“I say, dearest Mortimer. Victory is less a promise than an assurance this night.”
“That it is, Shadrach. These Nordic marauders haven’t the faintest idea of how to scotch our potent attack.”
“Now there’s an idea! Scotch! Tipples all around! Let us quaff at once in remembrance of this triumph!”
“Be there enough scotch and we shan’t remember much at all.”
“Too true. Too true. Nevertheless, a gentleman simply does not waste scotch of this caliber.”
“Then I will imbibe. For the sake of moderation, I shall await the next home score.”
“Ah, there it is!”
“Very good. Tally ho!”
“Oh, how the other team does doddle with the ball.”
“It is less football than it is skylarkings.”
“It recalls the last time the underclass revolted. How they cried when crushed underfoot.”
“The screams haunt me still.”
“Not I. For a gentleman should enjoy a good suppression from time to time. Keeps him virile.”
“Sound advice. Accordingly, my recommendation is for a great mirth-having at the downfall of our enemies. To hegemony!”
“Capital idea! May their lamentations find comfort in our ear drums.”
Okay, enough with that. We got the blowout we expected. Moving on. Let’s focus on how we’re gonna live blog Tebow getting killed on Thursday. Because tonight wasn’t very pleasant to watch. Gruden didn’t make it any easier by wondering aloud “WHO IS THIS JAMES STARKS?” and not having any idea how the game of football works despite coaching it at its highest level and OH YEAH HE WON A FUCKING SUPER BOWL KILL ME NOW.
Seriously, Tirico goes into a lengthy explanation about how Rodgers doesn’t commit grounding in the end zone because he’s out of the pocket and the throw goes beyond the line of scrimmage. And, like a child wandering into a theater, there’s Gruden not five seconds later shouting WAIT THERE’S NO RECEIVER OVER THERE. Tirico, with the patience of Job, has to correct him again, which prompts the most Gruden response ever: “There’re a lot of rules.”
That probably took five years off my life. In which case, gotta get busy living, so I won’t bother setting up these screencaps of fat, obnoxious, holier-than-thou Cheesetards.
Oh yeah, this last one. The Packers fluffing was so intense that they trotted out some decrepit season ticket holder from the last 50+ years. Tirico gushed that she used to go bowling with Ray Nitschke’s sister. DOIN’ IT THE RIGHT WAY EXPRESS, COMIN’ THROUGH. What I wouldn’t give for Bill Murray to shove her ass over and tell her Nitschke was a pussy.