We are required to inform you that these Foretellings are works of satire and are not for the faint of heart. Due to their content they should not be read by anyone. Please enjoy at your own risk. -The Editor
Greetings, Raider Nation! It is I, the eighth wonder of the world, the man who looks like money and smells like money because he is money, Mr. Friday Morning, Raiderdamus the Great and Powerful. I come to you today after a long week, ready for another Raiders game to come one step closer to the #1 overall draft pick.
I have my own ideas about how the game will go, but nobody cares about them. You are all here to listen to the words of the Great Beyond, who should be well-rested after a week and a half off. Here is what the Great Old One had to say:
“You’re back! After that last debacle, I thought you’d have thrown yourself into the Bay. But I suppose you have a job to do, and so do I. You know, as we get closer to the end of the year, I find myself getting into the Holiday spirit. For every win the Raiders get this year, I’ll put away one dollar and get them a nice present. So far, they’re getting a McChicken. Merry Christmas, Raiders. Maybe you’ll work your way up to a Bacon McDouble by the time the season comes to an end.
Bur who you got this week? The Chargers? Again? This is really getting old, you know. Well, let’s clown on some fools.
In the year 2001, the then-San Diego Chargers drafted Drew Brees in the second round, after drafting LaDainian Tomlinson in the first. Michael Vick was the first player drafted in that year, but in hindsight the argument can be made that Brees should have been the first player off the board. The Chargers, being the bastions of football intelligence that they are, gave up on Brees after only four years in favor of this man:
Here, Philip Rivers celebrates one of the five things that went right for the Chargers in the 2013 season. “Yelling is like talking, but louder!” he tells his teammates on the sideline.
Here, Rivers has just emerged from the maternal warmth of the Matrix for the first time, and begins learning how to use his eyes.
Here, one of Rivers’ 83 children has run onto the field with a homework assignment of Common Core math, requesting Rivers’ assistance. Rivers rejects his plea, because nobody fucking knows how to do Common Core math and also because it is third down.
There is no denying that Rivers is at least part owner of the Raiders after pushing their shit in for the last fourteen years, but the question one must ask the Chargers is what the hell were they thinking getting rid of Drew Brees? How many Super Bowls would the Chargers have with Brees over the length of his Hall of Fame career? 3? 4? We’ll never know, because the Chargers are complete imbeciles.
When people list the great quarterbacks of the last 20 years, Brees almost always gets mentioned. Does Rivers? Probably not. Rivers is, however, near the top of the Prolific Sex Machines list, right behind Antonio Cromartie and right in front of Osama Bin Laden. Get up, get on up, hey! Here is footage of Rivers’ reaction whenever he comes home and finds his 117 children are in bed, but his wife is still awake:
The US will pull out of Afghanistan before Rivers will pull out of his wife. Even Rivers has his limits, though, and things can get too hot even for him.
Keeping Rivers over Brees is still a better decision than the one that started all this mess in the first place:
In fact, the only Chargers move dumber than drafting Leaf was the decision to leave beautiful San Diego and move to the brutal hellscape of Los Angeles, where nobody likes them and they play in front of hostile crowds every week of the year. San Diego is a lovely place. As you drive towards San Diego from the east, you pass some of the most wondrous country in the world as soon as you get out of the Cleveland National Forest, which is where the Moon landing was filmed by Stanley Kubrick in 1969. It’s horse country closer to San Diego, and it’s lush and pleasing to the eye. In the olden days, poor people had horses and only the rich had cars. Now the poor all have cars, but only the rich have horses. My, how the stables have turned.
But now, the Chargers are basically an AAA team, playing in a tiny, shitty soccer stadium in front of sixteen people, fifteen of whom are stadium employees. The last time anyone had a good time at a Charger game, he was whackin’ it to some cheerleaders and then he got fired. A more proper punishment would have been to force him to keep watching the Chargers.
The last time the Chargers had the number one overall pick, they took Eli Manning. But his daddy wouldn’t let him play there, which is why they got Rivers instead and why Tom Brady has three Super Bowl losses instead of just one. Joey Bosa’s dad also won’t let him play for the Chargers, but Signore Bosa is not a former famous NFL player, and so Joey must do things in a more bold fashion, by faking an injury and sitting on his couch doing nothing whatsoever until the season is over. Surely Dean Spanos will wake up with a horse’s head in his bed any day now.
If this is how Nick Bosa’s family handles things, sign me up for a heaping helping of Ed Oliver. Mark Davis is too gentle a soul to deal with skullduggery of that magnitude.
Still, the Raiders are tanking, and not because they’re trying, but just because they suck that much. Reggie Nelson is so old, the first thing he bought with his NFL money was his freedom. He is so old, he farts dust. He is so old, his Social Security number is 4. All those Renaissance paintings show naked boobs because Reggie Nelson was there, making sure nobody got covered.
Chargers win, 34-16.”