Chris Johnson: This Bitch is DONE

Every fantasy season, there are a few key events that change the landscape of any league.  Sometimes, they creep up on us, slowly, avoiding our notice until it's too late.  Sometimes they happen with a bang.

This is the first kind.  But it'll hit you like the second kind.

Because Chris Johnson is done.  CJ2K is a thing of the past, and in a few years from now you won't even remember his nickname.  He's finished.  Finito.  Kaput.

And if you own him, you need to abandon ship.  Now.  Immediately.  Yesterday.

You can go ahead and walk away from your computer if you need to.  You can take a minute to go and wash your face.  You can shake your head and mumble under your breath at the dinner table.

You can do whatever you like, but you need to accept this.

Chris Johnson is done.

Check out that stat line from Sunday:

11 CARRIES FOR 4 YARDS.  

Yes, he did tack on 6 receptions for 47 yards (with a long of 16) but that was in garbage time.

He's a liability.  Do this:  call  up the BenJarvus Green-Ellis owner in your league and offer him CJ straight up.  No strings attached.  He might just be stupid enough to take him.

No one will be that stupid by October.  Get out while the gettin's good.

Ugly Fours Awesome Bet of the Week: Week 2

Which NUMBER will be higher by this Sunday at midnight:

A:  The number of Tweets Chris Johnson sends out on Twitter this week (last week he sent out 34)?

B:  The number of yards Chris Johnson gains versus the Ravens this Sunday (he gained 24 yards last Sunday versus the Jags)?

Post a comment below with your pick and rationale.  Try not to fuck it up.

Modern day Shakespeare / Winston Churchill tells fans to shut the fuck up

On days when my credit card is declined, it's always nice to anticipate a vast payday for one of the true poets of the modern age, Mr. Chris Johnson.

Whom, I believe, was asked to be the poet laureate of the United States, but with laconic humility replied:

STFU.

It's a bold statement, to tell your fans to shove a hot snake up their asses for having the temerity to question your motivation, but one which was pulled off by several of the finest football players of all time.

Let's refresh your memory:

PEYTON MANNING:  "Everyone in the media and all you folks at home can kiss my ass right on the poo flaps"

WALTER PAYTON:  "I'ma get me ma money, and y'all can eat dirt and die in a river of my caviar-infused piss."

JOE NAMATH:  "I burn more money every day on booze and whores then most working pieces of shit will ever make.  Is that your mom?  Tell her to come say hi.  To my dong."

TOM BRADY:  "Let's use some of this money to buy a forest and then light it on fire to make a natural blow-dryer for my hair.  If we're lucky we might kill some racoons and shit."

CURTIS MARTIN: "Hey!  Anyone who is a fan of football is a fucking loser!  You hear me, fucking losers? That's right I'm talking to you!  Now wipe those Frito crumbs off the top of your belly shelf and go fetch me a Pabst Blue Ribbon, bitch."

So, obviously, telling fans to shut the fuck up isn't offensive in any way.  It's just what happens when you're a brilliant wordsmith surrounded by filthy animals.

I don't even know what "poo flaps" are, anyway.

A bold query into the mysteries of metaphysics and spacial perception

I think it's high time someone posed this question.

Who is "up" really?  Is it gameday in your life or are you always just practicing?  And where are you on the spectrum of possibility in your world?  Are you "up" or are you "down"?  And what is up, anyway but a vector of divergence?

Without being grounded, up may not actually be "up".  Heck, it may be "down".  And notice there's no punctuation in the tweet?  That's because it might be a statement.  We know Who on first.  But maybe Who up, as well.

All brave and radical musings from the mind of Chris Johnson, who we've come to realize, really is walking a "different" path than the rest of us.