The unlikely fart face (AP)

You might have noticed on this blog that I rarely use strong curse language. But OH MY HOLY DOO-DOO!

Did you SEE?????? My little brother - or should I say “my hero!” stopped Dick Lips from winning the Super Bowl (and becoming the greatest quarterback of his generation)!

And did you see how he did it? Boy, I have a hangover. And the guys on ESPN won’t shut up. But here’s a recap:

So, there I was … Watching the so-called Big Game alone, in a dark creepy corner of a stadium box. Wasted out of my GOURD. Ash pissed at me. Daddy and Momma shaking their heads at me. Watching Dick Lips win again. Watching Eli pork himself in the butthole again. Watching my hopes of being the best quarterback of this generation go down the drain with another sack of Eli at third and five with little time remaining …

And that little dork brain somehow how ESCAPED from the sack! Just like he used to escape from me when I tried to stick his face in cat piss! And he threw the ball down the field and completed an awesome pass! And that led to the winning touchdown!

This past week, I found out something about myself: I love being a football fan. It’s, like, way better than being a football player because you can get wasted and watch all the beer commercials. Hey, beer commercials are funny! I never knew that. And the Super Bowl has a bunch of beer commercials! Heaven!

I want to write a beer commercial. They should do one about farts. Like, you have two dudes sitting on a couch, right? And one of them farts and the other one is like, “Dude! Just for that, you need to go fetch me a Bud Light!”

How funny would that be. And then the guy comes back with the Bud Light, and as soon as he hands it to his friend, his friend farts! Haha! But right at that moment, another guy comes in with a lit cigar, which ignites the stinky gas, and the whole room goes up in purple flames. And they’re all standing there, burnt in a funny way, and the one dude says, “Dude, I asked for a BUD Light.” Then they all laugh.

Wait, this could be a movie.

Hey look, Eli admits I’m a great actor.

You know, I kinda like that kid when he’s not being a Super Bowl quarterback.

But the Homo-Hammy editors at NewsGroper.com have asked that, instead of firebombing the nation (and Tom Brady) with a Nuclear Fart before the Super Bowl, I act as a reporter for them for the rest of Super Bowl Week. OK. I can do that.

Here’s something the reporters didn’t get out of Eli on Super Bowl Media Day: When he was a littler snot than he is now, he had the hots for Britney Spears:

All the proof needed

The little perv would put on that video when Britney was skinny and wearing a hooker skirt in school hallways, and the kid would lick the television. Sometimes when Momma wanted the TV dusted, she would put on that video and call Eli into the room.

Did you see what happened at Media Day yesterday? A Mexican lady in a veil, a white mini-wedding dress, and red pumps proposed to Dick Lips. Who was that Mexican lady?

Well, I have it on an inside source that it was …. ME! How did you think I was going to march into Media Day with plans to assassinate Tom Brady with a nuclear fart, without being noticed?

The answer I came up with - Brady is dating Gisele, who is Mexican or something. That means he likes Mexicans. That means I will dress up as a Mexican woman and ask him to marry me at Media Day. When he says yes, I will approach him for a kiss and fart-bomb him.

Associated Press

It’s D-Day Or, in Hammy terms, it’s Media Day at the Super Bowl. Surrender the Super Bowl to me now, World, or else I will unleash the hellfire of farts. There will be no Super Bowl without Peyton Manning.

Meanwhile, The New York Times reported in an article what I already told you here: Eli is homo-rific. What an awesome article! To freaking wit:

• Me and Cooper ruled the dinner table growing up, and Eli was the quiet one … because he’s a homo.
• Daddy is quoted saying this about Momma and Eli: “They have that special bond that you see between mamas and their baby boys.” Wait a minute: I thought I was Momma’s Boy. And I thought Eli was his Big Brother’s Boy.
• Eli has Momma’s taste in antiques … When did they go shopping for antiques? I didn’t even know Momma did anything besides cook my dinner.

Hello, World. This is Peyton Manning. I told you. I told you Tom Brady was a gay girlie man, and you didn’t believe me. I told you that he and his butt-buddy coach cheated, and you didn’t care.

Now, as the Super Bowl fast approaches, I am faced with a grim circumstance: Either Brady will win the Super Bowl this Sunday, finish the season undefeated, and become the greatest QB of his generation, or my goober-faced little brother Eli will win.

These are not viable options for me. It is under these stressful conditions that I tell you, World of Hammys, that I am in possession of a Nuclear Fart, and I am willing to use it.

For the past weekend, I have been eating nothing but Momma’s chicken wings and drinking Daddy’s PBR. Morning, noon, and night. And though I have experienced some anal leakage, I have kept myself from going to the bathroom or even letting out the tiniest squib of a fart.

Associated Press

Daddy never laughs like that when I win (AP)

So, Eli’s been hiding from me in his room. He’s afraid I’m going to beat him up for being in the Super Bowl. He’s right. But because he’s hiding, that means I can’t force him to take part in my assassination attempts on Tom Brady. But I do know that the little dingbat reads this blog. Don’t you, Eli?

Dude, listen to me. If Tom Brady survives my assassination attempts, and if you lose the Super Bowl to him, you do realize, don’t you, that all the cream-sucking media donks out there will be like, “Oh, oh! He’s the best quarterback of his generation! Peyton who? Let’s suck Tom’s knob!”

But if you win, Eli, he will not have his stupid undefeated season to fall back on, and I will be the greatest quarterback of this
generation. It porks me in the butthole to say this, but you are my only hope.

I know you don’t care. But maybe you do care? Maybe I can make it worth your while? Here’s what I’m willing to do if you win the Super Bowl over Dick Lips:

1. I will never fart on your face again (Note: Your forehead is not your face. This is not negotiable.) and I will never again make you lick the butt of any living animal.

Photo by Sean Dreilinger via Flickr

Hold on, I need to think. Because something does not make sense to me.

My name is Peyton Manning. I have thrown for a gazillion yards and a billion touchdowns. I hold NFL records. And it took me 57 years to make it to the Super Bowl, which I won last year. Are you with me so far, all you Hammys out there?

Eli Manning is my faggy little brother. He’s, like, 10 years old? And he’s thrown for 27 yards in his career? And he licks cow butts? And he’s been in the NFL for five seconds?

Photo by polyartgirl via Flickr

You know what I like about Brett Favre, aside from the fact that he hates Tom “Dick Lips” Brady as much as I do? I like that he scares the holy poop out of Eli. And he enjoys it.

I remember last year, 4th of July, we invited the Favres over to our compound for a cookout. Me and Brett were throwing the football around. Brett saw Eli standing nearby and said, “Hey, Eli, wanna toss the ball around with us?”

Eli got all excited and said, “Sure!” So Eli jumps in and Brett throws him the ball, and then Eli turns to me and throws the ball and - BLAM!!!! BLAM!!!! BLAM!!!! Eli’s ball dropped to the ground, filled with holes. Eli looked at Brett - he was holding a shotgun.