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Rapping with The Drunkard: The Guys at a Packing Plant

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The most interesting guy at the bar is here to tell about life, liberty, and how the Packers are going to get cratered. Darryl Tapp bit your arm my ass, Rodgers.

Clocktower'd
Clocktower'd
Steven Bisig-USA TODAY Sports

The ore has been ripped from dead and lifeless stone. The wheat has been sheared away from the chaff. The muscle sliced from bone. We kicked out all the shitty players and only kept the best ones, is what I'm saying. It is now time to begin anew our campaign of conquest, and to bring the shining example of the Pacific Northwest crashing down onto the vacant skulls of those foolish enough to question us. 

You've heard them; I know you have. They seek to undermine all that we accomplished last year, using lies whispered through clenched teeth, and doubts disseminated through the ears of the neutral. These insidious scoundrels attempt to strip away our status as champions of the known world. They decry our tactics as dishonorable, and our training as blackguardly, meanwhile we just out here tryna function. 

No more. Screw that jazz. Hold on boys and girls, because I'm about to jack the murder machine up to eighty-eight, and bare steel. Straight blood-stained teeth and nightmare fuel, mobbing through your league like "Come See 'Bout Us." 

In the words of The Bard "Now could [we] drink hot blood, and do such bitter business as the day would quake to look on". Our thoughts be violence and nothing less. An unquenchable rage hath been stoked within the chests of these Seahawks, and every other team is getting kicked into oblivion. In the words of The Other Bard "Kill 'em all, dead bodies in the hallway."

Halt. All of you, I said halt! There, do you see them? Cresting the Cascades, and marching down to besiege our citadel is the first of the forces we must murk. There, before us, swells the glistening folds of the mouth-breathing Cheese Golems. The Packers of Green Bay have come  to play. They stink of shit beer and fried-mayonnaise. 

Bad blood exists between us, let us acknowledge that now. This coming battle is personal, as this bunch of wheezing sucks believes they were slighted by us. You're right, Packers, there IS a grudge between us. You know, we are going to show some chill, and squash this beef. Then we are going to take that squashed beef and makes bratwurst. Then we are going to take those fat brats, and shove them so far down your throat, that yo[THIS PORTION OF THE ARTICLE HAS BEEN DELETED BY THE FCC]nd you will have to hire a plumber just to pull it out by the handle.

Our team is a rough and tumble bouncer wading into a raging bar fight, and aceing the baddest dude with a well-timed throat punch. Your team is a metro crew that showed up to the bar to perform a choreographed routine. Keep wiggling Aaron, because we're going to keep pissing on your dance floor. There's levels to this shit, so while The Seahawks are amassing victories and dropping opponents, y'all can drop down and getcha eagle on, girl.

And these Packer receivers. What shall we say to this handful of recepticons who are easier to cover than a Katy Perry song? Allow me to introduce you boys to Kameron Chancellor (also known as Killa Kam, Bam Bam, and The Deathbacker). We call him The Human Sex Change, because he is about to turn these bunch of dicks into vaginas. 

Our first and last defense this week will be Area Two-Nine. With more range than a tomahawk missile, expect Thomas to pilfer the hopes and dreams of every cat dressed in yellows and greens. Earl does not hate you, Rodgers. He wants to steal the heart from your chest for the same reason Hades wanted to steal Persephone: he loves you and wants to take you to Hell. Never forget that Earl Thomas III is a jazz pianist, and played in a group called Bad Bones. That makes him Felonious Monk, in my book. 

Then there is our leader. Future king of the world, the dead-eyed Archangel, the man born with a built in towel rack: Russell Wilson. He leads our heroes into battle on a fire-breathing pegasus built from recycled Camaro parts and blaring Michael Jackson's "Speed Demon". In his right hand he grips a javelin made of pure moxy. In his left a quart of baby-powder, which he uses when he needs to smack a bitch (e.g. Aldon Smith). Scholars have written tome upon tome about the quality and phenotype of his flowing locks. Russell has filled tomb upon tomb with those who have doubted his place amongst the annals of destiny. Captain Wilson has hacked his way through bigger and better D's than yours, Verdant Bay (though, not any bigger [nor better] than his own). Look upon the golden visage of your god, and tremble.

I could continue to explain the many qualities of Russell Wilson. I could tell you of his goober-ass commercials, or his resembling Rumpelstiltskin. What? You have not heard this? Well of course, my dude, just look at the facts. Both are small, both appeared from legend, both create gold from nothing at the whim of an old man, and both will steal your god damn baby if you try to come against him. There: Russell Wiltskin.

Anyway, we are far afield here. The point is Green Bay is a bunch of sucks with an a-hole for a QB and their fans wave around pieces of paper more worthless than indulgences. Call us Friar Luther, 'cause we are about to own your team by simply taking it, and nailing your shit to the door. Have fun at the local pumpkin humping contest, or whatever it is you people do. Honestly, can I just speak for a second? Can I just lay down this prop sword, and get real with you? It's not even tundra, let alone "frozen". I am from Alaska, and I have slept on real tundra. I mean, Green Bay is south of Seattle...by THREE degrees! And your field is heated! Good God, you self-righteous, wriggling sacks of adipose and lactose, waddling down your streets reeking of Pepcid AC. The Packers deserve Colt Lyerla.

Marshawn Lynch is about to make them love him, Iron Mike style. At least they have had some training, what with Lambeau selling those big-ass kielbasas now.

I cannot believe I used to like Green Bay. Blech, anyway...hand me my excellently crafted beer. Where was I? Let's see, buhbuh...mhmm...swords yeah, killing, okay...ahh, here we are!

Eff Green Bay.

Let's go to the tape or whatever.

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I sure hope A-Rodg has been watching some tape, and knows to think twice before trying to run against Kam.

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I mean, Rodgers scrambles nothing like Russell does.

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While maybe he doesn't have the experience yet, Russell is just more talented.

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And look, I'll be the first to admit that we feel ourselves a little too hard at times.

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But when you make Kaepernick look as dumb as we did, it's hard not to.

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How fun will it be when all these Green Bay  fans have to leave Seattle so dejected?

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Though to be fair, it isn't hard to make a Green Bay fan look bad.

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I am sure we will handle our victory with grace and class.

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The world will finally see, I am sure, how sweet of a guy Sherman is inside the helmet.

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I'm pretty sure our Offense will make The Pack D feel some type of way...

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They just are not used to the unusual style of our two-headed attack.

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I can just imagine Mike McCarthy watching game film now...

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He's not sure how he is going to handle our deceptive quick-strikes tactics...

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...Combined with our clock-asphyxiating slow game.

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And that's not to mention our punishing D.

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(Or Russell's punishing D)

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Because both of those can make a person move awkward the next day.

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But listen, I'm also hoping Russell doesn't kill anybody with a down-the-middle pass.

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Though I don't mind if Kam Chancellor does so to one of those mouthy receivers.

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As for The Green Bay Defense? They won't be able to hold back the tide.

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And smell, I fully expect us to make them look like complete and utter jackasses.

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