Latest posts by Shogun Marcus (see all)
- Look Left, Look Right. You’re All Cut. The Colts Bye-Week. Why Did I Click This? – November 22, 2017
- Complacent Indifference: Packers 2017 Preview – August 24, 2017
- DFO Archives: The Pope of Green Bay – July 18, 2017
As you well know, we at DFO strive mightily to keep you entertained and informed on current events concerning the NFL. Well Beerguyrob does anyway. The rest of us…ehh…well…hey what did you expect, you’ve been here this long.
BUT! Did you know we have been providing this service for longer than you have been able to read? YES! If you ever dared to dream of what was long ago…oh have we stories for you. For you our dear readers, we pull back the curtain and crack open a dusty tome from yesteryear! Now sit back, tilt your screens, and enjoy our travels through the DFO archives. Here’s one from Petering Skill. Remember, it’s not our fault if you keep reading…
FROM: Petering Skill
DATELINE: 1959, “New” City Stadium, Ashwaubenon, Green Bay
An unsettled room of “football” players sits around a single row of bench. It has been a bad year, the worst in this already aged franchise’s history. A miserable 1-10-1. Since the new stadium’s opening, the team is 4-19-1. The “New” stadium was built specifically to avoid the NFL shipping the team to Milwaukee permanently. Despite this, they have agreed to some yearly Milwaukee games just to keep the owner wolves of the league at bay. Buyer’s remorse is at an all-time high within the populace, given that they are on the hook for ONE MILLION DOLLARS! Two seasons gone, two coaches gone. The end is appearing nigh by many accounts. What company would bankroll these hardluck losers?
None. These players have no idea what their future holds, except that for many manual labor or worse is likely. Many have taken to drink, to regale in memories past as their future dies. We join the locker room in progress…the linemen are passing bottles of Old Grand Dad as I begin transcribing. Note I lost track of who’s talking unless I actually paid attention. Which I didn’t.
*Swallows three gulps* So…we’re about done aren’t we? *passes the bottle*
Yeah. Sure seems so. I mean, after what we did? One game…fuggin Philly. By dumb luck. Hey guys, we won the mulekick race!
*BRRRP* Guys line up by some mules. Get the mules worked up, they kick the guys. You make it to the finish line, ya win.
A mule kick?
Hey! Neverrsaid i grew up in the bess of placess.
What do you WIN?
Thiss was never stablishhed. S’pose mebbe ya gedda do it again?
What else could happen? I’m guessing it’s back to the factory or farm for me. Hell if I don’t land somewhere quick, I might end up in that Viet-Nam place I heard someone talk about. Think it’s by France or Korea or summin. At leese there ain no war going on. This place is dead. We’re just waiting out the Doc to call time of death. No way we all make it to Milwaukee. Milwaukee Packers…*belches a cloud four times the legal limit*…fuggin hell. Guess they got beer.
FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCKS I AIN’T ABOUT TO PLAY SECOND FIDDLE TO BUTKUS. HE AIN’T WORTH A LICK OF MY TAINT! THAT FUCKCHUNK WILL KNOW THE FEEL OF MY SPUNK SWIMMING IN HIS THROAT! *removes his helmet, headbutts a cinderblock wall, leaving a dent*
Yeah yeah Ray, we get it. Fact is, we got nothing. Hey you, starboy. Tell us a story. Something pretty.
Umm, well, huh. I uh, I’m not one for words, but gee golly I do think we’re gonna A-OK guys! I’m not much of nothin’ but I just gotta believe it’s all gonna work just fine yeah? Me and my wife Cherry, we just settled in to our new house. We’re gonna put up a nice white fence, have the neighbors over. You guys too! Heck we just might have ourselves a family!
Fuck. Pollyanna here’s a beat cop one week before retirement. We are utterly shithoused boys. *Swigs again* Ugh…wha…what the shit is that?
The smell and smoke of funereal incense wafts into the room. *DOOR OPENS BY DIVINE WILL*
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE GENTLEMEN? I AM VINCENT LOMBARDI, THE NEW COACH AND GENERAL MANAGER OF THE GREEN BAY PACKERS. LET ME SAY THIS. AS MY FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, THIS SHIT STOPS NOW.
Umm *belch* Fuck’re yewgonnado…what shit exactly?
THAT SHIT. SWEARING AND LOSING STOPS! OUR SWEET MOTHER MARY! I WILL SWEAR ON YOUR BEHALF SO YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARDS CAN STILL MAKE IT HEAVENWARD! YOU HEAR ME! YOU. ASSHOLES. WILL. BE. SOMETHING. GOD HELP YOU IF YOU FAIL ME GENTLEMEN, I WILL HAVE YOUR TESTICLES ON MY ROSARY. LET US PRAY. EVEN YOU GODLESS HEATHENS. THIS IS MY TEMPLE. YOU ARE NOW MY DISCIPLES AND FROM THIS TIME FORWARD I AM THE ARCHBISHOP OF GENOCIDE. KNEEL FUCKCHOPS.
*everyone takes a knee, stunned by their willing compliance*
OUR FATHER WHO ART ON THE FIELD,
THESE IDIOTS ARE SO LAME.
WE’LL KILL THEM ALL, THY WILL BE DONE,
FOR NO ONE UNDERSTANDS OUR SWEEP THE SAME.
AS YOU COMMAND, SO WILL WE DO, TODAY AND FOR AN ERA,
UNTIL THE DAY WE CAN NO LONGER, WE SAY UNTO THEE FUCK HALAS, ROONEY, AND MARA.
Yeah. How’d I get here? I was in Baltimore a week ago, and then I woke up in some cow field near here…
WHATS YOUR NAME?
Fred. Fred Thurston.
NOT ANYMORE. ITS FUZZY. AND ANYONE WHO QUESTIONS ME WILL FIND THEMSELVES IN A SIMILAR MENTAL STATE. SON, YOU GOT YOURSELF IRSAYED. THAT GUY IS AS SHADY AS A SHYSTER. HE SLIPPED YOU A MICKEY AND PUT YOU ON THE OVERNIGHT GREYHOUND WITH FIFTY CENTS TAPED TO YOUR FOREHEAD. MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT IS HOW HE ROLLS. IT’S NO THIRTY PIECES, WHICH IS PROBABLY WHY YOU GOT DUMPED IN THE SHIT FIELD. OFFERED TO HELP ME MOVE FOR SOME REASON. CAN YOU BELIEVE HE HAS REPRODUCED? NO GOOD WILL COME OF THIS, MARK MY WORDS. BUT TRUST IN ME SON, YOU’RE MEANT FOR GREATNESS. IT IS MY PLAN, MY WILL. SPEAKING OF…
YOU TWO, HORNUNG AND MCGEE! PUT DOWN THOSE GODDAMNED BOTTLES! THE FOOTBALL FIELD IS NO PLACE FOR SUCH STUPIDITY. YOU DO IT LIKE PROPER MEN. OFF THE FIELD, CASUALLY WITH OTHERS! AND KEEP THE STENCH OF THOSE JEZEBELS OFF YOUR BODY! THAT STAYS AT HOME OR A HOTEL OR WHEREVER ELSE YOU LAY. NO ONE WILL EVER CARE WHAT HAPPENS THERE SO LONG AS YOU SLAY THE ENEMY ON THE FIELD. THE FIELD MEN! OH THE FIELD.
THERE LIES SALVATION. YOU MIGHT HAVE SHAT IN OUR FRESHLY LAIN BEDDING BEFORE, BUT FROM NOW ON WE ONLY SLEEP ON THE WOVEN FLAXEN HAIR CUT OFF THE NEWLY DECEASED. OUR SONGS HAVE YET TO BE SUNG. OH THE GLORIOUS CORPSES WE SHALL PLANT THERE. A RIGHTEOUS POTTERS FIELD SOWN OF OUR FOES SHEER UTTER HUMILIATION AND DECIMATION.
DO YOU REALIZE THIS BASILICA WAS CREATED SPECIFICALLY FOR EXPERIMENTATION? MENGELE HAS NOTHING ON US! THE WAYS THESE SINNERS WILL FALL BEFORE US WILL INTRIGUE SCHOLARS FOR MILLENIA! TREES WILL BE FED BY THE ARTERIAL FLOW OF THOSE WHO DARE ENTER FOR GENERATIONS! NITSCHKE? YOU HERE?!
FUCK YES BOSS! SKULL NEEDS FUCK?
Uhh…*drags off cigarette* yeah. *COUGH* YES! BUT NOT YET. SOON!
BOSS WANT DEAD?
OH YES. BOSS WANT DEAD. BOSS WANT MAKE ALL DEAD. MEN, AND I USE THE TERM LOOSELY, I HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE TO MURDER. TO PURGE THE UNWORTHY. THE LOCAL WOMEN WILL SHUDDER, SWOON, GO WEAK IN THE KNEES AND SAY “oh well I guess if you insist!” LOOK AROUND. SEE ANYONE IN THIS ROOM WHO WOULDN’T MURDER, SKULLFUCK AND PLUNDER TEN YARDS AT A TIME? NO YOU DO NOT! WE ARE ABOUT TO GO ON A VIKING PILLAGE MEN. DO YOU DISAGREE? FUCK YOU WHERE YOU STAND!
GLAD YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU JUST MIGHT BE SOMETHING ONE DAY. DRINK THIS AND GO FUCK YOURSELF.
Sir, I don’t imbibe…
*drowns Bart in a gallon of old-fashioneds*
HOW’S THAT TASTE? LIKE THE VIRGIN MOTHER MARY’S BLESSED SECRETIONS IT DOES! YOU READY? SAY A HOSANAH AND LET US SLAUGHTER THOSE WHO DEFY US. RAY? YOU GOOD?
THAT’S EXCELLENT. LET US KILL THE OPPOSITION FOREVER AND ALWAYS. OUR CRUSADE RUNS TO DAYLIGHT! ARE WE FUCKING READY MEN?
*In Unison SIR FUCKING YES SIR!*
I’LL ALLOW IT. IN GODS NAME, AMEN.