Rapping with The Drunkard: The Oakland Raiders

The most fascinating drunk guy at this bar is here to tell you all about The Raiders. Probably also his medication. And the Government.

By Craig Johnstone Aug 29, 2013, 5:46pm PDT

Well lads and lasses, it is Week Four of Preseason 2013 AD. This is the SINGLE most important game of the National Football season, as it is your last chance to get pit-of-oblivion shwasted without missing one important play.

Honestly folks, Game Four is more pointless than a Cougar's game, and the expectations are equally low.

What makes this contest even more soporific is that it is against The Oakland Raiders (See: the Nicholls State of the NFL). The Raiders are one of the most storied franchises in NFL history. They are in the pantheon of heroes. They represent a golden age of gridiron fortitude, and their iconic crests adorn the hallowed walls of the Hall of Fame.

Now let me slide my sunglasses down, and spit with you cats on The Low. The Black & Silver stopped being relevant the same year "Tipsy" by J-Kwon was a number one hit. It has been one bumbling move after the other until Oakland's cupboards are more barren than Ellie Fredrickson.

But all is not lost for the denizens of the Land of Oak.

Tonight the roving pirates fly forth from their scum-filled bay. Smashing through the breaker waves of Puget Sound, their bearing is Seattle, and with cutlasses clasped in fists and eye patches patching their eyes, they look to crash into our verdant citadel, and wreak death upon our feathered forms. They are villains, cretins, and freebooters; wanting nothing more than a blood-soaked field sloshing around their ankles.

These pitiful picaroons have another thing coming; Seattle is prepared.

Our defenses are bolstered, and our offensive forces yearn for the musical cacophony of furious battle. Our elite forces are so unafraid of these "raiders", that they have chosen to sally forth once, MAYBE twice. Then, they shall recline on their divans, sipping wine from Ram horns and snacking on the crumbled bodies of Cheesemen, as they watch both the cadets and auxiliaries sharpen their teeth on the ravaged forms of these sad corsairs.

Benson Mayowa thirsts for the chance to don the blue-clad armor of Seattle. He has risen through the ranks of our forces, and has chosen to throw off the shackles of his impoverished training, and seeks glory and fame on the field of glory. Bryan Walters is a scholar from the Eastern town of Ithaca, yet he has trained in our most rigorous of gauntlets, and fancies himself a member of our most specialized of units. John Lotulelei, the warrior from the desert, flexes his follicles in anticipation of tonight's massacre.

Column upon column, row upon row our Seahawks stand ready. In the coming hours, when the roar of the crowd flies towards the celestial ceiling above, and Russell Wilson's people shine down upon us, these young Wild Hawks will vault from their blocks, and destroy these hated invaders.

Now, that is all gravy and Coltrane (smooth), but Danny has asked me to do a little...hrmph..."analysis". He has been using these .JIFF things in recent posts, and begged me to add those into my chat with y'all. I told them I would, so pay attention. I am going to need your brain open, and your mouth shut...

The Seahawks Offense has had some problems, but tonight they will operate with both precision and grace...