Comrades! It is a wonderful week to be loyal, red-blooded Houston Texans fan! Our glorious Texans return to the loving bosom of Mother Houston after, to paraphrase comrade Bloggissar Tim, showing the wretched cowards of imperialist Newer England what a true display of teamwork really looks like.
But this is no time to dwell on the past. For this is a new week and an even more vile enemy of the people swarms south like locusts—really stupid, poorly coached locusts—intent on causing havoc for the peace-loving commentariat of Houston and our football team.
First, however, we must report that national hero of the people of Houston, J.J. Watt, in a move hailed universally as the right thing to do, has decided, of his own choice, to not play for at least the next eight games. “It seemed only fair,” said Watt to loyal ministry reporters. “It is just unfair for the Texans to let me run rampant through every other team’s offense, spilling the blood of the disloyal, shattering the bones of the enemies of Mother Houston. Besides, these guys truly suck. These guys suck when we’re at full strength. They’d lose if they played against themselves. They’d play ugly if you put them in a suit and gave them a carnation. They don’t need me. They’ll be fine.” It is believed that Traitors quarterback Marcus Mariota has sent numerous fruit baskets and countless thank you cards to Comrade Watt for his benevolence. “The fruit is great,” said Watt. “I especially love the kiwis. They’re almost as soft as the Titans’ offensive line.”
He is not incorrect, because returning to mighty Texans defense is ninja assassin Antonio Smith. Smith, inspired by the words of hope from Texans brass and songs of hope and well-wishes from local children, and with a hearty approval from the Ministry of Information, signed a one-year contract for $200 and a hearty pat on the back. “I am not doing this for the money,” said new hero of defense Smith. “I only want to do my part to be a good teammate, to do what’s best for the team.”
He could be joined by linebacker Brian Cushing, who is working his way back onto the field after having his leg torn off by irrelevant Bears of Chicago. When asked by trustworthy Ministry reporters about whether he could actually return for game against toothless Traitors, they appeared nervous to answer at first, but were highly persuaded with piano wire to confirm this as truth. While not an urgent need, Cushing’s return would be welcome to mighty Houston Texans defense!
Smith and possibly Cushing will have their opportunity to contribute to the defense of the Texan people against the vile Traitors of Southern Kentucky, as this new pestilence must be annihilated at all costs. Never forget the awful times, comrades, the days when the traitor Adams, a warthog in with an ugly hairpiece, stole the very sport of football from us. Remember the long, agonizing wait where the only football to sustain us during those 30 long years was garbage South Oklahoma football, or, worse still, watching as the unpersons in that meth-swilling backwater would cheer for Mother Houston’s stolen team. The bloodsucker Adams swindled the good, hardworking people of Houston out of millions of precious, hard-earned dollars, desecrated our glorious Astrodome, and then spat upon our generosity. But Houston got its revenge. Hero of Houston football Bob McNair returned our rightly deserved sport to us, and in 2013, agents loyal to the Ministry would [CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE MINISTER OF INFORMATION - TOP SECRET - NOTHING HERE, GO AWAY]
It is not difficult to hate the incestuous vermin of Nashville. It’s even easier to hate them when they’re a good team. But when they’re awful, as in so awful their very existence putrefies the very game of football itself, it becomes harder to feel the righteous anger these peasants to a vulturous family deserve. In some instances, their odiousness can even evoke a sense of pity. Under no circumstances should you pity this team and its mongrel owners. Clutch close to your heart your hatred for this team, revel in the abject failure of the Traitors in the only Super Bowl they’ll ever go to, who had to cheat using obvious forward lateral pass to get there, and laugh like little school children at the origin of this revolting team’s name.
But even on this team, whose slogan brings to mind the closing of orifices common to followers of the treasonous opposition, there are plenty of reasons to despise this team. This is a team that employs would-be rapist and sort-of left tackle Taylor Lewan. Last week, this embodiment of all things Traitor launched himself, like rocket made of imbecile, at a pile of Raiders, costing his team 15 yards, which might as well be 55 yards for Tennessee, and blowing the game, as is right and proper in the world. Even referees tell this teenage mutant dimwitted skunk to “[CENSORED] off,” and we at the Ministry applaud this official for doing so.
This is the team that employs, of their own volition, renowned turnip Mike Mularkey as head coach. Before the start of season, when Mularkey was begging for yet another chance to hold on to his job, he enticed idiot Traitorous front office staff with a brand new concept that nobody had ever heard of before. His plan for team consisted of two words: Exotic Smashmouth. This description would bring hope and wonder to fans if this were 50 years ago. Instead, the Ministry remains baffled by what this is supposed to be. Neither man nor root vegetable has been able to fully explain exactly what this is supposed to be, and the only attempt sounds like pitiful job interview. Perhaps the meth has gotten to the coach who is first among unpersons. Or perhaps Exotic Smashmouth (which members of the Ministry of Information were saddened to learn did not involve music) would be better served if it were called “Exotic Pantsmouth,” or “Crunchy Vegetable Hope For Best Here Goes!” Whatever it is, it lacks the simple purity of Dear Team Leader Supreme Coach Bill O’Brien and his Five-Point Lone Star Harmony Fist offense.
And then there’s exiled former Hero of Texans fans, Andre Johnson. Johnson, so desperate to remain in game he loves, and spurned by Dear Team Leader, has wandered like miserable rogue from dump to dump after his expulsion from Mother Houston. Andre is still loved by a large segment of less-than-stalwart Texans fans who will quickly find themselves in gulags for their love of this turncoat. There is no doubt that Johnson’s stay will end better than the last noteworthy player to start his career in Mother Houston only to end up leading Traitors from Nashville.
Reconnaissance from Last Week:
In what is, as we mentioned, very familiar ground, the meth-soaked Traitors of Nashville came up short against the growling puppies that are the Oakland Raiders. It is believed by highly trustworthy sources that the Raiders were playing rope-a-dope with the hapless Traitors at the very end, letting them see what they thought would be an easy-ish score from the three yard line, only to see it evaporate in a big purple cloud of stupid. “We knew they were going to shoot themselves in the foot,” said one Raider who did not give his name as he was too busy laughing at the futile Traitors. “We just didn’t know how and who. Man, that was dumb. Really dumb.”
The Traitors lost 17-10 in a boring game because of oafish mistakes. In some small way, the Raiders victory was also a win for glorious Houston Texans!