Swami's NFL Pool 2018: The Root of the Week XIII

December 5, 2010

The Root of the Week XIII

Once again, the Suicide Pool masses have moved in a million different directions. This is due to several factors, it seems, based on your pithy email comments, but most notably (1) lack of attractive options amongst likely non-playoff teams; and (2) boldness to separate oneself from the field.

Several participants are breathing easy heading into the weekend, having already secured their place in Week Fourteen with the Eagles on Thursday night, but the rest of the pack must weather the storm with selections like the Giants, Bears, Vikings, Rams, Chiefs, Chargers, and Seahawks, the first and final two of which seem to be the biggies.

Then there are those few who deserve special mention in taking my beloveds, who are sure to pick off Delhomme at least three times en route to a 26-17 win over Cleveland. Bless your little hearts, and good luck to you.

Lastly, it is worth mentioning that in 1793 the French executed their king for a chronic case of indecision. As most of you had a great deal of indecisiveness this week, I shall leave you with hopes that you, too, do not lose your head.

That is all.

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.