Swami's NFL Pool 2018: February 2013

February 12, 2013

And the Winners Are . . .

Suicide Pool 2012 is dead.

The winners circle is a full one this year: five participants share in the greatness and glory of its grace. With the Ravens light-dousing performance and the passing of Festivus Monarchus, we congratulate . . . Monkey1 . . . Shiner . . . Mumsy . . . G-Pa02 . . . and CB on their outstanding five-strong victory. We also congratulate Shapeshifter for victory in Second Life, besting the dreamy thoughts of Wishful Thinking.

So pop the champagne and enjoy, whilst the rest of the masses lick their wounds and begin their analysis of the NFL draft possibilities, prepping for salvation this coming fall.

Suicide 2012 is dead. Long live Suicide 2013.

That is all.

February 2, 2013

The Suicide Pool Presents . . . Expert Picks & Dialogue

On the eve of the biggest dance of the year, as the Rays Lewis and Rice prepare to waltz with the long-legged Colin and his prospecting band, as the Harbrothers sit down to dine together before the great divergence, we present for the first time a special treat for the masses still satisfying their need for dialogue and whimsy via the Suicide Blog.

Fresh from the mountain, the dungeon, the wench house, and the crypt, and along with yours truly, the once and future Swami, we bring you expert picks and expert dialogue to savor and digest as you will.

From his dank crypt the Master of the Macabre picks: 49ers 28-17.
"Joe Flacco < Alex Smith < Colin Kaepernick. Also, I think the Ravens will give 100%, but the Niners are gonna give it 110%, even 120%."

From his office, offering unbilled advice, Man of Wench says: Ravens 28-24.
"Kaep comes back to earth. Swami remains clueless."

From the depths of the darkside and the desk of the Hooded Fiend: Ravens 27-24. "The Ravens will be victorious, as America cheers on 'feel good' story of the post-season Ray Lewis in his quest to match Super Bowl rings with murders. Slight coaching advantage goes to the Harbaugh brother who doesn't wear a pen around his neck."

From atop the Zugspitze Ze German rants: 49ers 21-17.

"Mostly because I want blowhard sports commentators like Colin Cowherd, who say the Pistol is a gimmick, to shut up. Also, as human beings, the Ravens are just awful. Haloti Ngata broke RG3's knee, Joe Flacco forces his friends and wife to take douchie wedding photos (click here) and Ray Lewis is a murdering deer antler-licker. Plus, any post-game where I have to endure Ray Lewis's endless crying and Terrell Suggs's insufferable gloating will make me want to vomit. Auf Weidersehen, Ze German"

From my happy place the Swami says: Ravens 31-26.

"In a game full of idiot players---arm kissers, rainbow haters, spray eaters, Junior Ginn, etc---I'll take Anquan Boldin, Michael Oher, and the honorable Harbrother. How d'ya like them nuggets?"

We wish those remaining at the end of all things, at the end of this phenomenal season of football, the best of luck. I will leave you with one last thought, for those contemplating thoughts of winning or losing: Carla was the prom queen.

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.