“Seadderall Seahawks” is going to stick. It’s just such a fun portmanteau to say, and one day thirty years in the future when nobody even remembers what adderall is because we’ll all be screw-faced on nuke and slo mo, those of us who were around for 2013 will have to explain it to the next generation and they’ll laugh at us from behind their face tattoos and implants because a mild upper will seem quaint.
But forget 2043 for a moment so we can submerse ourselves in our shared vitriol for the pacific northwest’s only team.
We have to start with those uniforms. They look like a pervese amalgam of the Pro Bowl uniforms
and the Birmingham Barracudas.
How do you even put on the Seahawks uniform and feel like a grown man? The players look like those guys at a glitzy nightclub who have those shirts that have everything in the world glued to them, and say things like “Bitches love shiny shit, brah” and don’t understand the “one fedora per crew” rule.
Think about the coach for a second. What’s worse, that smug look on his face because he’s finally finding some amount of success outside of training up teenagers at the University of Spoiled Children, or watching him frantically smack chewing gum like a 29-year-old divorcee high on cocaine for the first time since college?
People involved in their own scandals shouldn’t be truthers. You can just hear him saying “Google Tower 7, Man!” on off days.
#Kakaw gave us more douche chills this year than #Thicke.
The performance enhancing dome that pipes in crowd noise set the world record, and then lost it, and then gained it back, and then it was discovered that they were probably cheating. Thanks for wasting our time, everyone.
Meeting in Seattle Seahawks PR office:
Gen X bro, stoned off his ass playing Starfox: We should, like, do something viral.
Guy in suit but with ponytail: Oh I read about that. Let’s pay someone to make something viral.
Turtlenecked 58 year old Eddie Vedder-looking employee: My son does viral stuff. Let’s get him to do it.
Phish. Phish? Jesus holy hell christ. Apart from Harris Wittels who has channeled his misguided love of Phish into a delightful podcast with Scott Aukerman, nobody should even… never mind. Let’s not waste time talking about Phish. If you don’t know who they are for some reason, and Googled them and listened to something, here’s some ear bleach. There are some eighties boobs in the video, just to warn you.
And lastly, this
fucking
guy
