And I will now ask that the rest of the world shut the f*ck up just long enough to eat a big fat dick.
The offense looked awful. If I'd-a seen another 13-yard hitch go incomplete, the samurai sword was coming off the wall. Couldn't run the ball; the Cowboys had 3 defensive linemen, 4 linebackers, 2 safeties, and Liv Tyler stacked as high as Michael Irvin in the box.
Who cares? We won.
The defense looked awesome. Sean Taylor's hit on third down of the last Cowboys' "drive" didn't make up for him falling down on the flea-flicker touchdown to Terry Glenn, but it did scare the sh*t out of every white person in Dallas.
Who cares? We won.
Patrick Ramsey, who I've defended since the day we drafted him, couldn't have thrown one, let alone both of those passes to Santana Moss. I hope he gets his trade and ends up playing for Baltimore. That way he doesn't have to drive so far after every game to have John Waters offer him counsel and some hot man on man sex (I'm trying to be more Google-able. Sue me).
Who cares? We won.
My fantasy football team lost to an Eagles fan who spends his days where most Eagles fans spend their non-food stamp-collecting hours - community college.
Who cares? (Me. F*cking McNabb) We won.
When the second ball went up and I stood on the barstool that I will be standing on for every Redskins game on this season, I felt something that I hadn't felt during a Redskins game in years: Faith. I knew that pass was gonna be complete. I knew we were going to win.
Who cares? We won.
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