NFL fan explains he was merely looking up woman’s skirt during anthem, not protesting

Hammond, IN-There was an uproar at an unofficial Buffalo Wild Wings franchise, which turned out was just a tube TV, a case of keyboard duster and several live chickens under a pier in Hammond Indiana, on Sunday morning. As a group of inbred shit bags prepared to watch football, huff duster, skid out their undies and perhaps slaughter a few chickens, they quickly mistook an Arby’s commercial for the National Anthem and promptly removed any soiled burlap sacks resting on their heads. But one lowlife goddamn coward decided to kneel.

Doing duster and threatening a malnourished chicken in the same language those aliens used in Avatar during the anthem is acceptable, kneeling is strictly forbidden. Protesting correctly is no protesting at all. It means giving up. Succumbing. Settling. Protesting is eating a case of Slim Jims at halftime and pissing your pants because going to the bathroom is simply too much effort.

Fortunately the crisis was averted, because there was, in fact, no protest of the atrocities occurring in the country. As it was explained later, the man was kneeling in order to see up the skirt of a woman which turned out to be a mud sculpture of Steve Harvey. Thank god. Nothing to see here, just sexually harassing an inanimate object. Now who wants to continue to ignore social injustices and watch some FUCKING football you brain dead shit heads!?

Guy at gym overheard talking about the “300” workout a decade later

Xsport, Wilmette, IL-The conversation was disappointingly audible throughout the packed gym. It had occurred with an uncanny regularity for years, though not for some time now. A relic assumed to have been humanely flushed with the protein residue caking the underside of every neglected bathroom stall at every Xsport ever. But like most things at Xsport, it birthed back through the sewage, the electric raspberry muscle milk, the tanning oil that drips like tree sap on every machine.

“When you’re at the gym there are only two appropriate things to talk about: 1.) Endowment girth 2.) The workout all those jacked ass, oiled up ass dudes did in the movie 300,” Said Terry Morgan, lifelong member at Xsport Fitness, and avid supplement user.

“When I throw on my neon Tapout sleeveless, nipples blasting out the sides, and start furiously scribbling in that tiny notebook that all dudes at the gym carry around…ain’t nobody in the world that doesn’t want to talk to me about early 2000’s Gerard Butler,” continued Morgan applying a full stick of butter to his sagging bicep.

Morgan claimed to have dabbled in a variation of the 300 workout that involved cannon-balling a gallon of NOXPLODE and doing a max deadlift 300 times. He notched two reps before blowing out 5 vertebrae but ensured that he’s more jacked than he’s ever been. He’ll continue to promote the imaginary workout to uninterested Xsport members.



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Man finds site to play daily fantasy sports

The search is over. One man’s painstaking quest to find the ever illusive daily fantasy site to gamble on has come to an end. “It almost took my sanity. I’ve been hunting for a daily fantasy site for months; I almost started to believe they didn’t actually exist.” Said a weary Danny Thomas slowly rocking back and forth in an age old rocking chair.

“You don’t just find a daily fantasy site…they’re deceptive and discreet…it’s almost as though they don’t want to be discovered.” He continued, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder.

Thomas spent most of the last year delving deep into the seedy underbelly of the internet in an attempt to seek out the fantasy paradise he desired; his attempts were mostly fruitless…until now. A tiny noninvasive banner image approximately 2 pixels by 2 pixels appeared out of nowhere and almost vanished before he could click on it. “It happened in an instant, I saw the pixel and then seemed to hear a whisper…Do you like playing fantasy sports but don’t like the season long commitment…it was glorious!” said Thomas now teary eyed.

He’s currently the only player competing in daily fantasy and claims to have millions in earnings. Unfortunately for the rest of us, we will remain only vaguely aware of its existence…a possible figment of our imagination.


Week 2 Fantasy Football Love/Hate Haikus

Peyton Manning vs. Kansas City Chiefs
Papa John’s Pizza
Is now serving wounded ducks
Garlic Gatorade


Tony Romo vs. Philadelphia
Enough misfortune
For an entire lifetime
Finally vanquished

Russel Wilson vs. Green Bay
Recovery water
And some fire and brimstone
Melts evil Packers


Tom Brady vs. Buffalo
Public tax dollars
Won’t fund another escape
Crushed like a cellphone

Matthew Stafford vs. Minnesota
A flat backwards hat
Can’t block out stadium lights
Can make face look huge


Jay Cutler vs. Arizona
A city ash tray
Takes a greyhound bus away
To never return

Running Back:
Lamar Miller vs. Jacksonville

Saddened, denial
Sadder than Dolphin Tale Two?
Become Free Willy

Joseph Randle vs. Philadelphia
Fresh Polo undies
Defense smells stolen cologne
They’re left motionless

Danny Woodhead vs. Cincinnati
Pocket Juggalo
The greasiest hair ever
Will slip defenders


Justin Forsett vs. Oakland
A one year wonder
Meets a stagnant, mild offense
A lukewarm result

Alfred Morris vs. St. Louis
A herd of mad Rams
Turned cannibal, seek fresh meat
Ring the feeding bell


Doug Martin vs. New Orleans
Jameis, cannot throw
Jameis, cannot throw. Jameis,
Cannot throw Jameis

Wide Receiver
Cole Beasley vs. Philadelphia
A helmet mullet
Makes you extra elusive
Blonde locks in the wind


Keenan Allen vs. Cincinnati
Left for dead, but why?
Does a season make a man?
Rise! Crawl from the ash!

Calvin Johnson vs. Minnesota
Rusty parts, neglect
Performed like Transformers Two
Ready to explode


Amari Cooper vs. Baltimore
Bah Gawd! That’s Pac-Man!
Choke slam! Amari, choke slam!
He still looks woozy!


Sammy Watkins vs. New England
What is that garment?
Invisibility cloak
Quidditch not football

Andre Johnson vs.  New York
Old, Older, Oldest
Del Boca Vista  retiree
Early bird special

Tight End:

Jason Witten vs. Philadelphia
Is this sorcery?
To disobey father time
Is to live always

Greg Olsen vs. Houston
Swarming bees attack
Like Nic Cage in Wicker Man
The bees! Not the bees!


Fire Tom Crean (Top 10)

We’ve all grown unfortunately intimate with Tom Crean’s blunderous, aloof coaching style. A coach whose favorite pastime is getting into and losing grinding slug fests with other Big Ten bottom feeding insects. Waging a fierce war of immense insignificance against no one in particular. We’ve been circling the piss and vomit soaked drain and Kilroys all season, and there’s no sign of a merciful flush coming. As the stale and wearing season labors on I often times myself abandoning the second half of games, in favor of watching reruns of Man vs. Food. Watching a sweaty, fat, illiterate goon inhale 90 nitro wings in less than 20 minutes for a free t-shirt is somehow less objectionable than watching a single second of an IU game. Unless Air Bud is in next year’s recruiting class be ready for another season lost. On top of being more incompetent than the Tilta-Whirl employee at the state fair, here are 10 more reasons IU needs to give Crean the heave.

1o.) Uncomfortable/imposing fire and brimstone twitter account with apocalyptic undertones
9.) A “recruiting” coach who doesn’t actually recruit
8.) Regularly studies tapes of the Washington Generals for offensive/defensive inspiration
7.) Refuses to admit he’s drinking Red’s apple ale in that mysterious water bottle
6.) Gives every player a “Participation Award” at the end of the season
5.) Demands players wear orthopedic Adidas shoes to make sure the game appears as though it is being played in quick sand
4.) Gives team oranges and ecto cooler Hi-C at half time
3.) Has officially made IU football more exciting than IU basketball
2.) Gets the team pumped up for games with Nyquil flavored Gatorade and Sigur Rós albums
1.) Looks like Brendan Fraser starring in Encino Man

Smirnoff “Raz” Fuels Colts Win

Beer and alcohol commercials are a complete nuisance. They generally exist as a reminder that whatever depraved creatures that created them are 1.)Immensely out of touch with reality 2.) Have never actually drank a drop of their product and 3.) Are aggressive and staunch virgins.

I know that the first thing I would do after scaling Everest would be to promptly reach for a Michelob Ultra, because I still have to maintain my boyish figure after the grueling climb.  I know that when Ray Liotta vacantly looks at me from across the bar with a glass filled to the brim with 1800 gasoline, that I’m pissing myself then immediately throwing my beautifully crafted sazerac on the floor where it belongs. What I witnessed on 1/4/14 however is proof that the Budlight superstition commercials are about as accurate as it gets.

By halftime of the Colt’s game, the sulking was at an all-time high with my friend. They were down 28 to the limping Chiefs, in the first round of the NFL Playoffs. Several temper tantrums and tear drops later, the stench of both defeat and black mold lied heavy in the air.  As he sat there watching his team get destroyed and the $200 bet he laid on the game was looking grim at best. Another friend suggested a tribute, a sacrifice that would ignite both his liver and the will to win for the diminished Colts…Smirnoff Raspberry. Specifically a mystery bottle that had been ditched from New Years Eve days earlier.

The answer had been there all along, nothing inspires a football team 100’s of miles away, and completely unaware of your existence like chugging Raspberry Vodka before key plays.  With every possession the pulls from the bottle became more feverish and more frequent. A descent into complete oblivion. After what I counted to be a full 6 second chug, Andrew Luck miraculously recovered Donald Brown’s fumble and dove into the end zone. The turnovers, the injuries they were all being fueled by this otherwise bottle of undrinkable Smirnoff Raspberry. It seemed insane at first, but the consistency of it all was nothing short of mesmerizing…magical. One man put the entire Colts team on his back and trucked them through the first round…and it wasn’t anyone on the field that day. Those Budlight commercials were officially accurate on 1/4/14.