NFL Football Free Picks

Well it is finally the holidays. I am so pleased. One can hear NFL talk radio virtually all the time. We don’t have to endure baseball anymore and the college players are all receiving sexual favors and payments from boosters whilst they wait for the bowls to start. (As a quick aside – thanks a lot Miami of Ohio – would it have killed you to make that extra point last night? Really? Would it have?)

I feel that my words aren’t having the same effect on all of you that they have in previous weeks.

When I write my column I picture a young girl – let’s say 18. She is taut and tanned without being too buff or too thin. It is Christmas morning; the light of the sun is just peeking over the horizon and into my huge bedroom window. (I have big windows because I have a big house because I am a very successful handicapper I also have a huge penis – but I guess that God was just feeling especially generous when I was born.) As the light comes in, it warms her cheek and she smiles ever so sweetly. She carefully disentangles herself from her favorite handicapper. She smoothes her delicate lingerie (actually just white thong panties and a little tank top) and then gingerly wakes her twin sister (who also gently disentangles herself from the caress of her favorite handicapper.)

The two then anxiously run to the tree in our Jewish living room (although I am a member of the tribe, it has been difficult filling the role of ‘hot, young, nymphomaniac, blond sisters with fellow temple goers – so for them, I have a tree – but do not fear, I have kwanza and hannukah decorations throughout and a little glowing Bill Parcells angel for the top.) And in my little fantasy (or is it) these two feminine specimens quickly slink toward their presents.

But they don’t rip them open – no – they first lovingly open the card, they drink in every one of the glorious phrases and supple sentences that their beloved Jiggy has written for them. The words, those carefully crafted stanzas bring on powerful emotions. The two sit close, shivering as the orgiastic, orgasmic, soulful emotions rip through their nubile bodies. The words becoming teacher, lover, and punisher to their delicate minds. And by the end of their read, they lie, spent, virtually unable to open the actual present. The physical gift pales in comparison to the gift of words.

All my readers, let us move this metaphor (which is 100% true) back to my column. You are all, collectively, those young twins. The present is of course my free picks and the cards, the words, the emotions are this weekly column. But I fear I am a victim of my own success – you rip the paper and wrapping only to get as quickly as you can to my picks. And on one level, that hurts, but I suppose that is the albatross that I must bear.

So, the NFL. There were no real shocks last week. Everything is falling in to place. I will mention that the Cardinals really were so much worse than I could have expected and that the Green Bay defense is excellent at preventing me from winning my under…

On to the free nfl picks…

‘Whatch’you talkin’ ‘bout’ Willis McGahee @ AJ ‘Touchy’ Feely – Buf Bills -3.5

Where have all the flowers gone? I love folk songs, I love peace, I love happiness and I love flowers. This game will not evoke idle, sweet, memories of the peacenik movements of the 60s, but rather it will be a bloody effing ass kicking in which pieces of the Dolphins and their interim coach are left strewn about the field as if they were victims of a terrorist attack. Take the Bills.

Although the bus has been put back in the garage, I am taking the Steel curtain. I know that to a mere genius handicapper this backfield move doesn’t make sense. But I am sure to a brilliant coach like Cowher it is all easy. I mean it is only logical to bench a guy who has gone for 120 and more than a touch over the last four games whilst your team won every game and cover the spread 3 out of 4 times – all this with a wookie quarterback. Sounds like it is definitely time for a change. Cowher should spend more time in the coaches restrooms playing touch and tickle with the former coach of the Dolphins and less time out-thinking his opponents. But the douchebag (and I am talking about Cowher now) cannot do enough to blow this game.

I am not a religious man – but at some odd level I believe in Karma. I believe in doing the right thing. I believe in the cock, the pussy, good scotch, high fiber and I believe that the novels of Susan Sontag are overindulgent, overrated crap. (But I digress.) I am a niner fan and I know that there is some cosmic or spiritual scorecard on which I am getting a failing grade for going against my team. Not only going against them, but not even thinking that they can keep the game within a touch and field goal against their hated rivals. It hurts me so badly, but take the lambs. See you all in hell.

Every week I think that I sprinkle my column with useless, baseless hyperbole. And often it is said some what tongue in (butt) cheek. I will say that Payton Manning (who came down with herpes simplex 14 last week) will drop 83 touchdowns on the Titans. You will all know that I am kidding. But this week I am going to say something extreme and I want you all to know that I am serious. The cards will not score this week. They are going to put up a goose egg. There is no effing way that John Navarre (wasn’t that a female tennis player), Larry Croom (who is not even available in my fantasy league because we aren’t sure he is actually a pro player) and Larry “F. Scott” Fitzgerald are going to even get past the fifty yard line. The good news is that noone will be forced to endure this game. I hear that in Detroit they are going to show re-runs of the scrabble championship of 1977. What a match.