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

November 18, 2012

The Root of the Week XI

I'm your Huckleberry.

Far be it from me to tell all of you what to do, but in keeping it short and sweet, you all's crazy. Yes, I get it, the Browns are the football franchise equivalent of a Rodney Dangerfield-Lindsay Lohan love child, totally fracked with absolutely no respect. But really? Really?

You believe in the Romo and Jerry show that much, to the tune of all but a small handful riding with Curly Bill, donning the red sash? Well, I'm sorry, but there has got to be some law; you've called down the thunder, now you've got it. Make no mistake, it's not a reckoning I'm after, it's devastation.

To quote Johnny Ringo, an educated man, "Eventus stultorum magister." Translation: Now I've got two guns. One for each of ya.

That is all.

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PS - The Spawn will ride the Skins. What better week to be a Redskin than when the rest of the field is a Cowboy?

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.