Please trust me and remember that the last thing I submitted from sbnation was inordinately well-received. ButterflyEffect and kleinbl00, maybe you will find this similarly entertaining.
It is a novella about Tim Tebow going to the Canadian Football League in a weird alternate future. It has Rob Ford in it. It's really long.
Tim Tebow was Christianity's golden boy of football. The whole saga was hilarious. It's still funny. What makes anyone think that if there were some supreme deity of the universe it would give even some fraction of a shit about football is beyond me.
I'm guessing you've seen this, but in case you or someone else hasn't, check it out. Some of the funniest TV I've seen in a while.
HAHAhahah, even the portmanteau sketch title is perfect! Hadn't seen it, thanks for that.
TIM I know little to nothing about football, but I'm losing it, this is fucking hilarious.PLAY FOOTBALL WELL
Jon Bois writes some really good shit that's only kinda about football.
Was encouraged to play football at age 10, when he chanced upon a mannequin at the clothing store wearing a shirt with the words "FOOTBALL GAME" and a drawing of a football on the front. He talked to it for hours, and it never told him he was too round for this world or that he shouldn't eat the plastic bologna rings. Played college football at DeVry, where he studied poetry. He finished with a GPA of reddish-gray. Dislikes taking the subway, not because of any particular phobia, but because whenever the car stops and nobody gets off, he feels terrible for the train operator. Refers to liquids in plural, i.e., a glass of milk is "a glass of some milks." Mutter-sings.Born in 1937. Parents were a rhinoceros, a Sherman oak, a wheelbarrow full of graphite, a ray of light that shone through the clouds, a fulfilled prophecy, a buried time capsule full of set-and-baited mouse traps, and a real big ol' dude.
It took me days but I finished it..I thought the first part was the only part and I think it's the best section for sure.
Oh my god.By the time the message gets there, you have put three dozen eggs down your pants, you have changed your name to "Fart Idiot," and you want a divorce.
