How to Rob

Rob Parker, the new spokesman for sour grape soda.

Wannabe Patriots fan Rob Parker, the new spokesman for sour grape soda.



Like all fans of sports talk shows, I’m certainly never looking forward to any of the invariably irritating appearances from King of the Cornball Brothers, Rob Parker.  After the Super Bowl when Trump’s Secretary of Ugz Tom Brady broke like ninety records I just had to see his ridiculous response though, because his deep-seated hatred of white Boston teams would never allow him to register reality.  Sure enough, true to form Parker glossed over the historic win and instead christened Brady not as what even his most biased of detractors grudgingly accept, the G.O.A.T., but as something he calls “The L.O.A.T.” instead.  No, that doesn’t stand for Parker personally as “Lying Outta Ass Terribly”, it’s his rather pitiful branding of Brady as the “Luckiest Of All Time.”  Going from the 199th pick to seven Super Bowl appearances and a super model wife probably qualified him for that title already, but Parker’s so-called analysis is biased to the point where he can no longer be taken serioisly.  Or rather, he can continue his long career of not being taken seriously.

Parker makes professional troll Skip Bayless look fair and balanced.  Look, we all have our own personal sports heroes and villians, that’s natural.  It’s also natural to skew your arguments accordingly.  That’s what the fuck sports talk is: a buncha biased bozos blabbing about why their favorite team or player is the best—facts be damned.  But once you’ve been served a steady diet of all-you-can-eat crow buffets for fifteen straight years, such desperate clinging is no longer amusing.  It’s pathetic.  It’s actually got to the point that I don’t think Parker even believes his half-baked hooey any more.  That’s why he can’t spout his piss-poor Patriots proclamations without without smirking like a six year-old trying to plead his case whilst elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

Years ago I hated Oscar De La Hoya and Lennox Lewis more than any human beings on earth.  Still, by the end of their careers, both guys had fought practically everybody, they’d both suffered defeats and came back stronger more than once, and their greatness was no longer in any conceivable doubt.  In short, they had won me over.  Sheeeit, I even rooted for their asses in their final few bouts, which a few years before would have been like rooting for Al Qaeda against The Twin Towers.  That’s one of the beauties of sports, as explained by Yogi Berra’s famous rambling, “It ain’t over til it’s over.”  That boozy wisdom doesn’t just pertain to the contests themselves but the careers of the athletes who participate in them.  They’re not over til they’re over, and an athlete’s legacy is constantly in flux until retirement.  Even after retirement reputations can grow or wane unexpectedly.  As for the forseeable future though, Brady’s reputation as the G.O.A.T. will remain unchallenged for many, many years to come.

Whether racist-ass Rob Parker accepts it or not.


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