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Heroin Flavored Kool-Aid


I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty damn excited. It seems that quite a few respected sports writers are predicting the Packers will represent the NFC in the Superbowl this year.

And why wouldn’t they? I mean it was a real stroke of luck when we nabbed Tennessee’s Chris Johnson even-up for Ryan Grant in the off-season.

Oh, shit. We didn’t? We still have aim-for-the-D-line Grant as our primary threat on the ground? The guy who pads his numbers on games against teams like Detroit but is a no-show for the big ones?

Well, who needs a ground game, anyway.

At least we were able to jettison Will Blackmon and pick up Josh Cribbs from Cleveland and still stay under the cap, giving us a terrifying house call threat in our return game.

What? No Cribbs? We’re still relying on a guy with bones made from Pringles and ligaments made from silly string to return kicks?

Meh. Field position is overrated, anyway.

I still feel really good that Al Harris is back to 100% and is as youthful as ever, so our corps of defensive backs will go into the season as solid as it has ever been.

Are you effing kidding me? Harris isn’t really ready? Our DB situation is shaky?

Oh, yeah. The Packers are Superbowl bound, all right. And have you seen my 14″ penis? It’s ENORMOUS!

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Have the Bikini Girls Been Taking Cheese Curd Facials?


I’ve been hearing a lot about the Packers and their status as odds darling in the NFC this year. During the Indy preseason game I heard “Superbowl preview.”

I’ve also heard “Favorite to win the NFC.”

I’ve also heard “I thought you said you had a condom on!!!!!” But that was a completely different conversation.

Lemme just say this: Slow down, football prognostibaters. I know that part of the media’s job is to manufacture drama when there isn’t any (which is why Brett Favre is a five-time Daytime Emmy winner), and making predictions of anything other than Mr. T’s one of “pain,” is just nonsense. Pants-dropping, tissue-gobbing nonsense.

Makes me wonder if the Green Bay Packer Bikini Girls have been on a cheese curd facial tour of Big Media to try to win over the hearts and, uh, other stuff of the sports reporters. (Girls? Free tip: Skip Jay Mariotti. He likes the boys.)

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