(LOS ANGELES, September 12, 2011)- Well, here I am, The Chief, sitting in the scrunched confines of a middle seat in coach class for a cross country flight. Not exactly how I envisioned kicking off another year for the Monday Morning Fullback, but gone are the comfortable surroundings of the hobo poo-laden Government Center where I whipped up many a column. It would only be fitting after yesterday’s punch to the Chiefs that there is also NO WIFI on this fucking tin can with wings, so I am pretty much in the 7th circle of hell and this is going to be pretty barebones until I fill in the gaps once I reach the hotel room.
(Oxygen bags deploy) HOLY SHIT! SOMETHINGS GOING ON …..(Places mask on, inhales deeply, falls into euphoric Billy Madison happy place state)
A bubbling brook rolls quietly…the sound of a western wind sweeping the plains…a harp plays in the distance…where..where am i? Wait, a second- this isn’t oxygen. This is pure, unadulterated, free flowing aromatic HATE. This is stuff that has been feeding Smitty’s matchups all these years. I am suddenly filling up with a rage I’ve never before experienced. LOW PATIENCE FOR LAWYERS, STUDENTS, CHRIS BOSH AND ASIANS RISING. ARGHGHGHGHG. Week 1, nothing better than the fat shit smug faces on those who may win. An undefeated season on the horizon and smooth sailing. Congrats guys, you did it. Go shove your dick in a warthog’s bunghole. And to the losers, of course, scrambling faster then one of Kebron’s charred raisins on a naked bootleg to prevent being the next guy ordering pizza to the Trump. ONTO THE GOODS!
EVERYONE DOWN
Nothing better than week 1, which is why after a two-week hiatus from the draft, no one is getting in the 3 up today. Not you, not you, and no chance RUBEN or TONES. I don’t have stats in front of me, conveniently because my team stunk like pig tits, so this breakdown will be based solely on bull.
Posts and Hoes- Late to the draft, didn’t buy me a bottle of DOM as a thank you for being accepted to the league and so far has proven to be a major asset on the boards. Please tones, don’t strain yourself. Your post count has been enough to fill mamayth’s thunder thighs. 3 strike rule is in effect and I’ve got my eye on you, because if I kept an eye on your team, Ricky Williams and Pierre Escargo, I may become overjoyed and lose some hate steam. Good call on not handcuffing Foster though.
La Flama Blanca/Garrity Motors- A delightful double of BOFFE’S. So far, most league members have kept it real, admitting that their teams suck. I’ve heard many a call of fire sales, my team is filled with wiggers, and one little fruit even said at the draft, “I don’t like white guys” prior to drafting Cleveland’s Madden Curse…but not these two. Post draft, Rubz was seen modeling the belt, preparing a mantel to place it on at his new digs. Led by the draft’s best bombillo value in Peyton, and fortified with pro-bowler to be Sham Bradford, all that was left was to cake walk over Machu. Then you got Dfern, more Tucker than he is Kenny or Stevie, lauding his team from the highest heavens. “I have the best stable of backs, and I guarantee I’m taking down that gigantic boob this week.” At least your WR’s showed out because the only gigantic boobs you jiggled out on Sunday were Blount and Shonne.
Don Pan/Parrot Heads- You savage moochers! I land, turn on my phone, and I'm getting peppered with tomato's. Here's a classic one for ya...

The rest of you are spared, now that I'm settled into the confines of my room (read: terrified and under the covers) I'm going to skip the who done blowed up and who done turked it as its already been covered at nausea.
Who I like on Monday Night, and I mean this guy:

Ah, perhaps my favorite MMFB segment, the Monday Night Chief picks. For four years straight I've made my predicitions, and I checked how I'm doing on my calls. I'm at about a 90 percent success rate including gutsy calls on massive underdogs like Andres passing his accounting class and Davey opening up his own horse-betting arcade in Long Island. On the real though, I'm going to keep track of my picks this year so SHALL WE?
El Beecho has Davey by the short and curlies so giving Kebron an easy W on the backs of Knowshown and the lawturd. Likewise, Smitty is nursing a 42 point lead on Lou's team. Ay mama! The parrot heads are holding tight to a 13 point cushion, but I think Andres takes him not on the back of brandon LLOYD!, but rather we the bess. Dinero has properly disposed over the rookie biatch. Welcome to the big show Tone. Rubz up 18 against the greatest team on turf, look for b-marsh to seal that deal. And last but not least....
Down 41 points thanks to several Sunday shit stains, as well as my signature ranking slave fuck up so I'm doomed right?? Brady, Welka, Bush, Pats D....
CHIEFS WIN!

Till next week!
-THE CHIEF
No comments:
Post a Comment