The Enemies List

Hola, NESWers. Ethan has given me the keys to the flophouse, and I’m here to Spread The Hate.

Every week on Monday, the most hateful day of the week, you can count on me bringing the rancor for the Top 5 Enemies of the Week. Let’s get straight to the hate, shall we?

5) Kyle Orton. I don’t know about you, Fellow NFL Fan and Gambling Enthusiast, but the Neckbeard has been the single biggest reason why my bankroll is not where it should be. It would be one thing if Orton were actually good; that would be irritating for the blown call, but in no way a personal affront, and I’d have just adjusted by now. (Witness the lack of bitching about his old Chicago running mate, Cedric “No Longer 3 Yards And A Cloud Of Suck” Benson.)

But the fact of the matter is that Orton Still Sucks, and Sucks Hard. He’s got a great offensive line, a top of the line physical specimen in the presence of the freshly rejuvenated Brandon Marshall, a solid rookie running back in Knowshon Moreno, a good pass-catching tight end, a speedy slot guy, and a defense that’s been giving him the ball in good situations all year. He’s also got a wildly easy schedule, given how he spends his division games in the dreadful AFC West.

Even when the Broncos stumble down the stretch (and yes, I did enjoy their stumblebum home loss to the Steelers tonight), and I get paid back over and over again, I’ll still have two months of bad wagers to overcome. And if he somehow beats my Eagles later this year in Philadelphia, leading to Idiot Eagle Sports Radio Caller to talk about how he’s clearly better than the best QB in franchise history… well, it’ll make the screaming fest that was my laundry’s SNF home loss to the Cowboys seem like church.

4) Car insurance companies. Let’s not put too fine a point on it: you people suck. You sell legally mandated bags of paper that are the definiton of an unsatisfying purpose, and if I ever actually have to use your services, you will try to weasel out of paying to the best of your ability. In another ten years, you will jack your rates through the ceiling and cause no end of stress between me and my eldest daughter. When my life is over, I’ll have probably spent in excess of six figures on your bags of paper, and with any luck, I will never have a positive or charitable thought about you.

You, of course, repay me for my forced patronage by… flooding my sports programming with some of the most irritating ads on television, and putting them in Medical Experiment High Frequency.  From the douchebag cavemen to the makes me want to endorse violence against women store lady. From the limey reptiles to the voiceover wankers, all of you see the need to continually use a wildly expensive television media buy to tell me how inexpensive you are. I want you all to spend your next life in a closed room with a single impervious TV set, playing an eternal loop of your “work.”

3) Allen Iverson. My all-time favorite player in my basketball team’s laundry has spent the last six months treating those who loved him when like the relatives of a guy whose developed a heroin habit. Today, it’s possible retirement (c’mon, AI, like you don’t need the money, or won’t be taking a big check to go play in Europe) rather than continuing to come off the bench for the utterly clueless Memphis Grizzlies.

In another five to ten years, when AI finally moves on and has taken the warm bath restitution and career appreciation, maybe things are OK again. But for the forseeable future, it’s just going to be this kind of gahhh, and a two year rental of Andre Miller has to be seen as a trade win. Uncle AI, please go get help. It’s killing us to see you on the horse.

2) Walt Coleman. This just in… the ruling on the field still stands. Why? Well, because Good Old Walt, your referee from the SNF Cowboys-Eagles game that I’m just not getting over, said so, despite the clear video evidence that the call has been boned, the opposing team has been given (many, many) gifts, and I’ll spend the next week hearing from Cowboy Fan as to how I’m just incapable of recognizing that their team are just world beaters.

I’d say more about this, but Coleman’s taking out a restraining order. With merit.

1) Alex Rodriguez. Hey, guess what, sports fans? We can’t make fun of him anymore. Despite the Michael Jackson-esque (whoops! another guy we can’t make fun of anymore!) bizarre public behavior, the reprehensible behavior towards his ex and progeny, his Nixonian public lying about his steroid use and his liviing embodiment as why baseball sucks for not having a meaningful salary cap, it’s all good now… because he finally hit the ball in October, and now has a ring. Like John Elway, Peyton Manning and Kobe Bryant before him, we’re supposed to feel good for the reprobate for overcoming adversity and Becoming A Champion.

Um, Screw That.

A-Rod is still the same me-only chancre sore on the groin of life that he’s always been. If he died tomorrow (from something centaur related, Lord, we deserve it), Yankee Fan would not mourn; they would simply wait a week (if that) to pule about how their team has to overcome such adversity, with adversity defined as the best available free agent hire. He still makes decent people spit,  and is still completely deserving of your scorn and ire, regardless of the events of the last month. Or, sigh, probably the next ten years.

So let your Hate Flag Fly, and I’ll see you again next week for the Enemies List. Maybe you’ll be on it.