And so on.
This week’s CrimeBeat! is brought to you by the letters F and U, and the number tequila. It’s a Satan’s Asshole week at CrimeBeat! Home Office, between work, grandparental health issues and it being Day 15 of Dr. Mrs. Mayhem being in the goddamned Himalayas. Enjoy your week, Rikki, cuz after Day 6, it’s mostly the bad parts of being single without being able to distract yourself by chasing women. In the immortal words of the Lo-Fidelity Allstars, “Stricken with grief, I have no choice but to turn to lethal toxins. Hardcore punk-paste.”
But you don’t care. You’re here for the attempts at humor. Unlike NOFX or Vince Mancini, The Right Reverend is your clown, not your dealer. So allow my clumsy capering to bring a patronizing smile to your collective faces. BRING FORTH THE ACCUSED!
GOD, THE FATHER, THE ALMIGHTY, THE MOST HIGH
CHARGE: Improper Rescission
Yes, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and yesterday the Big Guy takethed the Bills hard from behind. First, Shaq Lawson, the Mario Williams replacement that I have been crowing about since the Bills drafted him, is allegedly going to have surgery on the very shoulder on which he claimed he wasn’t going to need surgery. The was apparently “an occurrence of the condition” last week. I have no idea what the shit that means. I had an “occurrence of the condition” of being a complete asshole last week, just as I have every week since I was 19 (I was a late bloomer in my cynicism). The Bills are spinning this as a pre-emptive measure, and he could be back in time for the end of training camp.
Or his arm could fall off completely, because God hates us hard.
Hot on the heels of the Shaq Lawson news, it was revealed that Sammy Watkins allegedly broke a small bone in his foot and had a screw inserted therein. I, for one, welcome the cyborgization of our two-first-round-draft-pick stud receiver. Shit, carbon-fibre reinforce his whole damned skeleton while you’re in there. Supposedly, he should be ready for training camp, but given the aforementioned Divine Curse, I’m not going to bet on it.
CHARGE: Becoming an affront to God and Man
Listen, I’m all for guys who are Competitors and are willing to Put It All On The Line For The Game and all those other PFT buzzwords that JJ Watt puts in a blender, cooks off and injects into his buttocks before breakfast every day. Some day, I hope to be rich enough to buy Ronnie Lott’s severed pinkie and put it in the reliquary that it so richly deserves.
But seriously, Nacho- there are times that being a Competitor can go too far.
I get that you don’t want to be just another bridge quarterback. And I get that holding a clipboard doesn’t score teenage pussy like being a below-mediocre starter does.
But for the love of all things holy, allegedly having elective hand surgery to replace them with crab-like claws so that you can hold onto the ball and avoid future buttfumbles is just monstrous. Like Island of Doctor Moreau level offense against God. And not just the quality of the movie, but the content as well. Where will this insane human-animal hybridization end? Goats crossed with offensive linemen? Cornerbacks with raptor-talons to pick off passes? YOU HAVE OPENED PANDORA’S BOX, MARK SANCHEZ, AND FOR THIS THERE CAN BE NO ABSOLUTION!
UPDATE: Apparently Mark Sanchez did not have surgery to have his hands replaced by crab-like claws, but instead merely had a torn thumb ligament repaired in his non-throwing hand. The staff of CrimeBeat! would like to offer a sincere apology to Mr. Sanchez and the Trans-Species community for any offense the foregoing may have caused.
CHARGE: Not being talented enough to excuse his bad behavior.
The alleged “Tennessee Titans” have allegedly waived alleged quarterback Zach “No Selfies” Mettenberger in order to make room for a training-camp tryout player. This will likely bring to an end a uniformly below-average career for the former starter, unless of course the J-E-S-T JEST JEST JEST sign him. Please God, let them sign him.
The other obvious option is the Dallas Cowboys, because Jerry Jones could go all Al Davis and fall in love with this 6’5″ hunk of sexually-battering manmeat (and not in the good, Rex Grossman way). Sure, he’s inaccurate, and sure, a cannon arm means nothing if you can’t hit a receiver with some semblance of accuracy. But this is Dallas, and if you think drafting DUI Dak Prescott is going to sate Jerrall’s thirst for the Glory Hole, you’ve got another thing coming, friend. YEEEEEHAAAWWWW, HE’S FUCKING CRAAAAAAZY!
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