Saturday, September 17, 2011

Fantasy Funzies Week Two Picks

Lonesome Kicker vs. Bare Cupboards

Like a beautiful falling star or two rabbits face-fucking, Tom Brady is pretty much assured to have one of those games where he supernovas into some kind of fantasy football orgasm - too bad for me though he did it in week one - and now, like a spent teenager all huffed-out after two minutes of backseat sex, the rest of season will be some kind of uncomfortable sleep. Then again, Ian's not exactly rocking all sure-things: Buffalo looked good in week one, but they always look good in week one - let's see how that plays out the rest of the year. And Tim Hightower looked okay, but I'm betting he runs as fast as Police Academy Hightower this week against his old team. It'll be close, but I say Ian squeaks by because the NFL prognosticators have Vernon Davis getting 28 points against Dallas - ha ha ha - we'll see how that works out.

The Chefs vs. Reckoner

One week you're losing arm wrestling competitions to the special education kids in the basement of the high school, the next week, you're the greatest thing since cars made out of meat. I don't think it's a stretch to say I take umbrage with the NFL points system - because Kevin Kolb couldn't score 42 points one of those rickety football machines you find at the back of the arcade. Also, maybe it's a trend, but tight ends apparently are no longer men, but some kind of Galactus-like world eaters in our fantasy league - 47 points for Antonio Gates against New England? If I was Lindsay (and I'm not), I would almost make a bet to eat my underwear if Gates gets that many points this week. As for Derek, I don't need to say anything because he'll win.

Banana Grabbers vs. Urban Achiever

I don't like Matt Ryan. I don't know why exactly - maybe it's his stupid face. Bryan does though - and that's too bad because that stupid face is going to make a whole bunch of stupid face looks when it throws pretty stupid interceptions this week. Though he's favoured, I don't like a lot of Bryan's matchups - most of those games have the faint nose-burning aroma of low-scoring games (if you're wondering, the aroma is a lot like clove cigarettes and unwashed hipsters - real hipsters Lindsay - not people who listen to music made after 1998). As for Paul, I see good things for Peyton Hillis against a bad Colts defense, and to make up for being down on Chris Johnson last week, I'll say that he gets more than 16 points this week. Add to that a probable bounce-back from Eli and I'm calling this a Paul upset.

Dirty D vs. PDC

So I complain to Ryan that he has too many Texans - the logical thing of course is that he picks up another Texan on the waiver wire. Why not? We all know you're doing it - don't wuss out Ryan by going half-way. Next year, I say draft all Texans. At least you'll get four wins that way - Sorry Wayne and Dennis. This one comes down to, sigh, which Texan running back plays. If Foster is healthy, then Dennis will handle Ryan like a 100-pound catholic schoolgirl with pigtails. If it's Ben Tate playing the role of Ben Dover, then Ryan has a shot because the rest of Dennis' team pretty much plays ugly wingman to Aaron Rodgers. Looking into my crystal ball, I'm gonna say Foster plays enough to compensate for Grossman remembering who he really is in week two - Dennis limps by Ryan.

The North vs. The Downs Burns

I like Wayne's team this week, but if I go with him and he wins two weeks in a row, then it surely means the apocalypse is upon us. Believing the crazy guy that hands me comic pamphlets downtown is right is not something I'm open to right now. Then again, even Wayne's mediocre players have pretty bad defenses and who knows how healthy McFadden will be (see what did I say about having Raiders on your team?). I guess I should just accept it - I mean living in perpetual war and having to deny the mark of the beast for seven years, only to eventually die as the world blows up can't be that bad - at least not as bad as having Kyle Orton on your fantasy football team. World ends, Wayne wins.

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