I nominate Andre Reed for Head Coach

[post modern age]

Andre looks tremendous in his slick blue suit and is a entertaining gateway analyst on ESPN's hit television morning show "Cold Pizza".

 

His exceptionally traditional end zone dances and harsh, unforgiving theories on the Buffalo organization after his departure are exactly what this organization needs.

 

I nominate Darryl Talley for defensive coordinator. He is an excellent speaker who is completely and absolutely intelligent and reminds me of days when frizzy mullets and complaining about not being voted an All-Pro were admirable in comparison to the coke-peddling gun-wielding thugs of today like Raymond Lewis who shoot up steroids in between plays.

 

I nominate Billy Joe Hobert for offensive coordinator. He is an excellent study and has proven time and time again that he spends exhaustive hours in the film room and buried in his playbook.

 

I nominate myself for Special Teams coach. Even I would look good coaching this group.

 

For offensive line coach, I nominate Vern Troyer. My theory here is that a barking, belligerent overweight imitation of Chris Farley did not work and now an undersized elder who could be devoured by an offensive linemen at any given time have both failed. So why not a righteous midget?

 

To coach the running backs, I nominate Thurman Thomas. Thurman can go about his business of buzz-cutting creative doo-dads in the sides of his running back crew's top-hat afros and then explaining to them the importance of only getting drunk and how going farther, such as having consentual sex with minors or repeatedly declaring yourself the best running back on the face of the planet and then crapping are both wrong.

 

For the Linebackers and Secondary Coaches, I nominate Dick Butkus and Ray Crockett because their ability to take a high school team and soup them up with overpriced commercial knick-knacks and shiny new uniforms so that they could go get their asses handed to them by the HGH popping opponents IN STYLE for ESPN was fantastic. I loved watching Ray Crockett twirl like a ballerina in angst when some high school player dropped a pass.

 

For general manager I nominate Rush Limbaugh, because, in between his bouts of popping vicatin and peddling coke whores through his Floridian abodes, he has the time to deceive us by making up facts and allowing me to live in a jolly, wholesome hopeful wonderland that denies the benefits of tangible results in favor of countless year of selfish rhetoric. Because I certainly haven't had that enough from One Bills Drive and that is the answer.