Pigskin Zen 11.20.08

Tie Eagles Tie, on the Road to Mediocrity
by Gary Zeidner

I know I’m usually all sweetness and light when it comes to my beloved Birds, but after enduring a needless loss to the Giants two weeks ago and a tie with the Bengals last week, it’s time for some tough love. No more Mr. Fucking Nice Guy.

I’ve been saying IAWT (In Andy We Trust) since Big Red pissed off the entire Eagles Nation by picking Donnie over Williams. In Andy I still do trust, but after his baffling play calling and personnel choices this season, that trust has taken some hits bigger than anything you’d ever see on the field. It’s time for Andy to stop hemming and hawing and step the fuck up.

Donnie, you know I love you, but right now you’re playing like a journeyman and leading like a follower. Half your passes have more air under them than Clay Aiken’s loafers, and the other half hit the ground so far in front of your receivers that I’m worried they’re going to call you for intentional grounding every other play. You were personally responsible for four turnovers against the Bengals with your fumble and three interceptions. You’re rocking a 50 percent completion rate right now. Does that get your blood boiling? Does it get you focused? I guess not. After each testicle-grinding loss, you mellowly spout the standard issue bullshit about needing to play together and almost being where you need to be when what you really need to do is smack your shoe on the podium Khrushchev-style and scream, “We will bury you!” Oh, and while you’re getting your fucking ducks in a row, how about brushing up on the rulebook. (Not knowing that regular season games can and will end in ties after one overtime period is Bush-league pathetic. More on that later.)

It’s almost like, as a team, the Eagles don’t really want to win this year. How else do you explain — among the other eye-bleedingly obvious mistakes and missteps — the fact that the Birds keep playing games virtually penalty-free until the final few minutes of the fourth quarter then suddenly implode, drawn into a penalty black hole by the weight of their own idiocy?

There were only two players worth any fraction of their salaries playing in Eagle green last weekend, Quintin Mikell and Asante Samuel. Mikell hit Bengals wideout Chapman so hard he knocked him the fuck out. The guy literally went limp, in the air, and the ball drop from his temporarily motor control-less arms. Samuel made a number of good plays but none better than his action hero, bullet-time leap over a receiver to block an incoming pass. Two great players, however, does not a team make.

Fucking Eagles. All you had to do was beat the Giants. At home. On national television. On a Sunday night. That’s it. Just beat the fucking Giants and your season was set up like ABSCAM.

But no. You dropped a five-point loss instead. Another almost-but-not-quite heartbreaker. Another we-missed-it-by-that-much circle jerk. Another but-for-the-grace-of-god-go-I cock punch. Then, when a redemption win against Cincy seemed all but inevitable, you managed the NFL’s first tie in six years. And you did it against a 1-8 team. Bravo, you fucking humps.

OK. I get it. Drama. That’s what you’re going for. OK. Fine. You want it like that. You got it like that. It’s “win out” time now. You win out the rest of the season, get into the postseason, get to the Big Game and win Philly its first Super Bowl, and all is forgiven. Short of that, fuck you.

Seriously. Coffee’s for closers. I love you like brothers, and I will always root for you with every last breath and drop of blood until the day I die, but make it fucking worth it. Beat the Ravens and run the table. It’s time.

E-A-G-L-E-S . . . EAGLES!!!

Rules? We don’t need no stinking rules!

Donovan McNabb, Eagles QB and 10-year vet in the NFL, didn’t know that there is no sudden death overtime during the regular season. Fucking disgusting. (It doesn’t make matters any better that, seemingly, he wasn’t the only Eagle who missed that day of Rules class.)

In an effort to help educate D-Mac and save him future embarrassment, here are the top 10 other rules I’m betting Donnie doesn’t know.

10. Beer before liquor, never sicker. Liquor before beer, all clear.

9. You never count your money while you’re sitting at the table.

8. No shoes, no shirt, no service.

7. Never yell “Fire!” in a crowded theatre.

6. You must come to a complete stop at a stop sign.

5. Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

4. Red next to yellow, kill a fellow. Red next to black, venom lack.

3. When your girlfriend says, “Let’s just be friends,” she’s already fucking someone else.

2. Never wear socks with sandals.

1. A rain delay after five innings in the World Series does not result in the leading team winning the game but instead in an indeterminate rain delay. (But in fairness, nobody knew that one until a few weeks ago.)


Non-erotic auto-asphyxiation

So the Big Three automakers in America have paid out eight-figure bonuses (not salaries . . . bonuses!), raped consumers for every penny on every car bought and flouted any hint of government regulation for decades. Suddenly, they’re mysteriously out of money, and NOW they want government money, our tax dollars, to help shore up their struggling enterprises.

Fuck each and every one of them with sharpened broom handles! These bastards don’t deserve a penny. They are so completely out of touch with anything remotely resembling reality that they — the biggest automobile manufacturers in the country, showed up to beg Congress for money not in cars (or even SUVs) but in private fucking jets.

We should give them each a Hummer, a gallon of gas and a five-minute head start. Then it’s pitchfork and torch time.


Giving thanks

As the PickSix will be taking Thanksgiving off next week, I wanted to take a moment to give a little pre-Thanksgiving thanks to some people who deserve it more than they know.

To my family and closest friends, I thank you for all of your love and support.

To the inventors out there, I thank you for electric light, indoor plumbing and Q-tips.

To the universe in general, I thank you for good health, beauty and happiness.

To Sienna Miller, I thank you for continuing to regularly go topless in public.

Amen.


DVDelicious

On the one hand you have Zombie Strippers starring Jenna Jameson. She gets naked on numerous occasions, becomes a zombie and continues to strip to much acclaim.

On the other hand, you have All Through the Night, a classic good boy gangster/anti-Nazi flick featuring Bogart at his Bogie-est and Peter Lorre at his Lorre-est.

What do you do, hot shot? What do you do?

(Of course, if you’re me, you watch them both and enjoy the hell out of ’em.)