Hi Cleo Lemon. Hello. How are you? Let me first just say, thanks for all the memories. It's been real. You had some decent games for us here and there over the last couple of seasons. Hell, you helped us avoid infamy by leading us to our first and only win this season. And that was sweet. Fantastic. Real nice. High five. C'mon... high five. Cool.
Now ... it's time for you to go. Mainly because you infuriate the shit out of me.
Clearly there's a depth perception problem you need to address as soon as possible. I mean, seriously dude. What the fuck? If you ever find yourself in a burning building and an hysterical mother pleads for someone to please save her baby and toss it down towards the fire fighter's safety net, politely decline and ask her to come up and do it herself. Because if you do it, the baby will end up in the sewer. Or a garbage can. Or the rooftop of a taxi cab. Or it may not make it out the window at all. You see where I'm going with this.
Also, there's your propensity for holding onto the football while you scramble backwards for 9 or 10 yards before the opposing defense overtakes you like an unstoppable swarm of angry bees. Remember that safety you took against the Bills a few weeks back? Yea. We can laugh about it now. But don't. Because it's not fucking funny. That play is who you are, my friend, in a nutshell. Then, of course, came Sunday's game against the Pats. Sure, they put up 28 quick points in the first half. But still. Our defense came out and pretty much jammed a yule log up Brady's ass and man-handled their offense in the second half. Dreamboat threw two interceptions and fumbled once. That's 3 turnovers from Mr. Can Do No Wrong. 3 balls Mr. Sean Salisbury's Wet Dream coughed up for you (woulda been 3 INTs had Randy I Fucking Loooove To Push-off Moss not held Jason Allen's arm.) Yet you did nothing with any of this.
And twice we had the ball at their 5. Twice. And how many points did we come out with during those two times? None. Zero. Zilch. In fact, one of those times you saw that your receivers were all covered and decided to run it in. That was a fantastic decision on your part! Well done! Good show, sir! Except that you stepped out of bounds at the one and failed to stretch the ball over the pile on. Who does that? Seriously, Lemon. Who the fuck does that? Who? I'll tell you who. The same fucking guy that waits to be sacked in his own endzone. He does that. Jesus you're a fucking moron. I won't even get into why you spiked the football on first and goal with 1:11 left in the first-half, except to say that when I saw you do that, I literally shit my pants.
So, fuck off Cleo Lemon. I hear Chicago loves to sign mediocre quarterbacks. So, have it.
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-Side note to Greg Camarillo: Another TD, eh? The legend of the Golden God grows every week. We salute you, you magnificent bastardo!
-And as for you Patriots fans who e-mailed me or left a comment saying we would lose 49-10, or 55-17, or 77 to 3, or Wes Welker 83 - Dolphins 13: First of all, Jesus Christ. Not a clever one among you. Not a one. Secondly, fuck you! You know, deep down in places you won't talk about at parties, you dread facing us. And our day is gonna come, assholes. Mark it down. Also, as has been stated here by a couple of badass commenters, if the Pats do finish 16-0 this season, they will not go all the way. 16-0 will pretty much guarantee a loss in the playoffs. Ooga-booga, motherfuckers. Karma is real. Take it from us. We know. Now go celebrate your 15-0 record by playing grab-ass or whatever it is you facking wicked queahs do.
-As for you, Jason Taylor: You are a man, sir. You are also an animal. You're a Manimal. Six tackles, and a sack. Once again you will have Tom Brady waking up in a state of delirium and fear for the next five days. They said you were done. They said you lost your passion and will to win. They said you just didn't care enough to play hard for the Dolphins. They can all go shit in each other's mouths. For you, once again, proved them all wrong. Awesomeness all around, my friend. Awesome and ness.