And So It Begins

(Mess with the Pats, mess with Butch. And me)

Seriously, y'all, what the hell is wrong with Raiders fans? I mean, for real, there's got to be something clinical, right? They're batshit insane. And not like how Red Sox fans are crazy ('cause I know from crazy fans), but I'm really beginning to think there's some sort of chemical in the water in the Bay Area that renders them into drooling, snarling, sub-human barbarians.

How else do you explain the desire to do this to an unborn child?

*shudder*

I mean really, let's just take a little look see at your normal Pats fan vs. your normal Raiders fan, shall we?

Behold.

Pats fans:


Raiders fans:


And again.

Pats fans:


Raiders fans:


And one more time, just to be clear.

Pats fans:


Raiders fans:


I think what we've demonstrated here through the use of visual aids is that Raiders fans clearly have some pretty major problems. Not the least of which is that they're pinning their hopes on Randy "So what if there's time left on the clock? I'm gotta get my Bentley detailed" Moss, Warren "The only thing bigger than my ass is my mouth" Sapp and Kerry "kicked aside for that punk, Eli" Collins. Yikes.

I hope only that the Pats can win in a well-fought game.

Okay, that's a lie, I want the Raiders pounded into the Gillette turf like so much fertilizer. I want Randy Moss waking up in a cold sweat, weeks from now, screaming about Rodney Harrison. I want the Oakland D getting ripped a new one by their "media" after Tom Brady picks them apart like wet tissue. I want blood! I want fury! I want vengeance! Ahem. And finally, I want them to stop whining about the godforsaken Tuck Rule. Or I'll punch out their remaining teeth with a Super Bowl ring.

Game on.