Wednesday, June 9

Help Make Fantasy Football History!

After last year's obscenely unmentionable finish (12th of 12), I entered into an purple drank and chocolate eclair binge that would make Dom Deluise roll over in his butter dish. Thankfully, I emerged relatively stable, and I have reluctantly decided to enter the fray again. Barring any unforeseen incarcerations or pesky background checks, I hope to finish in the money this year. Wow, that seems really weird typing that last sentence out. Onward!

This year, the league is called Boozehounds United, probably after some chintzy little soccer club where they all play footsie together in a Roman bath house. The big news is that receivers get .50 points per reception instead of .25. Our commish would never admit it, but this is clearly a half-assed substitute for the scoring that could be created by allowing RBs' points for kickoff and punt return yardage. Alas, my opponents (all 11 of them) fear change, as if they were a conspiracy of Popes harboring horny pedophiles, or worse: eleven preachy John Lithgows forbidding Kevin Bacon to dance.

"But Jeff," you wonder. "Why do you keep enduring the ridicule and torture of losing at the hands of your meagerly qualified, yet clearly luckier friends?"

First of all, fuck you. Second, I was inspired by a wolf spider that I stomped in the garage the other day. After crushing her under my flop, a hundred little baby spiders skittered in all directions, demolishing a Jamarcus Russel tackling dummy, recovering three fumbles and kissing Suzy Kolber on the sideline, all while high-stepping ala Deion Sanders.

Whoa, I thought to myself. If those little bastards can do that, then my sorry ass squad of XFL taint-suckers can WIN THIS BITCH!

And so begins my search for a name that my champions will be known as. I've been slowly saving up images and names and settled on a few that I hope you, gentle reader can help me decide on.

THAT'S RIGHT, YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARDS! You get to help pick the name of my team that will get smashed to oblivion by my opponents: the eleven barely conscious gastropods slobbering in front of their laptops. If you do any exercise today, let it be exercising your right to vote. This is America, after all, where anyone can be President, as long as they're woefully inexperienced and don't give one squirt of pelican piss about the Gulf states.

I've listed only the favorites, and I'm opening up the comments for new suggestions. And before you ask: NO. I will not share my winnings with you if you vote on or pick my team's eventual name. I need the money for a new liver, and those Bangladeshi customs agents don't come cheap.

THE HUMAN CENTIPEDES: From the movie of the same name. Easily the most moving film of the year. A feel-good story about three star-crossed friends who get lost in the woods. Go see it with your grandma. Bring napkins.

EPIC BEARD MOON: This guy kicked so much ass, his name should be ASS-MATIC. Once upon a time, Epic Beard Man beat the shit out of some drunk that talked out of turn on a bus. All while wearing a baby blue t-shirt that read, "I AM A MOTHERFUCKER." His image was later added to a wolf t-shirt meme by an unknown artistic genius. Worthy of a team name, mascot and maybe even a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Indeed. Call the 'bam'bulance. We's about to WRECK. SHOP.

THE ANAL EWOKS: No description needed.

ORLANDO PREDOBEARS: Since I'm a huge Predator fan, and enjoy a good Polanski flick every now and then, this is a touching tribute to both genres. GET IT?!?! TOUCHING!!!1 Anyone else remember the AFL's Orlando Predators? Me neither.

CENTRAL FLORIDA CHOKE-'BATERS: I'm also a big fan of David Carradine's. His performance in Kill Bill vol. III was breathtaking. This also describes perfectly my time spent in the off-season.

RANDPAULSTILTSKIN: Assuming this twit stays relevant by stealing headlines from Mel Gibson, this might actually bring home the money for daddy. I would hate to pay taxes on it, which is why I'm backing Rand Paul and his Libertarian Party values. Stay out of my gambling, big government! I'd like to get back to clinging to my guns and religion, please. [cocks shotgun]

THE VELOUR FOG: This summer brings back Futurama on Comedy Central, and Zap Brannigan is back in command of the show, where he should be. In my favorite vintage episode, Zap seduces Leela and refers to himself as the Velour Fog. I'm not sure what velour is, but it sounds pretty boss. Fog is also my third favorite form of condensation. Know what else is awesome? Someone who rules made a montage of the dirty deed set to Rammstein. Like I always say, anything is better with Rammstein.

RICK TO ASTLEY: I saw a music video of the trailer for Human Centipede set to Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up. A clever turn of phrase, to be sure. As a bonus, the team comes with it's own theme song! But I'm not sure I want to be reminded of HC's plot line or grotesque imagery, especially when I'm eventually defeated by 110 points. Might leave a bad taste in my mouth.

ORLANDO SHIBACLE: This term was coined by one of my least favorite players (FSU alum), but most favorite broadcasters (NFL Network). He was talking about the Eagles trading McNabb to the Redskins, a team IN THEIR OWN FUCKING DIVISION. Also, Orlando is a city in central Florida and my home town.

The Shibacle's mascot is nunchuk enthusiast and part-time Chuck Norris hair model Sheila. She suffers from something called TAR syndrome, but I suffer from uncontrollable laughter every time I see her photo. Here's a thought: does she cut the sleeves off her gi and make the seam herself?

MULTIPLE SCORGASMS: Kind of juvenile compared to most of these, huh? It's also somewhat of a stretch to consider my talents capable of much more than a clumsy dry hump in the back of a Bronco and an awkwardly silent ride back home. It happens to lots of guys, right?

THE FLORIDA FLESHLIGHTS: These devices are molded from the actual orifices of adult film stars. They are named so because they resemble the shape of a flashlight. Need more description? NO SIR! I'm a sophisticated journalist, and my scruples prevent me from owning the Tera Patrick model. I will reveal that they also come in vampire form, featuring a mouth with vampire teeth. Watch out! They bite.

DISMISSIVE WANKING MOTION: This refers to something that has drawn a lot of attention, yet garnered no results. Naturally, it could fit any one of my pathetic teams. I first came across the term on FilmDrunk, my favorite movie blog. You may remember this blog for featuring a post analyzing a Twilight fan's creation of felt replica of Bella's unborn child. Yeah, it really exists.

Like the man says: VOTE EARLY, AND VOTE OFTEN! The poll widgets aren't working, so vote on the FB link comment section or Blogger comments. Also, I neglected to mention another reason for competing this year ... an actual trophy! It was my idea to steal the idea from the hilarious comedy The League, and introduce a tangible prize for all of us assholes to covet. My goal is to win this bitch, gloat in the most desultory of ways, then defile the trophy in such an inhuman fashion, so that all subsequent winners will be deprived of it's virgin glory.

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