“You know what? I’m glad those dumb ass cheese bangers across the state line won the Super Bowl last year, when 31 other teams weren’t even trying. It gives them a big head, an ego, an inflated sense of self that they can just stroll on through the NFL again and beat the shit out of whoever they want, get coaches fired after they beat teams 31-3, and waltz right up to another Championship trophy.
“Well you know what? It’s not that simple. In 2011, the Minnesota Vikings are going to kick the crap out of the Super Bowl champions, twice, and then have sex with their wives, too.”
“Yeah, you heard me. Twice. We’re going to win once in Week 7 of 2011 when they come to Zygi’s Hood, and then we’re going to go into Lambeau Field, big dick style Monday Night Football, and take a shit right on their chest while they call us Osi Umenyiora. It’s going to be amazing. All their fans will be in the stands weeping and blubbering like seals getting clubbed to death while we strut like a pimp on a broken ankle after just releasing a vicious backhand on a hooker who held out. WHERE’S MY TROPHY, BITCH! Shit is going to be epic. I might even mic myself up that night so the NFL can hear every last detail of just how badly we’ve struck terror into those yellow and green players, and about all the places I’m going to stick vegetables in their wives.
“I mean, it’s perfect, right? We kick their skulls in on our home turg to flash some Alpha Male dominance, get them all riled up, some testosterone boiling, and then just roll into their town and punch their face out through their dick holes. Gross. What women is going to want to have sex with that? No one, that’s who, unless they’re men who tug one out to Packer players anyway. And that’s where the Vikings players come in. We’re right there in town, the Wisconsonites are demoralized, the women are frightened, and need someone to turn to. We firmly, yet gently, grab their hands and lead them passionately into the dark alleys in Lambeau and tell them, ‘Do not worry, fair troll maiden, while I am disgusted by this act I am about to accomplish, it should only be seen as a business transaction of revenge to hurt Packer player feelings, and possibly drive you mad with passion.’ Then we realign their spine with Shanko, while Percy get’s all pissed off and yells in their face until they cry … I mean, if they aren’t already. It’s going to look like Jodie Foster in the Accused, if you get me.
“Don’t worry though, I’m not going to hit anyone (EJ will), or pierce any nipples with my tongue (Mistral Raymond does), or give myself brown knuckles which I lick clean (Cedric Griffin? You bet). I’m a married man and get all my sexual satisfaction from my amazing wife who gives rim jobs. But the other players? I can’t speak for them, only tell them what I would do in groteque detail if I were a bachelor again. But let me say this … I’d keep the entire teams prostate healthy, if you know what I mean.
“So yeah, I’m looking forward to playing the Packers. Just because I’m not going to sodomize their wives myself doesn’t mean I won’t jerk off into a plastic cup while waching and then mix it into Aaron Rodger’s shampoo. I’m not saying I will, just that I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Sweet dreams, powderpuffs.”
*PS: In case you are again a ratard, Brian Robison did not actually say … most … of this.*