Tuesday, October 07, 2008
I was planning on doing a massive post today regarding my burning hatred toward Jonathon Papelbon. But then I remembered that no one visiting this site cares about baseball anymore, so I should change my focus. Then I thought about going after Frank Caliendo but thought against that as well considering that no one finds him amusing anymore. I began scouring the web searching for my inspiration. Inspiration was actually the word that helped me come to a decision. I'm a "glass half empty" kind of guy and I believe that my bullshit radar is usually on point. And reading what I just read sent it off the charts. Allow me to explain why...
This week's Middle Finger goes to Jesus Christ himself...Kurt Warner.
Allow me to get my pithy fantasy football gripe out of the way for a moment. Over the years, I've been burned by Warner so many times that Joan of Arc feels bad for me (there's your history lesson for the day). For some strange reason, this past Sunday against the helpless Bills, Warner is still launching the ball around while his team is up 24 points in the 4th quarter. I ended up tying commenter Drew because of this aggregious act. And the way that my league is setup, that means that we have to fuck. I had to get that off of my chest. How about we get to the real crux of my position?
We all saw Anquan Boldin get his head ripped off by Eric Smith last week against the Jets. It was a pretty big hit and thankfully Boldin will be OK and complaining about his contract again in no time. But, I'm on cnnsi.com last night and this was written:
Kurt Warner, who threw the Week 4 pass that resulted in Anquan Boldin getting knocked out and fracturing his sinus membrane, said he considered retirement, effective immediately, following the game:
Sitting alone on the bus, praying under his breath while wiping away tears, Warner sent Brenda a text message that stunned her: This is it. I can’t do this anymore. It’s time to retire.
Recalled Brenda: “He meant, like, now.”
First of all, I thought that, like, Brenda Warner learned her lesson that she shouldn't be talking to the media. If it's not calling up radio stations and asking them to be nice, she's calling some reporter and talking about how her husband was crying. Could it have been possible that he wasn't bawling over the injury and the tears were flowing due to the 6 turnovers that he was responsible for? I hope that my marriage features that kind of embarrassment.
Second, and the reason that this grinds my gears, is that Warner is too good. It's as though he's just a little too nice as a person. We all want to blame Smith for being a head hunter yet Warner knows that that is bullshit. Had he not left Boldin hanging out to dry, none of this would have happened. Prayers aren't going to cure Boldin's sinuses, but throwing passes that aren't shitty certainly will.
Along the same lines that Warner was lamenting, I've also had to do some soul-searching recently:
I made some awful chicken fettucine alfredo last night, I will be retiring from eating.
A twig fell on my car, I will never leave the house again.
It's been a while since I've seen some quality internet porn, I better castrate myself.
I think that this was in Peter King's MMQB column from last week, but, the night before games, Warner and his family go out to an area restaurant and they discreetly pick up the check for another family in the restaurant. They play a game with their kids to pick out who they will be paying for that night. You really think that you're better than me, don't you, Kurt? I'm sitting there, bitching about how that fucking baby won't stop crying and here you come on your white money horse with your deep pocketbooks and friendship with Moses! Well, I'm onto you. You are not normal. This kind of behavior is un-American. A real American would tell the parents to get their little shits under control, not buy you a meal at Olive Garden.
As you can see, Kurt Warner is better than all of us and he knows it. I don't like it one bit. Nobody is that nice. To steal from Peter Griffin: "I do not care for Kurt Warner. He insists upon himself. I prefer Kerry Collins (or insert one of the other 450 NFL players that were arrested this year)". So enjoy your Middle Finger this week, Kurt. Feel free to come down and live among the mongoloids for a day or two. Break a bottle of booze over Matt Leinart's head! Wipe your ass with Larry Fitzgerald's hair! Give Russ Grimm a Roman helmet! Do something because this "nice guy" act is wearing thin for this asshole blogger.
Basically, Kurt Warner is a Ned Flanders living in a Krusty The Clown world. We all want the fully loaded Canyonero and to freebase crushed-up moon rocks while he prays for all of our souls. It makes me sick. I'm totally going to Hell.