Dan Snyder and Papa John's Pizza

This first week of the new NFL season has been really hard on me, because there is no easing into things. We are playing the goddamned cocksucking Dallas Cowboys on Sunday Night Football in front of every drunken degenerate football fan at the end of opening Sunday, when they will all be sloshy enough and full of pork products to see the truth on the high definition widescreen in front of them. There is no chance to slowly cobble it together under this Mike Shanahan the Anus Mouthed Man regime. Full bore, like thinking about fucking your girlfriend all day and sending her nasty texts and she does the same because for once she's in the mood too and you go to her apartment and dirt nasty fuck right away, no foreplay, not even taking clothes off, ripping panties (hahaha, like my girlfriends even wear panties) and camouflage cargo shorts around ankles, nasty nasty wildness, straight rubbing pubic hairs two minutes after opening the door. That's this year's schedule. The fucking Dallas Cowboys.
And as I am outlining in my brain my preseason positive/negative influence on the Redskins column for later this week, only one thing is on my mind. A stupid fucking Papa John's pizza commercial that was filmed at Cowboys Stadium featuring Jerry Jones and Dan Snyder. Yes, Dan Snyder filmed a pizza endorsement commercial with his nemesis so they could sell pizzas on the Sunday night game.
First off, I will overlook the fact it is for Papa John's pizza. I am not sure where America went wrong and came off the tracks of world domination, but I would imagine it happened somewhere along the way when we decided a $5 slab of cardboard with tomato-ish sauce and melted cheese food was somehow a more viable option for pizza than the corner pizza joint run by some fat foreigner asshole, who came to America and made something useful of his fat foreign ass. Now we just want cheap things that kind of look like what they are supposed to be, and we don't want no foreigners. This is why we are doomed. I had to take pigs I raised to the butcher yesterday, and the butcher man was a rural guy, fat and ignorant, but he was a good dude. He had hilarious stories of animal behavior to share, and a funny rasp to his voice. And his super hot teenage daughter was hanging on the periphery of things in a white tank top and jean shorts, for real. I was hoping she would wash a car, but it did not happen. But here's this fat, ignorant pure American dude who knows better than anybody within three counties how to kill, freeze, slice and process any meat animal you could bring him. He has done it for 30 years. And while we have local food movements and people want to eat all the frozen organic Amy's dinners from Whole Foods they can at $6 a pop, no one knows who the fuck cuts their meat. And no one wants to cut meat anymore. We have to bring in illegal Mexicans. And then we piss on them. We are doomed. But I am losing my focus.
Daniel Josephus Snyder, super-rich fucker and owner of my Washington Redskins, is now doing what I'm sure will be a comedic commercial with Jerry Jones. Motherfuck that. It proves once and for all all Snyder cares about is money. This is an investment to him, one in which he will flip once he has squeezed all the current capital he can out of it, and sell off for a huge profit, and live the rest of his days rooting for some faggot English Premier League team or some bullshit like that. Why in God's name would he do a commercial with a Dallas Cowboy owner? And if he agreed to do such a thing, why was it not just a set-up to shank Jones with Joe Theismann's legbone? I am confused.
You see, money is something I do not have a lot of. Life is a struggle, to the point I live like a retarded educated clown human, raising my own pigs, homeschooling my own children, and dealing with strange characters like this back roads butcher I spoke of earlier. When it comes to other sports, I have casual interests in maybe a baseball team or basketball or hockey team now and then, but it comes and goes. I root for both of the state of Virginia's Division I football teams, both of which never live up to expectations, but it's still casual. But I have rooted for the Redskins since the day I was born. This means I hate the fucking Cowboys. I have made close friends that I eventually found out were Cowboys fans and lost immense respect for them. I have known assholes who turned out to be Redskins fans which made me think maybe they weren't so bad. I never trusted the hiring of Norv Turner and am convinced to this day that it was some sort of ninja spy plot by Jerry Jones to decimate the Redskins internally, and good lord, don't even remind me about Deion Sanders, or I might drive up to Ashburn and stab Mr. Snyder with Theismann's legbone myself. I don't even trust Donovan McNabb yet, and he was only an Eagle.
My point is this though - if it is all fun and games to you and you can hawhaw it up with your arch-nemesis, the guy you should be hating through and through and hoping he gets cancer before Thanksgiving, then you are not a Redskins fan like me, although you pretend to be one, Mr. Snyder. I would piss on Jerry Jones if he was on fire, but only so I could shit in his mouth, and then set him on fire again. I laughed when Michael Irvin's career ended, and have always thought highly of Lavar Arrington simply for ending Troy Aikman's career. Everything else he did was gravy on top of that single action.
This is not fun and games. You do not joke around and play buddies with the one guy you should not be buddies with. And on top of that, after last year's ridiculous unveiling of this garish monstrosity of a stadium that Jerry Jones built, the day after last season ended up until right before the first preseason game, Dan Snyder sunk a ton of money into giant screens in Jack Kent Cooke Field as sponsored by FedEx, in a straight up copycat move. What a punk ass.
Anyways, as the rest of the world has settled into a relaxing Sunday night cap to their opening Sunday of football, won't you dear anonymous internet friend, please think of me back home on my five acre compound in rural Virginia, eating the flesh of the pigs I spent the past nine months raising, watching the Sunday night football game where Dan Snyder will parade around like the queen of the tea party, and they'll show that commercial, and it will be stupid but you, as the casual observer, will subconsciously be expected to think, "Oh hey look, these two bitter rivals have come together over top this shitty pizza... maybe it's not so shitty after all." But understand, they are not bitter rivals, just old cronies laughing it up while all us 45-hour-a-weekers, looking for a goddamned three hour window of release from the slavishly shitty lives we have, are forced to sit there and take whatever it is they feed us.
It is only Wednesday, but I am full of hate, and I will get drunk tonight, like good four hour hangover drunk, the type where I say, "Man, I'm never drinking again, this has gotten out of hand," which I won't. But then I'll feel better by Friday afternoon so maybe have a couple beers that night, easing myself back in as I psychologically justify myself as not a for-real alcoholic. Then by Saturday afternoon, I'm getting good again, and pass out on the couch watching old episodes of Kung Fu on Saturday night, to wake up on opening day Sunday, with excitement in my blood stream and a hatred in my heart. I am ready. It is football season again motherfuckers.