Week 2 was The One Where Everyone Died.
Week 3 was The One Where Everyone Derped.
[Closed captions for the hard-of-Hippo provided by the Church of the Immaculate Deception, Rev. E. Mayhem presiding]
Did you ever wonder what that Most Evil Superb Owl [Falcons-P*triots] would be like, if only a series of ridiculous
Hey there, imaginary frienderinos! Did you enjoy this weekend's offerings from the FITBAW gods and goddesses? I am perhaps a little MOAR doped up than usual (cracked a rib Friday night, chasing a half-ded bunny around the living room - THANKS AGAIN, Kruger).
Man, what a thrilling Sunday it was to
Hello, one and all. We have had one hellscape of a year, and as much as I can't say we deserve any better...we sure as shit needed the warmth and comfort of a legitimate NFL season.
It was like the return of an old, dear friend. Andy Reid's Superb Owl seems like it
Yes, Steve Atwater gets the banner pic. He fucking earned it. The Smiling Assassin was a childhood hero, and remains a damned fine human being. Another thing to celebrate in this damned fine season of FITBAW.
Of course, there was the little matter of Sunday night's game. Fat Andy v. Baby
Oh, holiest of holy days. The last pure FITBAW day on the calendar (the Superb Owl is MOAR a sports-themed event than anything, plus only one game). I hope everyone reverently enjoyed and appreciated it.
Tit Men and Chefs always felt like a great matchup, and Q1 certainly lived up to
Andy Reid sucks in the playoffs - the meme was going strong in Q1. Missed assignments, ridiculous drops, a blocked punt, and a muffed punt. A perfect storm of hell, and the 500s led 24-zip.
At the time, my imaginary goal for the Chefs was to cut it to 24-14 at
Hey, buck up P*ts fans. Turns out it really was THEM, not you.
¡Viva El Tractorcito! indeed. Add a jump-pass TD throw to his growing legend. Oh, and just a buck-95 plowing fields on the ground. And while Lamar! will no doubt be unfairly shat upon by the sportsball media (he
What was once 12 has been whittled down to 8. There are some surprises, starting with BOTH 6 seeds staying alive.
Looks like we will forever be entertained by these Saints/Vikes January matchups. I, along with most, did not give Captain Dingleberry any scintilla of a chance. Even if Minny were
Oh my cats, y'all, El Tractorcito y Mas Erotic Smashmouth did it!!!
Where to start? Tanny Fanny had been a revelation ever since taking over the starting job. ALL the advanced metrics said he was not only good, but GREAT. Sustainable great.
Until he wasn't. And mein Gott, how he wasn't. Except for one
Joyous of joys, we have playoff picture clarity, and got to see each and every team DERP to the finish line (with various degrees of comedia).
The early window contained lots and lots of mailing it in. We will breeze through most of this "action" fairly quickly. BUT NOT ALL!!!
Your humble scribe had many pill-induced hallucinations, this 22 December, the Year of Our Lord 2019. I will shake my brain around and describe same below.
[Closed Captioning for the Hard of Hippo provided by the Church of the Immaculate Suzy, Rev. Mayhem presiding]
Of course, in this Bananacakes of All Years,
Hippo hopes y'all had a nice weekend. There was no FITBAW on Saturday, which sucked ass. Next weekend will be better that way. Also, I had a killer migraine all day Sunday, which really dampered my enjoyment of Everton taking a nice point at Old Trafford. It also impacted my