As if shit couldn’t get any worse for Minnesota Vikings fans …
Last week we had the crying Green Bay Packer vermin that trolled the internet, looking for fame, as she wept her way onto talk shows and 15 minutes of stardom after the Packers vacated their bowels against the New York Giants. This week, the NFL itself is getting in on the action and giving fans a big “Eff You, Morons!” to all the fans of teams who ended with shit records by having their favorite players sing Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings” to them.
On the one hand, it appears innocent enough. Several burly men (and some scantily clad cheerleaders, hooray boobs!) show up in the types of places where you’d find your Average Joe football fan. The office cubicle, their Minnesota suburban home, Mexicans offering illegal and cheap labor to cook in a retaurant … and they all start singing this song to REALLY let them know, hey man, we just want to play this game of football for YOU, the FANS, because we know how much you love football!
Except that’s all total bullshit.
Let’s take a time machine back to this summer when the NFL was in a prolonged lockout and bickering over literal tenth percentiles over the next several years so that millionaires could become bigger millionaires, while current millionaires were complaining about being modern day slaves. All the while, Average Joe was stuck trying to figure out how he was going to pay for his Adderall addicted son to go to a state school to he could major in a worthless subject like 18th Century English Literature, not to mention the debt he has already incurred on his house. But those football players! Assholes.
I find these types of overtly pandering media attempts insulting and disgusting, AND I DESERVE BETTER BECAUSE I HAVE A KEYBOARD AND FOUR READERS A DAY [PS: My opinion doesn’t matter, but here it is anyway!]. Don’t tell me you do this for the FANS, you crap mouths. You do this for tons of fucking money, and because most of the players are all psychopaths who would otherwise be committing multiple murders. Just ask Ray Lewis. Sure, you occasionally ENJOY having fans to cheer you on, give you inflated egos, pay your ridiculous salaries (I’m talking NFL front office people and players here, BTW), and worship you like modern day gods, all while not being afraid to give them a big middle finger if they boo your terrible performance or if you leave them and their city in the dust chasing after a bigger paycheck.
You don’t give a shit about the fans. You give a shit about the fans paying out their ass for your ever increasing weakening product. Defense is disappearing, games are predictable, and my franchise is filled with a bunch of morons who can’t build a stadium on their own, hire a coach, or find a player who doesn’t have a dick in their butt. But this commercial is suppose to make me feel all good about everything? Eat a dick.
Now, Jared Allen, if you wanted to go get a beer and shoot some guns and not talk about football at all, that seems manageable. Let’s just leave the NFL out of it.