So I got a little bit drunk during the draft. That's not entirely accurate. I got a little bit drunk like a flood is a little bit wet or she got a little bit pregnant. In my defense, I got swept up in how well the Raiders seemed to be doing in the draft.
The topper was when Mel Kiper Jr. praised our draft as a whole and said we both added play makers and addressed needs. When I sobered up approximately one hour ago, I realized that I'm not entirely sure that I was watching the NFL draft at that point. I now believe that I was somehow watching a re-run of "The Munsters" and got Kiper confused with Eddie Munster, Jr. I realize it's possible that Jadeveon Clowney arrived at Houston's facility riding in a limo shaped like a coffin, but I don't remember the bolts in his neck from the 300+ hours of combine coverage that I watched. It's possible, but no longer seems likely.
Anyway, on to my apology. I was froggy and decided to call the "bastards" on the Raiders' schedule this year and warn them to "kiss their asses goodbye." Don't know if you're familiar with online telephone directories, but the plan seemed simple enough: I will call the more prominent jokers we're going to face this year and put them on notice. It was a bit more difficult than I first imagined.
First up was John Elway of Denver, CO. I got four hits and called each in turn; only three are still living. I know what you're thinking but don't get your hopes up. In any case, no solid leads, although one of them admitted that he could eat corn-on-the-cob through a picket fence, so I think that may have been the one I was looking for.
Next was Philip Rivers of San Diego, CA. I received an answer and as you might imagine, it was confrontational at first. At the end it was rather pleasant, and I even told him that I loved him in the movie "Mask." I added that I hope the Chargers finally get him a helmet that fits and I bid him a good night.
On to Andy Reid of Kansas City, MO. Living in the ivory tower of an NFL head coach, he saw fit to leave his number unpublished. Undaunted, and given his resemblance to a walrus, I next tried Sea World of Kansas City. It turns out that there's no such place. I eventually reached Joe's Crab Shack, and although they couldn't put me in direct contact with the coach, they did inform me of the entree that bears his name: a pail of mollusks with a side of sea cucumber. I told them that the next time they see him, tell him that "he'd better watch his rumpled @$$."
Finally, Bill Belichik of Boston, MA. Although not strictly a divisional foe, I hold a long-standing grudge against hm, as I'm sure do many of you. Once again, no dice. I tried various spellings and combinations including Bill Beelzebub of Hell, Grumpy Cat of YouTube, and Leonid Brezhnev of the Soviet Union. No luck.
Once again, I apologize, Raider Nation. I tried to put them on notice, it just didn't work out. No matter. I know that we have the toughest schedule in the NFL, but I can't help but be optimistic.
Keep the faith, and Raider Nation Forever.