Fins Nation: A Miami Dolphins Blog With Dick Jokes

Game Day: Week 13

And so we find ourselves laying around, stuffed with turkey meat and Wild Turkey, depressed after Belichick dropped the big one on us, saying farewell to our playoff hopes, wondering where we go from here.

And then, we remember FN's favorite movie.... and decide that nothing is over. Because it wasn't over after the German's bombed Pearl Harbor. So let's get our mojo back! Let's beat these shitty Rams! Let's go on a tear and win the rest of our games! Let's ride that improbable wave into the playoffs! Our destiny is in our hands!.... and in the hands of the teams playing against the Pats, Jets, Ravens, Broncos and Colts during the last five weeks of the season.... so let's go get 'em!!!

Arrrghhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Oh and file under: NO FUCKING SHIT!

Happy Thanksgiving!

DRK and I wanted to extend a Happy Thanksgiving to all the FN faithful out there.

We're thankful you guys keep coming to get your Dolphins knowledge, to vent your frustrations, to express your joy, to get a chubby from a Megan Fox or Chad Pennington pic, and to generally waste your day and your job's time reading our goofy shit on a daily basis.

For those of you who comment and those of you who just come to read, we say thanks. We couldn't do what we do without you. We hope you're having a great time with friends and family. And for those of you who have to work today or tonight, we hope your boss crashes into an AIDS tree.

Happy Turkey Day, Nation!

DRK Finds Miami in Montreal, Jinxes Local CFL Team

For those of you paying attention, DRK is still in Montreal. That would be Montreal, Canada. Canada -- the greatest place on the face of the Earth (now stop e-mailing me you angry Canadians! Ha ha just kidding. There are no angry Canadians). DRK is far, far away. But he's still thinking of us. He e-mailed me this picture of a club he found. It's called Miami. Beause nothing says 'Miami' like freezing your balls off in French Canadia. That's him under the marquee. Shortly after this picture was taken he killed that old hobo.

Some of you might not know this, but Montreal lost the Grey Cup over the weekend (that's the CFL's version of the Super Bowl, only gayer). So apparently, wherever he goes, the local team is sure to lose. Weeeee!!

Anyway, DRK sends his regards.

Wanna grow up to be like me, Matt Light? Sure you do!

Hi. I'm Matt Light. Offensive lineman from the New England Patriots. I'm the white one with the beard. No, the other one. No.... the other one. No.... the other one. Well, as another Thanksgiving approaches, I'm here with a special public service for all you young boys who wanna grow up to be like me, Matt Light. Wanna fight just like me? Follow these three easy steps I've outlined for you. Here they are in picture form to better help you get down the proper technique for fighting like me, Matt Light:

Step One
Step Two
Step Three

Got it? Good. Dreads work the best for this. Make sure to really get a good handful of hair and get in some good shots with your fists. Oh you might get fined, but it's okay. The other guy will get fined just as much as you but he won't even have thrown a single punch! Isn't that fantastic? I don't have to tell you how fucking awesome it is being white! Now you may feel like you still have some aggression to take out. That's normal. Just do what I do. Go out and take out your aggression by blowing a deer's head off. Nothing melts the tension away like a long walk in the woods. Come on! Let's go! Oh don't mind those three guys wrestling in the shrubs. Those are my special friends, Earl, Billy and Toothless Joe. They're just playing games. One we call "Bobbing For Lollipops In Our Pants." We also play a game to see which of us is best at squealing like a pig. Hi guys! I'm with one of my young fans right now so I can't join you. Maybe tomorrow. I see Earl brought some of his cousin's, er, wife's Moonshine! Make that, definitely tomorrow!

Hey! Look! Shhhh.... it's a baby deer! This is a once in a lifetime moment, kid. A memory you will treasure for the rest of your life. Behold one of nature's most amazing creatures at the very genesis of it's life! Try not to make any sound at all as these gentle creatures are even more skittish when young, although they can be curious, and even playful. Sidle up beside it. That's it, just like me. I'm a big fat white guy but I'm graceful. That's it. Gently place your hand on it's head. Good. No sudden movements. No noise. Now gently place the gun barrel right into its mouth. It's okay. It thinks it's candy! Now, quickly, pull the trigger. Ah! Don't you feel like a man now? Of course you do! You're like me! Matt Light! Oh look!!! There's it's mother running away in fear! Don't let her get away, kid! Stop fucking crying you little pussy! I thought you said you wanted to be like me, Matt Light! Now get her or I swear to my everloving God I will fucking eat you, you fucking little shit pellet! Okay. Good. Now be sure to wipe the baby deer brain from your brow before you take aim. Don't want anything messing up your line of fire now, do we? Now fire! Beautiful! Great shot, kid! Now take a deep breath and take in all the manliness!

Now what you wanna do is walk on over to the deer and fuck her still warm carcass. Then you'll really be living like me, Matt Light!

Everytime it rains, it rains turds from heaven....

Shit in Hitler's mouth it's been a fucked up 48 hours or whatever the fuck! It seems like all the injury-free, drama-free, angst-free last few months we've enjoyed as Dolphins fans has come crashing down on us in a matter of a few hours.

Let's recap:

-The Dolphins defense can't stop the Patriots spread-formation-8-yard-pass-and-a-cloud-of-dust offense and pretty much lose a shot at the playoffs.

-The Dolphins lose their most consistent play-maker on offense to a knee injury that will require about 9 months to heal (excuse me a second..... :ahem: .... FFFFFFUCK!!!)

- Everything unravels resulting in Channing Crowder losing his cool and getting ejected, and Joey Porter getting called for unsportsmanlike conduct like 12 times in a row or some shit.

-Meanwhile, Porter refuses to leave the game when Sparano tells him to come out, everybody is asking what the coach should do with Porter; some say suspend him, others fine him, others say something has to be done goddamit!; Dolphins fans are lining up in Davie with their torches and pitchforks, meanwhile nobody knows who's going to replace Camarillo, it should be Wilford, it should be London, somebody should re-sign Hagan, can we get Orande Gadsen back in here??!! The clock is ticking, there's a bomb on that bus, that bulidng is on fire, someone please catch my baby!, police arrested a man for uriniating on a hobo, lock your doors, gunshots were fired at a local Arby's, Hillary Clinton is going to be Secretary of State, no wait! she won't, what?, who's gonna win Dancing With the Stars??!!, Gas prices are finally down but now I have no money!, Did Lee Harvey Oswald act alone!?, Is the small of a woman's back the sexiest place in the Universe!? You're Goddamn right it is! No it isn't! Yes, it IS!!!!..... ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

Wait.

Tony's on top of the Porter situation. Whatever he does will be what he does. This isn't willowy Cam Cameron. This is clamp-yer-balls-with-the-heal-of-my-shoe Tony Sparano. No matter what he does or doesn't do to Porter, there's is no chance in hell he loses the respect of any of his players. None. As for Camarillo, it sucks. But somebody's gonna have to step up. My guess is it will be Brandon London. Devone Bess had a strong performance Sunday. And Ted Ginn remains a deep threat even though he still runs routes like he's running from a bee. This shit happens in football. No team has been immune from drama. The good ones right the ship and move on.

Word to your mother.

Proof That It's Sometimes Awesome Being a Blogger or: We don't all live in our mother's basements

This is me at yesterday's debacle with sexy commenter Best-Seat-In-The-House. Section 212 club level. Yes, she is that tall (I'm about 5'6). Yes, I am barrel chested (I work out with free weights). Oh wait. It's not my chest you're staring at, is it?

Anyway, thought I'd share this with you while reporting that our favorite Mexican is done for the year. And I was there to witness it. Yay. At least I was in the arms of a beautiful Amazon woman to comfort me.

DRK called me right after the game from Montreal and was, needless to say, a tad angry on the outcome of the game. At least he was in the arms of a French speaking tranny hooker to comfort him.

I win.

Well That Was a Bit Rough

Yea, you wanna look at the positive side and say, "Well, no one expected us to be in this position at the start of the season, so I'll take it." Or, "Well, if you told me before the season started that we'd be 6-5 after twelve weeks, I'll take it." Or "We won one game last year and this year we've won six so far, so I'll take it." And that's all good and fine. But fuck good and fine. Fuck good with a paint mixer and fuck fine with a belt sander. Because while I admit I didn't see this team winning more than 3 games this year, this shit still stings like stepping on a jellyfish, and there's no one around to piss on my foot.

The Patriots punted once in the entire game. Once. Just let that fact sink in before you go on with the rest of your fucked in the ear of a miserable day. Our defense is like a fucking Madden game. The Patriots offense totaled 530 yards -- the most the Dolphins defense has allowed since 1995. Nineteen fucking ninety five. You could still catch brand new episodes of Seinfeld the last time the Dolphins allowed that many yards. Britney Spears had beautiful perky tits the last time the Dolphins allowed that many yards. We lived in a Linkin Park-free world the last time the Dolphins allowed that many yards. The only thing getting fucked by our President was an intern's face the last time the Dolphins allowed that many yards.

Mother AND fucker.

Then there's Matt Cassel and his "When In Doubt, Chuck It To Randy" 400-yard performance. Yup, Matt Cassel has just put himself in prime position to be the next Scott Mitchell. And Randy Moss, he just did his thing. Mainly, that thing where he rides piggy-back on DBs and throws them to the side in order to catch the ball while the refs just watch with their whistles up their asses while they beg for him to plant his ballsack on their foreheads. Fucking refs. Our defense couldn't stop the Pats shallow slants, even though the Pats did that all the live long fucking day (Cassel's longest competion was on that 63-yard sideline scamp by Wes Welker, the rest were dink and dunk 7 yard passes down the middle). Nor did they have an answer for New England's spread offense. Mainly because their offensive line treated our defensive line like Bill Parcells does a Christmas ham. Our front seven was just a big tall glass of cold beer with a pube in it. Joey Porter talked some stupid shit about Mike Vick's dogs, then talked more stupid shit about the Pats and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing outside of a couple of unsportsmanlike penalties. And the rest of the shitdicks? Matt Roth: 2 tackles. Jason Ferguson: 1 tackle. Kendal Langford: 1 tackle. Porter: 1 tackle, Vonnie Holliday: 0.5  tackle. And that's pretty much the story of how we got our asses handed to us yesterday, courtesy of the Dark Lords of the Douche.

Yet, thanks to hot-n-sexy Chad Pennington's 341 yard, 3 touchdown performance, the Dolphins had a chance to win this thing. For a second there, it felt like this game was going to come down to the wire, maybe even a last minute game-winning drive just like last week. But then, with only 9 minutes left to the game, everything imploded. Pennington throws a costly INT, Channing Crowder gets his hair pulled and gets punched by that deer fucker Matt Light and yet he too gets ejected, Jake Long and Andre Goodman injure their ankles, Ted Ginn suddenly remembers that he needed to meet his Suck quota for the month and flat out starts refusing to catch a single pass the rest of the game, and our best play maker on offense, Greg Camarillo, busts up his knee and is seen in crutches afterwards. Meanwhile, Ronnie Brown ends up with 10 fucking carries for the game. Ten. Ten carries. Ten. Un-fucking-acceptable.

The Wildcat failed to produce like it did in their first meeting and, once again, our secondary got torched by a high-caliber receiver who's really tall. Just like Arizona, just like Houston, just like Baltimore.

The few positives that can be taken from this game are Pennington's play, and the fact that at least this thing has returned to full-fledged rivalry mode. We punched them in the mouth in September, they punched right back. So at least now we can take some solace in knowing that we're no longer a team that'll just bend over and let the Pats have their way with us. They hate us. And you don't hate the teams you think you can always beat.

Oh, and I guess getting embarrassed in the Super Bowl hasn't kept Belichick from douching it up, after all. You best believe Karma saw that 4th down run-up-the-score shit and said to herself, "Hmm. Looks like old Homeless Genius needs a broom stick shoved up his rectum again, I see."

So yea, some day we'll look back at this as a foundation building year. Some day we'll be appreciative of the fact that we turned a 1-win team into a team within reach of the playoffs. Until then, however, this one's gonna sting like a motherfucker. Just the way things roll in Dolphins Nation. Fuck, fuck, fuckitty-fuck.

Now please dear God someone please piss on my foot!!!

Game Day: Week 12

Weekender: I shall be an eye-witness to the carnage

Wow. We really gayed it up this week on the FN. So here's a pic of Megan Fox to even things out. Kudos to Lt. Dickjoke for his spirited Fins-Pats Keys to the Game post. The rage is all consuming. So we'd better win or else a bunch of innocent random Canadians are going to get the ever-living-shit kicked out them on the streets of Montreal. "Mon ami, s'il vous plaît cesser de pousser les bouteilles de bière que dans mon anus en colère!"

You can read my Fins-Pats preview over at New Times here.

Feels good to be this amped up for a game for a change, huh? The best part I think is that none of us expected this to be the case this season. Almost forgot what it felt like. Nevertheless, as they say, it is so on. So here's to Matt Roth getting himself a handful of Matt Cassel ballsack several times on Sunday.

I will be there at the game, courtesy of sexy commenter Best-Seat-In-The-House. That's right, assholes! Suck on that! Wanna go to a Dolphins game with a beautiful girl for free? Start your own damn blog! Sure she's a Patriots fan. But she's torn. Because she has a good heart. And it's just impossible to root for the Patriots and have a good heart at the same time. It's like rooting for the Nazis. Unless you're evil, it just can't be done.

So have a great weekend, Nation. Get all the supplies you'll need -- booze, chips, dips, chains, whips, sledgehammers, chainsaws, various Dolphins paraphernalia, dildos, ribs, burgers, Randy Moss dart board, wings, etc -- and get ready to hunker down. Next stop: Carnage.

Keys To the Game - Patriots @ Dolphins

FUCK.  YEA.  It's ON you New England faggots.

This is the week we finally take what's ours and keep it.  Whoddathunkit?!!  No one in their right mind - not even The Cockpuncher himself - thought we would be playing relevant football this late in November.  I swear to God I want to punch a New England fan in the face, have someone toss me a football just as I'm running full speed towards a New England fan so I can catch it and bowl him over like Ronnie up there or any number of other punishable-by-law acts against New England players, coaches management and fans.  I nearly got laid off this week and all I could think about was how it would affect my mindframe for this important game.  Even if I ran 5 miles, worked out on free weights for 3 hours, played racquetball for another 6, drank 3 tequila bottles, did 3 8-balls of coke and fucked all the Victoria's Secret models sequentially (but with great love and concern for each) it would not quench the raging intensity that I have inside of me for this Sunday's game.  I'm like Roth after a Diet Coke.

Let me calm down for a second and discuss the keys:

• A steady, hard diet of Ronnie FUCKIN' Brown down your stupid, Masshole gullets.  Feed that boy because he is hungry.  He will eat your ugly face, Bruschi.  He will throw out the dead parts of your dying brain and hand it to your crying children.
• Joey Porter kicking, clawing, biting and setting his pitbulls loose on the entire New England offense naked in the showers.  That's what it's going to feel like on Sunday.  Your scared little dicks retreating into your frightened bodies, New England.  Fuck you.
• I wanna see Sparano fired up and doing that punch-in-the-air thing he does when he's all jacked up.  4th and 20 from our own 13 yard line?  Fuck you.  We're going for it.
• A lively crowd that descends upon any New England shitheads and beats them.  Fights on the field.  Fights in the stands.  New England children being 're-educated'.  Drunken debauchery.  Fat guys fucking the hot cheerleaders (just not Brittany as she is mine).  I want several arrests made during and after the game.
• Chad Pennington coming out firing from the get-go.  Put these motherfuckers on their heels.  Start the game off Seattle-style with a bomb to Teddy to get that crowd insane like Sparano after a particularly spirited hate-fuck.  A smart, relentless passing game.
• Some gadgetry to start off:  weird formations, Teddy throwing to Chad for a touchdown, Sparano shitting in Homeless Genius' sweater before gametime. 
• Bill Parcells throwing up on Belichick's head and then cockpunching him as hard as he ever has to show Belichick who packed his fucking lunch for him. 
• A total and complete breakdown on all 3 phases (as well as coaching) by New England to the point of embarassment and bedlam. 

Point is we need to hit 'em hard, in the mouth and often early in this game to get things going.  Ricky, Ronnie and our Defense will take us home from there.

Prediction:  Miami 72 - New England 0.  Fuck 'em.