I need to put the kabash on something real quick. I am not in, nor have I come out of the closet. I have not had sexual relations with Olivia Munn (nor Aaron Rodgers for that matter). I did not die of a chronic mountainous erection due to the dominating performance of RYAN MALLETT DA GAWD versus the Cleveland Brownstains. I've been busy, working. I have a job. I have a wife who will likely look at me sideways because I happened to type "sexual relations" and "mountainous erection" into a sports blog post. I have kids who like to do things that don't involve staying home and sitting in a corner and wondering why daddy looks so funny all of the time. Life is currently happening and even though I love blogging for you germs, I am having trouble finding time to. Luckily, Zane has done a stellar job keeping us afloat every week. I can sit here and tell you that I am going to start contributing more here, but I don't want to mislead you. Life is happening at the moment. OILFIELD DON'T SLEEP. But, rest assured, I'm going to give you my best.
Don't be fooled by the title of this post. Zane and I are not some kind of reporters who are out on assignment covering their silly excuse of a football team. Even if they paid us, we wouldn't go to Oakland on purpose. We enjoy living our lives without the constant stench of dried fecal matter and rotten cabbage. Oakland is hell, and Al Davis is fucking Lucifer's shitty ass grandpa. No thanks.
I'm playing a little pretend here today. The Oakland Raiders are doublefucked. They are currently 0-10 and there is no end to the pain in sight. Ol' Crazy Grandpa Al died and left his family all of the trash to take out. This trash just so happens to be the Raiders' 53-man roster. This team is going 0-16, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. They also fired the coach after getting bootyspanked by the Miami Dolphins in London by the score of 173-6. Poor Brits. They happen to like American football and we give them the Raiders and the Jaguars. Naive, Grand Canyon-mouthed fucks. They don't know any better. That's where the pretend comes in. Zane and I have accepted the job of co-head coaches of the motherfuckin' Silver and Black. The Team of Death. The World's Most Orphaned Franchise. YOUR... OAKLAND RAIDERS.
Granted, we were not hired for this job because we can coach up Derek Carr and friends. They didn't seek us out because we can run the West Coast offense to perfection. Nope. They hired us because we are psychotic, slobbering, hairy ass American quote machines. We were brought in to create a diversion while upper management plans their escape to the Bermuda triangle. Sweet, tasty precious death. These assholes would rather die than to be associated with the Oakland Raiders. Roger Goodell will likely take ownership of the team and move them to San Antonio. A dump of a football team going to a dump of a town. Perfect match. We've just lost to the San Diego Chargers, who have been leaking chocolate waterfalls out of their own asses and into their beds the last month or so themselves. But have no fear! The Get-Well Raiders are here! Now, it is our time to shine. It is press conference time for Coach Adame and Coach Teal. The writers, sycophants and reporters have all filed into the media room and proceeded to make it smell like ass and armpits. The mics are hot, and here we go.
Coach Adame: First off, I want to thank all of you for being here today. I apologize for Coach Teal not being here to grace you with his presence, but he is currently going ape-shit on the team right now. He is showing them reruns of The Gilmore Girls while playing that stupid-ass "Animals" song by Adam Levine on a loop as their punishment. I will do my best to answer all of your questions until he gets here. But before we continue, I need to let you motherfuckers know that you all need to take a bath before y'all come up in here next week. The stench of your rotting bodies is unpleasant to my eyes and nose. OK, first question?
Reporter One: Coach, tough loss here today. How does it feel to go to 0-10 after only allowing 13 points to San Diego because of the inability to score more than 6 points?
Coach Adame: It feels like fuck you, OK? We are bottom of the barrel plankton food. Amoeba feels like they can punk us now. We lost to a damn inbred retard named Philip Rivers whose cousin/wife just gave birth to their 15th mutant baby. Y'all need to investigate that son of a bitch because he may be from Utah and have 13 wives. I don't care if that's legal or not, my boy Roger will handle that shit real quick. If none of these players are allowed to punch their kids or assault women in dirty bar bathrooms, then he isn't allowed to fuck. Then you got Antonio Gates, who's 87 years old and still runs faster than a horny cheetah. If that dude isn't on some kind of PEDs, then I need to have what he's having because I can't even run fast enough to the restroom when I got the squirts. OK, but to answer your question, it sucks to only score 6 points in a professional football game. But what do you expect? We've got David Carr's little snot-nosed brother as our quarterback. And he's only got that job by default because our front office made the conscious decision to trade for Matt Fucking Schaub in the offseason. Remember that asshole (room snickers)? That piece of donkey shit threw more touchdowns to the other team than his own and our front office thought it was a good idea that to bring THAT guy in here? Fuck that, and FUCK THEM. We have two running backs who are the exact same guy. And by the exact same guy, I mean that they are always hurt. I think they are fellating each other after practice each week and over doing it. They need to stop that shit or save it for the bye week because I need a running back to keep the ball out of Derek Carr's hands. But then again, can I blame Derek? Look who he has to throw to. You got someone named James Jones out there, who is the one receiver on earth that can make Aaron Rodgers look bad. His hands are made of adamantium and fresh concrete and his fingers are the rebar. Then you have something called Mychal Rivera, whose parents couldn't even spell his name correctly so he was fucked from the womb. Look guys, we've been here before. Are you really surprised that we only scored 6 points? No, dumbass. Of course you aren't. Next question.
Reporter 2: With rumors circulating that the team could move to LA or San Antonio, do you feel any added pressure to win at least one game this season?
Coach Adame: San Antonio? Fuck that. They wanna move us to San Antonio? Hell no! Do you know why no one is allowed to go into the Riverwalk water? It isn't because it is some sort of landmark treasure. It's because that shit is radioactive. You fall in, you don't come out. They can't keep the fish in there because the fuckers grow legs and walk away. What do you think happened to Jimmy Hoffa? They threw him in the Riverwalk and he melted and was slurped up by Catfish Man. If they want us to win so we can move, then you might as well just give us the rest of these losses this season and 16 more the next season because I'm not going to San Antoni-HOE. No sir. Move us to Boise, Idaho. Or Canada. Or Australia so we can scrimmage the kangaroos. Anywhere but San Antonio. I'll take LA. You know what, who am I kidding, LA isn't getting a team again.
Reporter 3: Coach, what does the team have to do to win a game this season?
Coach Adame: Pray. Pray to Jesus, Allah, Buddah, Jay-Z and Beyonce and the rest of the illumiati. We need to dig up the ashes of Al Davis and spread them on the other team's locker rooms. I figured that since that old leathery fuck has cursed this team for so long, the rest of the league can get some too. I can't give you the generic answers anymore. No more trying hard every Sunday. He need some witchcraft. I am going to take a class in black magic from Darth Raider on the field level seats. I plan on throwing a hex on the Chiefs this Thursday and hope they become the Redskins. Speaking of the Redskins, I thought that we were the only team allowed to do screwy shit with our first round draft picks. How dare those motherfuckers try to one-up us. I know we drafted a kicker in the first round who likely ate his competition, at least we didn't trade the souls of 10,000 American Indians for the right to draft Andre 3000 of Outkast. They couldn't even throw in Big Boi? What a shame. We need to get back at them. I sure do like that Jamies Winston fellow. I wonder what St Louis will take for him. I think I have the keys to Al's jet somewhere.
Random asshole: Coach... where is Coach Teal? I thought he would be here with you?
Coach Adame: Fuck... hold on, let me call him. *has awkward phone conversation*.... Damn, OK... but don't you.... shouldn't.... ah shit, don't get shot man. He lived in Texas for a few years you know..... OK, bye. Sorry guys, Coach Teal won't be here with us today. Apparently, in a fit of rage, he's on his way to David Carr's house to beat his ass and get a piece of his wife. And on that note, gotta go. See y'all Thursday! Go Tex-- I mean Raiders!Good chance we're fired after Thursday's game.
Until next time, cabrones....
Juan
1 comment:
Lmfao!!!
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