Playoffs!?!

Yeah.... let's not even talk about the Giants game, ok (In the same way that we're not gonna talk about the fact that if the 'Noles could kick a fucking extra point, there'd be no such thing as the 3 OT instant classic that transpired Tuesday night. Similiarly-- how is it that such a top flight program as FSU can't recruit one single fucking good kicker, Janikowski excepted-- and I realize I'm stretching the definition of the word by calling Janikowski good, at least if you're talking as a human being)? By somewhere around halfway the third quarter, I could no longer muster the will to scream at the TV or even do anything other than shrug my shoulders and go "Damn." Seriously-- the "Tippy's Taco or New China Taste for Lunch?" and "Twelve Pack of Heineken or 40's of Hurricane?" questions were more pressing matters in my mind than Manning the Younger's rapidly escalating interception totals. I feel kinda like Jerry, in that I figured I'd be more angry, yet I'm left with just a general feeling of "Eh....whatever" about the whole thing.

As I said, by about 3:00 PM Eastern time, I was pretty much numb to anything that was taking place in East Rutherford, New Jersey, other than to wonder if it was even worth it to try and call my boy Rosie, or had he already thrown himself from the upper echelepons of Giants Stadium. So surprisingly, I found myself caring a lot more than I normally would have about Carson Palmer's ACL injury on his first playoff pass. Perhaps it's because, as has been well documented, I ride hard for my man Chad Johnson, and so Palmer comes as an accessory, the Robin to CHAD!'s Batman, but I've come to respect and enjoy Carson Palmer this year. I've enjoyed watching himascend to the top level of NFL QB's, in addition to enjoying the fact that at least he proves that winning the Heisman doesn't necessarily mean you have to suck in the NFL. And so, seeing him there, crumpled in pain, followed by the image of him being carted off the field-- my heart sank. And again, it may have been entirely related to the fact that the chances of Chad Johnson catching a bomb and doing some insane TD celebration markedly decrease with Kitna at the controls rather than the Golden Boy....

I dunno. Seeing as how I have absolutely no affiliations with the Cincinnati Bengals other than the fact that I spent four years of my life approximately three hours away from Cincy (Kenyon College in the house, bitches!), this probably shouldn't bother me as much as it does. And Palmer's knee shredding obviously wasn't nearly the most depressing thing to happen this weekend when talking about the gridiron (and while we're talking about depressing things in NFL playoff land -- Sheppard, you've GOT to catch that TD pass!)... but I hope he comes back in July, spitting fire and picking up where he left off-- namely, dropping feathery soft bombs into the arms of Chad's woofing grill and laser beams into the arms of TJ and Chris Henry. I'm probably buying a Chad Johnson jersey at some point this offseason, and I can't afford to have a little thing like Carson Palmer blowing out his ACL derail the Who Dey?'s ascension to "AFC team that I fucks with hardcore" status....

And oh yeah: Fuck the Carolina Panthers, and fuck the Washington Redskins. Go Bears, Go 'Hawks....