Thanks for sticking with us, folks. I know that it’s not easy. If we haven't killed all of the readership with these past two days, then we'll never be able to do it. This session is a lot like the first one, only this one might draw some laughs.
The Hatriot regrets that he can’t be here tonight. But he left this message: "Tony, all us at THN chipped in and got you something you can really use. Go ahead, open it up! That's right! It's a book of parenting advice written by Andy Reid!"
Forward by Bill Belichick.
I feel bad for Andy Reid's kids. They are the son of an NFL head coach and Mormon. They never stood a chance. We should just feel fortunate they were only dealing drugs. We dodged a bullet there.
Hey Tony, we were going to get you a dog, but we left it over at Bill Simmons' house and now it's gone. Hey, this is a roast people.
Now, ladies and gentlement, please welcome Lil' Hater. They say that Lil' Hater is the brains behind THN, but frankly, he seems more like the appendix.
Yeah yeah yeah, welcome to the crappy roast.
Seriously, I was expecting great things from this event, and was preparing for a sloppily-drunk audience to laugh at most my jokes. Or at least chuckle at the one about Michael Landon, Don Rickles, Bette Davis and the horse.
But then that rat bastard Fundee banned booze from the event. What a d-bag.
That’s right, Fundee, you suck. And if you weren’t sitting at the loser table with of Rick Warren, W., and Kirk Cameron I’d walk over there and tell you to your never-smiling face, but I’m afraid you’d all try to convert me. Lame Jesus freaks.
Where was I? Oh yeah, sobriety is a bitch. No wonder Bim Bim didn’t show up for the event.
Anyway, I have a lot of favorite Fundee memories.
Like him leaving behind a legacy of former assistant coaches who have gone on to head coaching greatness. That’s right, I’m talking Rod Marinelli, and Herm Edwards.
Like him being the coach of the first team to ever start a season 13-0 and not reach the Super Bowl
Like him losing 41-nil to the Jets in his first playoff game as a Indianapolis FC coach.
Like him having to live in Indianapolis (city motto: you’re only 100 miles from Dayton, and slightly less ugly chicks!) for seven years.
Like him winning the Father of the Year award two years ago, an event sponsored by the Nev-R-Snap Rope Co.
But most of all, the though of him being outsmarted by Norv Turner – NORV TURNER – over and over again. Man, that takes the cake.
Seriously, losing to Admiral Akbar in the clutch two years in a row should demand a resignation, right?
Norv has managed to win four whopping playoff games in the past 15 years, or as many as Coach Whatshisname from Arizona will win this year.
Seriously, as an aside, I’d like to say more about the Cardinals. But here in SoCal I only got to see them play on TV maybe twice all year in the regular season. Which is roughly 14 times less than the f’ing Giants were televised locally, in a market a mere 3,000 miles away from New Jersey.
Thanks NFL, that makes a lot of sense. But I digress.
One of Norv’s four playoff wins was against an 8-8 Lions team in the 90’s. Which to be fair to the Lions, was their best season in recent memory. Another was win was last year, against a team lead at QB by Vince Young, which says enough right there.
The other 2 Norvster wins were against far superior Indy teams. Superior except for the coaching match-up, it seems.
Norv would’ve won another playoff game against the Fundee-led Bucs too, except for a botched last-minute field goal snap. That’s just plain embarrassing.
Bottom line: For all the talent around him, Fundee was one of the greatest underachievers in NFL history, up there with John Madden, the 2008-09 season’s THN Last and 10 entries, and all those goddamned Mannings.
Seriously, the Colts should just hire Jon Gruden next year, and watch him easily win a Super Bowl with the same talent around him as Fundee. It’s worked before.
So anyway, Fundee, thanks for ensuring the Norvster gets to keep his job in San Diego for a second straight year, jerk.
That reason alone has kept me, yet again, from buying a high-def TV, fearful of seeing that turkey-necked bastard in all his pock-marked glory.
Well that, and outstanding gambling debts.
Give it up for Lil’ Hater. In a previous life, he was Alyssa Milano’s vibrator. Which means that he got to see the inside of Barry Zito’s ass.
Baseball is morning the engagement of Milano. Well, not really, seeing that they are just going to (expletive) Elisha Dushku now.
Elisha is a younger version of Milano without the hairy arms, or the knowledge of what Tony Danza’s balls look like. Speaking of that, Milano has taken more balls to the chin than Don Baylor and Andy Dick. Milano has (expletived) so many ball players, she has a different use for a rosin bag.
Milano is going to be marrying her manager. Way to (expletive) your way to the middle. He was already taking her money before, so he's really just (expletive)ing himself.
Mike Scioscia considered hiring Milano to be hitting coach considering she’s scored more in Fenway Park than the Angels.
It's a roast people, she's laughing at this. Really.
Oh, we’ve had enough, here’s McLean Stevenson.
When Kordell Stewart was playing quarterback in the NFL, his center didn’t wear a towel on his backside. He wore a tube sock.
Oh crap, why did I start with that one. Who can blame me, I left M*A*S*H for Hello Larry.
Hey Kordell, I didn’t realize that you and I wore the same brand of shoes. At least that’s what Larry Craig told me. He also stall three this time. He said you’d know what that means.
They said that Tony Dungy was the first African Ameican to win a Super Bowl. Dungy ain't black. The only time he was black was when Kordell has his (richard) in his (expletive).
When Eli Manning goes on the road, his wife makes him promise that he will cheat on her. Just not with Peyton, again.
Are Archie Manning and his wife first cousins? I don’t want to say that the Manning brothers look like special needs kids. But Eli looks like Corky and Jo’s cousin from the Facts of Life had a child.
Kurt Warner is in the crowd tonight. Hey Kurt, what’s with the gloves? Look at our savior’s hands. And he still doesn’t wear gloves. He would be out there throwing the football barehanded!
Ben Roethlisberger is here tonight. He’s about one blow to the head away from being a talking monkey. Or a Manning brother.
Rich Eisen is here tonight, folks. Hopefully he didn’t dent your car when he parked it. Nice career move, going from ESPN to the world’s most expensive broadcast. That would be like Kobe Bryant quitting the NBA to go play pickup basketball at 38th Street in Newport Beach.
McLean Stevenson, ladies and gentlemen. The guy has made a lot of bad career choices. He once wrote for this blog, but took a step down and now he writes for Deadspin.
I don’t want to say that Deadspin is in a bad spot now that Will Leitch left, but it's now written by Coy and Vance.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce you to one of the best quarterbacks to ever play in the National Football League.
I’d like to do that, but Joe Montana didn’t want to show up. Instead, here’s Kordell Stewart.
I didn’t come here to roast Tony Dungy. I came here to (expletive) Cloris Leachman.
Actually, I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. Bucky was supposed to be here to roast The Quiet One- I guess Triumph the Insult Comic Dog wasn’t in the budget. But Bucky couldn’t make it, on account of the injuries he sustained when Mrs. Bucky couldn’t stop punching him in the arm celebrating the Cardinals’ win on Sunday. So you’re stuck with me stealing a few jokes from people who are funnier than anyone in the room, and trying to get a piece of trim before the night is out.
Seriously. I’m not picky. Cloris, you have my number. Regis, so do you. But not you, Tony; I know how you feel about that sort of thing. At least in public. You know what they say; usually people who are uptight about matters of sexuality are the ones with real skeletons in their closet. But enough about his children.
I’ve only met Tony a few times, but I can’t say we really know each other very well. In truth, every time we met, he did all the talking, on account of my mouth being full. I do know that he’s a really hairy guy; it took me ten minutes to find his ass. I swear to god, I thought he was Brian Urlacher- you know, a Bear. A Chicago Bear. Never mind. They said I could be tasteless. That's more than I can say about Tony. . . . .
They say that Tony is a modest guy; that he’s not full of himself. And that’s true. But only because I’ve been full of Tony so many times. I do know that Tony was looking to get a tattoo the other day. But the tattoo artist wouldn’t do it. Tony wanted a tattoo of a guy’s mouth on his cock. Even the guys that peddle hepatitis thought that was too much.
Tony has been around football for a long time. Some of you may remember that he was actually a quarterback in college, at the University of Minnesota. He actually wanted to play at Oklahoma, but then they realized that when Tony was around, chicks and geese and ducks really better scurry. Yes, football has been in Tony’s blood for a long time. The HIV is a recent addition.
I understand that Tony is leaving the game at this time because he wants to get more involved in religion and troubled youth. Seriously, he always wanted to be an altar boy. Now he wants to make a few altar boys. I mean, turn troubled boys into altar boys. Something like that. Tony has the requisite experience for such a role. Several years ago, one of his boys asked him, “Dad, can I get fifty bucks for a blow job?” And Tony answered, “I don’t know; are you any good?”
Tony’s helped me out a bit, too. I remember back when I was playing with the Steelers, and stories were going around about me. I ran into Tony after a game, and sought his advice. He told me that when he gets stressed out, he goes home, and his wife takes really good care of him. I mean really good care. And he said that I should try that. So after the season, I ran into him again, and he asked how I was doing, and if I had taken his advice. And I told him I did take his advice, and that it really helped. “And,” I told him, “I didn’t know you had such a great house, too.”
Once I was out with Tony having a drink- well, I was having an Appletini, and he was having a Grape Nehi. And this guy walks into the bar with a little alligator, maybe two feet long. The bartender wants the guy to take the alligator right back out, but the guys says, “No, he’s really well trained, let me prove it.” So the guy puts the alligator on the barstool and opens its mouth, so you can see a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. And then the guy whips out his johnson and lays it in the alligator’s mouth. The guy drinks his beer, with his dong laying in the alligators mouth, and the alligator doesn’t even flinch. Finally the guy finishes his beer, gently takes his piece out of the alligator’s mouth, and puts it away. He says, “See how well trained he is? Does anyone else want to try it?”
At this, Tony stands up and walks over to the guy. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t know if I can keep my mouth open that long.”
Yeah, there are a lot of Tony stories out there. But I don’t want to monopolize them. I’ll save a few for someone else.
Cloris, you still alive?
Thanks for sticking with us, folks. I know that it’s not easy.
Wow, I'm so repeating, I'm drunking myself. Thanks for coming. You all are true sports.