Fins Nation: A Miami Dolphins Blog With Dick Jokes

Mike Mayock, Sterling Sharpe and Solomon Wilcots...

 

... can each help themselves to a dick sandwich.

BRING IT!

Thursdays with Henning

 

Each week, The Dude and I get a quick chance to speak with OC Dan Henning after the weekly media availability for offensive and defensive coordinators.  Henning is known for his colorful personality and our in-depth questionnaire offers rare insight into the man behind the madness.

(On if the Wildcat has exhausted its usefulness)

Well, you ever try skin a chicken with a corn cob?  It's kind of like that with this Wildcat thing.  You take the good with the bad with it and you end up running around a little and suddenly you've got watermelon seeds in your mouth.

(On if Brandon Marshall was suffering some conditioning fallout at game's end)

Were you at the game or were you watching it from atop a strawberry mushroom cloud?  Guy's a caged tiger, man.  Fucker is READY TO GO. I'll hit you with this cane across your head Lane Pryce-daddy-style if you ask me that shit again.

(On Chad Henne's decision-making on the final few plays of the game)

You ever take a woman out to a Broadway show, she rubs your cock a few times at the bar beforehand then she hails the first cab home afterward?  No?  Well, let me tell you something, feller.  There's nothing more fustratin' than that.  Leaves a man with a chub pocket and that's a bit of what Henne was facing there against that team.  Big chub pocket with everyone crowding around him and he probably shoulda released to the right, relieved himself in the corner of the endzone. 

(lowers glasses, looks intently at us, whispers) JIIIIIIIIZZZZZ.

(On the lack of spirited defensive play throughout the game)

Is your name 'Armando'?  I don't deal with the defense, son.

(On the Patriots scheme and things to look out for in Monday night's matchup)

Well, let me tell ya something.  Them guys over there get paid too, ok?  So we're gonna go into Monday Night with our whiskers polished, some whisky splashes on the tips of our pricks and a fistful of $20s.  We mean business against those ankle grabbers and we intend to take that secondary down to the saloon, throw her on top the pian'er and give her an afternooner she'll never forgit.  'Draw and Quarter' her a little.  Give her the ole' 'Choke Lizard', if you know what I mean.  Choke her til she sticks out her tongue like a dying, thirsty Komodo Dragon???  You don't know, do you?

.........

Thanks Dan Henning!

Tom Brady's Hair Tries To Fix All the Douche

Hey

 

Hey!

What?

It's me. Your hair.

What do you want? I'm a little busy. I'm working on my intensity.

Diora Baird Would Like to Remind You We Have A Game Monday

Enough with this 'Peanuts'-like, grab-your-mitt-and-walk-home-slumped-over-Charlie-Brown shit - WE GOTS A BIG FUCKIN' GAME THIS MONDAY.  So, on with the Patsies.  No fucking way I want to lose to anything having to do with that shitass, douchebag town.  So let's turn that frown upside down into a sinister, angry smirk Hell-bent on fucking up the Pats good and proper.  It's Wednesday and it's time to move on around these parts.

To help with that this morning is Diora Baird and her awesome body.  I was watching the 'Maxim Hot 100' the other day on VH-1 at the gym (because having a slight chub helps me forget how much I hate running) and she was ranked somewhere in the 60s or 70s or so with some really pedestrian bitches ranked higher than her.  Seriously??  FUCK YOU MAXIM.  Bitch is all kinds of hot and sexy and she's completely weird and awesome on Twitter.  WHICH MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I KNOW HER IN A VERY INTIMATE MANNER!

She's also a native Miamian so that makes her about 20x sexier in my book.

It's Wednesday.  There are big, natural beautiful breasts staring you right in the face.  Time to stop WALKING and start FUCKING.
 

To The FN Army, With Love

 

When I first started this blog, it was really to see if I can meet a couple of like-minded people to shoot the shit with, complain about the Dolphins, and just have an outlet for my writing. Somewhere to exercise my writing muscles (puny, yes, but they're still my muscles) and somewhere where I can write fuck fifty times a day without getting fired. Also, to see if I can meet a single girl with a nice pair of boobies. Boobies are awesome.

The initial blogging rage came from the Fins' failure to sign Drew Brees, and instead going with Daunte Culpepper. We all know how that shit played out. But I was so goddamned smart, I already knew how it was going to play out before it did (I really didn't, but I had a hunch Brees would turn out to be slightly better than Daunte. I'm a genius!). So I took to the interwebs and started typing furiously about it. 

It was from this seed that the giant bag of dickjokery that is FinsNation.com was born. Soon enough, I was meeting like-minded people. And yes, as a bonus, a single girl or two with awesome boobies. I eventually met a young man by the name of Roger who would occasionally comment on my lonely blog. He said some insane shit. But it was fucking hilarious. Soon after that, I let Roger cover a Jets game for me. He went, took photos (the iconic Middle Finger at Jets Flag pic was born from this assignment), and wrote a great post. It was then that I asked him to hop aboard and be my partner in the dick joking business (that was probably the most homo-erotic sentence I've ever written! Weeee!). It would be a lot of hard work, no money whatsoever, and every now and then we'd probably have to deal with a Jets or Patriots troll or two. He agreed. Because we know we can kick any and all troll asses like the goddanmed Super Friends. We became the best of buds. And now we're arranging to fly to California to get married (JUST KIDDING, DAD! DON'T FREAK OUT!).

The blog then took off. Together with our mutual love of all things Dolphins, dick jokes, and tits & Scotch, we took the internet by storm. Made some friends (Ethan Skolnick) and some enemies (Armando Salguero and that twatface that runs TheBigLead.com). And it was the tits. 

How in shit did this happen? I'll never be able to fully explain it. But it did. In just two years, we went from about 50 readers a day to 800. Then 1000, then 100,000. And eventually have hit the million mark every now and then. It fluctuates. But there's no denying FN hit a nerve, and took off. And we are humbled by it. 

This is where the FN Army comes in. 

DRK and I have always known that you are a loyal crazy bunch. And this past weekend, we got to experience it in person. It was amazing to put a face to the moniker of so many of you, and even meet folks who are loyal readers, but never comment. This weekend was as surreal as it gets. But in a good way.

The One Where a Wolf and a Wildcat Sh-t In Our Mouths

Holy fuckbuckets what an absolute shitshow of a loss. There really is no way to properly describe losing to the Jets other than maybe slamming a Webster's Dictionary on your dong. 

The Robot and his titanium balls showed the fuck up with 363 yards and a couple of touchdowns. Meanwhile, Brandon Marshall destroyed the Jets secondary with 10 catches, 166 yards and his first TD as a Dolphin. Davone Bess and Brian Hartline brought the pain as well. And while the running game wasn't great, it was solid at times, keeping the Jets defense honest.

However.......

I don't know about the ladies out there, but I can assure you every dude has at least once in their lives visited a public restroom where someone just dropped a shitbomb in one of the stalls. One of those shits that landed everywhere but the fucking toilet. It's on the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling. Just a shit that defies the laws of physics. And we're like, "What did that motherfucker eat that his entire colon just dropped a mushroom cloud of a shit? How is there shit on the ceiling? Is that even scientifically possible? Why am I still staring at all this shit?" Just shit everywhere. That's probably the best way to describe our defense last night. Any time you give up over 400 yards to Nacho Sanchez and his drunken friend, you've pretty much just dropped a shit so explosive, it's on the fucking ceiling.

That's pretty much is all there is to be said. 

Oh yea, one more thing... 

ENOUGH OF THE GODDAMNED FUCKING WILDCAT ALREADY YOU FUCKING DICKBREATHED SHITDIPPING FUCK FACES!!!

Read my New Times recap.

A brief tailgate recap coming here shortly.

I fucking hate today.

Dolphins-Jets Open Thread

Feed the wolf.

That is all.

-

LET'S GO FINS!

Keys to the Game: Jets @ Dolphins

Dude just picked me up from the airport after missing my flight originally.  Good to see my brother as he dropped me off at my buddy's place on the beach.  The friend I'm staying with for a couple of days is this guy, Rat Bastard, a pillar of the Miami music community.  If you don't know about him, you should.  Anyway, just finished jamming on a 1953 Gibson hollow-body electric guitar at full volume through a Vox AC30.  To non-music nerds this means nothing to you but I assure you it is AWESOME! 

Not much to tell you here that you don't already know.  But let's get cracking because the Keys are FN tradition and WE CANNOT WIN WITHOUT THEM (not true):

• Kill these motherfuckers until they are good and dead.  I want it to be a blowout of epic proportions.
• Last week my calling out of Brian Hartline kinda worked: he scored a touchdown.  So this week, my rant is aimed at The Robot:

Hey robotic asshole.  We give you a lot of love, support and confidence around here.  HOW ABOUT YOU STOP BEING A DICKFACE AND ACTUALLY SURVEY THE FIELD, FIND RECEIVERS AND MAKE SOME BIG PLAYS FOR US??  OUR ORGANS ARE NOT FOR FREE, YOU DICK.  IF YOU WANT TO HARVEST OUR ORGANS, EAT OUR BRAINS AND BE CONSIDERED A HERO TO YOUR NATION OF ROBOTS FROM THE 1950s THEN YOU BETTER SHOW UP THIS SUNDAY, DICKNOSE.  YOU'RE A BIG, STRONG ROBOT WITH TITANIUM BALLS AND YOU HAVE PROBABLY THE MOST BADASS RECEIVER IN THE LEAGUE AT YOUR DISPOSAL - FUCKING USE THEM.

• Jason Allen - continue being reliable.  If you are successful this weekend, you are hereby known around these parts as THE PHOENIX.
• We need to keep up that stellar, aggressive defense because you KNOW Sanchez is going to fuck it up this weekend.  Catch them interceptions, take it to the house and step on hot dog boy's throat on the way there.
• Nolan must watch for Dustin Keller.  Yea, he steps out of bounds and doesn't know where first yard markers are but OC's LOVE exploiting our TE 'problem'.
• Ricky and Ronnie need to run wild on these fucks.  Nothing pleases me more than when we punch teams in the mouth via the run game.

This is OUR fucking game.  We got this.  I just bought a fucking handle of Red Label for $30.  I'm drunk already.  LET'S DO THIS SHIT.

Dolphins 42 - Jets 0

GO DOLPHINS!

 

Pay Attention!!! Final FN Meetup Weekend Details

Ok, kiddies.  THIS IS IT.  After this final post, you'll hear no more about this weekend from the FN boys as we will be knee deep in pussy and sand.  So, presta atencion!!

• Friday - We're meeting at Scotty's Landing in Coconut Grove around 8ish.  I assume y'all are somewhat handy with The Google so you can look it up and plot the appropriate points to get you from Point A to Destination B.  We hope to see you there.  Should be a fun night.  I'll tell you about the time I shit my pants in senior year of high school.
• Saturday - Do whatever you want.  Not sure what The Dude is doing but I'll be beachin' it, HARD.  If you are too, I recommend 3rd Street on South Beach.  Hot topless Brazilian girls galore (and unfortunately, rather attractive and fit Brazilian MEN as well...gaaazzzooooogiii).  If you're a single man or you're a married man that wants to play dumb and see a new tit or 7, I advise you to check that shit out.
• Sunday - The big day.  For those that want to meet up early and be part of the car caravan, we're meeting at Caulder Racetrack at 4pm.  We'll get our Bukowski on - drink some shitty liquor, bet on a pony, lose, go back to the motel with a hooker that has a face that looks like your dad's catcher's mitt and call it a day.  Oops.  Sorry.  Got carried away there.  First the game, then catcher's mitt mausoleum mugshot face.  Got it.  The more cars, the merrier.  I think we have 2 for sure now but could use another 3 or so.  If you can volunteer in the comments here, I'll put you down on my faggy spreadsheet that has all relevant numbers and information for this weekend.

IF YOU ARE NOT GOING TO MEET UP WITH US EARLY BUT ARE DOWN TO JOIN US FOR THE BEST DAMN TAILGATING EXPERIENCE OF YOUR LIFE, YOU NEED TO EMAIL ME:  FNTAILGATE2010-AT-GMAIL-DOT-COM.  I HATE TO GET ALL OMAR KELLY CAPS LOCK BUT THERE'S NO SUPER SECRET MESSAGE HERE.  I DON'T HAVE YOUR PHONE NUMBER TO INCLUDE ON THE MASS TEXT/EMAIL I SEND OUT WITH OUR LOCATION AND YOU ARE TOTALLY HOSED.  YOUR LIFE WILL SLOWLY START TO FEEL MORE AND MORE INSIGNIFICANT WITH EACH PASSING MINUTE UNTIL YOU ARE A SHELL OF YOUR FORMER SELF. 

So don't sleep on that shit.

The Dude and I are really looking forward to meeting all of you and having a fuckin' awesome time this weekend.  This is going to be a memorable one because with our WINNING FUCKIN' ATTITUDES, we are going to all have a great time and then we're going to beat the ever-living fuck out of those puke green assholes.  Then we're going to kill a few of them just to teach the rest of them a lesson.  I'm kidding.  MAYBE.

For the readers that can't make it this year, it's all good.  We love you guys too and we'll pour plenty of liquor out for y'all like it's a goddamn Boyz II Men video.  We know you are with us in spirit.  We hope you're rocking in your own way come Sunday night.

Go Dolphins!
 

Zombie Goth Jets Fan Meets His Match

(BLARING Evanescence album playing out of New Jersey bedroom stereo) 

Oh, Prince of Darkness, Ruler of the Underworld, Anus Smelting Hellbeast, Mephisto, Master of all that is Hateful and Wrong with this Flawed World of Ours, I summon you now for it was nearly one year ago that I first implored you to - in all my darkness - save the hellspawn, cum-guzzling heathens known as the New York Jets.  I did all that you asked, Mephisto.  Even then, I prayed for hellfire, disease, malaise, anger, hate, vitriol, famine, plague - all that you asked!  And yet, nothing.  One pass interference call granted.  A less-than-spectacular playoff run, one that ultimately was derailed despite featuring teams falling over themselves for a chance to lose to us in uninspiring and unpredictable ways.  And yet, the Blessed Ones that YOU have failed to best - the dreaded Miami Dolphins - continue to defeat us in embarassing ways.  Whether it was via their punishing running assault or their aerial prowess featuring a robotic quarterback or even stellar special teams play from that now excommunicated vagrant, Ted Ginn Jr., you have NEVER granted me my true wish:  to defeat that formidable, superior, smarter, cooler, sexier and awesomer opponent. 

WWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??!?!??!!?

(deep breaths, crying)

And then this offseason amidst all the hoopla your Fat Rex minion spewed from his syphillitic, ballsack face we - the scat hungry, cocksmoking Jets fanbase - became once again enamoured with our team of roving, brainless childfuckers.  All the dead and aging football stars of the early aughts were ours!!!  They had sold their genitalia and their families genitalia under the insidious guise of future 'success'.  Well, what has that gotten us, my dark overlord??  A cum-drinking, sausage consuming spry satyr quarterback, a hamstring pull for our best player, an opening game loss to the mighty Ravens, a drunk driving episode for our doesn't-know-it-or-maybe-he-does-but-he's-OBVIOUSLY-gay WR, a fat head coach that is literally full of fecal matter and a locker room fiasco involving a hot Latina woman with an ass tighter than a fucking basketball.  Ay, mi Diablo!!!  And now we must face the mighty Dolphins???  When will it end, oh Ruler of the Underworld???

Therefore, with seemingly insurmountable odds against us this Sunday I will work even HARDER and promise you this:  if there is jizz, I will drink it.  Where there is the fecal matter of child molesters, I will feast on it.  Where there are Kris Jenkins' balls, I will shove them into my own anus.  PLEASE SATAN!! GRANT US VICTORY AND SHROUD THE WORLD IN THE DARKNESS AND DISEASE OF THE NEW YORK JETS AND THEIR FANBASE.  OUR MISERY KNOWS NO END AND WE ONLY SEEK NEW AND MORE FANTASTIC WAYS TO GUZZLE CUM ON A DAILY BASIS AS IF IT WERE A PUBLIX DRINKING WATER FOUNTAIN!

/ begins to feverishly masturbate to Morrissey photos while cutting himself

What's this?  What do I see before me?  What is this creature of the undead?  Is he one of us?

 

Is that....?

  

Noooo...PLEASE NOOOOO, SATAN!!!

 

It is crazy DRK WOLF and his trusty sidekick, LOCOMAN JENKINZ!!!  I have heard of this 'FEED THE WOLF' and now it is clear that I will be consumed!

/ slowly backs into Sun Life bathroom stall

PLEASE SATAN!! SAVE ME!! GRANT US MORE ERRONEOUS CALLS, MORE TEAMS WILLING TO LAY DOWN FOR US TO ENJOY BULLSHIT PLAYOFF RUNS, MORE INEFFECTIVE QB PLAY FROM OUR JUMPY CUTEYFACE FAGGOT BOY!!!  

What...?  Why are you wrapping your arms around my neck, DRK Wolf??   Wait...I'm not sleepy...I don't want to go to sleep!!  Satan, help!  More jizz!  In my mouth!!!  Now!! I'm suddenly getting tired...sleeeeeeepy...ssssssshhhhhhhh.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

/ DRK Wolf slithers away into the night, rejoins FN faithful in time to toast beer to winning 87 - 0.