Fins Nation: A Miami Dolphins Blog With Dick Jokes

Tony Sparano Reluctantly Wishes FN a Happy Crappiversary

When I first heard somebody was making fun of my 'uge calves, k, I was like "Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little contrarian shit on de intergoogles who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy fucking godmother said it. Well dats just out-fucking-standing." Den I took out my frustrations on the players and ran dem til they all fucking died. Don't piss me off, k. Because at the end of the day, I'll run my players til their assholes are sucking buttermilk.

So needless to say, k, when I find dis "Dude," I'm gonna gouge out his eyeballs and skull fuck him til the sun comes up, k.

Ya hear me, Dude? Mr. Fucking Comedian? You think yer so funny and clever, do ya? Bullshit. It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your momma's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! Dats what I think, k. At the end of the day.

I'll bet you're the kinda guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around. So me and my 'uge calves would like you to have a five dollar foot-long dick sub, on us.

Oh, and happy anniversary and all that shit, you twinkle-toed cocksucker, k.

At the end of the day.

Tony Sparano Reluctantly Wishes FN a Happy Crappiversary

When I first heard somebody was making fun of my 'uge calves, k, I was like "Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little contrarian shit on de intergoogles who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy fucking godmother said it. Well dats just out-fucking-standing." Den I took out my frustrations on the players and ran dem til they all fucking died. Don't piss me off, k. Because at the end of the day, I'll run my players til their assholes are sucking buttermilk.

So needless to say, k, when I find dis "Dude," I'm gonna gouge out his eyeballs and skull fuck him til the sun comes up, k.

Ya hear me, Dude? Mr. Fucking Comedian? You think yer so funny and clever, do ya? Bullshit. It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your momma's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! Dats what I think, k. At the end of the day.

I'll bet you're the kinda guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around. So me and my 'uge calves would like you to have a five dollar foot-long dick sub, on us.

Oh, and happy anniversary and all that shit, you twinkle-toed cocksucker, k.

At the end of the day.

How To Be a Pro Bowler in 10 Easy Steps, by Steve Fifita

Sup. Steve Fifita here to tell you how you can become an NFL Pro Bowler. I've never been there myself, but take it from me. I know. And knowing is half the battle 'n shit. First, eat a lot of honey glazed hams. Not so much because they help you become a better football player in as much as they're just delicious. Then, run 5.15 seconds in the 40 yard dash. That's most likely due to the ham so don't worry about it. Nothing a good long shit can't take care of. Then, sign with the Miami Dolphins as an undrafted free agent. Then, get waived. Eat more ham. Try out with another NFL team like the Vikings or some shit. It doesn't matter because the Dolphins will re-sign you anyway. Re-sign with the Dolphins. Play up to your most mediocre standards as possible. Hey, you're a Miami Dolphin, so it's cool. Get waived again the following off-season. Then, sign with the Patriots six days later. Bingo. You're on your way to the Pro Bowl, bitches! And that's how you get to be a Pro Bowler in ten easy steps. Don't forget the part about the honey glazed ham. That's key. That and playing for the Dolphins and then going straight to the Patriots afterwards. But it's mostly about the ham, in my opinion.

How To Be a Pro Bowler in 10 Easy Steps, by Steve Fifita

Sup. Steve Fifita here to tell you how you can become an NFL Pro Bowler. I've never been there myself, but take it from me. I know. And knowing is half the battle 'n shit. First, eat a lot of honey glazed hams. Not so much because they help you become a better football player in as much as they're just delicious. Then, run 5.15 seconds in the 40 yard dash. That's most likely due to the ham so don't worry about it. Nothing a good long shit can't take care of. Then, sign with the Miami Dolphins as an undrafted free agent. Then, get waived. Eat more ham. Try out with another NFL team like the Vikings or some shit. It doesn't matter because the Dolphins will re-sign you anyway. Re-sign with the Dolphins. Play up to your most mediocre standards as possible. Hey, you're a Miami Dolphin, so it's cool. Get waived again the following off-season. Then, sign with the Patriots six days later. Bingo. You're on your way to the Pro Bowl, bitches! And that's how you get to be a Pro Bowler in ten easy steps. Don't forget the part about the honey glazed ham. That's key. That and playing for the Dolphins and then going straight to the Patriots afterwards. But it's mostly about the ham, in my opinion.

You Smell That?

"The Dolphins spent the past two weeks finalizing a draft board. Ireland and Parcells met daily, sometimes several times daily, to discuss players and strategies with the goal of doing what is best for the team while also avoiding disagreements during the draft. 'He brings a great history of players that he has drafted, guys he's seen have success and, like the question was asked, `How much do you draw from your misses and your hits?' Well, he's had some misses and a lot of hits in his time so you draw from those experiences,' Ireland said."

You smell that? Do you smell that? Draft day, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of a good lateral movement and forty-time in the morning. You know, one time we had a kid named Lawrence Taylor, for twelve years. He led us to two Super Bowl championships. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know, that prospect smell, the whole draft. Smells like � victory.

How�re you feeling, Jeffy?

Like a mean motherfucker, sir!

You Smell That?

"The Dolphins spent the past two weeks finalizing a draft board. Ireland and Parcells met daily, sometimes several times daily, to discuss players and strategies with the goal of doing what is best for the team while also avoiding disagreements during the draft. 'He brings a great history of players that he has drafted, guys he's seen have success and, like the question was asked, `How much do you draw from your misses and your hits?' Well, he's had some misses and a lot of hits in his time so you draw from those experiences,' Ireland said."

You smell that? Do you smell that? Draft day, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of a good lateral movement and forty-time in the morning. You know, one time we had a kid named Lawrence Taylor, for twelve years. He led us to two Super Bowl championships. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know, that prospect smell, the whole draft. Smells like … victory.

How’re you feeling, Jeffy?

Like a mean motherfucker, sir!

Justin Smiley Has Something Up His Ass

Alright, Smiley. What you got?

What do ya mean coach?

Your ass is bigger than usual today. And if there's one thing I know, it's big asses.

Oh that. Meh. I just been putting gravy on my porkchops lately. That's all. Really.

Let's go Smiley. Out with it!

:sigh: Fine.

What the hell? That motherfucker's pullin stuff outta his ass!

A Triple-A Card?

In case I go for a ride with Channing Crowder.

Christ. What else you got up there? C'mon!

Alright... alright....

I went fishing over the weekend.

And?

And I caught a rainbow trout.

With these guys.

-Hot damn, son! It's hotter than dog shit on a skillet up in there!
-You said it, Bo. Darker than a coal miner's lunch box, too!

What else, Smiley. C'mon.

:gasp!: Oh sweet Jesus! I couldn't breathe in there!

What the hell, Smiley?

He kept bothering me, asking if I knew where the team prayer meetings were. So I grabbed him and said, "I got your prayer meeting right here!" I was gonna give him right back. Honest.

What else you got?

That's it, coach. I swear.

Say, uh, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Parcells. You know if anyone's seen Samkon Gado lately?

Gado? I thought we cut him, Jeff.

No, sir. He was supposed to report today to restructure his contract. But no one has seen or heard from him in like a week.

SMILE--Y!!

Oh yea. Sorry. Forgot.

This is not cool, my fiends! I am not to like being lodged inside a man's anus! It is not cool in the very least! I am to leave now! I am to leave and never come back! Merry New Year!

What?

Justin Smiley Has Something Up His Ass

Alright, Smiley. What you got?

What do ya mean coach?

Your ass is bigger than usual today. And if there's one thing I know, it's big asses.

Oh that. Meh. I just been putting gravy on my porkchops lately. That's all. Really.

Let's go Smiley. Out with it!

:sigh: Fine.

What the hell? That motherfucker's pullin stuff outta his ass!

A Triple-A Card?

In case I go for a ride with Channing Crowder.

Christ. What else you got up there? C'mon!

Alright... alright....

I went fishing over the weekend.

And?

And I caught a rainbow trout.

With these guys.

-Hot damn, son! It's hotter than dog shit on a skillet up in there!
-You said it, Bo. Darker than a coal miner's lunch box, too!

What else, Smiley. C'mon.

:gasp!: Oh sweet Jesus! I couldn't breathe in there!

What the hell, Smiley?

He kept bothering me, asking if I knew where the team prayer meetings were. So I grabbed him and said, "I got your prayer meeting right here!" I was gonna give him right back. Honest.

What else you got?

That's it, coach. I swear.

Say, uh, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Parcells. You know if anyone's seen Samkon Gado lately?

Gado? I thought we cut him, Jeff.

No, sir. He was supposed to report today to restructure his contract. But no one has seen or heard from him in like a week.

SMILE--Y!!

Oh yea. Sorry. Forgot.

This is not cool, my fiends! I am not to like being lodged inside a man's anus! It is not cool in the very least! I am to leave now! I am to leave and never come back! Merry New Year!

What?

Jesse Chatman & Samkon Gado in: PHIN FICTION

You remember that semi-retarded guy? Mike Mularkey? He used to be offensive coordinator round here?

Yes. I know him. He is, how you say? A dumb fuck. Yes?

I wouldn�t go so far as to call the brotha a dumb fuck. He�s slow. What�s the poor muthafucka gonna do? He�s semi-retarded.

Well�word round the water cooler is he�s now our offensive coordinator again.

Why is this happening?

Mularkey caught Coach Cam giving Mrs. Mularkey a foot massage. So now Mularkey's our OC. It�s a damn shame for Coach Cam. He�s just beggin to get fired now. 

It is great shame. But you play with matches, you get burn.

What? Man I think Mularkey waayyy over-reacted here. It was a foot massage!

I think Coach Cam should know better to give Mrs. Mularkey foot massage. You should not touch another man�s woman like this. It is not same as eating her beaver. But it is same ballpark.

Man giving a guy�s wife a foot massage and stickin yer tongue in the holiest of holies ain�t in the same fuckin ballpark. It ain't the same league. It ain�t even the same sport.

You ever give foot massage?

What?! Don�t be telling me about foot massages! I�m the foot fuckin master!

Would you give a man foot massage?

Man, fuck you.

Jesse Chatman & Samkon Gado in: PHIN FICTION

You remember that semi-retarded guy? Mike Mularkey? He used to be offensive coordinator round here?

Yes. I know him. He is, how you say? A dumb fuck. Yes?

I wouldn’t go so far as to call the brotha a dumb fuck. He’s slow. What’s the poor muthafucka gonna do? He’s semi-retarded.

Well…word round the water cooler is he’s now our offensive coordinator again.

Why is this happening?

Mularkey caught Coach Cam giving Mrs. Mularkey a foot massage. So now Mularkey's our OC. It’s a damn shame for Coach Cam. He’s just beggin to get fired now. 

It is great shame. But you play with matches, you get burn.

What? Man I think Mularkey waayyy over-reacted here. It was a foot massage!

I think Coach Cam should know better to give Mrs. Mularkey foot massage. You should not touch another man’s woman like this. It is not same as eating her beaver. But it is same ballpark.

Man giving a guy’s wife a foot massage and stickin yer tongue in the holiest of holies ain’t in the same fuckin ballpark. It ain't the same league. It ain’t even the same sport.

You ever give foot massage?

What?! Don’t be telling me about foot massages! I’m the foot fuckin master!

Would you give a man foot massage?

Man, fuck you.