The Outlander
As this post was written this morning, you will be able to distinctly tell when in the course of writing it, the Bills head coach became the Bills former head coach. The first paragraph may have already been proven wrong but Ralph Wilson still sucks so I am leaving the intro unchanged. Thank goodness it didn't actually happen this way....
As this post was written this morning, you will be able to distinctly tell when in the course of writing it, the Bills head coach became the Bills former head coach. The first paragraph may have already been proven wrong but Ralph Wilson still sucks so I am leaving the intro unchanged. Thank goodness it didn't actually happen this way....
While the national media continues to make mistakes by assuming the Buffalo Bills are run like a professional franchise and #BerlsMafia start making their travel plans to New York City for Super Bowl XLVIII, I’m bringing you part two of my college football bowl “preview.” Trust me, this is much more palatable than digesting the fact that as less inept coaches are getting the ax, we likely have to wait for Chan and Buddy to take a carriage ride to suburban Detroit and throw themselves at the feet of Ralph Wilson like they’re fucking Catherine of Aragon begging for acceptance from their pathetic master. Because three seasons of futility aren’t enough and Ralph’s galaxy sized ego needs to look them in the eye and pass judgment upon his subjects only after seeing them tremble before him first. I hate this decrepit fool, this conniving snake oil salesman from the Mr. Burns school of the cartoonishly evil, feebly attempting to protect both his assets and his image while failing at both. He’s a villain from a Dickens novel, not a fucking hall-of-famer, but I digress.
It's Ralph, not "Mr. Wilson"
There’s four bowls this New Year’s Eve so I’m going to jump right into the games so this post can go up before they start. Also, I feel New Year’s Eve should be a day off in most offices. After all, those who took holiday vacations shouldn’t have to rush back or use a day off, and everyone’s looking ahead to filling their gullet with shrimp and champagne and spending the entire next day nursing a hangover. For The Outlander, I’m bypassing the usual house party for Hibachi and Elmwood. This is a delicate dance; I’m used to kissing the year goodbye by getting blacked out in front of friends, not complete strangers but I feel there will be enough fighting bros and crying drunk girls to make me less concerned about myself. On to the games!
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