I'm watching the Twins play on-line right now, and too disgusted with the assiness of the bats to make any comment. 10 hits and 2 runs? Gross. The Sux are going boom all over the Mariners also, so it looks like our brief ride at top is coming to a close. Do the Sux ever score other than home runs? Ughh.
Instead of discussing these topics, I would like to talk to you about my fantasies. It's time to get real up close and personal. I have this recurring dream involving Jesus, Sharpie markers, an airplane, and monkeys. It's a complicated dream, but the first portion came to fruition on Sunday night. With the number two pick in my fantasy football draft I selected my boy, Purple Jesus. I'm hoping that he will be the savior of my miserable fantasy football team this year and I can finally fulfill my quest of winning the league.
I have been the commissioner of the league for four years and the closest that I've come to winning has been a third place finish. Other years I haven't even made the playoffs, and unless Purple Jesus brings God's wrath upon every team the Vikings face this year (I would suggest fire and brimstone), I may be headed for a very similar finish. I don't feel like the poor showings can be attributed to a lack of trying either. I put a ridiculous amount of time into research each year. A ridiculous amount of time into an activity that is completely based in fantasy.
I'm not saying that fantasy football isn't fun. It makes me far more entertained on Sundays, and it provides ample opportunity to talk trash to your friends. Why would I be interested in the Colts and Steelers game? There is no impact on the Vikings, but I do have Peyton Manning and the Steelers defense, so I'm locked to the television and drooling over every touchdown pass and fumble recovery for three hours. Under normal circumstances, why would I tell my friend that I'm going to throw monkey feces at Tony Romo? Fantasy football provides a perfect format for this type of discussion.
So Purple Jesus, put the healing touch to your quarterback's knee, demand that he throws multiple swing passes to you, request clean hand-offs, and to never, ever look to someone else in the red zone. Tell Childress that it's God's will for you to have 2,000 yards rushing, with something like 60 combined touchdowns. That should do nicely.
The Vikings and my fantasy team are your sheep Purple Jesus. Shepard us to the postseason, and if you feel like releasing locusts on the Packers along the way, that would be welcomed.
-Sota
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