RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Tuesday, November 27

NFL WK 13: South division teams

(NOTE: I wrote all this shit last night after Sean Taylor had shown signs of fight and squeezed the docs hands, but you probably saw he died by now, and I didn't want what I wrote to seem all dickish and shit, because it wasn't. But I wouldn't have wrote it how I wrote it had he died, but I also am not the type to change shit around after the fact either, other than to add this intro note. I only knew Sean Taylor as a football player, meaning everything I knew was filtered through home team media bias. But the dude from all accounts had really changed since he had a kid with his live-in girlfriend last year. You can't really say he changed though, as he came from a well-to-do family in the first place, not the projects or some shit. Apparently, he's lived in the same area since becoming a pro and the thing a few years back when some dudes stole his ATVs was never resolved outside of him having to plea bargain, and most likely not be allowed to have guns anymore. Like five minutes after he confronted those people with pistols back then, which was played up like crazy in the media as a sign of what a thug he was, his SUV got sprayed by an AK47, which was never hardly ever reported as far as I can remember. And before this shit where he got shot and died, someone had broke into his house like ten days ago as well. The point is, for me, he's just a football player, not my cousin or some shit; but it's also fucked up that some dude all young with a kid reshaping his world view and giving him some frame of reference to do things with the opportunities he earned and was granted in life gets gunned down in what police seem to be speculating may be a continuance of fucking petty grudges based on materialistic bullshit. I feel bad for his family but mostly his girlfriend and 18-month-old kid who had to be there to witness the shooting in their own bedroom. Even the fact Taylor had his 18-month-old daughter's crib in his own master bedroom with him and his girlfriend, for me, shows how the guy was nothing like the selfish thug he got made out to be at times early in his career. It's just another fucked up story of how trifling we have become as American assholes and how we have less value for human life than we do all the shiny things.)
Two opposing forces of football player are in my thoughts and delusions right now, both sort of anchored in the Miami area controlled by Rick Ross and his crew of cocaine cowboy assassins that will snatch German tourists from speeding cars on the freeway and trade them to MS13 members from El Salvador as sex slaves for pure cocaine smuggled up from Bolivia (for more information on that, consult your local internet service provider, plus maybe the library and shit). First off, as my beloved Redskins continue to perform half-hearted breakdowns of mediocre motivation as if their coach was still Norvell Turner, the one punisher Sean Taylor gets blasted in the dick by a shotgun-wielding home invader. The prognosis for a return to football dominance is not good when the doctors are stoked that dude responded by squeezing your hand, showing he wasn't completely brain dead from blood loss. And on the other side of things, Ricky Williams makes his return to the NFL, and I think already got injured. Still, honestly, I care about a Ricky Williams as a football player more than a Sean Taylor. Don't get me wrong, Taylor is awesome, and I would never wish ill will on anybody, especially some bullshit like what he's going through, but the mega-million moody superstar as opposed to the perennial fuck-up who detours through year-long drug suspensions north of the border is just no comparison. Football is a fucked-up sport historically, and guys like Ricky Williams are the backbone ot that shit. These modern day genetic (growth hormone) freaks in Under Armour gear, for me, are not so much football as cyborg ignoramuses engineered to be exploited for sport combat. Now, I have no problem with people being exploited for entertainment, and in fact, good business pretty much means everybody gets exploited to a certain extent that keeps them personally content as well. So fuck it. But when it comes to football, I'd rather have weird asses and nutjobs as the posters on my kids' walls than some dude with nutritionists and personal trainers and all that nonsense. I'd like to think the perfect linebacker drinks a 12-pack gameday morning, and the perfect quarterback has paid for an abortion of the child he planted in the either the coach's daughter or owner's granddaughter - whichever is hotter and more seedworthy - in order to keep things kosher in the locker room. For me, football is dudes who end up broke as fuck but have hilarious stories to tell while you share cocaine with them in a Super 8. Fuck athletics. That's for the goofier froufrou sports that make the Olympics and Jews used to dominate. Athletics is universal and has those marble statues with little dicks from Greco-Roman times. Football is American, in fact it's as American as anything that might exist. Wild individuality somehow forced into the concept of a team where all these wacky spirits come together to move an oblong "ball" across arbitrary lines. All this genetic freak muscle-bound crewcut super-athlete bullshit, that's some German engineering shit, and there's nothing American about some German engineering type bullshit. What I'm saying is I hope Sean Taylor gets better my thoughts and prayers if I believed in things to pray at go to him and his fam and all, but football is meant to be won by like 50 Ricky Williamses, not 50 Sean Taylorses. And I wish all football coaches felt this way, although I'm sure they all secretly do, and when successful follow this belief but employ great P.R. staffs that help gloss over shit like Tom Brady knocking up mad super models or Rodney Harrison doing HGH.
Anyways, here's the stupid South division teams ranked, wrapping up our third time working through the divisions this year. Even I am amazed I have made it this far.

#1: INDIANAPOLIS COLTS (9-2, #2 overall) - The Colts already felt the Super Bowl curse of having all your middling free agents signed up to high dollar contracts because every general manager in the NFL who has never won a Super Bowl believes all he needs is one dude to come into the locker room and flash his ring under everybody else's nose and all of a sudden the sad pack of losers he's slapped together will get fired up like the Bad News Bears in Japan all of a sudden. But on top of that, the Colts are getting injured the fuck up. And somehow they've still only lost two games. I expect that to grow though, as they will be a player but not the unbeatable by year's end, since this year is designed to put over the Patriots in NFL engineered finishes, and the Colts are kinda sitting on the shelf to perhaps come back into public consciousness next year, or maybe they are a Steelers team meant to win a single Super Bowl to spike fan interest in an old franchise (albeit the Colts pretty much sabotaged all their old fans when bailing out of Baltimore), to keep jersey sales healthy and growing and the NFL coffers full of shiny shiny gold bars.

#2: JACKSONVILLE JAGUARS (8-3, #5 overall) - The main reason I could never hate the Jacksonville Jaguars is that there is no other coach outside of Jack Del Rio who looks like he would drive an old Porsche Carrera, do a lot of coke, and fuck fat chicks who are kinda hot in a "What can I say, I had Chinese eyes." I do not know how many DUIs Del Rio has (nor do I feel like looking it up), but I can guarantee he'll probably be a modern era leader in that category by the time he finishes his NFL head coach run in Jacksonville and probably a retread gig or two as well. One other thing I love about the Jaguars is that I am a fairly healthy football fan - I watch shit every week and read the papers and shit - and I could probably name maybe five or six Jaguars at the most.

#3: TAMPA BAY BUCCANEERS (7-4, #6 overall) - I'm sure there's some folks who would suggest Jon Gruden might also make a run for most chinky-eyed fat chick fucking head coach, but those folks would be misguided. Gruden is more one of those cocky self-important Napoleon types who liked to rape the Mexican retarded girl in high school and to this day has a twinkle in his eye and he moans out a mimicking imitation of her “NOOO... ES MALO, ES MALO!” retard cries. You don’t get all scowly-faced at such a young age like Gruden is unless you take far too much joy in other people’s personal sufferings, because when you see so many people walking around in public not obviously suffering, it fills you with misanthropic laser waves from your brain that point ahead toward your third eye, which physically forces the muscles behind your eyebrows to squinch to force those neurons back into the brain’s mainframe. It’s scientifically certified.

#4: TENNESSEE TITANS (6-5, #10 overall) - In an opium-like fervor from smoking some wild lettuce resin I harvested earlier this year, I laid out the tea leaves under a red light in my hobo camper that I do all my important creative endeavors inside of, and conjured up the future of the Titans. I was saddened to see that the overblown hype of Vince Young actually not being a good-natured simpleton but a potential Super Bowl MVP QB is what eventually causes the good-natured and football-intelligent Jeff Fisher to lose his job in Tennesssee, as owners in today’s star culture are almost forced to side with the multi-million dollar quarterback over the ten-year tenure head coach until the bitter end. (See Dan Reeves/Michael Vick in Atlanta.) Also regarding the Titans, I am saddened that Pacman Jones’ snitching for a lesser sentence did not cause the white dudes who make those arbitrary working decisions for their NFL field negroes to not allow him to come back and play this year. What more can he do? It should also be noted that your potential college football championship game contender the West Virginia Mountaineers is where Pacman played in college, and they are a very underrated college program for creating thuggish ruggish outlaws to flame out in the NFL. I think it’s West Virginia’s wild and wonderful nature. And I guarantee you Pacman would’ve known better than to try that fake make it rain shit in one of West Virginia’s total nudity strip clubs because there would be no law involved, just a squirrel shot blast from the double barrel-wielding dude named after pork by-products working as “bouncer” in his dress jeans, button up pin-striped shirt, and nice leather vest, pretty much the same outfit he wore to his second marriage.

#5: HOUSTON TEXANS (5-6, #20 overall) - It’s sad that in their short existence, the Texans have already reached that status of “Oh shit, they’re almost .500 for once!” I am confused as to whether anyone cares about them or not. I mean, I know Texans love them some football and also love them some themselves meaning Texas. But the Cowboys sort of encompass all that without the corny ass “Texans” nickname, not to mention the faggy NFL Europa uniforms. If anybody had any sense, especially with all the retro jerseys the NFL is so stoked to parade out all the time, they should’ve just gone with Houston Oilers and tweaked the colors to separate themselves from the Titans as much as necessary to keep it acceptable. “Oilers” symbolically taps into that retarded Don’t Mess With Texas pride just like “Cowboys” does. I guess with this team being created after 9/11 changed everything forever, NFL image shapers don’t want to seem to idolize fossil fuel consumption or some shit.

#6: NEW ORLEANS SAINTS (5-6, #21 overall) - People will blame the NFC as sucking, but really it’s the NFL’s shoddy “parity” that allows for a Saints team that came out the gate 0-4 and not really all that impressive since then to be only one game out of a wild card berth at this point in the season. Seriously, this shit is like NBA bad, where two-thirds of the league gets falsely hyped to make the playoffs at the end of the year, creating that engineered bullshit sense that “Anyone could win it all!” when in reality, let’s be honest, there’s like three teams that could actually win it all, and maybe another three teams that could get lucky and beat one of those teams but not probably. At least this year we have a couple of actual good teams that could actually win it all instead of just having like six of the “could get lucky and beat one of those teams” battling it out for the championship, like the Giants/Ravens Super Bowl. What a piece of shit that was. To make it worse I was hanging out at some ultra-white ass people’s Super Bowl party (the bitch of that couple was friends with my wife back then and shit) where nobody actually gave one-third’s of a shit about the football game as much as how so-and-so made her seven-layer bean dip or what was what’s-his-face gonna do to try and get out of his second DUI in three years? As a football-watching fan, that was a personal career lowlight, and I think in the last twenty years, that along with the Super Bowl where I got bailed out of jail the morning the Steelers’ Neil O’Donnell gave it to the Cowboys were the only two I have remained stone cold sober at. The Steelers/Cowboys one was because I got arrested for drunken driving a gay man home and then questioned rather rudely about some sort of unsolved bludgeoning murder that I matched some bullshit description on, and then I found out I had a couple of outstanding warrants for failure to appears on shit they failed to let me know I should appear abouts. That Giants/Ravens Super Bowl was because I was immersed heavily into creepy white peopleness of the suburban type, which I am lucky to have grown up impoverished enough to avoid. I was waiting for those people to pass around a hat where the men all dropped their car keys in and the women pulled one out and that was who you had to have sex with. I hate parties like that because scrawny redhead chicks with freckle tits always end up pulling out my keys and for me, scrawny redhead chicks with freckle tits are uncut devil DNA fleshed out with vagina tricks to confuse issues even worse.

#7: CAROLINA PANTHERS (4-7, #24 overall) - Man, the Panthers are terrible. They have not won a home game all year long (but have a tough test at maintaining that unblemished futility this week with the lowly 49ers flying cross-country to Charlotte), and they’re quarterback collection is like you played franchises mode in Madden with a draft but forgot to get quarterbacks until the 35th round. Billy Jake Delhebert is gone to injury, and they’re left with career failure David Carr (who was half-crippled by Dom Capers’ lack of offensive line in Houston previously), Vinny Testaverde (who is only four years younger than my mom - no shit, and I’m almost 35), and some other young dude who I think used to pitch for the St. Louis Cardinals or some shit (and who must really suck ala Kyle Orton to not have at least been thrown into the mix in this shuffleboard of any body able they currently have going on). I bet Steve Smith doesn’t even car to get his cleats customized airbrushings anymore this year. I mean, what’s the fucking point? It’d be like putting 26-inch rims on an Escort with mismatched quarter panels.

#8: ATLANTA FALCONS (3-8, #26 overall) - Hey Joey Harrington... remember when you were a superstar blue chipper at Oregon and they bought a giant-assed space in NYC for a painting of you larger than life to campaign for your Heismann Trophy potential? You were huge man, and every piece of pussy on campus was wet for your touch. Now look at you... you somehow eke out two wins in a row for a hopeless franchise with a rookie coach and you still get benched so they can see how the half-gimp never-was they picked up off the QB scrap heap mid-season works out. I feel for you Joey. But keep your head up kid... at least you are not Ryan Leaf, and you could probably get a complimentary lapdance or two at most Atlanta strip clubs, even the kind of “lapdances” where the meaning is roughly translated as handjob while you feel on my fake tits, but no pinching or twisting, at least not for free.

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