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

November 18, 2017

The Root of the Week XI

There are many excellent things in this world associated with the number 43. I shall list a few for you - seven to be exact, and naturally of course, as seven is the sum of 4 and 3.

1) Richard Petty's car.

2) The world's number one Spanish liqueur.

3) The battled-tested Glock.

4) The largest non-McNugget number.

5) The Princess 43.

6) Troy Polamalu's number*.

And last but certainly not least ...

7) The number of remaining participants in the Swami pool. Yes, we have 43 brave souls remaining - an astoundingly high number given the pace we were on but a couple weeks ago. And yet ... and yet ... here we are nonetheless.

There are still a handful of multiples alive, as well - that is to say, participants with multiple entries still alive. The Swami himself is one: Factor, Spawn, and Darth all still beat their hearts proudly and with all the passion they can muster up.

Still - it is difficult to win one's own pool and so it is time to take some calculated (read: wildly entertaining and likely to fail) chances. The Spawn has drawn the short stick.

Therefore, it is my pleasure and honor to announce that the selection for Week Eleven of the Spawn of Swami shall be . . . the mighty, mighty Cleveland Browns. Yes, you heard right - the Spawn is taking a flying leap off a very short cliff and banking on just that one win by Cleveland at home against the up and down Jags. Up and down, up and down, but the down would have to be DOWN for Spawn to stay alive.

Darth and the Factor will, in the meantime, stay the present competitive course: 'tis the Chiefs for them, along with many others. Most of the action is on Kansas City, along with a smattering of Saints, Chargers (?!), and Jaguars. Only the Spawn has taken the Browns - and I mean not just this week, but the entire season.

Are you not entertained?

That is all.

*You just did not know it due to his awesomely excessive hair.

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.