Hey, Dolphins. You fucks. Put. That. Coffee. Down. Because at the end of the day, is anybody really that surprised you teabagged our playoff hopes with that shitastic performance yesterday? I mean, really. Anyone?
Dan Henning, you fucking fucknard. Your bullshit playcalling set the tone for what would ultimately be our demise in this game. You’ve got Ricky running over Bills defenders at will, gaining 5 to 6 yards percarry, putting them on their heals and setting the tone you were supposed to set against the 31st ranked run defense. And that tone should have been: better lube the fuck up, cause we’re running up your ass all day today. And it was all coming together just like that. And then we get a first and goal, and the obvious call here is to feed Ricky again. But you’re above that shit, aren’t you, Dan? Of course you are. You call a pass play out of the wildcat. You possum cock. Then there’s the end-around to Ted Ginn late in the game when an end-around to Ted Ginn has worked exactly zero fucking times this season. Also, instead of running Ricky and Lex into the soft part of a depleted Bills defense, you decide to bring in Pat Fucking White during the most crucial drive of the season. You fucking shitstick. But hey, we just have to understand. That’s just how you roll. You’re clever and smart and prefer to go the unconventional route. You want to be unconventional, Dan? Shove three dicks into your mouth as a pregame ritual every Sunday. That’s unconventional. At least then the only thing getting fucked is your face and not our playoff hopes.
And Paul Pasqualoni …. holy fucking shitballs. Besides having that constant look on your face like you just walked in on your wife blowing a horse, you’re a goddamned useless defensive coordinator. And you always have been. 140 combined fourth quarter points allowed by your defense this year, Paul. 140! And who needs to pressure the quarterback, right? That shit is overrated anyway. And why in the world play Cameron Wake more than three fucking plays the entire fucking game? Pfft. He’s apparently so bad at tackling running backs that we prefer to go with the immortal Ryan Baker at defensive end instead. Cameron Wake is fucking weak at covering the run? Fuck you. You’re weak. And while we’re at it, here’s an idea: can we please stop having our rookie corners go one-on-one in coverage against the best receivers in the league? It’s. Not. Fucking. Working. You heaping mound of kangaroo shit. They’re rookies. Going up against world-class receivers. And getting a shitload of nothing from our front seven to ease the pressure. Get them some fucking help. Jesus, how many games into the season are we in and you still haven’t figure that shit out? And speaking of our front seven: 6′2, career backup quarterback Ryan Fitzpatrick scored a 31-yard rushing touchdown yesterday. Really, Paul? A fucking Ivy League midget? You know what that means? That means that I would have had a better score had I started Fitzpatrick at running back against the Dolphins over Ryan Grant against the Lions on my fantasy team this week. That shit alone should cost anyone their job. Fuck you, Paul Pasqualoni. Seriously. Fuck you.
Tony Sparano. Nice guy? I don’t give a shit. Good father? Fuck you! Go home and play with your kids. You wanna coach here – close! You think his is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this, how can you take the abuse you get when we face teams 10 times better than those shitheal Bills? You’re a tough West Haven guy, no? Do yourself a favor. Grab Henning and Pasqualoni and shit in their mouths. Then ram your giant 24-inch calves right up their rectal cavities. I don’t want to hear bullshit excuses this week, Tony. I really don’t. I don’t want to hear about how Ricky fucked up that pass. YOU fucked up that pass. Because YOU allowed Dan Henning to call that shit. I want to hear that those two scrotum inhaling shitstain excuses for coordinators of yours got their comeuppance. If not, you’ll be hitting the pavement looking for work with the Charlie Weis’s of the world. And you’ll be sitting at a bar, crying into your J & B neat, “Yea I used to be a head coach in the NFL. It’s a tough racket.”
And to the Miami Dolphins as a whole: I love you. But fuck you. Fuck you. Why? Because you never fail to fuck it up when a golden opportunity is presented to you. Because you never fail to end up on the wrong side of history. Because I could have spent $250 on a roundtrip ticket to Buffalo, walked onto the field, and taken a gigantic after-Thanksgiving dinner shit on the 50 yard line and it would’ve been better than the sorry display you put on. THAT’S why. And your name is you’re wanting. You can’t play in the man’s game, you can’t close games – go home and tell your wife your troubles. Because only one thing counts in this life: Win the fucking games you’re supposed to win. You hear me you fucking faggots? Because it’s fuck or walk. You close or you hit the bricks. For Christ.
The season, for a lack of a better word, is fucked. Fuck the gimmicks. Fuck the Wildcat. Fuck bringing in Pat White’s prepubescent ass into games to gain a whole 2 fucking yards. Fuck not playing Wake because he’s a “work in progress.” Fuck the one-on-one coverage. Let’s just go play footall and…
Meh. You know what? Fuck it.
Let’s tank the rest of the games and draft Dez Bryant.