Like I Said

Andre Dyson, Marquand Manuel and Bryce Fisher make juice out
of the Redskins' Taylor Jacobs.

Dear Washington Post:

Shut up.

Sincerely,

Thaddeus R. Gunn

We Are So Going To Cream The Redskins

A local family prepares to grant custody of their child
to Seahawks Wide Receiver Bobby Engram as a special
"thank you" for a particularly ossum season.

Greg:

I know that you look forward to my letters as a source of deep discussion of salient matters and gleamingly unprejudiced discourse. Or perhaps you just anchored my blog to your F10 key so you can instantly launch it to obscure porn when the boss walks by. Either way, I appreciate your oblique references to it in your phone calls so as to maintain the illusion that you actually read it.

My half of this delicately balanced charade is to continue in these epistles exactly as though you were interested in what I have to say about that Grandest of All Sports Ever, American Football. [Insert fanfare.] So without delay, I shall deliver my completely unbiased forecast for this Saturday's NFC Playoff game between the Seattle Seahawks (I'm from Seattle - did you know that?) and those other guys with the unbelievably un-PC team name, the Washington Redskins. (Apparently the Alabama Battlin' Klansmen, the Texas Wetbacks, the New York Dagos and the Louisiana Stepin Fetchits were already taken.)


Seahawks Wide Receiver Joe Jurevicius demonstrates his technique
for giving the opposing team a pigskin suppository whilst Tight
End Jerramy Stevens looks on, chortling.

Here's my scientific forecast: we cream the 'Skins by about a bazillion points. Yeah they beat us in the regular season by a field goal. But that was only because I wasn't wearing my Lucky Underpants. When I was wearing my Lucky Underpants at the 'Hawks/Giants game (and the wind was blowing from the 300 level directly down on to the field), their kicker missed 3 field goals. See? Cause :: effect. And lemme tell ya, the Giants' Jay Feeley looked like he'd been cuttin' onions by the time that game was over, so I know he was catching a snootful of the magic. This time I will be wearing my Lucky Underpants again, but I won't be at the game. Since I'll be wearing my Lucky Underpants at home, that means that Teresa will probably require me to also wear a Lucky Lemon-Scented Urinal Cake around my neck, so that means - yeah buddy! Double-plus lucky!!

A lot of naysayers, yahoos, nabobs, and poo-prattlers will say that the Seahawks are going to win this game because they're good players. Yeah, whatever. So Shaun Alexander has practically every award in the NFL plus a jillion yard rushing record. So what if we have the top-rated offense. So what if we have pro-bowlers out the wing-wang. What-everrr! Any brainless pecksniff will try to sell you on "stats" and "facts", but I say Mike Mularkey! It's all magic! The team who rubs their rabbit's foot the hardest wins. And this year, the magic is on our side! Chief Seattle is doing the wave in the Happy Hunting Grounds for the Seahawks. Mark my Lucky Underpants. Oh wait. I already did.

Okay, so, your turn. How's your invention thingamahoolio going? Yeah? Oh. Hmm. Geez. You don't say. Wow.

Hey, wouldja look at that. It's 5PM and time to leave work.

Cheers, and give my best to Marie. Go Hox.

-Thaddeus