You're on notice, Omar Kelly. Your breakdown on the Dolphins and how things will shape up is just a little too good. We prefer our Dolphins reporters to be snide, condescending douchebags who make shit up just because they can. They're dicks. And we like them that way. So, buck up, Deuces. Mediocrity is just a Jason-Taylor-to-the-Arizona-Cardinals-rumor away! We're all counting on you.
You're on notice, Phil Simms. First you try to seduce me with your beady little eyes, your ebullient Kentuckian accent, and your smooth talking homoerotic in-game analysis. Now you're telling me the Dolphins will finish the season 9-7? God I love you, you glorious albino bastard!
You're on notice, Paul Pasqualoni. Because the defense is in your capable hands. Because you know how to work miracles with a 3-4 alignment. Because you have the permanent look of a guy who just walked in on his wife blowing a horse. Your NCAA record kinda sucks, so we're trusting that Parcells and Sparano knew what they were doing when they hired you away from Dallas. Now go and make Joey Porter earn his money.
You're on notice, CBS. You pulled Dan Marino from the new Inside the NFL? Now you're just begging for a cockpunch. Or have we forgotten this? Do not anger the gods, CBS. Oh, wait. Inside the NFL? Shit, I didn't realize people still watched shows that went out of style in 2001. Never mind.
You're on notice, ESPN, for wanting Brett Favre to come out of retirement more than Brett Favre does. Somewhere Peter King just spit out his Starbucks latte and exclaimed aloud, "Why didn't I think of that?!? I got a hankerin for a raspberry scone..." And for those of you thinking Favre to the Dolphins, kindly shove a beehive up your ass.
Be forewarned. The Nation has put you all on notice.