Swami's NFL Pool 2018: A Game of Inches: The Brett Favre Story

October 29, 2010

A Game of Inches: The Brett Favre Story

This whole Favre Penis thing is getting ridiculous. The FBI might be getting involved, Jenn won't talk to the NFL, Brett says he's kind of innocent. So, ridiculous it needs a movie. Swami Suicide Pool was all over this as a cast was assembled and shooting started last week. It's obviously a Romantic Comedy, a sports themed chick flick you could say. The buzz is already spreading. Seacrest wants us on next week. You saw the title above, but the tagline is "I'm Only Guilty of Voicemails, That Wasn't My Penis". I could give details, but for now, you'll just get the cast.

Brett Favre: Jay Cutler - only one man can match the turnover abilities of Favre.

Jenn Sterger: J-Woww. 2 reasons we're excited about getting J-Woww on board. I can't remember them right now.

Brad Childress, Jared Allen and Ryan Longwell - Gary from Bachelor Party, Tex Cobb, and Pee Wee Herman. Actually I think Gary from Bachelor Party actually is Brad Childress. Tex Cobb got the Jared Allen role because Jared Allen looks like the kind of guy who has told dudes to "take your pants off" on more than one occasion. I have no idea what Ryan Longwell looks like but I'd imagine he looks like Pee Wee Herman because most kickers do.

Randy Moss - Ol' Dirty Bastard. Dirtwasn't available to be on set so we're using CGI. If it blows up our budget, we're getting Webster, putting him on a stool and gluing black yarn to his head for the dirty corn row effect.

Roger Goodell - Roger Goodell. This guy's way too intense to get a stand in. The movie will end with him taking on 50 FBI agents by himself, bending guns with his hands and catching bullets with his teeth. Scary.

Brett Favre's Penis - Uncredited. It will be a mystery penis.

Get excited everyone. The Swami Blog will now show up under Google searches with the word "penis", so we will probably be getting a new audience soon.

Introducing . . .

. . . Ze German, a frothy, filthy, unfiltered 'Skins-lover bringing you weekly rants from his tapestry-laden castle high upon the Zugspitze peak. There is wisdom and method to his madness, however, so pay attention -- just look out for the women and children.

. . . The Holy Light, and the best of us, a beacon of strength, dignity, and truth, and shining where there is darkness. As it was in Ezekiel, his word is his bond and his name is the law, and he shall strike down those who dare not listen when he doth speak.

. . . The Hooded Fiend, brilliant, diabolical, devious -- the smartest man you've never met, and will never have the chance. Locked away in the dungeons below a nondescript building, we only bring the Fiend out to post when the situation is most dire.

. . . El Doctor, the tall, dark, hunky, and handsome resident surgeon of Suicide. Women love his strong hands, men respect his keen mind, and Swami requires his wicked wit, but no one understands his almost unholy passion for autos and linen pants.

. . . Man of Wench, that staunch fan of all things Philly and a fine specimen of masculinity, bold enough to tie the knot with the feisty, infamous Wench. Whether at the grill or at the bar, with a healthy glass of vino in his hand he'll bill you by the hour for a taste of his good times.

. . . Master of Macabre, a delightfully sinful and sinister purveyor of doom and gloom, keeper of all things dark and deathly. It is unsure what horrifies more: his spectral air, his cadaverous crypt, his Machiavellian machinations, or his penchant for Princess and the Frog.

. . . Shapeshifter, he of the ever-changing ways, ever-shifting forms, and everlasting enthusiasm. Our newest commentator brings forth pomp, verbosity, and circumstance on scale to rival even the Swami himself. Shifty, yes, and subtle when necessary, his form is never out of fashion.