Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Super Bowl Buzz Kill: Chargers

Do you think your team is going to the Super Bowl? Ha. Your team sucks. Why put yourself through the aggravation every year? The Hater Nation is here to bring you back to reality with the award-winning series, The Super Bowl Buzz Kill.

Why your team won’t win the Super Bowl: Tijuana's Hat.

By Bain


What a lousy task, writing these things.

Every year, the elder primates here at THN volunteer to be Romoed. No, I don't mean we get (expletive) in the (expletive). I mean that we toss our hot dogs (read: Buzz Kills) down hallways (read: you) for nothing more than scattered claps from the gallery as we climb soaking from the fetid pond, all the while knowing that the sports pukes who lurk this place will shamelessly Mencia our best bits.

If we're talking thankless jobs, though, then let's glide down one mother-effing smooth segue into the subject of Norville Turner.

Last season old Pizza Neck took Tijuana's Hat to within one game of the NFL's Promised Land, a feat for which Hat fans should be as pleased as a tentfull of Boy Scouts who've been presented Ashley Tillsdale's nose in a tightly-rolled fifi. Fat chance. Even now, after all he's done for them, speak the word "Norv" to a Hat fan and you'll get the sort of tilted smirk of guilty bewilderment that Mathew McConaughey sports while posing with his bouncing baby Gerbeard.

But San Diego residents are weird. These are people who kayak with their homes, whose idea of a backyard barbecue culminates in "Breaking News" clips of blazing hillsides and helicopters dropping clouds of fire-retardant slurry. Worst of all, since the Patriots peed on their field, Hat fans harbor a bizarre persecution complex that's begun to affect the players. Not LT, though. He really was injured during last season's AFC Championship game. Those who say otherwise ought to get out there themselves sometime and try playing with a sprained feeling tendon.

Like any household from an early John Waters film, Hat has its own Baltimore Foot Stomper, and his name is Phillip Rivers. What a (copulating) punk! That's a compliment coming from me, though, and while I wouldn't say Phil could front the Sex Pistols, he'd be right at home with the Dead Kennedys. Unfortunately, Jello Biafra never won a Super Bowl, and oddly amusing as he is, neither will Phillip Rivers. Though he demonstrated some grit by playing with an injury that would've sidelined other not-to-be-named Hatters, that's actually too bad, since Phil's best performances take place along the sidelines.

But you know what? Over the past year I've been caught up in the... the Norvness of it all. Hat has a chance. Considering their division, anything could happen. The AFC West is like that family you always seem to get behind as you're leaving Wal-Mart. There's the tired, pregnant sister (Chiefs), the 90-pound, meth-addled brother (Broncos), the lagging, disheveled, reprobate patriarch (take a guess), and, front and center, cruising defiantly toward the soon-to-be-repossessed Ford Expedition on her Rascal scooter, the proud, wheezing, 320-pound queen bee (Hat!)

Sooner or later, she's gonna win the Powerball. And when she does, the property values in Mission Beach will never be the same.

Note: This article was written before Shawne Merriman's injury, but I wouldn't have factored it in anyway having seen the guy get laid out by a dwarf.


THE GOODELL SCALE

(The odds of your team winning the Super Bowl, based on 1-to-5 Goodells. One being worst, five being best.)

10 comments:

Diane said...

I'm not sure what this all means, but I applaud any post that works in Jello Biafra.

R.J. said...

That was beautiful, man.

...whose idea of a backyard barbecue culminates in "Breaking News" clips of blazing hillsides and helicopters dropping clouds of fire-retardant slurry

That's why I always keep a package of Johnsonville brats handy in the fridge every October. I can put them on a skewer, hold them outside my car window and roast them while I'm stuck in traffic trying to evacuate my neighborhood.

The Hatriot said...

You know, I just spent a couple of days down in the Hat. I swear, it was like I'd wandered into the Athletes' Village at the 2008 Hobo Games! Instead of wasting our valuable State resources protecting S.D.'s overpriced cookie-cutter townhouses, we need to have one of those 10,000 gallon flying tankers drop its load on the Gaslamp District and give the denizens of downtown the first real bath they've had since the Reagan Administration. BTW, Hat, nice job not providing adequate funding for firefighting or passing a brush control ordinance with teeth again this year. It's not like 90% of your County is a severe fire hazard area. I'm sure it'll all work out fine...

Bain said...

I'm not sure what this all mean

Unless they develop an HTML tag that dispenses purple microdot through the mouse, I'm never going to make much sense to anybody.

btw, for new readers, it should be noted that "Tijuana's Hat" is a Hatriotism.

Kyle said...

Hatriot, as nasty as Downtown bums are at least there's a reason for their disgusting-ness. What's the excuse for Leucadia surfers?

THN said...

The Jello Biafra reference was a huge hit at my fantasy draft this evening.

The Hatriot said...

Say what you will about Phillip "The Brain" Rivers, I still enjoyed his work as "Mike" on Mystery Science Theater 3000.

flohtingPoint said...

lol @ getting laid out by a dwarf. That was definitely a low point in the history of artificial muscle mass, to be rivaled with Rodney Harrison not being able to remove a football from someone's head.

Bokolis said...

For me, the irony is that, as a lifelong NYC resident, I now have to go to Chicago and The Hat to get effed with by bums because Giussolini and Poofberg napalmed the canyons virtually vargrant-free. Hearing old black men talking shit to themselves while wandering the Chicago subway was nostalgic.

Here's a lesson for you West Coast cats on how to handle the vagrants. When they ask you for money, you say, "Shit, I wish I had it. Do you have some to give me?" Say it like you mean it. It probably helps if you look like you could lump them up. I'll bet you'd have them going in their pockets.

Kyle said...

I find it's easy to deal with bums by carrying around a 12-pack of domestic beer. When they ask for cash, I can just cut out the middle man by handing them a can.