My Goal: To Throat-Chop every Bandwagon Bears fan

For those who aren't already in the know, I'm one of the biggest Chicago Bears fans imaginable. I know, I talk about everything ranging from my clumsy pre-ejaculatory habits to being worried why I didn't completely loath my prostate exam, I guess the only reason I didn't talk about my favorite team ad naseum was because I didn't want to curse them like I've done to so many of Lakers teams in the past. Me and my love for the Bears go back like ass-cracks and spinal chords to be completely honest, back when Jim McMahon was the "punky QB" and Refrigerator Perry looked like a dancing side of beef in that cheesy "Superbowl Shuffle" video, even at that point I had been a Bears fan for as long as I could remember. There was something particularly cool about being in school and publicly supporting a team the first day your Adidas sneaker squeaked in the hallway, then finally wearing your team's jersey when they reach the ultimate goal of the Superbowl like your fecal matter didn't have any sort of recognizable scent to it. Those, my friends, were the best of times.

My Chicago bears hadn't been to that coveted game since their 85' run, sure they had a handful of nice seasons, but if the Superbowl was a very pretty girl lets just say that they haven't been able to get within a square mile of sniffing her panties in more than 20 years. Regardless of how bad it got I was a loyal fan, watching in horror as if I was being shown a snuff film, part of me wishing they would turn things around and part of me wanting the torture to be over as soon as humanly possible. No matter what sort of football conversation I was a part of over the past decade or so, the Superbowl run that the Patriots went on, certain breakout games of a garden variety wide receiver or a running back, or some team that seemed to be a Superbowl dark-horse some particular season, I would always end up giving the person I was talking to a shit eating grin of defeat and say, "I hear you, but I'm a Bears fan dude.", usually 9 words that would invoke cringe-worthy frowns like the person had just inhaled one of Biz Markie's farts. I feel that being loyal to a sports team is akin to having an extremely sick wife with a life threatening ailment, no matter how many chicks throw their asses in your face and offer you the opportunity to make love to their bosoms when you aren't caring for your sick spouse, you stick by your beloved soul-mate no matter what and hope that she gets better soon so you won't resort to fucking the creases in your couch.

I guess that's what got me so worked up about seeing my beloved Bears play in the comfort of a local sports-bar this past weekend. As I sat there and watched the game, when I wasn't watching a couple of the hot bartenders and wondering if a 33 year old fucking a 19 year old seemed creepy or not, I saw nothing but Bears Jerseys as far as the eye could see. I'm sure a couple of people were bona fide Bears fans, but I had the sneaking suspicion that these miserable motherfuckers were nothing but perpetrators, charlatans in sports Jersey's trying to con the true Bears fans who have always been down with them like midget blow-jobs. Even though I had planned to suffer in silence as I watched people cheer a team that they probably didn't give two healthy shits about this time last year, I reached my boiling point and decided to call some people out.

Where were you people when they were losing?: Even though my behavior was nothing to write home about, like that time I had to tell my mother in letter form that I got caught trying to sodomize a camp counselor, I have no regrets about how I handled myself in that particular sports bar. I knew that many of those weak willed individuals who called themselves men weren't real Bears fans, so occasionally I would stump them by asking what college the player that they were wearing on their back went to. It didn't stop there, I would ask them about Bears greats that came before them that wore that same number, if the player wasn't drafted by the Bears I would ask what team said player was on before, how long they have been a starter, and if they felt that the player in question was among the upper echelon around the league based on their position. 90% of them failed miserably, it was particularly hard not to punch the men in the face who didn't even know who's jersey they were wearing. Blasphemous, pure blasphemy!!(But then again, this is coming from the guy who once got a blow-job in a confessional..)


I hate women who desecrate Jersey's, its like wiping your ass with the flag: My fantasy, besides basically finding a women who thinks a chubby black guy with a "black myth ruiner" of a penis is appealing, is hooking up with some goddess of a woman who likes sports as much as I do. Sometimes, when I'm alone with my thoughts, I envision nakedly laying mid coitus with the love of my laugh, between kisses, pelvic thrusts, and some healthy hair tugging, I lovingly rattle off sports statistics in her ear to make her achieve the ultimate climax.(A boy can dream can't he??) But seriously though, I find nothing wrong with a woman sporting a sports jersey, hell, if a the woman was hot enough and was into wearing a Klan outfit I'm sure that I'd want nothing more than to tell a rather steamy "..and then I lifted up her robe of hate and fucked the shit out of her." story to as many people that would listen. I just get irritated when I see women who aren't sports fans in the first place wearing Jersey's, making it even worse when they go that extra mile and turn said Jersey into some sort of skirt, or half shirt to immediately make you think that that you've found Daisy Duke's long lost city cousin. When this fine young thing started talking to me I should have been nicer to her, I mean, I haven't had a decent piece of ass since the last episode of "Parker Lewis Can't Lose" for Christs sake. But all I saw was a perpetrator wearing a desecrated jersey, so right in the middle of one of her sentences I asked her "What year were the Bears founded?? What position did Mike Ditka play?? Can you tell me who in the fuck Dan Hampton and Mike Singletary are??" When she looked at me like I has just asked her to donate a liver, I looked her up and down, pointed in the opposite direction, and said "Remove yourself from my eyesight, you sicken me harlot!!!"

You can't be a fan, why would you wear THAT guys number?: Some of the "fans" there were so clueless they had no idea that they were wearing the number of an athlete that hadn't played the whole year. I can't tell you how many times I walked up to people saying, "Excuse me, that guy got cut in week 3", "Ma'am, that gentleman has been hurt all year, and even when he's healthy I'm indifferent about him. I'm indifferent about craps that I take!!", and "The punter, really??" I guess the Hip Hop equivalent would be seeing someone wear a "Freaky Tah" shirt during the height of "The Lost Boyz", seeing some dude sport a Jersey that said "S1W #2" at a Public Enemy show, or sporting a "Tupac" T-Shirt back when he was dancing for Digital Underground. What in the fuck is that about??