Well, I hope you're happy, Frank. Taking a kicker in the last round...
What are you, lobotomized?
I mean, did you really think you were gonna get a Hartley or an Elam in round 15? Yeah, and I'm Tom Brady's butt chin.
Don't look at me like that, Frank! You know I'm right. I am clearly not Tom Brady's butt chin!
And your draft strategy makes less sense than an episode of Harper's Island.
Every year you burp up the same brain-dead burrito. You wait and you wait until you're stuck taking some nobody like Phil Dawson or Dan Carpenter in the last round.
These guys aren't stars, Frank. They're barely people!
But look at my draft.
Sure, some of the other owners might think that I reached a little when I took Gostkowski in the second round. But dude, HE HAD 148 POINTS LAST SEASON!
That's ridiculous! It's like a party in the girls' shower. And the girls are still there!
I mean, do you know how many points that is per game?
A lot, that's how many!
And how are you gonna feel, Frank, when you need six points from your "come-practice-the-Heimlich-on-me" kicker and you're rooting for Phil Dawson against the Steelers, huh?
I'll tell you how you're gonna feel.
You're gonna feel like you should have passed on Slaton or McNabb or Jacobs or Boldin or Welker or Bowe or Gates or Cutler, and maybe used your brain and taken a placekicker instead.
Seriously, Frank. You never learn.
It's really a miracle how you beat me every year.
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