You're Not Wrong...

You're just a bad parent, Ernest Provetti.

Seriously, why on earth would you need an apology for that? Maybe if you were watching out for your son, instead of being so wrapped up in the game, you would have had the wits about you to shield your son from the 300 pound gentleman, tumbling in your direction.

The second reason you are a bad father, is that you're teaching your son to be a BIG pussy. Shit happens, friend. After you get cut off on the road, do you follow the driver to their destination and demand an apology for the perceived slight? Do you have that much time on your hands? Are you that temperamental? Or, do you just love the justice that an apology can restore? Glen Davis just hit the biggest shot of his LIFE, and sorry if he cannot be held responsible for his actions afterward. Hopefully in time he can check his emotions, but it was like the dude just busted his first nut. Forgive him for glowing.

So your son got bumped. He might have a small bruise. Your fucking newborn baby didn't just get stepped on. But it wouldn't surprise me if you were dumb enough to bring your preemie to sit courtside, considering your recent slide into ridiculous actions. And now your son should be rightfully picked on at school for daddy coming to his rescue and demanding an apology for "excessive celebration." You probably let him sit at the bar before the game don't you? And when you go to the zoo, do you let him stick his arms into the polar bear cage?

Too bad the NBA cares so much, otherwise Big Baby wouldn't have been forced to apologize by David Stern, and we could all laugh at what a self-righteous prick you are. I'm still gonna go ahead and do it anyway.

The QB That Dare Not Speak His Name Or:

How I learned to stop worrying and just hate the bastard.


Let me tell you a little about our BFF...

Our BFF is a raging douchebag.

He acts like a little ol' golly gee shucks country boy, who doesn't know any better. But let's face it, a pile of shit is a pile of shit whether it was dropped off on a farm or on a metropolitan avenue.

Our BFF also happens to be a liar.

He tells you one thing, and then you believe me because well, look how he dumb he is! He could never pull one over on some sharp cats like us... But then he does, again and again, and we fall for it each and every time.

People consider our BFF to be one of the greatest football players of all-time.

He has great stats. But he also has terrible stats. To be fair, he is also one of the worst football players of all-time and has even cost at least one coach his job.

Our BFF is sometimes referred to as a "Gunslinger".

The reason for this is because of is ornery personality and his penchant for choking in the clutch, but not because he has any history of ever actually having slung guns.

Our BFF is also referred to as a "Cumbubbler", a "Cocksucker", a "Phony excuse for a human being", and potentially a "Baby-Killer".

The reason for this is because he is in fact, ALL of the above.

Our BFF is not welcome in his (soon-to-be) new home.

The people there have hated him forever. But since their home team has sucked forever, they will probably come to love him. Until he undoubtedly destroys their season sometime around week 15... Or earlier.

Our BFF is only welcome in one place.

These people still fucking LOVE him, even though he attempted to sabotage their efforts to replace him and even provided inside tips to divisional opponents during the previous season. As fate would have it, those tips were of no help. But love him they still do... Because they're dumb.

Our BFF has a name, but you will never see it mentioned on this blog.

He is not worthy of having a human name any longer, because he is not a human. He is a flaming bag of douche, and will be referred to in kind. Besides, BFF is close enough.

For more info on our BFF, please consult the BFF homepage.

Fuck you, BFF.

Conscientious Rebuttals

By the way, for all that cared to know, Benny DC, self-proclaimed "Tardburger Sandwich" when it comes to all-things sporting won his NCAA tourney pool with the Tar Heel victory on Monday night... Let's all give him a congratulatory salute, shall we!


What a diiiiiiick.

BRAKING NEWS?

(via ESPN) Brett Favre desires to play in Green Bay once again.

Or something like that. Maybe he wants to stay in New York, or maybe he wants to stay in back country Mississippi, playing touch football with small children.

You know what, this is the first and last time you will ever see us braking and/or faking news regarding Brett Favre. He's dead to us. Unless he commits suicide, of course, and then he'll really be dead to us. And to everyone else for that matter. At that time we'll have to post invitations to the celebration we throw in honor of that momentous, cream-inducing occasion. It's gonna be awesome.

But suicide is nothing to joke about. And besides, Brett Favre would never commit suicide. Because well, it's something you actually have to commit to.