Bom is dead!
After being humiliated by his evil twin brother last week, the gorgeous, chiseled supermodel-turned-quarterback Tom Brady took up his shield and sword and struck down his nemesis with a single swipe of his shimmering blade!
With sweat pouring down his face and blood dripping down his helmet, he raised his sword to the sky and declared, with a voice that could shake the Earth and bring all women to their knees, "You are free!" And a thousand Patriots fans rejoiced and cried, and ate nachos as the Patriots beat the Bills 38-30.
Vogue magazine captured everything, and it should be on the shelf within a few weeks.
Meanwhile, the Patriots defense, in the continued belief that bad luck will befall them should they not allow each team to score more points than the last, allowed the Bills—a team that shouldn't be able to score 30 points against my high school's 1954 Alumni squad—to nearly steal victory from the armor-clad Brady and his lovable band of knights.
Someone needs to get this squad a bucket of four-leaf clovers and the head of a leprechaun to dispel that horrible myth before the offense is forced to score 60 just to keep from being embarrassed.
After the game, Randy Moss took the podium. Let me remind you that this is the kind of man who wears headphones larger than his actual head to a press conference where he will be only speaking and then walking away; the kind of man who would look the collective Boston straight in the eye and say, with no sense of fear or regret, "I'm hungry" and immediately start snacking on a Big Mac right in front of everyone.
Clearly, this is a man that is unafraid to speak his mind and do what he pleases, because he is a rebel and no one is going to disrespect him! It don't matter how much you want Randy to fail, Randy won't fail, because Randy is, for lack of a better word, Randy!
But then, just as he was about to speak, a Big Mac unwrapped and in his hand, Belichick grabbed him by the collar, pulled him close, whispered something quickly into his ear and then walked away. He never changed expressions, but Randy looking stunned and confused.
He wiped the single tear from his cheek, changed his underwear and walked up to the mic. And he proceeded to say the same thing that every Patriot in the organization has said since the moment Belichick first arrived (some physicist now believe that the conformity may have started a few moments before he arrived, defying the very laws of space-time).
"We win as a team and we lose as a team. You always can hold your head up high when you win, and lower it when you lose. We’ll just go back to the drawing board and have a game-plan for the Miami Dolphins."
You could ask the janitor who makes minimum wage and cleans the urine out of the public bathrooms of Gillette how the game went, and he would tell you, without a hint of irony, that "it was a team effort, and I'm just glad I could do my part." I think Belichick may be holding all these peoples families hostage somewhere.
In other news, Faulk is still injured. It shook New England to it's core when it was revealed last week that he tore his ACL after pretending to steal Wes Welker's hat (androids are notorious for their lack of a sense of humor). We all thought good thoughts all week and hoped that it would just heal itself, but those kind of collective wellness-beams are only effective about 40 percent of the time.
Still, we can hope. If Zombie Favre and the Vikings can actually manage to beat the Detroit Lions, a team that is so good that it has been deliberately terrible for the last decade so it can strike at just the right moment when we all least expect it, then I have to believe that Faulk will play again in 2010.
But I also believe, deep within my soul, that Pedro Martinez has a shot at one more Cy Young, so take what I say with a grain of salt.
Until next week, let us all remember that the Bills almost scored as many points in the first half of the game on Sunday as they had in all of the first two games of their season.
I wonder if Seau might be interested in one more year...