So you tell me the Bears are in the Bowl? No shit—two years too soon is you ask me. But no one is asking me and no one cares. That dickhead Grossman will do something
Super shitty and will cost them the Lombardi.
Let's face it folks, Rex Grossman is the worst QB to ever have a Super Bowl emblem ironed-on his jersey. He is worst than Trent Dilfer, Neil O'Donnell, Chris Chandler, Stan Humphries, Vince Ferragamo, Kerry Collins, and David Woodley. And he sounds like an uneducated caveman in interviews—he looks like a pimply-faced high schooler asking one of the cheerleaders to go to prom. What a waste of a draft pick. And I remember that draft day in 2003—how happy I was when Tagliabue said this butthole's name—I downright cheered because he was a good passer at Florida. Well that was then and this is now.
I feel sorry for Lovie Smith—the wool has been pulled over his walleyes. I respect him, but this kind of shit reminds me of Dusty Baker's sad devotion to that loose screw Levon Hernandez—and we all remember what came of that—Barry Bonds, the greatest modern baseball player, alone in the dugout, watching the Angels participate in clothed orgy mere miles from Disneyland. The Giants are a sore subject…
Anyways, this may be the Bears only shot for awhile. Lance Briggs is gone and Ron Rivera might be dealing with the soap opera that is Terrell Owens next year. The defense has been busting so many skulls this year and they show it. Tommie Harris and Mike Green, the backbone of that secondary, will be watching the game with their hats on the wrong way.
Maybe I'm just pessimistic…or humble. I'd like to think of it as a combination of both. It's healthy to be skeptical, because if the Bears just go out their and smack Payton and Marv in the mouth and Jones and C-Ben go out there and run like animals and effectively keep the pigskin out of Oedipus Rex's hands—maybe, just maybe, Brian Urlacher will want to go to Disneyland and watch a clothed orgy.
What do Inception, Doug Benson and San Diego have in common? Tune in, turn on and drop out to...er..find out.
Tonight is a sad night in the history of D.A…..for I had to end a 19 year relationship. You see, back in the Spring of ’87, while most kids were beating off to Kelly Bundy still frames on their VHS’s (I’m talking to you Donnie Darko!!), I was working my ass off (so I thought) for my Dad cutting suckers off olive trees in order to save up for a Nintendo Entertainment Center. I remember the day my mom took me to the toy store in Visalia and let me spend “my money.” My mom was so proud she bought me “Ghosts and Goblins.”
Boom! Goes the dynamite and LeBron Raymone James is a Miami Heat (goddamn-verb-sport-names-popular-in-the-90's.) 
