So this is it. Final game of the clusterfuck that is and was the 2007 season. Anyone out there give a shit? I mean, really. Anyone? Other than the fact that this may or may not be Jason Taylor's last hurrah in a Dolphins uniform, there really isn't too much to get worked over about.
Fins Nation seems to be more abuzz with the arrival of Bill Parcells' foot (the one that will be keen on kicking some serious front-office ass in the coming weeks) than they are about the Bengals coming into town this Sunday. The Tuna -- yes, that's his nickname, let's just accept it -- hasn't said anything about what decisions are going to be made, but all indications are that Cam Cameron's days here are numbered. And don't think Cam doesn't know it. Why else would he be starting Cleo Lemon over The Mormon in the most meaningless game of the regular season? Because Cam is going down swinging. The Tunabomb is about to drop and he knows it. It's like Hitler's last days. Hunkered down in a bunker somewhere below the practice bubble, cradling a copy of "Fail Forward Fast" and telling Cleo and Trent that he'll love them both equally til the bitter end.
It's been a long, arduous journey, this 2007 season. And by "long" I mean "fucking." And by "arduous" I mean "shitty." One where we've learned a bitter truth about our Miami Dolphins. They suck, end of story. But hope has arrived in the shape of man-titties. And that, perhaps for the first time ever in the history of mankind, is a good thing. So, this Sunday, as you watch Cleo Lemon scramble around before getting sacked for a 12 yard loss, and as you watch Cam put on his best fart-face when trying to decide what to do during a 1st and Goal, and as you catch a glimpse of Levi Jones turning Joey Porter into his own personal hand puppet, just keep telling yourself, "This will all be over soon... this will all be over soon..."
Prediction: Dolphins 24 - Bengals 31
Parcell's Foot 48 - Dolphins Front office 3
Oh, and, Let's Go Giants!
