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With Apologies To Monty Python...

And now for something completely derivative.

Jacksonville Jaguars v Houston Texans Photo by Bob Levey/Getty Images


(Bill O’Brien walks up to desk of Executive Vice President of Football Operations Troy Vincent)

O’Brien: Hello, I wish to register a complaint.

(Vincent stares at computer, the faint sound of Candy Crush music plays)

O’Brien: Hello, miss?

Vincent: What do you mean, “miss?”

O’Brien: I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint.

Vincent: I’m sorry, we’re just closing for second lunch.

O’Brien: Never mind that, Troy, I wish to complain about this cornerback my former general manager obtained not four years ago from this very draft apparatus.

Vincent: Oh, yeah Kevin Johnson, corner out of Wake Forest. What’s wrong with him?

O’Brien: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with him. He’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with him.

Vincent: No, no, he’s resting. Look.

(Vincent points to Kevin Johnson, whose eyes are closed. Drool is very clearly coming from his mouth)

O’Brien: Look, man, I know a dead cornerback when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.

Vincent: No, no, Bill, he’s not dead, he’s resting!

O’Brien: Resting?

Vincent: Yeah. Remarkable corner, Kevin Johnson is, beautiful plumage.

O’Brien: Weird thing to say, but whatever. The plumage doesn’t enter into it. He’s stone dead.

Vincent: Dead tired because he’s resting!

O’Brien: Fine. I’ll wake him up if he’s resting.

(O’Brien faces Kevin Johnson, who has slid onto the floor of the office in something resembling a puddle if a puddle were in human form)


(Vincent nudges Johnson)

Vincent: See! He moved right there!

O’Brien: He did not, you just shoved him!

Vincent: I did no such thing.

O’Brien: You totally did, Troy!

(O’Brien kneels, puts his face right next to Johnson’s face)


(O’Brien shakes Johnson vigorously)


(O’Brien lifts Johnson to his feet. Johnson promptly falls to the ground with a comical thud)

O’Brien: Now that’s what I call a dead para—I mean—cornerback.

Vincent: No, he’s just stunned is all.

O’Brien (groans): I’ve had just about enough of this. This cornerback is definitely deceased. And when we drafted him in 2015, I was told that his lack of movement was due to him trying to take care of himself for his future career as a Houston Texan.

Vincent: He’s just pining for a chance to get back on the field, probably.

O’Brien (exasperated): PINING TO GET BACK ON THE FIELD?! Why’d he fall flat on his back the moment we got him in pads?!

Vincent: The Wake Forest Cornerback prefers keeping on his back. Wonderful player, the Wake Forest Corner, beautiful plumage.

O’Brien: Look, if he could get back on the field, he would’ve been in decent enough shape that we could’ve taken him off injured reserve. Now the time has come and we can’t take him off the injured reserve list because he’s no better now than when he went on IR earlier this year.

Vincent: Maybe he’s trying to give the other corners on the team a chance to show what they’re worth. Wake Forest Corners are like that, you know. After all, if he were like just any other corner, he’d just dash onto the field ready for action.

O’Brien: This corner wouldn’t move if you put 6,000 volts through him. He’s friggin’ demised.

Vincent: He’s not, he—he’s pining!

O’Brien: He’s not pining, he’s passed on. This cornerback is no more. He has ceased to be a football player. He has gone on to an early offseason. THIS IS A LATE CORNERBACK! If you hadn’t “Weekend At Bernie’s” him across the stage in 2015, he’d be pushing up the football daisies. THIS IS AN EX-CORNERBACK!

Vincent: Well, I guess we should get you a replacement then.

O’Brien: That’s more like it. You want anything done in this league, you’ve gotta complain until you’re steel blue in the face.

Vincent: Sorry, dude, we don’t have any cornerbacks right now.

O’Brien: Of course not. That would be too easy.

Vincent: I’ve got a defensive tackle.

O’Brien: Does he shut down wide receivers?

Vincent: Not really, no.

O’Brien: Then he’s not really much of a replacement, is he?

Vincent: Can I interest you in a late-model Dunta Robinson?

O’Brien: I want...a fresh...cornerback.

Vincent: Well, do you have the receipt for Johnson?

O’Brien: No, that would be in the possession of our former general manager, Rick Smith.

Vincent: Ah, so it’s his doing then. You should talk to him about getting a replacement.

O’Brien: What?

(Vincent rings a bell, returns to his computer)

Vincent: Thank you, good day. Please come back with your receipt and a legally binding buy—

UprootedTexan: Okay, both of you, stop that. It’s silly.

(O’Brien and Vincent look at UprootedTexan who has no real business being in his own post)

O’Brien: What are—

Vincent: Yeah, what—

UprootedTexan: Never mind that now. Neither of you had a funny line to end this post with and neither did I. So we’re just going to move on to a different post. Ready? And now for something completely different.