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

October 16, 2011

The Root of the Week VI

We've got money all over the place as the Suicide Pool makes it rain in Week Six. The big play seems to be the Jets. This is interesting for two reasons in particular: first, it's the Monday night game, which means participants will have to wait until Monday to learn their fate; and second, the Jets play my beloveds.

You know the Swami Rules to Suicide Success. I have outlined them in depth. However, there is another rule I have that goes into play after Week Five, and that is not to pick against winless teams. They are desperate and dangerous, and always win eventually (excepting Detroit circa '09). Additionally, the Fish have burned many participants over the years, and I'm thinking this week they will do the same. Good luck, Jets fans, and sleep soundly tonight knowing it will likely be your last.

As for the rest, the Steelers, Packers, Raiders, Ravens, Patriots, and Bengals all have some action. I'm thinking we won't see a massive loss like last week, but with so much variety, it's almost certain some of the upsets will come home.

Not for Swami, of course. Mark me down for Steel City and I'll see you in Week Seven.

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.