Both teams are 2-3, and fill the bottom half of the lowest wattage division in the NFL. Luck is out. Mariota (hamstring – questionable) says he’ll go–i.e., Cassel is definitely in the mix. But enough table-setting. This is my  position on “Pfft, baseball’s on” taeks:

Artist’s lesss handome conception

via lolafilms.com

IND-TEN is a rivalry. To be precise, “rivalry” in the Steelers-Browns or thirst-judgment sense: the Clots own the Titans. The streak stands at 11-0, and was started by CURTIS PAINTER. Indy has won in every way: blowout; Titans derp it at the end; clutch play by top QB on a bad day… Plus a handful of the worst kind of loss: the Moral Victory, when Result pinches Effort’s cheek and says “Nothing personal, kid”. To paraphrase Sigmund Freud: it’s been Suck City.

Matching wits on the field are Mike Mularkey and Chuck Pagano. Pagano, well… The turd-in-punchbowl blunders are known–but going 2-3 with Jacoby Brissett and that roster is respectable. Hell, I even like Chuck. Pagano strikes me as humble, but so sure of himself that he DGAF about what anyone thinks–except, maybe, his players. As far as I know, he was loved in Baltimore. Colt players stumped for him and Chuck P kept the job; the GM got fired. But before all that, at the height of hot-seat skullduggery in 2015, Pagano calmly stated, at a press conference, “They can’t eat you“. Best. Perspective Non-Sequitur. Ever.

Mularkey… Barf. After pasting JAX, the Titans beat the Seawhawks on Week 3. But this wave of met expectations crashed immediately with the Texans drubbing (56!). Then, Mularkey became a vocal ANTHM RSPKTRRR, and punted awfully on The Kaep Situation in the runup to Week 5. Granted, coaches don’t sign players–but having Matt Freakin’ Cassel pass 32 times, in last week’s low-scorer in Miami, is damn pigheaded. And hey! Did Derrick Henry accidentally sneeze on coach’s soup? Four rushes at MIA? The hell’s wrong with you! Dude’s young and hungry. FEED HIM!!11!!

I did find something palatable. Coupla days ago, during the Chuck Pagano press telephone conference, Mularkey walked in and asked what were the Colts’ top 15 offensive plays:

If Mariota would play, was Chuck’s riposte. (If you think I mangled a juicy reveal, go gorge on the buildup at  titansonline.com. I dare ya.)

Whatever. To me, it’s refreshing to see coaches shoot the collegial shit (however lamely), and eschew the  hypercompetitive, regimented stuff, as well as the “being focused” stiffness and the commitment to canned bullshit–all of which has been thick even back when Rex Ryan was putting on wigs. It’s ridiculous. The stakes are GAMES. Of a risky and fantastic sport, of course. With fascinating strategy. Goes without saying. And the speedy and huge mofos going at each other and the physical play and–oh…

/ fans self with Hello Kitty bookmark

Sorry. It’s been a while. But the fasting ends TONIGHT.

[martial drums playing]

I will watch this game. The Titans haven’t been on MNF since… LenWhale? That’s what my gut says–don’t @ at me!

Heaven and earth, I am prepared to move. (Family too.) Pangs of guilt, for seeking diversion in these somber times, will not deter me.

If a place with electricity has baseball on, surely one TV could be accommodated for The Game. I will not vacillate. Solidarity has been strong here in PR, and emboldens me to face even the spectre of utter hopelessness:

[drumming stops]

Brandon Weeden with a helmet.

In short, hunger makes the feast, not the eats. Sorry, but I can’t help being kinda pumped for this one. Besides, you twisted fuckos [hat tip] are better suited to skewer the massive blech we’re about to see. And as much as I want TEN to win, for fantasy purposes, I’d take an Astros rainout and 0-11-1.

The food on the banner was delivered to my home in Aibonito (plus 24 water bottles) last Thursday. (The “MEAL” packets are vegetable lasagnas.) We’ll honor this generosity by passing everything to needier compatriotas. [Update: Maybe not the mayo packet.  I’M NOT MADE OF STONE!]