H.J. Has Arrived... Let's Talk Some Bills Football

It is with a heavy heart that I must relay the news of the death of Kristopher "Jelly" Young the blogger. My apologies to those of you who had Ralph Wilson going next in your death pool (I thought he was a lock, too). Mr. "Jelly" failed to acknowledge the fact that his blog posts would be much more entertaining if written under a radical pseudonym, and thus lacked the chops to justify his inclusion in this glorious Wagon Circle. It is an opportunity that should not be taken for granted, and his initial blog post was the token "blunts and glock in the vehicle" that earned him the boot.

With that being said, it appears there is a hole to be filled. As a retired amateur porn star turned sports blogger, I'm always ready at a moment's notice to fill that hole, standing at attention, ready to perform, dick in hand... what? Just forget about that last one. Aaanyways, I digress. Let's get to the discussions at hand.

What is there to say about Miss Krupa that hasn't yet been said? She caved in TO's confidence as easily as if it were Michael Jackson's cheekbones, and made him chiggity check himself for the first time in this blogger's recent memory. I say we start a petition to make her coach of our Buffalo Bills. Think about it: she's a fair bit of an improvement to look at compared to that action figure with a headset we have now, and would have all the guys trying their damndest to impress her. The post-game jog would be infinitely more gratifying. She would probably to do better than 7-9, and who knows, she might have Trent and the boys running and gunning better than Steve McNair and his mistress. The only thing that worries me about that idea is that if she's ass at the job, management will be tripping over themselves trying to sign her to another year, and our futility would continue. She would also make the Jills look even uglier, if that's possible.

TO has definitely made a quantum leap in the minds and hearts of us Bills fans in the last few months, as highlighted by Art Still's previous post (I did a scene with a quadruple amputee with the surname "Still", you wouldn't happen to be related?). After all these years with nought but a sniff at the playoffs, most of us just want to win, baby, and don't give a good goddamn how we do it. If it means we have to do some mental aerobics and convince ourselves that maybe TO isn't so bad after all, then so be it. I, for one, would have no problem looking at Mr. H. Jablowme in the mirror every night knowing that we all sold our souls to Drew Rosenhaus (read: the Devil), especially if it meant that we could watch some Bills football later into the winter. You may, however, have picked up on the fact that a dude that starred in such movies as "Poolside Railing" and "Pavlov's Dong" might have to go a little further than the next guy to feel any shame.

Until next time, boys, keep the recently deposed Jelly in your thoughts and prayers, and the Buffalo Bills in your hearts. More analytical posts to come, this one was just the prologue. I'll have a little time to write in the next few weeks, as I'm working craft services in a little feature film you might have heard of tentatively titled "Weapons of Ass Destruction." It's alright to be jealous, boys.



Jablowme. Out.



"I came, I saw, and I came again"
-Haywood Jablowme, Scene 3, 'The Annihilation of Julie S. Caesar'