.

K) is for kharma, bitches. Kay to the harma. Pull some bullshit deal with the Colts to get the 80s Eli under your center, and look what happens: Your entire -- and I do mean 100 percent -- fan base is sick-in-the-mouth obsessed with who his replacement will be, when he will get here, and how soon will he take us to three ass-poundings of Super Bowl games before we can win two consecutive and happily slop our semen across one another's chins. That's right. I said it. Somebody had to say it. Let's run through the mix here: Griese wasn't good enough. I've tried to stick up for him and say that he wasn't given a fair shake, an argument which was tossed to the canvas swifter than a body slam by the J-Y-D, but whatever. There's Bubby. There's Gus. There's The Snake. And now there's Cutler. You know what else there is? Season number 11 since HFCD retired rights 'rounds corns, which means that by the time Jay Jam's replacement is in there and familiar with the system, John Elway's entire career will have already happened again. I dunno. You did get those two trophies, so I imagine it was worth it. I just find it tickling how much struggle there has been in trying to find the new "one."

L) can only be for one thing: Larry. Wow. I could write novels.

M) must be for Mecklenberg. He's probably the first Bronco I remember, and I remember him being pretty good, aside from that gay-pride-parade uniform he always wore on the field. What a creep.

N) is for never, as in never, ever, ever-ever-ever-ever-ever in a million years did I think that the Chiefs would go 2-14. goodtimes.com/cockanballsonthetongue right there.

O) can also only be for one thing: "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-OH-OHHHHHHH-OHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH-OHH-OHHHHHHH."

P) has dual significance: Peterson, Pioli. I'll be the one (of eight kazillion) watching.

Q) is for guys that have played for both teams, like Quentin Griffin. Ah, fuck it; it's for queer.

R) is for road wins. I'm told they exist.

S) is for my favorite Tradition-al game-time comment: "Sizzle, sizzle."

T) could be for tight end. It could also be for Tony, but it's actually for both, an' while I'm cheesin' it up, let's throw in "terrific."

U) is for unfortunate, as in it's a shame that these past couple of seasons have tilted the AFC West rivalry peak to Denver-San Diego. For that, and for so, so, so much more, I thank thee, Herm Edwards.

V) is for Big V, which I think stands for the big Victory in the sky I'm hoping to one day see mere moments before a Kansas City Lombardi is hoisted.

W) is for welcome to the machine, Jackson. May the force find you lured to the good side.

X) must be for Brian Xanders. I don't know why. I just want to get this over with now.

Y) has to be yee-haw, which all of us Chiefs fans say when we put on our

Z) ubaz after having sex with our fat sisters in preparation of staying at the bars 'til zee dawn post big-game tailgate.

"Zing!" works pretty well, too, if you feel like substituting it.
Read more

More Monday Miscellany

Time for one more quickie here inside the House of Georges walls. I hadn't really spent much time in the CyberSpaces yet today, but when I did, there was a thing or two I couldn't pass up. So after the jump, get a mini-fix of 'Tubes, 'Nails.

The diamond deejays over at Bugs & Cranks have put together this pleasantry of Tommy Lasorda:



From Deadspin comes two newsworthy notes of interest:

1) The NY Daily News says that Gang Green wants its fans to yell "Jay-E-T-S Jets! Jets! Jets!"



We're anticipating this move to happen, and we're also going to start taking running bets on how long it takes Screamin' Jay to tell Suzy Kolber he wants to kiss her.

(Editor's Note: Speaking of SK, meant to link to this KSK post several days ago, since it has their second Todd Haley rant, and I'm sure there are many, many more to come. While the post, and frankly most of their content is pretty hilarious, I must mention that we, of course had that StubTube up first. Pricks.)

2) Apparently Curt Schilling has retired,



and apparently ESPN ran the story with a blockquote, all neat and tidy with Jose Canseco's picture in it.

That's about as unfortuneate as the Raiders opening their season on Monday Night Football for the third time in four years. Good gravy...
Read more

A Thursday Threesome of Stooge-nificence

Couple quick bites on the quarterback situation due west of Limon, Colorado. Not sure if much of this is news, but I found it relatively jaw-dropping.

I'll not attempt to out wordsmith my Colorado colleagues with regard to the seemingly never-ending Jay Cutler situation, but there are a few scrap heaps I'll throw in. Like this one:

"'Cutler is one of those young guns out there that brings great name recognition from the get-go...But I don't think football-wise it would add that much...I believe Jay Cutler is one of the top 12 quarterbacks in the NFL, but I would not put him in the top eight. He has a lot more to prove.'

Dilfer's concern — and one area he doesn't give Cutler an edge over Sage Rosenfels or Tarvaris Jackson — is managing key downs."

I have two thoughts on this and they are these: 1) I always appreciated Trent Dilfer solely for the fact that the Baltimore Ravens won a Super Bowl with a guy like Dilfer under center. It somehow ties to the sense of fleeting hope Kansas City fans had around 2000, when the Schottenheimer regime had ended, Gunther Cunningham was coach, and the Gannon-Grbacle was still a rotten taste in the mouth. It spoke to me and said, "See? You can win without an elite quarterback." At the time, I'd managed to block out the other 417 voices screaming "Holy Fuck -- We are going to suck forever!" 2) I don't intend to question, per se, Dilfer's playing ability. I'm not a professional athlete, and I've never inhabited his body, but I will say that in his effort here to make what I consider a decent point or two, he has officially placed himself in the Duh Seat for not giving Cutler an edge over Tarvaris Jackson or Sage Rosenfels.

I don't care if we're talking third-down play or drug purchasing; I'm sure he does a better job at most anything than those two clowns.

Oh, Mark Kiszla. How do you still have a job?

"Happy trails, Jay Cutler. Have a nice life. Here are three quarterbacks who could make the Broncos a better football team when you're gone:

1) Matthew Stafford, Georgia Bulldogs

2) Brady Quinn, Cleveland Browns

3) Tony Romo, Dallas Cowboys"

Hasn't everyone been saying that this year's crop of QBs is less than impressive? Isn't Cutler already an improvement since he's got experience and knows the system? Didn't you watch that thriller (Editor's Note: Do not take the black glove out, Brandon.) of a game between the Browns and the Broncos? Didn't Cutler get the edge in that dual? Didn't Quinn wind up on the bench again later? On Rome today, there was mention of Tony Romo being more interested in being a celebrity than a winning quarterback. I won't say I agree because part of me thinks that he media wants Tony Romo to be a celebrity just because his pal Peter Goezinya has been inside Jessica Simpson's garage. His team, however, the one with an oft-impressive roster, has come up short in big situations.

And Woody Paige, you worthless vile of simmering ejaculation. I won't even honor your post with a blockquote, but way to have six exclamation points in you opening 'graph. Billy Shakespeare? Pigeon Valley? Why don't you go hang out on a couple of terrible ESPN shows for a few years, and then come crawling back to Denver. Oh, wait...


Read more

Thursday ThumbTubes & YouNails: 3-19-09

The third Thursday in March used to mean something to me. I remember getting excited for the NCAA tournament and doing brackets some 20 years ago, and at the time, it was pretty novel because only myself and like three other friends would do one. It seemed as if we couldn't recruit people to participate. Well, like everything else sports/media related, the science of bracketology has just plain gotten out of hand. It's been a number of years now that we've had to adapt to the fact that women are participating in brackets, and allow me to remind you to back up a solid 5000 yards if they win one. Those victories are equated to the second coming of the Messiah. But Christ, I caught a significant portion of Rome today, and it seems like that was all he talked about: bracket updates (with obnoxious air-raid siren), and e-mails from bracketers, and tips on how to get away with watching the games at work. He skipped out on several stories he "wanted to get to," like, oh, I dunno, Jay Cutler. Sure. I'm still into the Madness, but come on.

Now this is the moment where I invite you past the jump to look at some stuff. And yes, some of said some stuff has to do with brackets. Sigh.

The House of Georges affinity for Team America has



taken a shot to the ball of yard. And with that open wound comes a hefty dose of salt.



"The desperation defensive deployment backfired Wednesday night in the World Baseball Classic when Dunn made a wild throw that led to four unearned runs, and Venezuela won Group 2 by beating the Americans 10-6 to conclude second-round play in Miami...Both teams had already qualified for the semifinals this weekend in Los Angeles. Injury-plagued Team USA is expected to make several roster moves before then."

At least the club can take solace in the fact that they have qualified for the next round, and, well, there's this:



which makes us feel good knowing that there aren't any gays on the roster.

In news of the slightly less comforting, it's HoG noteworthy that there is Royalty in Kansas City.



Let's hope his latest stop can contain appropriate behavior and good production.

Speaking of good, our old pals over at Bugs & Cranks have an interesting series going. They've also graced us with this:



And quickly abandoning such an impressive theme, onto the White House and brackets, courtesy of Awful Announcing:



And since we're in the neighborhood, you've got to see this if you haven't already:



Jumping from the hardwood to the ice, Hugging Harold Reynolds takes us to Total Pro Sports, who put together this piece



on the newest all-time winningest goaltender in the NHL: Marty Brodeur.

And we'd be off-kilter if we didn't touch more on Jay Cutler. To keep the kilter balanced, however, we've got to include a Chief story, even if it's about a former Chief becoming a Chief again.

That's gonna wrap 'er up for the Tubes and Nails today. Same time, same place next week. We'll be the ones typing.
Read more

Monday Miscellany: The Beat Goes On

Beware the ides of March now has an HoG-lific meaning. See all of three lines (and a link) on the skinny after the leap.

Man. I'm gonna stay mostly quiet and let the other two legs of the triangle do the talking on this latest episode of the Jay Cutler mini mega-drama. Now, the plausible unknown in this instance is that it's Chris Mortensen reporting. But Christ.
Read more

Friday Afternoon Fracasita: More Updateage on The Messiah (with Update) (and more Update)

To cut down to it, the Kissing Suzy Kolbers, among others, have put together a couple of good posts this week regarding the sands-throught-the-hourglass riDonculism going on within the organization known as the Denver Broncos Football Club. Links to those posts, just after the jump.

Earlier in the week, the boys over at KSK weighed on the Josh McDaniels-Jay Cutler situation. Now they've straight up written an open letter about the scenario. Some dweezil over at SI thinks this could wind up being a positive, and I suppose it could. One of the fellas at Mile High Report wonders, much like our own Cecil has, if Cutler's agent Bus Cook isn't to blame for the whole thing. With Leather had an entirely different approach to the matter: They think he's gender confused. All I know is that if I'm Jay Cutler, putting on an orange-and-blue jersey beats the heck out of one that's periwinkle and silver.

I'm guessing that some light will finally be shed on this little cracked nest egg when they have their little pow-wow on Monday. Have a fantastic weekend, y'all.

(Update: Wait a minute. What. The fuck:

"With offseason workouts scheduled next week at Dove Valley and uncertainty about whether Jay Cutler will show up, the quarterback on Thursday put his multi-million dollar house in Parker up for sale. "

-- props to Arrowhead Addict)

(Update II: This guy listened to Rich Eisen today, who feels pretty certain that Cutler will be traded on draft day.)
Read more

Tradition-al Side Affects: Then When He Leave for Nashville, He Be Talkin' Again

I'm not sure who should be saying, "That's my bike, punk!" in all of this mess, but if there's one thing to be said about being on the other side of the esteemed-excellence fence, it's that it sure is worth a chuckle when the collective orange-and-blue panties get bunched up. To the chagrin of some, that chuckle qualifies as a guffaw when said bunchy britches stay that way for three days and counting. And much like the rest of the events that unfolded, and eventually started this massive wedgie, everyone's got two cents, even in this economy. After the jump, we'll stop by a few of our favorite tubular reading holes to see just what it is folks be sprayin' about ol' Screamin' Jay from Vandy. Of course, we won't be able to get any quotes from the college freshman now wearing the Denver Motorola, but based on the efforts of the more-professional reporters of the world, we'll at least hope to scoop up a hint.

Let's tackle this now-overblown (Editor's Note: Or is it?) issue with some sense of chronology, mixed with a heavy dose of humor. If you haven't seen the most recent Marmalard/Cutlerfucker post over at Kissing Suzy Kolber, it is a must for any who have seen their previous Philip Rivers pieces. Hell, even for those who haven't, it's pretty flippin' rad. My segments are: "Ooooohhh Josh, Josh. That’s gold, man. That’s a shart and a half. Never knew you were funny like that. Cutler for Rivers? Sure, and then you can dip my wife’s tits in apple butter and scrape ‘em on your toast." and "CUTLERFUCKER’S GONNA BE THE END OF YOU! HE’LL PUT THE SULKFACE CHICKEN WING ON YOUR CAREER! 38 COACHES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA, ALL THANKS TO THAT FROWNYFACE TEABAGGER!"

Okay. Screw the order schtick. Fast forward to today, where this gem was posted over at With Leather. If you're feeling too lazy to click and read, allow me to summarize: Dan Patrick had Scott Hastings on his show. Hastings works for the Denver Nuggets in some modicum of television analysis, and he had some choice words for the nearly traded Denver quarterback. Words that look precisely similar to "arrogant little punk" and "he's a little bitch." The capper was this:

"When Josh McDaniel was introduced as head coach, Cutler didn’t even appear at the press conference. Hastings thinks that as the team leader, Cutler should’ve done everything in his power to appear there to support the new coach. He is, after all, the team leader."

There's also this tidbit penned by danzinski over at Pacman Jonesin':

"Dear Jay: They didn’t trade you. You don’t have to refer to your career with the Broncos in the past tense. At this rate you’re going to supplant Brett Favre as the most hang-dog, sad-sack quarterback of all time. Oh, one note on that: Bus Cook also represents Cutler. Bus may have hooked Jay up with Brett for some lessons in how to spew and blubber. Maybe Brett also taught Jay his other favorite bit: Forcing a team to give him what he wants by retiring. We await Jay’s announcement with breathless anticipation."

All of these details have BroncosCountry a bit shaken up, as Mr. East at BroncoTalk reports:

"This feeling is because of the ambiguity surrounded by this whole situation, you’re not sure who cheated you. Was it Cutler who asked for the trade earlier? Was it McDaniels and Xanders who asked first? Why can’t Brandon Marshall stay out of cuffs? Why can’t Cutler meet with McDaniels? This drama never happened before. It’s not just one person’s fault, it’s a collective group of mistrials that are tearing apart at the soul of your fandom."

Now, everyone's got to assume that McDanahan and Cutlerfucker will patch this up and start thinking about O.T.As. In the bizarre possibility that they don't, Bill Williamson looks at possible options for Young No. 6, which include Chicago, Detroit, Minnesota, Tampa Bay, San Francisco and the J-E-T-S Jets, Jets, Jets.

The boys over at Mile High Report have acquired information from Denver's CBS4 that there will be no trade involving Cutlerfucker. It has been said by an alleged Broncos insider (Gary Miller) that Mosh and Jay Jams will "will have a face-to-face meeting" "sometime next week when the quarterback is due to return to Colorado." They added some other words from a Broncos spokesman (Patrick Smyth) that hammered home an owner/coach-stamped message saying that the Broncos are not going to trade Jay Cutler. Period.

And hey -- that's what we expected to hear all along. What we don't expect to hear is Drew Rosenhausesque crap falling from Cutler's agent Bus Cook, who dropped this doozy yesterday:

"I do think under the circumstances it was very poor on their part if in fact they were trying to trade Jay...You don't know what's true and what's not true. Depends on what you read. It's unfortunate because Jay was getting in the groove out there in Denver, and all this just threw him out of kilter."

Frankly, most of this hype isn't helping. The Denver Post has published quotes from Nugget Carmelo Anthony, who said, "You got to learn that it is a business, especially with him... (Cutler) has been the guy who they've been saying could be the next (John) Elway perhaps." And Anthony's coach, George Karl chimed in as well: "Jay's got to understand there have been a lot greater players than him that have been talked about in trades. When the contracts are so big, every player is probably discussed." Apparently, Karl thought ill of this Cutler comment to the Post: "I don't play for the coaches anyway; I play for teammates. As long as we keep the guys we've got, I'll go out there and play."

In the end, consolidated papers, basketball figures, and stupid bloggers (Note: Catches reflection of self in monitor.) should just keep their mouths shut, their fingers idle. At least, I suppose that's the moral of the story for somebody out there.
Read more

Saturday Studmuffin: Kansas City Chiefs General Manager Scott Pioli

Scott Pioli gets this week's SS wink for pulling off the Matt Cassel deal. This is arguably the biggest free-agency deal thus far, maybe even more so than the pile of money Albert Haynesworth got for joining the Dan Snyder club. And everyone's got a take on it.
Bill Williamson thinks the deal had to be done. Sports Illustrated's Don Banks figures the Patriots could've gotten a lot more out of KC. Tim Graham suggests that both clubs now have more ability to draft position players and get younger. Turd burglar Adam Schefter reports that other teams, including the Denver Broncos, were in the mix for obtaining Cassel. Had they pulled the trigger, Jay Jams would've gone to Tampa or Detroit, which allegedly didn't sit that well with him.

And as usual, the gang at Arrowhead Pride has put in some solid work on the deal.



Thanks to them, and much more to come on this deal later this weekend.
Read more

Friday Funnies: The Denver Broncos Are the Gift That Keeps On Giving

Welcome back to the series of Tubes, beloved House of Georges readership. We talk a lot of Chiefs/Broncos football around here, and in two short days, Kansas City will be playing to not win the game once more, thus securing their worst record in franchise history, while Denver plans on begging the Colts to come to town for a cut-that-meat clinic of epic proportions.

Technically, this post has nothing to do with Shannon Sharpe, but stick a frank in that mitt, and I'll bet he's real skilled at giving the baby batter a jostling. Anyway, it's Friday. You ain't got no job, and you ain't got sh-- to do, so why not join us after the jump, and have a chuckle at the expense of the perhaps 2008 AFC West Champs. Come on. You've already got horse lips. Let's throw in a stoned lineman and a pouty lil' laser-rocket arm. It'll be fun. Promise.

Courtesy of Deadspin, we get a snippet from the Whale's Vagina, that stellar place known as SignOnSanDiego. According to Matt Wilhelm, Jay Cutler is a punk, along with other things that are "unfit for...radio." He also took some other liberties to plug his favorite AFC West signal-caller:

"Philip Rivers is not only one of the best football players I've ever met in my entire life. He is one of the best people off the field," Wilhelm said. "... He'a family man. He's in church every sunday. That's it. That's all you really get is golly and darn. Never a swear word. Never anything rude and crude as I mentioned have been said by one person. It never comes out of Philip's mouth."

Now, I'm not going to say I disagree, or think that Wilhelm is a liar, but I have seen a tiny shred of evidence to the contrary. Just sayin'.

Mr. Wilhelm, in calling Mr. Cutler one of the league's biggest crybabies, took a shot at Tony Gonzalez, too, saying that the two hold a tie-breaker in the whining category. Riiiigggghhht.

Then there's this tidbit from LarryBrownSports that claims recently retired Bronco Matt Lepsis has admitted to burnin' some bush, figuratively speaking. Though the story says Lepsis never admitted which drug(s) he used, he did say this:

“The first thing I did when I woke up in the morning was get high, and I would try to stay that way all day long...”

There is a nicer, holiday-cheerier side to this Denver squad, however. As Kissing Suzy Kolber's Big Daddy Drew reports, the Broncos have given the San Diego Chargers a "seasonal" gift:

From: Denver Broncos
To: San Diego Chargers
Gift: The AFC West

In discussing Sunday's game between the two clubs, BDD reports that "Neither of these flaming shitheaps deserve to make the playoffs, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t stage a fucking awesome game they last time they met. And it doesn’t mean that one of them – the Chargers – couldn't end up winning a playoff game or two once they get in. And they could do it all at the expense of leaving out an 11-5 Patriot team. I think the playoff system should be rejiggered so that this happens every year. I get a Thunderstik in my pants just thinking about it."

Mmmm. Flaming shitheaps. He also suspects that Denver head coach Mike Shanahan may be withholding something from the injury report: "Jay Cutler (asphyxia)." And finally, he's added Shanahan to his "Fire This Asshole" list of coaches that, in his opinion, need to be canned.

Other related miscellany:

Apparently, JJ McCartney, the Voice of the Ogallala Indians for over a 20th of a century, agrees, and he'd like to add that "If you blindly pay allegiance to Mike Shanahan, then I think you expose yourself as a Kool-aid-drinking lemming."

The Big Lead is predicting a Whale's Vagina victory by the score of 41-34.

HercRockFromTheSun agrees with the alleged injury-report shenanigans.

Oh, well. At least there's Eddie "KC" Royal...



Oh, and a Broncos roundup would be ridonculously incomplete, if we didn't drop in on Predominantly Orange. This week's jewel of insight looks like this:



"It comes down to this. A playoff team will be decided as the Broncos face the Chargers in San Diego. This entire season could be extended or it could be put into the record books for all to look back on in disgust."

Deadpan.
Read more

Tradition Tuesday: Even in the Wildest of Week 17s, I Imagine It Would Behoove One to Ax Somebody

The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos. We foolishly attend games at one another's stadiums each year, a gig we've had going for eight strong seasons. And by "strong," I mean consecutive. When we're not partaking of said elegance, we're busy bringing you The Tradition, our weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.

I'd be lying if didn't admit the inspiration that the Kissing Suzy Kolber clan has given me over the last two and-a-half years, and given how spanktacular things haven't been in the AFC West these last two seasons, their efforts regarding my division foes continue to stack up each week. While I've likely put together a lot of "work" here that was inspired by the blogkkaksters over yonder, I've never quite lifted an idea of theirs with the deliberance (Editor's Note: Patent pending.) that I will display this very morning. The reason for such is two-fold: I am an uninventive sloth with no sense of originality; and 60 percent of the time, it's damn funny stuff all the time. That said, kudos, as always, to them, and good luck, tho' I wishes it upon myself, to me.

It was 2008. The wind was rustling, the air brisk and heavy. A young, insulin-pack laden, pig-faced Indiana boy, graced with an arm strength greater than Marino, Montana, and Elway combined fondled his imaginary six-shooter, his eye on a prize...

(breeze picks up a bit; music spills out of nearby saloon)



"I'm gonna rope this baby



in easier than some Santa Claus 'tang on a Saturday night..."



"Not so fas-- (leg snaps and crumbles as he goes to stand from his saloon-porch table) Oww!" (fastens stretcher out of two chairs; lays down)



"YOU BUMBLING TWATS! DON'T YOU KNOW A FUCKETY FUCK ABOUT THIS FUCKING GAME SCHEME! THAT'S NOT EVEN A REAL TROPHY. THAT'S SOME COCKAMAMIE HORSE CRAP THAT EDWARDS MADE UP TO GET HIS SORRY-ASS TEAM (makes Marmalardish finger quotes) MOTIVATED."



"Hey now, Phil. That's not very n--"

Rivers: "SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU NEVER-COORDINATIN', SWEET-POTATO PIE EATIN' WORD MAKER-UPPER! CUTLERFUCKER -- DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING, YOU VANDERBILT DIPSTICK? WE WANT THIS ONE...



...AND THEN THIS ONE!"





(whispers to self) "Geez. Dunno what he's so mad about."

Rivers: "I HEARD THAT, YOU LITTLE GLAZED-DOUGHNUT FACED SHIT DICK! DON'T YOU EVER MURMUR UNDER YOUR BREATH ABOUT THE MARMANATOR! THE MARMANATOR IS ALL POWERFUL ALL THE TIME. HE CONTROLS THE NORV TURNER. HE CONTROLS THE MIKE SHANAHAN. HE CONTROLS THE GOODELL. HE EVE--

(earth rumbles; glasses fall from Croyle's table, shatter; Rivers and Cutler clutch nearby support beams)



"SILENCE, you pathetic bait-for-Eli fuck stain! How dare you interrupt my workout with your visions of grandeur?! You shall suffer the consequences..." (adjusts scoreboard of already decided contest, then instantly vanishes to write letter of apology to saloon owner for broken glasses)



(searches for words to describe the bone-crackling sound of his about-to-explode skull) "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"



"Hey, guys. What was that noise? Is everybody ok--" (dislocates, wrist, elbow and shoulder with interrogatory shrug) "Ouch!" (scampers at snail's pace back into saloon)



(peeks head out of saloon doors) "Yo, WonderBreads. Either uh y'all got a match?"

Cutler and Rivers: "SHADDUP!"



"Dudes! Y'all gots to see this. Check it out..."

(slowly, diligently removes killing instrument for Marmalard/Cutlerfucker slaying from within skeleton)

"Y'all are never gonna believe it. Somebody showed me this. I's laughin' for days."

(saloon side door flies open; Edwards emerges in sweater vest)

"Tyler! Hey, Tyler. It's Herman. Your head coach, Herman. You know that new fly sound you was talkin' about? Well, listen to THIS."



(mix tape hits Thigpen in temple, dropping him in the dust; weapon of destruction clanks upon a stone, shimmers in the AFC sun; Rivers spies it, makes way toward it while observing Cutler enjoying some Cool Ranch Doritos)



(tumbleweeds whip by; music inside resumes)...
Read more

Monday Morning Palindrome Postage: 12-22-08

Typically, I'd take this opportunity to congratulate Old No. 7 on hammering out, not only a weekend post, not only one of two weekend posts, but also sliding in to score post number 1000 here in this House of Georges. I'd then try and make a pun about this being 1001, but I'd probably be ridiculed somewhere in the commentary. So instead, I'll stick to some things that I know. Like, the fact that it's freaking cold out. Yesterday's loss to the Dolphins was 10 degrees at kickoff with a windchill of -12, making it the second-coldest game ever played at Arrowhead Stadium. Miami has never fondled the skins of pig in such chilly weather.

I knew this was coming, though. I predicted it in the RealLife Tubes back in June. Mild winter in 2007, topped with mild '08 summer equals a giant heap of frozen frickin' tundra. And like so many contests of this delectable season, Tyler Thigpen and the Kansas City Chiefs took to the literally frozen blades of grass and pretended like they were going to win for most of an American football game. And then didn't.

It's ridiculously sad and painfully true that 2007's 4-12 record looks pretty good from here. I mean, aside from the fact that it doesn't, that is. I've said before that I want to win every week, no matter what, but when it comes down to the difference between winning two games versus three or four, it's like picking your slice of pizza based on size. Yeah. That one's an eighth of an inch thinner, so it won't fill you up as much. Mmm-hmm. Funny thing is, folks've been making such commotion over these last two losses as if they really mean something. It's true that next week, both Missouri clubs will Indian leg-wrestle for the two slot in the draft, and the Chiefs will finish with one of their worst records in franchise history, and barring a six-sack day in Ohio, they will set a new all-time mark for the lowest in a season.

The point, though -- and I can now say I've learned this from experience -- is that the losses just stopped hurting. I type that with a straight face and honest meaning. They really do, and they really did. I think it was somewhere around the Saints game. That loss really pissed me off. The Chiefs were really in position to win it on a couple of occasions, but couldn't keep their act together. Then the Buffalo Bills come to town and score 14 touchdowns and some field goals, and yeah -- I was embarrassed to my inner core, but it didn't really hurt. It was nice to beat the Raiders for victory number two, and it would've been awesome to win in Denver, but I'm able to say that every year, lucky guy that I am. Somehow, though, it didn't surprise me that we lost to the Chargers by one point again, at the end of the game again last week, and I never expected us to beat Miami. Hell, they've played to win the game at least 10 times this year, and've nestled themselves into first place in the AFC East.

So even though I'm not certain that I realized it before this moment, I checked out on this season some time ago. When losses stop hurting, you as a fan have parted with your investment in the campaign. I'm sure there are fans that disagree, and to them I'll ask what the point is in caring. What does it matter if you score a win now? You buildin' a momentum clubhouse? 'Cause guys deserve it? Perhaps you think the fans do? Forget it. There is no deserve in winning. There're no sympathy victories, no pity parade, none of any of that. The Chiefs are perhaps "heading in the right direction," but the road they're taking to get there is called Awful Avenue.

So what do you do? Look west says I. Look west. Now, if I were a Broncos fan (Editor's Note: Thank you, Tom Cruise for not making me a Broncos fan.), I'd be weeping with the likes of Shannon Sharpe and Tom Jackson (Note: Mo' like Freddy Jackson) as they unsuccesfully try to break down this game, this stretch for Denver without bias. But I ain't. I's an Irish-Catholic, God-fearing Chiefs fan who is always there, waiting and ready with a box of Morton, all Pavlovian at the site of wounds like the ones the Buffalo Bills created yesterday. Therefore, I'm obligated, based on my faith and my DNA, to say "Thanks, God. You did some darn fine work, there."

Come 3:15 Central next Sunday, we'll be watching to see who's gonna call this game, and we'll be listening for the HochuliGate reference over/under, and some of us will be hoping for the San Diego fans to a) learn a little bit about football, b) purchase some tickets, c) attend the game in its entirety, d) remember the Alamo, e) at least try to make some noise -- wait, when Cutlerfucker has the ball, non Marmalard, and f) win this damn division. I'm well aware that that is a massive list, that in all likelihood, the Denver Broncos will pull the covers off this bed of feces they've been sleeping in since the Chiefs came to town, and rebound, securing themselves a post-season slot. Frankly, I don't give a damn who wins the game because the winner will only get hosed in the playoffs and officially send the entire AFC West away with its suitcase of shame.

In essence, this all makes me a cynical slimeball of a bitter, mean jerk. But you know, something's gotta take the place of pain via losses. Something.
Read more

Open Letter to the Lord Our God

I haven't asked for much this season, God. And you've delivered even less. But come with me, father of Jesus Christ, beyond the jump, to examine my last request. Well, my last request for today anyway...

Okay, it's kind of a combination request package, but I'll keep it simple.

1) One week from today, I need the Denver Broncos to lose when they host the Buffalo Bills at InVesCo Field at Mile High Stadium. On that same day, I need a San Diego Charger road win at Raymond James Stadium against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

2) The week after that, those two AFC West teams face off at Qualcomm Stadium. A Charger win on that day would be cooler than Easter. For real.

And that's it. You pick the scores; arrange them so that your fantasy team goes off, even. I don't care about attendance, or injuries, or anything beyond those results. That is, if you want to throw the above-pictured zebra into that game, that might be awesome, too. But if not, at least make it so this



comes up no less than five trillion times in the week leading up to the game. Thank you so much.

Your devout son,
bankmeister
Read more

Matriculating Toward Mile High

As you know, it's Tradition Week here at the HoG, and we're preparing for Sunday's Chiefs-Broncos showdown at Invesco. Cecil is furiously hiding the porn in his guest room, while Banky and I pack our toothbrushes and brass knuckles to travel to Denver this weekend.

In between loads of laundry, Bank and I launched a discussion on the state of the rivalry. This is said discussion:

Bankmeister: As much as I'd like to dive right in and discuss how gay your football club is while reminding you that mine is still awesome, we must first chat about this flippin' division. One of our recent guests said that it's simply the AFC West's turn to stink this year. I imagine he's right, but it irks me like bad drivers. If I had to tie a ribbon around a theme, it might read something like "winning games you're not supposed to, and losing contests you shouldn't." I think to a degree, this applies to all four West clubs, with Oakland being, as usual, the biggest exception.

Denver, for example, beats Tampa, New Orleans, and Atlanta, but drops games against Oakland and Kansas City. The Chiefs had a stretch of games from late October through mid-November where they, as underdogs, could've beaten all four opponents but didn't. And San Diego is darn near impossible to figure out. Tell us, if you would, your thoughts on the state of the division.

Is Denver simply trying to establish an identity? Will the re-building program in KC pan out? Does the mystery of the Chargers get hung solely on Norv Turner? What about Oakland? Can you see any chance that Tom Cable gets the interim tag removed?

Old No. 7: This division is truly awful, but I think it's just a victim of timing. Oakland and KC are in full lottery rebuild mode (actually, Oakland is in Waiting-For-Al-To-Die mode) and are hoping they can retool through the draft. Those efforts have yielded some sharp young players, but any real success is several seasons in the future, with new coaches. Cable is nothing more than a linebacker coach who's keeping the seat warm, but no real coach in their right mind would sign on for that gig. And while the Bill Cohwer Mirage is really played out, an actual NFL coach could turn your Chiefs into a contender pretty quickly.

Denver is, for the first time in Shanahan's tenure, actually rebuilding with youth, but a funny thing happened on the way to 6-10. Two funny things, to be exact. One, the gang of kids they brought in turned out to occasionally act like old hands--someone needs to carbon-date Eddie Royal's DNA and make sure he's not actually a genetically reengineered Keenan McCardell. And two, the window of opportunity slammed shut on San Diego, for reasons I'll get into in just a few short sentences. Do the Broncos still lose plenty of games they ought to win? Of course, they're young, inexperienced and prone to making dumb mistakes. But at the same time that inexperience means they can walk into the Meadowlands against a bunch of graybeards and kick their old asses soundly. They have no fear.

As for your would-be division standard-bearers out there in San Diego, a few nefarious trends are working against them. Norv is indeed spectacularly ill-equipped to run this or any other NFL franchise. His players don't respect him, which leads to a breakdown in discipline. But beyond that, the foundation is crumbling. Injuries have slowed onetime megastars like LT, Merriman and Gates. Many of the role players, the Michael Turners and Marlon McCrees, have moved on to get paid. And Phil Rivers is not the transcendent leader that, say, Eli Manning is. How's that for ironic? And beyond all that, the Chargers just don't do the little things an elite football team needs to do. They commit stupid penalties, they don't exploit matchups, and they give a lot of games away to team they should beat.

B: Fair enough. Let's stick with Denver for a second. After Installment One of this year's Tradition, we took our precious time vacating the lot, enjoyed some beverages, and listened to your thesis on how Jay Cutler needs to be excellent every Sunday in order for this team to win. You added, with admirable accuracy, that this team is a high-powered, finesse offense that has, to some degree, gone away from the smash-mouth, run-it-down-your-throat approach to football. Right now the numbers agree with you: The Broncos are third in the league in overall offensive yards, second in passing, and 19th in rushing. Some might argue, however, that this team needs to find more of a balance in order to have success beyond the crappiness of our division; be it this year or next, they've got to incorporate more yards on the ground. Obviously, it's been an awful year for your backfield injury-wise, but who's gonna be the man? Will it be Torain, or will Selvin Young eventually return to the stage of flashiness that he occasionally showed last year?

Also, how has the Denver defense progressed -- if at all -- since the season's beginning? Are they a smidge better? Worse? Stayed the same?

7: Right off the bat, allow me to submit a big fat mea culpa for being a giant moron. I completely whiffed on pretty much every aspect of this season, with the exception of Jay Cutler's indispensability. I thought the Broncos had a very average draft, when in actuality it may turn out to be the finest in franchise history (actually, don't click that link, I beg you--it's the most ignorant thing that's ever appeared in this space and that's saying a lot). I bought the conventional wisdom that Ryan Clady was a Wonderlic dummy, yet he looks like a perennial All-Pro. I was mortified by the idea of drafting Eddie Royal in the second round, and he's currently my favorite human being on the planet. Even bigger, I saw this team at the outset of the season as a complete bust that would finish well south of .500. I've been loudly and deservedly mocked for these pronouncements, which is the danger in posting my thoughts on such a prestigious and widely read publication as the House of Georges.

I'll say it loudly and proudly: I fucking LOVE the 2008 Denver Broncos. You call them gay, you heartless homophobe, but I'll admit in public that I am gay for this team in sick and twisted ways.... It may go down as one of my favorite Bronco clubs of all time, but not because they're excellent or anything. In the immortal words of Jim Mora, we might not win another game. Playoffs? You kiddin' me? No, I love these guys because they play with fire and they've so wildly exceeded my expectations.

As to your specific questions, there's no doubt this offense needs more balance. I'd like to think that the young Bronco O-line is currently more adept at pass protection than the ancient dark arts of zone blocking, and that by next season the old running attack will return. That may be myopic optimism on my part, though. It may be closer to the truth that we'll see a simple, straightforward drive-blocking offense that requires an actual stud tailback, not the dozens of retreads and castoffs that have platooned together gaudy rushing stats under Shanahan. From your standpoint, that would be a travesty, as it would disarm one of your trusty old chestnuts--that the Broncos only win because they are cheating cut blockers.

Regardless of the scheme, Ryan Torain clearly seems like the best candidate for success. He also seems to suffer gruesome injuries at the mere sight of a football field, unfortunately. I like Selvin, but I doubt he could carry the load on his own, which is by no means a criticism. Both the old-school football fan and the fantasy geek in me love the idea of a single dominant rusher, but I don't care how many RBs rotate--a yard is a yard.

I've quit trying to prognosticate what might remedy the Broncos' maddening defense. I really don't know if Bob Slowik is a genius for coping with myriad injuries and personnel changes or a dope who'll get canned like every other DC to pass through Dove Valley. I know that Champ Bailey and D.J. Williams are legitimate monsters who dominate when healthy, but the rest of these suckers baffle me. Is Elvis Dumervil a legitimate NFL defensive end or a circus freak? Beats me, he plays under a different system every season and faces a constant double team. He could be great, or he could be a bum, and neither would surprise me.

The one thing I'm sure of is that Denver needs someone to play safety with competence. They missed out on Gibril Wilson and Madieu Williams during the free agency period, but neither of those dudes is necessarily lighting it up. Draft the position early and often, preferably choosing gentlemen represented by neither Drew Rosenhaus nor the National Rifle Association.

Now let me ask you, sir: What's the scoop on Tyler Thigpen? Will he be your starter for the 2009 season opener?

B: As much as it saddens me to answer your questions -- I thusly miss out on opportunities to be called a white supremacist, a homophobe, a misogynist, and the like -- I will do it. I can see why you find yourself in the throes of a bro-mance with all 53+ Denver Broncos of the 2008 variety only because they are a new variety of Denver football, and indeed have exceeded your expectations. Mine, on the other hand, are still in tact, as I predicted these boys to go 10-6, San Diego winning the division notwithstanding.

Tyler Bobby-Yancy Thigpen, however, is a bird of a different feather. I can't really say that there's a scoop to be had on him. He looked miserly and mentally crippled when I watched him stumble around on your television, and he then saw his replacements who he replaced get mowed down in front of a firing squad, which handed him the job. He had that month of great football, and some of that credit goes to the Inverted Vagina Symbol for getting himself benched for said four weeks; it forced the Chiefs to move away from run-run-run-punt and see what this Coastal Carolina kid really had. The other goes to Chan Gailey for developing an offense for these Chiefs, one in which he knew Thigpen had experience. And I'll note that it is here that I totally whiffed in thinking that Gailey was yet another re-tread, another excuse for HermBall to continue to redefine terrible, and strengthen the stock of Chief Laughingness.

Now, he played relatively poorly against the Bills, but the team as a whole shit the bed with fire-hydrant pressure, and the experience of an army of nursing-home sphincters. Last week against the Raiders, he lofted a couple of oh-shit! balls into the air, and only one was picked, thanks to the massive ineptitude of everything that is Oakland football. What I like about him is that he's taken pretty darn good advantage of this opportunity, and wrapped a whopper of confidence around it. I didn't see that coming. At all.

What I really like is his ability to hit Dwayne Bowe, Mark Bradley, Jamaal Charles, the greatest tight end in NFL history, and on occasion, Devard Darling, with accuracy and minimal predictability. He has the same knack in doing so as pre-concussion Trent Green, plus he throws fewer picks, overthrows guys with less frequency, and, even if his legs were stumps like that dude on the Cleveland Brown sideline a couple of years ago, he's faster than Old No. 10.

In length, then, there is no way in the thick of all-night bars and greasy fat chicks that he is not the starter next year. Many think this upcoming draft to be thin at quarterback; those that may come out are young and allegedly non-faces of non-futures, so I think it's his job to lose, and I don't see any slingers coming in to really challenge him. I suppose there's always the occasional surprise; we've not yet seen the arm of Mike Cox under the scope, but that's an animal I doubt you want to wrestle right now.

7: Dude, that's really gross. Mike Cox is sensitive and needs a warm, moist place to hide once in a while. I'm glad you found a couple nice things to say about your ballclub, because you were starting to worry me for a while. This is football, not rocket surgery, and there are multiple ways to win games.

I'm with you with Thigpen--he's got a spark and plays hard. He could be a QB that helps lift you from the depths of Detroit Lions country, but I wouldn't get too complacent. If a quarterback is available you've got to take a shot, either drafting a college kid or nabbing a veteran like McNabb.

Before we get too deep into X's and O's, though, I have to ask: You didn't really want to win last week, right? I know you were dying for the 2-14 season that included a sweep of the Broncos. That would pretty much be the dream scenario for this blog in terms of comedic material. I love teams that suck with a little flair. Anyone can be horrible, but to be horrible AND funny is really difficult.

B: Look, dude: I want my team to win just as often as you like your pillow-biting Broncos to be on top -- all day, every day. Do I want to root for 3-13 as opposed to 2-14? No. Hell, no. But a win's a win's a win. Since prior to our first meeting in the C.U.B. at THE Fort Lewis College, I've always wanted two things, in order, out of a Chiefs campaign: 1) Win the Super Bowl, and if you can't manage that, then 2) Sweep Denver.... And by “Sweep Denver,” I have always included the secret caveat of “Please, I’m begging you to win more than two games.”

I'm literally sick, and exhaustedly tired of the never-dying talk of clubs "trying" to lose games for a better pick. It's never happened, and never will. Nobody wants to lose. Ever. If they do, then they're not right in the department of head. This, as you can at least pretend to imagine, has been the most painful, surreal experience of footballery I have ever known, ever imagined I would know. Yes, for the rough focus of this blog, that would be awesome and hilarious, and on a personal level, I would cherish it. When it comes to such a topic, however, there is the elephant in the room known as a smug, devoid-of-pride, degenerate schlep that only takes pride in, can only take pride in, the achievement of such a goal. I'm glad we beat the Raiders. That home-opening loss to them is still one of the worst games I've ever seen, and that made it consecutive years that they beat us at home. That also snapped quite a streak of victories at Arrowhead against the silver and black. So, for that, I thank thee, Herman Edwards, football genius.

On a seemingly incomparable level, how about being in a three-way tie for the worst first-place team in football? I imagine that on one level, you hate it because you want to be the best, but in the other half of the fridge, it irks you that you share common ground with the Vikings and the Cardinals. Yes? No?

7: Oh I know that, no matter how fucked the season is or how juicy the potential draft booty may be, you always play...to win...the game. I just also know that in the midst of a tough season I try to find some levity. Perhaps I come off as smug or spoiled when I say this, but I've never dealt with what you're going through. I've seen some historically bad seasons for the Nuggets and the CSU Rams, but I live and die with the Broncos. And during my cognizant football-watching life the Broncos have always been at least moderately competitive. So I feel for you, even as I hope you lose every single game.

I can't speak for Cards fans or Vikings fans, but I couldn't care less what record equals a three-game division lead with four to play. That's good math. Like I said before, I expected nothing from this season other than hard knocks, and I hoped for nothing other than progression and development. To be this far free of the AFC West field is mind-boggling.

When folks talk about potential Super Bowl teams and power rankings and all that nonsense, the phrase "Denver Broncos" doesn't really come up. Nor should it. We're not a premier team, and should we happen to stumble into the playoffs I don't suspect we'll stick around long... But there's no reason we can't piss in someone else's oatmeal and knock off Indy or Tennessee or those asshole child rapists out in Pittsburgh, just for kicks. There's something to be said for flying under the radar, a la Minnesota or Arizona, and once again exceeding expectations.

Talk to me about what you expect to see on Sunday. We know how the Broncos lose, and specifically how they lost at Arrowhead. They turn the ball over, particularly in the red zone, they kick like shit, and they allow big plays on third and fourth downs. Should Denver commit those same sins, I expect the Mighty Braves of the Missouri River Valley to capture that sweep. Get creative--what other forms could a Chief win take?

B: That, my friend, is a tough, tough assignment, but one I'm willing to handle.

Top of the list is the all-out, blowout. The kind for which you have professed your undying love. The Chiefs haven't manhandled anybody in some unGodly length of time. The 44-0 win over the 49ers and the eight-touchdown destruction of Ookie and the Falcons (both at Arrowhead) are the most recent to come to mind, but those are four and five years removed. Not only are the Chiefs long overdue for delivering some good old-fashioned sodomy, they haven't done it in Denver since prior to the Louisiana Purchase. Were that to happen, it would be some ritualistic, cosmic collision of mangasm for this leg of the Iron Triangle. My wife would probably enjoy it a tad, too. Our victory over Denver in September bordered on convincing, and by "bordered," I mean the likes of the Dakotas and the Carolinas as neighbors. That, in the form of a Jamaal Charles rushing score, two TD receptions for Thigpen, and, oh, say, 227 on the ground from Johnson for a 42-3 outcome.

Or they could have a defensive-minded shootout, a game where both sides play relatively error-free, but the offenses also manage to move the chains with consistency. I'd love to see 1250 yards through the air between the teams, and about 32 replays of mouthpieces flying around due to unruly unleashings of meast-on-meast collisions.

Another option would be for this Red-Cross unit of a defense to produce four turnover, and score on at least three of them. And I'd like only one to be a pick. The other three should be Cutlerfucker fumbles that result from pressure on the quarterback, something KC hasn't done since they played at Municipal Stadium. That's creative.

What about you? How does this contest unfold in your eyes?

7: Those are all pretty weak if you ask me. I was hoping you'd conjure something along the lines of:

Herm convinces lame duck President George Bush to pardon Ron Mexico, then drives to Leavenworth and signs him up. Burning the midnight oil in the basement of an old flour mill, he devises a secret offensive strategy based entirely on the hook-and-ladder. The morning of the game in Denver, he introduces Mex to the team, unveils the game plan and cuts Thigpen. Through sheer shock and quite a bit of the old razzle-dazzle, the shenanigans work, and Herm is carried off the field under a bright red sunset while orchestral music plays...

No?

I think it's gonna be close, low-scoring and a little chippy. Peyton Hillis won't do anything, but Matt Prater will suddenly be "on" again and nail a few long-distance bombs. Cutler squeezes in a TD to one of the recently unstoppable tight ends, Thigpen is uneven and flustered, and the Broncos keep your running game under just enough control to manage a score of, say, 20-13.


B: Yeah, well, what'd you expect when the creative guy asks the uncreative guy to "get creative?" I can barely color inside the lines, yo. There is, unfortunately, no "carried off," no "bright red sunset," and most certainly no "orchestral music" awarded to anyone -- not even the Helen Kellerest motherfucker of a coach out there -- that wins a mere two contests of American football in a season.

I do, however, think it will be a chippy affair, and I don't think it will be a contest in which Denver has success stopping the run. I just don't. But, a lot of that will hinge on Thigpen's ability to complete passes, which I don't imagine he'll be doing much of. But I can be hopeful, and that's just what I'll be. Good guys -- that's the visiting squad -- snap the seven-year stretch of glowing coals to the retina, and pull off the meaningfully meaningless win, 24-19.

7: Meaningless? But you just told me every game was, oh never mind. I'll black out by the first TV timeout anyway.
Read more