December 6th, 2009, a bunch of the usual suspects sat around in Big Frank's basement and doused ourselves with Miller Lites as we watched the Redskins lose one of the most heart breaking games in recent memory.
Interceptions turned into fumbles for touchdowns the other way, punts hit unsuspecting players in the back, missed 23 yard field goals that would've given the Skins a 10 point lead with under 2 minutes to go. Uhhhhhh, they literally invented new ways to lose that day.
The Redskins had the then undefeated, and future Superbowl Champion Saints on the ropes, dead to rights- fill in whatever cliche you want, the Redskins deserved to win that game that day. And in what had to be some of the strangest sequence of events to ever play into the outcome of one single game, it all slipped away, and the hearts were ripped out of the chests of the Redskin faithful.
So that mere 126 days ago, after yet another debacle by the Burgundy and Gold, what would you have done, if one of your boys had walked up to you in an attempt to console, gave you a friendly pat on the back and then said the following?
"Hey man, no worries. Things will be much better by the next NFL Draft. In fact, Freedom Rocker Jim Zorn will have been replaced by Mike Shanahan. Crazy Eyed Vinny will have been replaced by Bruce Allen. Guys like Randel El and Fred Smoot, gone. Larry Johnson and Willie Parker will be competing for problem child Portis' job. And Fat Albert Haynesworth will be getting shopped around."
And as you walked away from him towards the bathroom, bumping into both sides of the doorway as you prepare to drain the life out of your bladder, your consoler of the miserable and lonely continued:
"And Oh yeah, Donovan McNabb. You know, the same Donovan McNabb who plays for Philly, and who went into Atlanta today, and had a 101 quarterback rating en route to a 34-7 victory...he'll be traded to the Skins next Easter Sunday."
At that point you've realized two things: 1) About 12% of what was intended for the toilet bowl, is sprinkled around and puddled in various areas around the camode, and 2) As fucked up as you are between the alcohol and emotions that overcame you with the latest Redskin loss, your friend who is standing in the bathroom doorway preaching you this pablum, must've dropped some serious acid at halftime.
"One last thing," he says, as you carefully zip up, and release some flatulence that just screams Rosie O'Donnell. "You know that car accident Tiger Woods was involved in last week? Well, you're never going to believe this shit...."
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