Sometimes when I'm sitting around, somewhat lifted, I think about animals fighting.
But not until tonight did it occur to me, whilst posting, to Google image search "animals fighting." I will let the results speak for themselves, and guide us through this week's re-caps.
Dear God! Do you see those beasts flying at each other? That shit is savage! And so was the battle between me and Andre. That gorilla in the foreground is Charm City Murder. Its chiseled back and rump ripple with taut power, like the Charm City twin running attack of Justin Forsett (27) and Steven Jackson (16). Its silvered hide reveals the depth of experience exhibited by Terrell Owens (17). He is a fine, powerful ape. But as you can see, he's about to get fucking wrecked by a Kong-ass yeti of a gorilla. Do you see, even in this still-frame, how much energy he has propelled himself forward with? That is the unstoppable driving force of the Saints offense, just bindly and madly spewing fantasy points at anyone who plays within it (Marques Colston, 20; Pierre Thomas, 14; Robert Meachem, 12 - for more details, see here). And then there is that mouth. He's actually going to eat that other gorilla's head! Holy fuck! That is a maniacal fury, a blind animal rage of madness that was thought to have existed in Marshall Faulk, Priest Holmes, and vintage LaDainian Tomlinson. It was thought that that rage, that power, existed no more. But deep in the jungle... it does, and its name is Chris Johnson (28).
Remember 12 weeks ago, when our new fantasy football season took flight? When you looked down at the ocean, it seemed so far away, and so full of fish, didn't it? Plenty of time to make your adjustments, pick your spots, make a grab at a playoff spot. As the flight got longer, though, you started flying closer and closer to the water. And as we got further out into the ocean there were fewer and fewer fish. And now here we are, and some of our flock have fallen, and there's eight of us left, and only six fish. Shit's starting to get vicious. Bardey and Chaski are two of those birds fighting for one of those fish, and the Bourgeoisie made a decisive snap of the beak this week. Or maybe we should say that the Chachfaces loosened their grip. After all, a five-point day combined from your three wideouts (Vincent Jackson, 3; Mohammed Massaquoi, 1; Steve Smith 1.0, 0.5) hardly counts as devouring your prey. Philip Rivers' (22) scaly talon tried to make a play, but Bardey was too wily, swooping in with the swift, decisive grace of Vernon Davis (12). And that vise-like grip, snatching and ripping and clawing that fish away from Claski? That's Brett Favre (29), with his best fantasy performance of the season.
Sometimes nature just doesn't make sense. I mean, you're an alligator. You're a predator, a survivor. Your shit is fucking pre-historic. You've been sliding along for weeks now, with your impenetrable coat of scales (Thomas Jones, 14), your big nasty teeth (Rashard Mendenhall, 11), and that tail of yours? That seven-foot column of vertebrae and muscle (Charles Woodson, 21) has taken out more wildebeest grazing at the riverside than you'd care to count. It's fought off hippos who got a little too fucking close for comfort. It's taken out a whole herd of zebra crossing the Zambezi. You are an indestructable, irrevocable force of nature in the water.
Speaking of which, where is that water, anyway? Did you take a wrong turn back at the baobab tree? Seems like a while since the others went off for that mudbath. It's awfully hot out-HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK THERE'S A FUCKING CHEETAH ON YOUR BACK! YES A FUCKING CHEETAH! Oh my God! Oh my God... Oh dear lord.... So much blood... He never saw it coming... Oh sweet mother of mercy that was horrible.... Oh I wish I hadn't seen that. Mother Nature, ye are a cruel wench.
(The Cheetah was Drew Brees, 38)
2 comments:
I like the last one.
it somehow came up amid the "animals fight" image search. apparently it's called "taken by death."
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