Swami's NFL Pool 2018: Tuesday Taunt XVI

December 28, 2010

Tuesday Taunt XVI

143 participants
2 undefeated
9 with one loss
22 week 16 losers

Absolute bedlam.

Absolute, historic, glorious bedlam. I've seen chaos, I've seen carnage, but nothing compares to the destruction of this Week Sixteen. 79% of participants met their reaper, seventeen for the second and final time. You can cheat death once in our Suicide Pool, but the second time brings the swipe of the scythe.

To help put things in an unusual perspective, the losers selected the Eagles, Cowboys, Dolphins, Jaguars, Chargers, and Texans, while the winners chose the Chiefs, Bucs, and Rams. Repeat: the Chiefs, Bucs, and Rams. Let that little factoid stew for a while.

And so we enter the last week of the regular season with a pair of undefeateds, guaranteeing we will reach the playoffs for the third straight season. Eleven participants in total remain, the cream of the crop. Fewer than I expected, but still too many for my taste.

Mister Reaper, a little off the top in Week Seventeen, if you please.

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.