Rapping with The Drunkard: The Atlanta Falcos

The most fascinating drunk guy at this bar is here to tell you all about The Falcons, their one-dimensional team, and the inevitability of total destruction. [INSERT BIRD PUN].

By Craig Johnstone Nov 8, 2013, 2:32pm PST

If I hear one more lightweight fan whine about not drowning an opponent in points, I am going to stomp a path straight through their dirt button.

I have been deep in the 'Net recently, using my personal desktop computer at the library to peruse the comments on the forums and in chat rooms. It looks like quite a few persons are filling their drawers, due to our lack of landslide wins. This is NFL Football, not Queen Labeefa's variety show; each and every game is a steady slug match. Every victory is to be cherished like a baby rabbit. There is no jiu-jitsu, no finesse, no choreography. What you have is two sweaty human beings trading blows, until one's face caves in, and the other feasts on the sweat brain matter inside.

The Seahawks' chin glistens with the gore of many fistfuls of brain.

What I am telling you, is that we are winning. Our force is consistently victorious, and is leaving swaths of doom behind them. So stow all that petulant gargling about the near misses, and almost-losses. We are an unstoppable death machine, and we are only now beginning to find our stride. We have only lost one battle, and that was because we let our guard down and also they cheated.

Not satisfied? Need more information? Well, much luck for you, I have scribbled some factoids on this napkin. Listen...

#Someinterestingfacts

-- Earl Thomas is an aerial tentacle-monster; careening through the nether, snaring all that flies before him, and bringing that killshot straight to the dome of some mark-ass tricks.

-- Marshawn Lynch is a mobile assault platform; fully-upgraded and hostile. His prime directive is to crush the skulls of opposing linebackers beneath his steel-shod hooves.

-- Golden Tate does not give a Funion what you think. He is probably taunting you right now. When you have a warrior as skilled and also bat shit crazy as he is, one's only recourse is to break the chain, and let it whirl through the ranks of your foes. Only the gore and screams of the dying are left in his wake.

-- We are marching back to Atlanta this week.

We were defeated in Atlanta last year (if you forgot). We came close to succeeding against innumerable odds, and razing The Georgia Dome to The Georgia Ground, but instead were beaten back. We crawled to Seattle in retreat, the bitter flavor of loss sharp and acrid on our blood-stained pallet. Now we return. Our ranks may be damaged, but we cannot suffer this stumbling block to exist.

"But no!" you cry out, clutching at the flowing hem of Russell's cape or robe or whatever. "They have defeated us in the past, and they are no longer a threat. Let them be! For the sake of our future, let them be!" Quiet! Get your dirty hands off Russell, you mongrel.

You are correct, The Atlanta Falcos have defeated us in the past. But no longer. Rock me Amadeus, but no longer. We are intent on their destruction, and nothing short of a blood-bath will satiate us. They are so smug. They think they have it all figured out. They think that one night in Bangkok makes the world their oyster.

Fugdat.

They may think they are the better team, but we have a tactical force of fifty-three who beg to differ. We will burninate our way through this country, and seize Atlanta by its throat. The Seahawks shall commit acts so deliberately cruel, so methodically revengeful, that they are infandous in their very nature.

On your knees, Matt Ryan, and beg for a quick end.

LET'S BREAK DOWN THE FILM LIKE DANNY SOMETIMES DOES.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. The Seahawks are bringing pain with them Sunday, and no amount of safety equipment will keep Atlanta safe.

2. I expect that halfway through the Second Quarter, Mike Smith will realize things are not going as planned.

3. Every move The Falcons make will come back to bite them in the neck.

4. Sherman will get inside Matt Ryan's head, and no amount of effort will pull him out.

5. What does this mean? Mebane sack dances are on the horizon.

6. It is then, that Russell will take the field. Behold, our cherubic-faced killer.

7. Hustle will rip the Falcon's defense apart like a surgeon. Because while Wilson gives many things (his time, money, and energy), there is one thing above all that he DOES NOT give...

8. Georgia will be amazed by the new style of Offense Russell brings to bear. The kind that scores points.

9. But, we are not monsters, we will offer Atlanta a sincere apology for the mess we leave behind.

10. Amidst blood and death, a new team will arise. The same parts, yet a whole new machine, intent on the annihilation and subjugation of the National Football League. Seattle ain't holding no hands, okay? We ain't babysitting. We have Sunday, and only Sunday to show what we are made of. You don't like running the ball? Get the fuck out of this office. Go get you a nice, pussy baseball job, chasing bad stats or something, you hear me? Welcome to Seattle.