GTB's Week 11 NFL Picks: These Go to Eleven

Good morning.
Most of the staff is out of town today (an infrequently used euphemism for impotence), so I've been given the honor of collecting our guys' picks and posting them. The good thing is that I don't actually have to make any picks, since I've proven myself way out of my element. Enjoy what the keen minds at Gheorghe have brought you this week, and as always, good luck deciphering whose is whose without name tags:

Minnesota (+3.5) @ Tampa Bay
I don't know why I keep picking Bucs games. It’s not like I know what I’m doing when I pick these games, or even what day it is, thanks to Teejay Brand Tobacco. But here’s a trivia question for you: who leads the NFL in rushing? Nope, not Clinton Portis any more, not LaDainian Tomlinson (now that he’s completely mediocre he’s stripped of the “LT” title; he’s more “LD” these days), not Mike Alstott... no, it’s Adrian Peterson, the only man with over 1,000 yards to date. How do my beloved Butt Buccaneers hold him off? They don’t. He runs hog-wild around, over, and through the Tampa D like Geoff in a Dupont Circle laundromat after too much pink zinfandel. The Bucs instead rely on the inevitable, eventual downfall of Gus the kicking mule. Hear me now and believe me later: Gus throws for 275 yards, 2 TD’s, 4 INT’s, and one head-butt of the pirate ship. And one of those picks comes back for a TD... or I eat a big steak-n-tot breakfast burrito from Sonic.

Also worth noting: I use multiple paragraphs every time I review a game. Why can't I be more succinct? Well, fuck you, Burr. Take the Tampax out of your ass (still talking to you, hair gelly donut) and take Tampa to cover (now speaking to everyone).

Dallas (-1.5) @ Washington
This pains me. After the Skins go and face the peril in Dallas, coming out victorious, they now have to host the Cowgirls with one arm and one leg lopped off. ‘Tis but a scratch, so says Jim Zorn, but we know better. It’s too perilous. Cowboys 19, Redskins 10. (I bet you’re gay.)

Oakland (+10.5) @ Miami
The Raiders are poop. Not a little bit poopy but total and utter excrement. Poop like the Jets’ drafts from Johnny “Lam” Jones well into the modern era.



(And Burr, blow me for making fun of my use of YouTube and then doing it yourself. You love me. Smile, you love me.)

But what do we know about poop? Sometimes it gets on your shoe, and that makes you angry. Not enough to ruin your day, but enough to agitate you. Not enough to win this game, but enough to stay within 10.5 points and agitate the ‘fins. Not enough to take the title like Magnum T.A. against Tully Blanchard in the 1985 “I Quit” Cage Match, but enough to be pests, like Ole & Arn Anderson. It’s like creeper dope , the kind you dismiss as total rag because your high school cousin bought it, but then when you’re laughing out loud at reruns of Kenan & Kel on Nickelodeon at 4 in the morning, you start to realize that while still crap at its core it can still tweak reality and make its presence felt. That’s the Raiders. Seed-filled, stem-filled, nearly-oregano, cheap-assed rag weed. God bless em. Raiders.

Baltimore (+6.5) @ NY Giants
Gang Green won last night, vindicating me and elating fellow G:TB mastermind TeeJet. Sunday will be the other Meadowlands inhabitants' time to shine, which doesn’t make anyone around these parts all that pleased. The Giants are like the peep show jerk-off bin in Times Square; lots of folks in other parts of the country don’t want to believe that they exist, but they get the job done, even if it ain’t pretty. Brandon Jacobs reminds me a good deal of the menu at a recent “Feats of Eating” battle in which I took bronze. By that I mean he’s a side of beef, a huge rump roast, one andouille, and two meatballs all served on a plastic tray with “Rahway Sheraton” printed on it. Look for a pair of trips into the soft, wet, pink, promised land for him. (Sorry, Cinemax Late Night was on last night.) Joe Flacco, meanwhile, reminds me far too much of the horrendous gas I had after 3AM Jack-in-the-Box in Spartanburg, SC on Spring Break junior year. Make what you will of that comparison.
Prediction: Giants cover, winning 23-14.

Tennessee (-3) @ Jacksonville
I’m really not too good at this whole “gambling” thing. It’s why I don't actually wager money on these picks, just the good name of my good friends at Gheorghe. (Except Mark, whom I loathe. So should you.) Whenever I have a notion on who will win, I threaten to call Swint’s bookie, only to choose instead to merely mention it in a G:TB comment and soon thereafter see that prediction rendered idiotic. It's all part of why I keep my job down at the Wonka factory rather than go into bookmaking.

I like to root for the little guy, ‘cause, y’know, I’m wee. I root for the oppressed. I’m not talking “little guy” like Little Danny Starfucker or “little guy” like the Coney in Whitney’s underjohnnies. I’m talking underdogs. Like Barack Obama, baby. (Memo to Geoff: it wasn’t just a nightmare . . . the man of color is president. Deal with it.) It’s like Jay Barker used to say: “Red . . . 32 . . . hey, Auburn . . . Fuck you.” Jags win this outright, rendering all the talk about the Titans going undefeated about as relevant as Titanic. (Which, yes, I saw in the theater. Screw you, Mark. I'm old and gay.)