What the fuck's going on here? I mean, what in the ever-loving cock spewing tit-fought-ass bleeding bitch nipple-shot nuts package nut, those baggery is fucking going on here. We lost 3121 to a team that was 0 and 9. Oh and fucking 9. Oh and blow me 9. Teams that are 0 and 9 have dog dick breath. You know how you get dog dick breath? You put a fucking dog dick in your mouth. You lost a team that puts dog dicks in their mouths. You know what movie this reminds me of? Fuck you, blow me. That's what movie. My mother was totally fucked up this week. You even have her fucking nuts. She went to my bookie.ag, put in the promo code VIC and took the over. Then she changed to the under because she can't figure you fucking idiots out. And you guys let the San Francisco dog dick breath score 31 points so she lost her bet and is now 18 and 6. You know what she said to me? After the game? She said fuck at the big blue boys who make them crazy. This is a fucking bullshit. Well you pissed off my mother and more too. The flight home last night sucked. I hate the fucking red eye. The only good thing about it is when I switched out Maccadu's head gel with polyurethane while he was sleeping. He's at the hospital right now having his head sanded. You crotch sniffing butt muffins. I have racked my brains trying to figure out where we've gone wrong. I've given you idiots everything. Everything is first class in this organization. Everything! Are your cleats okay? Is the food okay? Is the locker room with all the amenities okay? Do we tend to your every needs? Okay. Jenkins. The last time I saw someone try to tackle like that was in fucking pop water. Holy fucking shit. Seriously. I'm picking you out because I don't know what that was. Hitting someone hard and wrapping them up and they muscled their way out and break away is one thing. You have been taught how to tackle how many years? You played in big time college football. Now you're a pro. And that's how you tackle. That's like being a porn star and you can't get boners. Understand? What's the point? The whole secondary was a fucking mess. I don't understand what kind of schemes you were in. I saw the fucking trainers taping up a table leg. Even the fucking trainers are fucked up. Macadu. We were 11 and 5 last year. Who goes 11 and 5 and then 1 and 8? You know who? Rich co-tight. That's who. You want to be the next rich co-tight? Go look them up. Google head coaches who should be hitting the head. What a fucking pickaxe. And you can read all about him. Spags. Seriously. What the fuck? We had the second best defense last year and most everyone came back. Now we played defense like everyone has a camel toe. When did we get camel toes? Sullivan. Nice play call. Not an offensive genius. You are. Was that the West Coast offense? Whose West Coast? Brazil's? Is that how they play football on the West Coast of Brazil? Listen up, all you fucking muts. There's nothing left to say about that game yesterday. Nothing. If it looks like shit, smells like shit, plays like shit, and is wearing blue, it must be big blue shit. My neighbor booed me when I came home this morning. My home. Where my wife sleeps. Where my kids play with their toys. What do you want me to do? What do you fucking testosterone laps lap is want me to do? Take the rest of the day off and think about it. All of you. Maybe you'll come up with an answer. I don't know. I thought I know. At one point I thought I know. Because you stink. You all stink. The coaches stink. I stink. The whole fucking thing stinks. I'm going to my office now. I have a conference call with the entire Mara family. They want answers. And they drink very early in the morning. So I have to deal with that too. Now go. Just go. Get out of here. Get the fuck out of my locker room. And don't make a sound. Don't even blink. If I hear someone blink, you don't want to know. Just get out. No blinking. Go. Go on. Who's blinking? Fuck me.