You don’t need me to tell you that Philadelphia Eagles, and indeed anything from the city of Philadelphia as a whole, are evil. Loudest guy in your office? Almost certainly from Philly, or Delaware at best. That girl you know who has a habit of throwing up on your shoes? She grew up on SEPTA, where she perfected her puking skills. You haven’t known true misery until you’ve smelled Flyers fans in the sun.
And yet, we can get behind them now, right?
If Brock Purdy is just the latest to take up the mantle of Jesus and Christianity as his driving force, and allow Fox News to portray him as all that is holy and good, and he and his compatriots were so violently stricken Sunday afternoon in South Philly, then clearly, by Purdy’s and anyone else’s logic, they are Satan’s army. I don’t make the rules.
And for many, the Eagles in another Super Bowl and the thought of winning it is truly terrifying. But we have seen it all before and are used to it. Being too cute by half, that’s the devil we know. Wouldn’t that be more permanent smallpox on all of us if it’s the Niners, to their third QB, made it to the Super Bowl, probably won it, and launched 1,000 boatloads of stories about how the QB position is now overrated? How many GMs would lose their brains to stew and go back to being a game manager? Do you remember that torture? Has your team found itself under his pressure? I’ve spent enough Kyle Orton debates to know that particular punishment all too well. So really, between Jesus and Morningstar, who has our best interest and happiness at hand?
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And doesn’t San Francisco have enough? Most of the things that curse our society originated in the Bay Area anyway. Who truly comes from an evil place?
Besides, all the things you love in this world have been attributed to the work of the devil at some point. Have you ever seen a devout Christian or Catholic eat Indian food? You’re not. Good music, good drugs, good sex, all the work of Below. The scary truth is that maybe Lucifer is the one who truly loves us, and is only suffering because of the bigger marketing budget of Gore. And if he occasionally asks us to put up with the Eagles in the Super Bowl, I can trade that for microdosing and Kolsch.
We all win in this matter
Whichever deity we choose to follow, we are all connected by the relief that we won’t have to listen to Tony Romo again until next September. That’s eight months of freedom. Valhalla is real, boys and girls.
Romo was at his Jerry-Lewis-being-poked-with-scorpions best on Sunday, telling us absolutely nothing about what was happening on the field or why the play happened, but making sure to make every sound under the sun. After Ja’Marr Chase’s catch that gave the Bengals a first-and-goal, Romo attempted no fewer than four sentences, none of which he finished. “Here you go, Jim…he’s leading…they call this…going deep…safety…(I mean something about highpoint?)…what a wait! Big game Jim! $17 million, please.”
I’ve always wondered why it matters so much who your best analyst is, especially after CBS gave Phil Simms and his Mattel-baby-first-telestator level of insight into the game. Football games are always going to be top rated, so why not save some money and just take any guy who’s really good at the job? Amazon probably had the right idea by only going with Kirk Heirbstreit, who has some name value but mostly just tells me what he sees (albeit with varying levels of interest). People don’t listen to Romo mouth-queef for three hours, though I doubt they tune out either. What exactly does CBS get out of this? I know we’re all closer to aneurysms listening to him.
Look at this loser shit:
Of course, they later changed it to Chiefs colors, but the damage was already done. I’ve always suspected that New Yorkers deride football as something that just happens in New Jersey until the Jets or Giants make the Super Bowl (ha, the Jets in the Super Bowl. That’s a sentence I wrote). Now we know.