Monday, April 5, 2010

Release the McNabbin! (or a practical fan's analysis of the Donovan McNabb as a OMG Redskin frenzy)


(McNabb jersey, now for sale)
The sports world is talking about the Washington Redskins again, and for once it's not about something stupid, although the chance for that to eventually happen is certainly still there. For some reason, Washington was the only place that Donovan McNabb wanted to go play, and for some reason, the stupid Eagles let him get that wish. Probably the fact the Redskins most likely gave them more and better draft picks than anybody else would had something to do with it. The Skins dropped their 2nd round pick, #36 overall, for McNabb, and though I don't initially have any problem with McNabb's old soupfaced afropuff ass being our new QB, the whole "giving away draft picks of a high caliber for old ass dudes who love Dan Snyder's money" thing is not such a new development with the Redskins. On top of this, the very fact there will be a #5 Redskins QB sort of puts some fear into you, as it reminds me of Heath Shuler, who I think is a Congressman against abortion and for tiny little American flags somewhere or another nowadays. (My apologies to the totally awesomest practice squad QB ever, Colt Brennan, who I forgot even wore the #5 last year since he was on injured reserve for tweaking his ego over Jessica Simpson rumors or something.) But let's just assume I throw away my entire Dan Snyder Redskins era QB retardedness and give it a fresh start under Mike Shanahan. They still signed Rex Grossman during that brief window of Shanahan era. Rex Grossman, the Sex Cannon, the interception machine, a more perfect Neil O'Donnell than 1995 ever dreamed possible.
What for Jason Campbell now? He's the nicest guy ever who got screwed by shitty coaches and his own inability to take the lead when necessary. Perhaps the Redskins front office is working diligently in emailing youtube clips of Jason Campbell doing miraculous things with his cannon arm to Al Davis' personal assistant, in hopes of fleecing the old guy in velour of a second round draft pick, so that the Redskins can, you know, try to have an offensive line again.
Popular opinion is that the Skins will draft the Russell Okung Oklahoma State monster tackle with their fourth overall pick. I do not believe in popular opinion, because I would not put it past Danny Snyder and Mikey Shanahan to still draft Jimmy Clausen, have like six quarterbacks on the roster, and let them all get decimated and decapitated and be the first wave of on-field tests for the NFL's new brain injury rules behind an aging hodgepodge offensive line that Shanahan thinks he can teach his questionable zone chop block schematics too and make things happen.
This brings me to our plethora of aging superstar running backs. Clinton Portis has a lot of miles on his yellow shoes, so they brought in Larry Johnson, who is a chronic fuck-up primadonna type, since no good running back ever is allowed to come from Penn State. They topped that all off this weekend by signing Fast Willie Parker, but that got buried in the McNabb news from yesterday. Personally, Willie Parker and Clinton Portis and Larry Johnson just hanging out, that's some funny shit. That's an odd and quotable threesome for sure. Yet there is this...

(science like this graph can never challenged)
And there is the offensive line, which may or may not actually exist. And the fact there are no real wide receivers who can run as far as Donovan McNabb can throw it without going the wrong way halfway there. But we do have two really maybe awesome tight ends in Chris Cooley and Fred Davis. One like to blog, and the other likes to fumble.
In fact, as the world crowns the Redskins' sudden playoff potential, I'm trying to find a single fucking reason to trust this offense. Once again, it's superstars getting their names stitched into the burgundy and gold for the first time ever, but for (probably) far less glorious returns. In fact, I have come to the point that I no longer give half a fuck, because Dan Snyder is a rich asshole, and his whole purpose has nothing to do with winning or losing. He just wants to see jerseys. Every year there's some big splash for a high-selling jersey. In fact, let's stroll down memory lane.
In 2010, it will be the #5 McNabb jersey. We will see what comes of that.
In 2009, it was the #92 Haynesworth jersey, as Snyder couldn't wait to pay Albert Haynesworth three bazillion dollars to breath oxygen heavily while sitting on one knee.

(albert haynesworth's off-season training)
In 2008, multiple draft picks were traded away, including one that has yet to be used in this year's draft, to create the #55 Taylor jersey for Jason Taylor. He half-heartedly played a little bit, got some sort of weird calf muscle bullshit, and then never played again, for the Redskins at least. And like I said, the Dolphins STILL WILL BE USING ONE OF THESE TRADED DRAFT PICKS, LATER THIS MONTH!

(jason taylor's offseason training)
In 2007, the 6th overall pick in the draft was used to make the #30 Landry jersey for LaRon Landry, who is most notable professionally for using his money to buy a lime green Lamborghini. Plus getting mad 15 yard penalties.

(laron landry's lambo)
In 2006, millions were spent on Super Bowl hero #86 Randle El, Antwaan Randle El, to run punt returns and pass receptions thirty seven yards sideways and back and forth for a net gain of about half a yard per time with the ball. Randle El survived a few years with the Redskins because he was part of a free agent class that included Adam Archuleta and Brandon Lloyd, and even when you're not that productive, it's hard to look bad next to a retarded white guy on defense, and a fellow wide receiver who averaged a couple million per catch during his time with the team. That's exaggerated, but not by much.
2005 was when Vinny Cerrato and Dan Snyder took a trip to Auburn with their multiple first round draft picks, creating the #22 Rogers and #17 Campbell jerseys. While you can't outright be like fuck off to either of those dudes, you certainly can't be happy with how little they've done, considering both were first round draft picks, and supposed to be the real deal Holyfields. So fuck those guys, even though they both seem really nice. But more importantly, fuck the dudes who drafted them.
2004 was when Champ Bailey was traded for the #26 Portis jersey, and the fifth overall pick was used to make the #21 Taylor jersey. Portis is funny as fuck, but moody, and hangs out at private cookouts with Dan Snyder. Taylor got murdered before he could be the most awesome dude ever for the Redskins. He's still one of the ten most awesome, even with the murdered in the prime of his life thing.

(fuck man, fuck fuck fuck fuck)
Going beyond that, it gets too painful, into draft picks for Patrick Ramsey and Lavar Arrington, or good fucking lord, seeing remembering Deion Sanders or Bruce Smith in Redskins jerseys. I'm not sure I can take all that, even with this newfound OMG Redskins euphoria going on. I'm not feeling it. Seems like more of the same stupid shit to me. Sure, Donovan will rile himself up to beat the Eagles once or twice. But last I checked my memory bank, it wasn't like we lost a close game to the Eagles to miss the playoffs last year. We were completely fucked. And though Mike Shanahan feels very important about his ability to turn chicken shit into a fine tasting chicken salad, I still feel kind of fucked.
Why won't Dan Snyder just die, and save me a few decades of personal strife? You factor in the heavier drinking, the Sunday afternoon autumnal ulcers, and just the general lack of sporting escape from my own miserably doomed life, Dan Snyder, personally, has probably shaved ten years off my own life. And what can I do about it? Not a goddamned thing. He has better and more litigous lawyers who would end up owning two of my three children by the end of any civil law suit. Actually, I don't have any lawyers, outside of the occasional public defender. So all there is to do is sit here like a fucking asshole and go "Yah Donovan McNabb!" with the rest of my stupid fucking asshole Redskins brethren. Really, false hope is the only thing we've got left at this point. But we are only about half a decade away from paper bags over our heads, we'll never be winners again mentality, if even that long. Every year under Dan Snyder, the Redskins seem to find new and more amazing ways to snatch unimpressive shittiness out from inside the wonderful false hopes we have delusionally set up.

(this is just a picture of cartoon indians and a dune buggy driven by some sort of humanized cat; it makes me feel better)

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