Some weeks, one just wonders how the universe will make everything worse.  That’s not to say that one doesn’t EXPECT everything to get worse.  Believe me, that much is assured.

But thanks a lot, fat fuck Sean Payton, and head-hunting fuckwit Kareem Jackson.  Inspiring a come-from-ahead loss at home.  After leading 21-3.  To the goddamned Rebecca Malone Commies.

However angry you expect me to be, I assure you I am 10x worser.  It was poetic justice to hit the Hail Mary on the game’s final play, then miss the 2-pointer for a 35-33 final.  At least I didn’t have to watch any more.

Anyway, the heroes of Week 2 are the lunatics who took the Vertically Enhanced Persons (oh HAI, Mister Ayo!) in SurvivoUr pool, and sucked out to end all suckouts.  Big Blue managed to self-keep a clean sheet for the first 6 quarters of play, the first time they managed that since 1934.  That’s not a fat fingered typo, neither.  Their cumulative scoreline was nil-60.

And they’re 1-1 for the season, 31-28 winners over the no-longer-trying-to-pretend-we-be-tanking Qards.  I was honestly too pissed off about Denver and my fantasy teams to notice how they did it, but did it they…done.  Danny Dimebag rallies his troops from 20-nil at the half, and 28-7 midway through Q3.  Without involving Darren Waller, because no good can come to Hippo.

Tony Romo will have the mother of all herpes after sucking off the Non-Gendered Cowpersons for 3 solid hours.  They beat the MILF-Hunter Z Jest 30-10.  I guess the latter are who we thought they were after all.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRAM IT!! fever look to be surging, but I guess the rain clouds came in and washed it all away.  Q4 was a disaster for Fat Stafford, who lost to Purdy Mouth by a 30-23 final.  I have no idea how it didn’t stay 30-20, based on the time/situation when I quit paying attention.

Those are the late games.  I will neither watch nor recap LOLfins/P*ts, because it is not a mandatory fixture.

I guess the sliver of good news is that the early slate was quite entertaining.  I enjoyed the 3.5-hour break from eternal torment!

Green Bay was kicking the tar shit out of Sherman’s Ashes…until they weren’t.  Atlanta, without a functional passing game, somehow chipped away 6 and then 3 at a time, with Younghoe getting the winner for a 25-24 final.  It bore no relation to logic, but it did happen.  Arthur Smith made the coaching call of the decade, going for it on 4th and inches late, when a FG would have given him the lead (but with plenty of time and timeouts for Love to respond).  Instead, he had 45 seconds and no timeouts, managing nary a first down in the process.  I love that a giant meathead like Smith is willing to trust what the maths says.

Tits and Clips (sounds like a stripclub barber, yeah?) played a manifestly silly contest, where not-SD was, per usual, the better team on both sides of the ball but kept letting Vrabel’s resilient fuckadoos hang within striking distance.  It is what they both do, and Tennessee predictably held JUST in the nick of time to force the tying FG instead of give up the back-breaking TD.  Followed by the predictable Clipper pants-shitting in OT.  3 and out, followed by 3 for the win.  27-24.  Welcome to the basement with the Donks, but it will be ours alone soon – and for the duration.

By scheduling quirk, Seattle and Detroit have played three years in a row.  It was bonkers last year, and the same in 2023.  Maybe in retrospect, one should have expected a bit of a hiccup coming off such a huge road win in Week 1.  And surely a response from a Pete Carroll side that conversely got embarrased at home.  Still, when Geno chucklefucked away a 10-point Q4 lead, it looked like a Fuck LioUns reprieve.  But they lost the toss, and the refs annoyed an all-time blatant hold on the winning TD.  Buster never touched the ball.  37-31, never bet on a SeaTruthers fixture.

Did you expect the Fat Humps to notch a road win?  Me neither, even against an imagimary opponent.  But despite Trent Greening their QB (on his 2nd TD run) early, the outcome was never really in doubt.  31-20, with the 500s sliding into their comfort zone.  DFL in the worst division in football.

The only thing I got right all fucking weekend was Survivor.  I expected Bills Mafia to be angry and focused.  They were.  Despite spotting Vegas 7, they closed on a 38-3 run.  That’ll do, Buffalo.  That’ll do.  Davante Adams got concussed, so that’s probably that for them.

What is it with WKRP and slow starts?  Is it that we never knew who was the morning show DJ?  Anyway, they lose 27-24 to the visiting Ratbirds, who always seemed to have a working margin in this one.  Cincy has come back before, but I don’t get very good juju from their camp.  Oh well, what the fuck do I know.

Did you have Chefs/Jaguras as the defensive slog of the day?  Fucking liar.  Kansas City grinds it out, 17-9.  They always figure it out.  Always.  Which Rikki is very thankful for, obviously.  I noticed nothing interesting.

Oh my cats.  Perhaps Chi**** is an even bigger dumpster fire than Denver, because they thought they had sommet cooking.  They don’t.  Strawberry Fields put together a magnificent, DJ Moore-filled TD drive early, then shat himself the rest of the way.  Meanwhile, the Bearistocrats! defense made Baker Mayfield look like a real boy.  Final score deceptively close, 27-17.  YES, that’s the 2-0 Brady-less MRSA.  Todd Bowles can coach.

I will be back for Week 3, because my self-loathing has no bounds.