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

October 29, 2017

The Root of the Week VIII

Rohan Bendre would be so proud.

A week of peace and calm followed three tumultuous weeks of chaos and strife; we are still sitting in single digit weeks and yet a full two-thirds of participants have already met the Reaper a second time, and the second time means likewise you meet your Maker.

We still have Week Eight and Week Nine to pick teams that are re-usable in the NFL playoffs - not that any pool veteran actually thinks we will get there at this rate. 2017 has all the makings of an exciting regular season finish.

But who to choose in Week Eight?

Not even the Swami Clan is immune to pick error - the Lady of Avalor was too prone to Texans and has been eliminated upon spreadsheet review, leaving but four remaining. We shall divide our efforts this week to conquer the Reaper for a Saintly Tiger combination.

The Swami and the Spawn will ride the Brees this week and sing with the heavenly angels and Saints. Darth Bennett and the Factor will stalk and stripe their way into next week on the backs of the Bengal Tigers. Two by two, and that's how we roll in cover formation.

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.