Max McGee joined The Hater Nation as a corespondent for Super Bowl 43. And he contributed just one post, when he promised like five. But now he won't go away and wants to post more. So why not, I'm too lazy to post now anyway. Take it away, Max.
You will forgive me if I tend to wax a little nostalgic when talking about football players of the past. Back when men were men. The only business the NFL was back when I played occurred when coach Lombardi caught you coming in late after curfew. Otherwise, we just played for the love of the game.
I know that's a strange thought to the current crop of NFL players. These a-holes care more about their stock portfolios tanking as opposed to what their teams are doing during the offseason.
The offseason. Back when I was playing, the offseason meant I went out and got a job. Look at what these two bun boys were doing during their offseason.
The only time I wanted a woman near me was when she was serving a beer.
So unless Gisele plans on feeding that ice cream cone to Tom while topless, then get out of the driver's seat, sweat heart. I swear, I'd rather have a drunk driver behind me than a woman. At least the drunk cares about driving.
Everybody says give Tom a break, he has three rings. That's three less than me, butter beans.
And Reggie Bush had better hand some weights to the fatty he's dating, or at least take her to the treadmill. That rear end is wrapped tighter than pair of speakers from Best Buy. Just don't be around when she unleashes that thing.
But I least those guys are hanging with women. I don't know what the hell to make of this Perry.
Was he young and stupid when he did those photos, too?
Now you guys understand what I was doing on the roof?
(photos from With Leathur)