Oh, you poor bastards. Today we careen over the precipice and into an existence devoid of mercy and gentleness, a series of darkening days and nights without dawn. The barrel of the 2015 National Football League season now rests against the back of your head, the danger of it having approached silently until the point of no return was reached.
I could be wrong though. I tend to get these seasons confused, especially now that we approach an crucial intersection of time and space—there are multiple realities clashing to be The One True Future, all depending on the roll of the die that is Los Angeles. Should the Rams return and no others move, countless innocent lives are spared. Should we reach the event horizon of the Darkest Timeline and see the Los Angeles Chargers travel to play against the San Diego Raiders… well, all your cowering and weeping and gnashing of the teeth will not spare you from complete immolation when a destabilized Sun goes into super nova.
Regardless, certain outcomes are guaranteed over the next 17 weeks and postseason matches. While I cannot violate the time traveler’s code—Ass, Grass, or Stock Tips—and tell you who wins the games, I can tell you about certain notable events that occur during the season:
- The defacing of RGIII’s statue comes mere days before he is accidentally drawn and quartered during a tug of war between Dan Snyder and reality.
- Speaking of Snyder, his placement as Vice President on Donald Trump’s Trump Party ticket, while unexpected, predictably hastens the greater DC area’s revolt against rich idiots.
- While we’re on politics, the NFL’s partnership with the National Association of Police Organizations comes when the top police brass realize the NFL have decades of expertise in the slow and gradual destruction of black men’s bodies.
- The much-too-close asteroid flyby during the Jags-Titans TNF game converts more people to believing in a higher power than any major religion has in a century.
- While the rash of early-season severe concussions that force a number of early retirements do nothing to sway the needle for top NFL execs to address the issue, the evidence of gruesome beheadings of thousands of stadium pigeons by Dan Dierdorf cause the broadcasters to undergo psychological and neurological evaluation. Most of them are deemed unfit for duty and removed from the air, although this does not improve the quality of the commentary.
- Peter King’s MMQB website is officially purchased by the NFL. The contents of the site and his column do not change.
- The Super Bowl halftime show features the entire Republican presidential field taking a big dump in unison. Okay, I made that one up, but it seems realistic that they would become a literal shitshow, right?
- The NCAA’s massive profits combined with Citizens United lead to ALEC laws passed that allow it to offer an IPO which quickly becomes the biggest IPO for thousands of years. None of that money goes towards athletes, students, or colleges.
- Roger Goodell’s silent takeover of Scientology is only the first direct precursor towards the dystopian totalitarian future I came from.
I’d tell you more, but I just don’t want the spoil all the terrible and soul-killing surprises you have in store. Instead, here are my Power Rankings of Commentists To Steal Beer From:
- yeah right – it’s hard to call it stealing when he readily invites me in. Plus, dude has a great selection and will grill up something amazing and doesn’t even mind when I pass out on the couch. Sure, he’ll talk my ear off, but at least he can spin a good yarn.
- Cuntler – Never taught his kids the meaning of Stranger Danger, so they accept the idea that a beer delivery guy will come by while the parents are out. Real solid fridge and reliable selections.
- Doktor Zymm – Gets alcohol delivered, which is just the best way to intercept things, because then when a bad delivery is reported, more gets delivered! Win-win!
- Horatio Cornblower – This guy’s son is the best, as he just lets me in and we get to have lawyer-budget-quality beer while dear ol’ dad is out playing kickball or something. What a sucker.
- Moose – By far the most interesting selection of beers I run into, the only reason he doesn’t rate higher is that he’ll make me sort through gifs in order to earn a beer, and the freaky shit gives me flashbacks to the breeding pens.
- Packman Jon – Drunk early so it’s easy to sneak in, and has New Glarus. Do you have New Glarus? No? Too goddamn bad. Plus, sometimes Evil Packman Jon shows up and we throw a hell of a party.
- Covalent Blonde – As long as I don’t creep in while she’s home, it’s no big deal and there’s great beer to be had. Slip up and have her walk in on my drinking means I have to dodge some two-handed scalpel ninjitsu shit, and that’s just no fun.
- WhyEaglesWhy – While getting to hang out in Australia is cool—and he actually doesn’t seem to mind hanging out with a dirty time traveler—there isn’t always the same selection. There are lamingtons, however, which bumps him up a lot.
- Rikki Tikki-Deadly – I throw a Rubik’s Cube into a back room and while he’s occupied with that, I duck in and raid the fridge. Reliable and sometimes there are good leftovers in the fridge.
- scotchnaut – too obsessed with scotch to notice when the good beers disappear. Being Canadian means I can steal his ketchup chips.
- Darkest Timeline Zach Morris – Often too busy dealing with all your site requests to notice when I sneak in, plus his dogs are fucking adorable.
- ThePirateSloth – Another guy who will fire up the grill and throw good beers at you. He’s a pirate, though, so I have to watch my booty around him.
- Mike Wallace And Gromit – One more Oregon resident, meaning great selection, and is often too absorbed in his video gaming to notice.
- Monty This Seems Strange To Me – Good taste in music and beer, USA edition.
- Trevor Risk – Good taste in music and beer, Canada edition.
- JJ Fozz – His wife loves to give me his beers.
- E Buzz Miller – As long as you don’t mind incoherent babbling on fold up chairs in front of a double wide, there’s lots of Miller High Life to be had.
- King Hippo – Have to be careful here to avoid the pain pill stash, which will cause a homicidal hippo. If I stick to the basic brews, I can get away with it.
- Marc Trestman’s Windowless Van – If I bring a box full of sticky-paged porn mags with me, the beer is all mine for at least ten minutes.
- Old School Zero – What a boring, broke-ass chump I was. It’s almost too depressing to go back there.
- Pickett’s Charge – Sure, there’s good beer here, but to have to endure hours of pontificating and soap box speeches on the minutia of minor historical battles almost makes me sober again.
- Vontaze Me Bro – There is some fantastic hooch in this household, but there are also many guns, and people that know how to use them. It’s a risk/reward thing.
- SonOfSpamm – I’m not saying I was roofied and molested at his house, but I’m also unsure of if I wasn’t.
- SunriseSunrise – Another Chargers fan, which just gives me flashbacks to the frightening visage of Philip Rivers, Head Breeder, screaming in my face about being godless and infertile.
- Balls Of Steel – Sure, there’s fantastic beer here, but there’s also an endless parade of underwear and implied wang. Not that I don’t appreciate such things; it’s just very distracting when guzzling a long neck.
- Troll So Hard University – He seemed friendly at first, but then kept trying to sneak peanut butter into things to see my allergic reaction, and then kept trying to send peanut butter back in time to get OSZ. Funny, sure, but I can only afford so much epinephrine.
- Sep – Great guy, great beers, but Florida at any time in history is a hellish wasteland unrivaled by any dystopia.
- William Charles Schneider – Oh, shit, I mean to rank him higher but fucked up. Sorry.
- Beastmode Ate My Baby – There’s no cheese or ice cream or anything. That offends me greatly.
- make it snow – OH! TITTY TWIST ENDING, FUCKERS! But, NSZ, you whine, snow has the greatest beer collection of all of us and is often drunk! Well, SURE, that’s true enough, but he’s here because of that dastardly lady snow! She’s got me much too figured out—if I can make it past her booby traps and alarm systems, then she’s replaced the contents of the beers I would totally want to have with something poisonous or crippling or both. I can’t even step foot near that place now without having a panic attack. If they ever break up, I’m gonna get in there, drink something fantastic, and teabag that bastard as soon as he passes out.
Any arguments on rankings can be directed towards your nearest brick wall. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go violate OSZ’s pillow while he’s out of the country. ENJOY THE FUCKING SEASON AND WATCH YOUR ASS IN THE BREEDING PENS!