Detroit Goes 0-16; Jim Rome Now Believes In God

In a time of economic struggle, war, oppression and racism, there isn't much that people have to hold onto in terms of faith. Unless of course, you are Jim Rome. All Jim Rome wanted for Christmas was an NFL team to go 0-16 for the season. Enter the Detroit Lions.

While what goes on inside Jim Rome's bedroom is only known to Jim Rome and what can only be described as a never-ending stream of high class escorts and deliveries of case after case of Cristal champagne, a person can guess at least one bedtime routine.

The following is a reenactment of every night that Jim Rome has lived for the last decade.

After leaving a considerable tip on his dresser along with the instructions to never talk about what just happened, Jim slips into his silk pajamas, sets his pimp cup filled with Henessey Paradise on his nightstand and kneels quietly at his bed.

His hands folded and head bowed Jim says the Lord's Prayer, at least as much as he can remember. Before saying Amen, Jim sends a special message to God:

"And bless Mom and Dad and all the little orphan babies and puppies and kitties. Thank you for Kimbo Slice and TO and Ocho Cinco and Barry Bonds. And God, if you could, do you think that you could ignore all the prayers of Lion's fans and just this once give me an 0-16 season. We've come close with the Lions and Dolphins and Raiders, but it just isn't the same without the big goose-egg.

"If you do I promise to stop sending Frank Caliendo threatening messages, even though his impressions of me suck. Thanks God, your friend, Jimmy. Amen"

Now, it seems that Jim Rome has proved God's existence. Losing 31-21 to the Green Bay Packers, the Detroit Lions are arguably the worst team to ever play in the NFL. And, by proxy, hated by God.

And while the Motor City weeps and still burn the likeness of Matt Millen in effigy, Jim Rome is getting drunk. The awesome kind of happy drunk that only comes when a person realizes that we are not alone in existence, and that God is on our side.

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