Today is a special day, my sweet innocent NFL-GAF. If all goes according to (our Lord's) plan, by the end of today we will have the Patriots in the playoffs and the Dolphins (and especially their fans) crying over another failure of a season. That disgusting team from Miami that every American has grown to hate will be sent away by our unsung heroes, the Buffalo Bills, and we will celebrate together.
I wrote a Christmas poem, I'm hoping it will help our Pats win today. Not just for us Pats fans, but all of NFL-GAF.
Twas the Sunday before Christmas, and all through our NFL thread
only lifelongs were posting, all fans born and bred.
The olds were all worrying, about their arthritis and aches
While the Chans and the Snes's, pondering their next alts to make
None were expecting a sound, when what is that they hear?
The sound of Uggs on the roof, a sound they came to fear
Through the chimney he fell, letting out a scream as he lands
Looking for the refs, he saw nothing but two small hands
A little gata had awoken, his eyes wide from the loud stomp
Our Lord and savior had come, to rescue him from the swamp
Sorry, my gata friend, our Lord said as he unfurled a green yellow and black flag
I only help my true fans, but I hear you like the Jags
So to the roof he went, leaving behind the small lifelong
Where he found his trusted friends, who failed him in his swan song
On Gonk, on Mayo, on Wilfuck, on Woodcock, on Wekler, on Vollmer,
Take me to Baltimore, I have some Ravens to murder.
go pats