… stop talking about Brett Favre. Seriously, I … can’t … stand … it.
Allow me to speak on behalf of every sports fan in America whose last name isn’t FAVRE. We don’t care. The Vikings have been out of the mix forever. Favre has played terribly, and has clearly revealed himself to be an all-time selfish prick. We don’t care about his streak. We don’t care about that “ol’ magic.” (Dear God, stop making him sound like Frosty the Snowman). We don’t care that he says he’s done at the end of the season—because his word means nothing (Besides, what coach in his right mind would sign this guy for 2011? Rich Kotite hasn’t had a job in years).
Put simply: Brett Favre’s narrative is no longer even remotely interesting, and I’m saying this about a guy who texted images of his penis to a woman half his age (in other words: If you’re not interesting sexting, you’re just not interesting). So, please, John Clayton, stop drooling when you talk about Brett Favre. Please, Trent Dilfer, I know you love him. I get it. We all get it. Please, Chris Berman … well, just stop talking about everything. Just stop.
Seriously, I’d rather hear about Sarah Palin and Mitt Romney than Brett Favre.
And that’s saying something …
