Old Rant

So my blog title has the word "rant" in it, but I haven't gone on one since I started it, and I'm not feeling anything now, so I delved back into my archives and found an epic one from last month, on the day after the Indianapolis Colts' loss in the first round of the playoffs (again) to the Chargers (again) during a year when I thought they could win the Super Bowl (again). Enjoy.


Randy Quaid from Major League II? Yeah, that's me right now. I will now fully expect the Colts and most any other team I follow to tie the nooses around their necks and leap from the balcony come playoff time. If the fucking Indianapolis Colts can't pick up 2 fucking yards (and instead give up an 8-yard sack!), then fuck it, they deserve to go home. The Chicago Cubs? Wo-ho-ho! We don't even need to go there. Texas? If a freshman defensive back holds onto a gift-wrapped interception, they're playing Florida in Miami on Thursday and Colt McCoy is hoisting the Heisman. The Colts? How about winning a damn playoff game.

And to the DJ at the Bayou Cafe where my brother and I had to go because every fucking bar in Maryland closes at 1:00 in the damn morning, who was revelling in the fact that the Colts lost, I should remind you that you're getting your rocks off playing '70s disco music to a crowd of 30-40 year-olds who are trying to recapture their youth (and failing horribly, if the level of botox I saw was any indication) and choosing the most generic songs imaginable ("Disco Inferno"? Really?); you need to take a hard look at your life and wonder where it went wrong.

In the name of all things holy and good in this world, please, Miami Dolphins, destroy the Ravens today. I want to see Ray Lewis so pissed off he goes for the gun in his handbag and threatents to take Ronnie Brown hostage. Wipe the damn smirks off the faces of the assholes at work, especially my store manager who manages to be both a die-hard Ravens AND Cowboys fan (because he'll conveniently forget the wonder of 44-6 in the wake of another Colts early exit, especially to an 8-8 team that always plays them well). Please, Miami, I beg you, embarass the shit out of the Ravens (literally, if you want) just to shut up all the people I know here (ESPECIALLY the ones who are my age or younger and have absolutely no memories of the beloved Baltimore Colts or when they left town, yet still feel the need to act like Inidanapolis is worse than the Steelers).

Peyton? I love you, but what the fuck was that? 17 points? A sack on 3rd and 2 with two minutes left and the Chargers having no timeouts? Hunter Smith? Your one (ONE!) punt that went longer than 40 yards all night outkicks the coverage and lets Darren Fucking Sproles (who I said before the game would be more dangerous than LT) to pick and choose his open lanes.

Fuck Mike Shannahan; whichever team hires him will become a mortal enemy. All you had to do was win ONE GAME IN FOUR. Fuck Jay Cutler, the media's darling, who, for all his boasting, couldn't manage to beat the Buffalo Bills at home.

And to hell with the San Diego Chargers. I now officially hate them more than I used to hate the Patriots. Phillip Rivers? You didn't play that well, son; maybe you should save the boasting for when you do.

Lastly, fuck that stupid coin from the toss. You couldn't have landed on heads? What the fuck, mate? What were you thinking? Now we have to see the Chargers get mauled by the Steelers. I'll never forget you, coin. Never. You are dead, you hear me coin? DEAD! VENDETTA!!!

All right, I've expelled all my pissed off energy. If anyone other than me followed even 1/3 of what I just wrote, I'll consider it a major accomplishment in life.