Just one week following one of the most embarrassing displays I've ever seen in all my twenty-something years of watching Chicago Bears football, that happened. For the second year in a row, the last game versus the Vikings was one of the most perfect and deliciously satisfying games I've ever seen the Bears play. They scored at least twenty more points than I'm accustomed to them scoring, Devin Hester stomped a larger hole in the NFL record books, and oh yeah, Brett Favre was crushed into oblivion, possibly even for the final time ever. I could probably write a million-billion words or more about the wondrous feeling of seeing Corey Wootton smite his ruin upon the frozen earth, but I'll just let the moment speak for itself, one perfect, beautiful moment that will live in all our hearts and souls for all time. And thank you. Thank you, Corey Wootton, for finally putting the final stake into the blackened heart of the demon and telling us once and for all that he can't hurt us anymore. I heart you, Corey Wootton.
There's really not much else to say about the game that I haven't either already said in the semi-liveblog or have deemed to beautiful for words. That was a vicious ass-stomping of the one team I always want to see get their asses stomped, and it went a long way toward renewing my faith in Retarded Destiny. Some may call it luck, but I simply call it the Football Gods smiling down upon God's Own Team and providing them opposing third-string quarterbacks and questionable calls to guide them forward to immortality. As for the Patriots game, just chalk that up to Bill Belichik being the Devil's Own, and just remember from all those video games you've played that evil is always stronger than good.
There's really not much else to say about the game that I haven't either already said in the semi-liveblog or have deemed to beautiful for words. That was a vicious ass-stomping of the one team I always want to see get their asses stomped, and it went a long way toward renewing my faith in Retarded Destiny. Some may call it luck, but I simply call it the Football Gods smiling down upon God's Own Team and providing them opposing third-string quarterbacks and questionable calls to guide them forward to immortality. As for the Patriots game, just chalk that up to Bill Belichik being the Devil's Own, and just remember from all those video games you've played that evil is always stronger than good.
PICTURED: Rex and Michelle Ryan
On one hand, that's a truly mind-bending and horrifying mental image; the sort of thing that causes brains to malfunction to the point where one can no longer perceive the outside world as anything but fire-spitting cobras, but on the other hand, ha ha ha, good lord, that is amazing.
Anyway, the Jets are another one of those teams that people are going to call better on paper than the Bears, but the coach is distracted, the Bears' defense is eating lightning and shitting bigger lightning after last week's game, and Mark Sanchez fucks up a whole lot, he might be hurt, and Mark Brunell is like seventy years old. This won't be a blowout or anything, but I think the Bears should be able to pull it off. And hell, even if they don't we're still in the goddamn playoffs.
Bears 24, Jets 13.
1 comment:
Corey Wootton is an American Hero, like Neil Armstrong or George Patton or Hulk Hogan.
Post a Comment