Week Seven Newsletter

Morning Huddle

Light filters in from the blinds. Dust particles can be seen swirling around. Nick thinks as he tries to find words to his feelings.

Therapist: you’re going to have to talk at some point… he says.

Nick continues to look at the swirling particles.

Therapist: Well let’s start with this: why do you enjoy it.

Nicks head turns away from the particles and a montage begins to play in his head. A picture of him laughing and cheering, a picture of him and his friends talking shit, a picture of him making trades that complete his roster, reading power rankings. It felt like the scene from the Force Awakens when Rey feels the force for the first time. He takes a deep breath as a tear falls down his face.

Therapist: So when he asks, “how do you remember your record from 5 years ago?” Remember the beauty you see in fantasy football.

Nick smiles.

Commissioner’s Corner

FALSE GODS. FALSE GODS IN THE STREETS OF NFFL.

Phony Penelope Harlan & Fraudulent Francesca Squirt aka the ole overly-confident twins get beaten down this week 

God it feels so fucking good. And I know, I know I'll be right back down there with you pleebs next week but godamn does king of the castle feel good just once this season. All you Gibbs fetishizing goofy asses. Ahhh.

Eat shit Pete you theater twerp. And Squirt since you auditioned for a show once, eat shit too you wannabe theater twerp.

Really thought this was going to be the week for us. Brando still leading the way with some outstanding picking. 5/6 for the Louisville Slugger. Ole Crut, Dean, Cream, Zach & Ric really dragging down the herd here. 

Our usual parlay drags in about a 12k reward, which after taxes is about 8-9k. So here's a few things you could buy for 8-9k:

• 2014 Subaru XV Crosstrek

• 2010 Toyota Corolla

• 14 Samsung 32" Frame TV's

• A lot of porn subscriptions

I picked out shitty little personal parlay this week. So there for I see nothing wrong with it. 

Have a good week 7.

Tears and Jeers

Tears

1. I look forward to facing you again in the toilet bowl, we’ll have another fun matchup - Zach

2. Well it was nice being a top team for a couple weeks - Crit

3. You guys don’t have to be mean to me, I’m sensitive - Pete

   
   

Jeers

1. Bryce you defo diddled Pete’s lil dong -Brando

2. Imagine you’re Peter maurer and you just traded 2 top of the league players for Gibbs and some injured low leaguer, on top of that you named Gibbs “DEAN” and now the Lions O line is bukaki and your superior brother might beat you because of it , and now a “DEAN” nicknamed Gibbs means something entirely different and you could cry. - Chris

3. Steelers won and he’s in just sitting in his cuck chair tonight drinking bourbon and watching us lose - Pete

Power Clangings

RIDDLE

I'm the rat king, slick and high in the ranks.

I diddled my own brother, the one you call Piper.

I took his Williams and Henry in a trade so sweet,

Leaving him with scraps while I stand atop the fleet.

Who am I?

My life is built on constant swapping and change.

I excel with a crowd, having QBs and RBs in my range.

I move with purpose now, hitting my stride late,

Boasting a league-best record, defying the gate.

Though I started slow, my percentage rings true,

Who is this player, built entirely new?

Who am I?

My engine is wounded, my top star is gone,

My wideouts are silent from dusk until dawn.

I see an empty spot, a place I could fill,

Let me play for Terrion Arnold who has no defensive skill.

But next week's the turn, the sadness will fade,

A receiver named Rice is due for some play.

Who is this stagnant roster, soon to be whole?

Who am I?

The devil's son, known for his black magic and fame,

I tried to fleece Deanith and The Diddler for gain.

But my trades were a flop, my purchases a dud,

My guerrilla tactics sank right in the mud.

I feel the deep shame, but my new love is clear:

The bright future QB, the one named Drake Maye I hold dear.

Who am I?

My name suggests sweetness, but my output is thin,

I barely survived, a paper-thin win.

Against Crit, I was saved by a tandem so bright,

A quarterback wizard, who plays with pure might.

A Pittsburgh receiver, a giant so fast,

Their explosion of points was too much to last.

The rest of my roster was cream, soft and slow,

Yet I took the victory. What team do I show?

Who am I?

My name suggests noise, but my triumph felt grim,

A painful win secured against one of my kin.

I beat a fellow fan, a brother in black and gold,

A victory I won, but a heavy price sold.

My future is bright, though I wait on the shelf,

I own Caleb Williams, all by myself.

My team makes me nervous, my future seems queer,

My owner might paint his own nails out of fear.

Who am I?

We are the Hunters who missed the main prize,

Losing the battle before the black-and-gold eyes.

Now our record is even, precisely half-won,

The middle of the pack, beneath the hot sun.

Only three shining names made the week feel less dire:

A Tampa Bay QB whose spirit burned higher.

One tight end from Philly, and one from the Nittany,

While the rest of the roster made the scoreboard look shitty.

Who am I?

The Miami man who stinks is no more,

I finally beat the devil, who I've bowed to before.

I am no longer the Boy; the title is Man,

Because I fleeced my rival, completing the plan.

I broke Peter down; he's now just a chump,

My trade was so sweet, he went down with a thump.

My score was the highest this week, bold and true,

I'll steamroll the rest. Who is suddenly new?

Who am I?

My name suggests relief, but I feel only pain,

My roster is broken, a loss in the rain.

My injury report grows with every new sun,

I even started a Chuba whose day was all done.

Sam LaPorta held the healthy, but chaos took hold,

With Injury my season looks bleak, a sad story to be told.

But one quiet QB, who plays in the blue,

Has been surprisingly solid, consistently true.

Who am I?

I am the reigning champ who sits with despair,

My second highest score showed the league I still care.

But I met a transformed rival, a new Bird Man so bold,

Who beat my great total, a story untold.

The trade that I made, my receiver named Pittman,

Gave me a dud week, though I tried to commit, man.

Despite the tough loss, my output was grand,

My future is certain across the whole land.

Who am I?

I am a win, but I still feel like a loss,

Beating the worst team, a dumpster fire of dross.

My owner keeps trading, the moves finally paid,

But I stink, too; the victory was poorly made.

My QB is bad, his name is Geno Smith,

And a runner from New York has lost all his pith.

The Jets' woes are contagious, bringing my team down,

Though I won a sad game, I deserve the frown.

Who am I?

My score this week was a total disgrace,

Only seventy points put me out of the race.

My immune system's weak, my defense is all gone,

I need a new name to carry me on.

I need to embrace the sickness and pain,

The "Clang Cough" must return to my title again.

My antibodies are gone, my future is sealed,

And my wrong Chargers' back kept my fate revealed.

I am destined for last, an outcome so dire,

What team should embrace the dark fantasy fire?

Who am I?

Dear Jill

Fantasy Court with Judge Jeudy

Fantasy Villain of the Week

Villain of the Week: Week 6

First off, I fell asleep before the 2nd half of the lions game, so I only woke up to the news of Branch punching JuJu. However, Branch might be hero of the week solely for JuJu’s bloody nose. As much as the chiefs deserve villain of the week, they get a solid F U. The real villain of the week is the Hiff Clangers for whatever Clang Cough curse he put on all Michigan teams. MSU, Michigan, Tigers and Lions all lost as a result of Branden’s voodoo magic. Boos in the chat and maybe he’ll reverse the curse moving forward.

Grumbles with Old Man Maurer

How can someone be mad when they have gone to battle with the Devil and came out the champion? I’m as happy as a fat kid at an Asian buffet. I just wish I could bottle this feeling, liquefied, and make it into a candle that I could burn for the rest of the year. I fucking love Fantasy Football.

Xoxo

Old Man Maurer

CHOPPED!

Lasers and smoke come on. The crowd cheers CHOPPED, CHOPPED, CHOPPED. There’s still a blood stain on stage from the butcher last week. Elon comes out, he’s looking like he’s in traditional golf clothes.

Elon: Hello and welcome to -

Crowd: CHOPPED

Elon: This week was brutal, so much of the league did not live up to their potential, the competition is getting hot! Alas, it was one of the week’s favorite…. He looks at the card and pretends like he knows how to say the name… uh, Ram-, uh Ram-ear-o was CHOPPED leaving behind players like Lamar Jackson, Gibbs, Karen Williams, Garret Wilson, and Javante Williams.

Elon: See you next week on -

Crowd: CHOPPED!

A German electronic band rises onto stage and it speaks to Elons robotics little sparks come out of his butt and his knee joints and he short circuits. The stage hands run in and pick him up like a mannequin.

Matchup Selector

Orenthal James Simpson v. Hiff Clangers

• 0%OJ Simpson
• 0%Hiff Clangers

Scumper’s Thumpers v Deanith

• 0%Scumpers Thumpers
• 0%Deanith

Milky Cream Dream Team v. Cavinder Boobs

• 0%Milky Cream Dream Team
• 0%Cavinder Boobs

Squirtin Manning v Daddy

• 0%Squitin Manning
• 0%Daddy

The Tylenol Bandits v The Underachievers

• 0%The Tylenol Bandits
• 0%The Underachievers

Diddler v Big Kupp Hunters

• 0%Diddler
• 0%Big Kupp Hunters

Fantasy Meme of the Week