MMFB WEEK 5

Vol. 5 No. 5

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, sleeping on the MMFB were you? Seems like it. Be it because its Columbus Day, my FORMER favorite BS holiday before I done went corporate, or some of you are laying in the reeds like duck about to uncork a volatile stream of quack shit, its quiet out there. Alas, a celebratory weekend can do that a group of men of this caliber. Shall we begin by jumping into the highlights, and of course, the pickled low lights.

Highlights:

You know the MMFB in its ballyhooed 5^th season has pumped a break in recent years RE: University of Miami. What once was a pit of heated debate and fun banter has transformed into one single honk of the week call out with juiced up numbers, all the while I let the program fester in nonrelevance like a dehydrated dog turd. But I just want to begin by making sure my #CanesFam is alive and well after an absolute, complete and utter national drubbing in the windy city. Sunday’s are always rough following a road trip of that caliber, my only hope is in the wee hours following a 100 percent total ass rapery of a game, that you battled through the chilly weather, nipping ever so slightly at your nutsacks…nip nip…nip nip…and looked up at the ticker to see: Florida smothers LSU.

Relevant? Oh it’s relevant. I’m goin innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn….(1:00 minute mark)

And that sums up the UF side of things. A signature win, for an unsanctioned program heading in the right direction. Future bright on both sides of the ball. So bright. Smitty, Rubz, a crest-fallen Lou, yours truly and Dfern partied from the early noon until the wee hours on Saturday. And the Gator club celebrated in due fashion by packing in Brother Jimmy’s, and leaving a little gift for owner Jonathan Vilma on behalf of the orange and blue. Which brings us to the lowlights. If I had to paint of picture of Dfern on Saturday to the league it would be easy. The brawny man. The biggest, loudest, proudest Gator. Picture Jimmy Hart, but in Gator clothes and twice as gay. He was also the bar maestro, dialing up shots with must take pickle chasers after. Fast forward to post game, Dfern, having a group convo, takes a sip of beer and just erupts with a frothy mountain of yack that caused a sincere panic for the Danny Boy Canes piling in. Next thing you know there is a pickled puddle and Dfern stormed into the night like Bruce Wayne spotting the signal, baba still bubbling off his chin. It was awesome, so a big thanks to Dfern for taking it up a next step and we luckily got video footage of it:

ONTO THE GOODS!

3 UP

The Bank- The man living on noodle armed pass to bombillo smashed dome gets a no brainer UP from the Chief for hitting all the must hits. Survived some time in a Central Florida hell hole in time to swoop in on Miami to run through his checklist. Shit on the Canes, got it, push Rubz back into the Machucando cellar, OK can do, push the Chief into saying hi to Loos with all eyes on em, SIN PROBLEMA. B Marsh caught the ball this week, Manning noodles his way to 3/3 and the San Louis D went bread basket. Rubz wanted to keep playing with Colston last night, but Smitty said no sir…time for you to go to sleep.

 Parrot Heads- Sunday’s second clear winner is the devilish legend himself, Uncle Al, who was the essence of boring and solid in eclipsing the triple digit line. Brees did all the heavy lifting just like a vintage Al and Chief gon recruiting in Vegas aka he brought in the boatloads. Other then that, it was pedestrian as the reigning champ continues to wallow in a post championship hangover that Machucando pundits simply can’t describe. If I had to take a guess, I’d go with a simple one...probably a little too much time strategerizing with Rubz predraft. Similar strategies, similar results. Do you have a better guess? Let's hear it!

Cash Out- because Tony doesn’t deserve a Monday BEEJ after that W. Get outta heeya X 20. Just by the Sprolesian whiskers on your chinny chin Marco chin. Jimmy Graham walking boot approved.

3 DOWN

LO VISTE- Keep chipping away brudda.

BLOOCHING- Let’s get a couple Honks of the Week going before we lose you to uhhh moar West End Zone and stacks counting stuff. 

DON PAN- (bites into pastelito) ITS POOP AGAIN!

THE HEISENBERGS

Colston- Hory Mory.

Bears Defense- BEAR DOWN.

Ahmad Bradshaw- ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Victor Cruz- Salsa special

Alex Smiff- Derp

LO COMISTE

Please throw up the Lo Viste over your ombligo as you read these.

Greg Little- lmao! Second goose egg this guy drops on a sucker, and this time, it came to baby bro bye week. #LoComiste

Lawfirm- Who’s this guy working for? Perez, Moreno, D. Fernandez and D. Fernandez?! (never gets old….NEVER) 1.5 #LoComiste

CJ.5K #LoComiste

Jackie Battle / Papa Fritz- Word to the savvy. You want to make a post announcing you have guys on the block, get probably over 10 trade requests, then you stick your thumb up your pooper like your checking Jynx Maze oil and say you were evaluating the market?  If real G’s moves in silence like lasagna, you are kicked up like Garfield with an absolute Golden-esque disaster at your RB2. No one talks trade with me for whatever reason….jealousy, envy, praise, not a fan of good returns, etc…but I’ve imagined you chapped a few asses with that midweek trade block stunt. Jackie Moon. 2 points. #LoComiste

 And Tony started Robert Turbin. TURBIN. I like to tell people this is a competitive league…I guess Tony wants to make me out to be a liar. Requisite: 

Who I like on Monday Night, and I mean DIS GON BE GOOD:

Ah, perhaps my favorite MMFB segment, the Monday night chief picks. Two games left in the wind tonight and you know one features the headliner. Sanwhiskers RTR clinging to a 3.5 lead with Owen Wilson at TE, while Jav is slow smoking that Houston D. How can I not go for the man leading a bonafide power grab? Jav wins behind some Chicagoan defensive TD’s. The irony of the power grabbed is steeped in history, with Lou giving the Chief his adios on the same piddly bark Jav gave once upon a time. “Machucando is too much.” I suppose I disagree seeing as how I just spent 1,000 words on recapping some shitty ass Sunday games and Dfern barfing.

Finally, yours truly. I made a solemn promise I wouldn’t lose on my bye week. Thanks to Matthews spraying doo doo on the Jackie Battle express, I’m down 8 with some guy named Arian Foster ready to roll against a team that can’t control the clock. Arian’s lowest score this year? 14.5. 4 and 1 never felt so good. In the words of Hulk Hogan’s sex tape, I’M CUMMING BROTHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GETTEM GOODY!

TILL NEXT WEEK.

-THE CHIEF