Postgame Aftermath: Lord, Help Us

[Holmgren enters room full of reporters]

Well, we didn't get it done today.

There were a few bright spots. I thought Julius ran the ball well. The offensive line played pretty good, for the most part. We were able to get to the quarterback, although not enough apparently. Bumpus got more punt return yards than Forsett, that has to feel good to the guys upstairs. And considering the situation at receiver - oh, my goodness - I thought our guys battled hard for most of the game.

On the flip side, I thought Brian Russell - bless his heart - played like a man possessed. A man possessed by care-bears, that is. And Kelly Jennings is getting picked on like a puppy in a cage full of monkeys. And What The Fuck is up with the defensive play calling? Marshall and I will have to talk. Blitzing with 53 men just doesn't work.

[Art Theil, raising hand] Ummm, Mr. Holmgren, soo, what is going on in your mind about the desperate situation at wide receiver? Now that Seneca and Payne have also been added to your list of injuries at the position?

[Holmgren].......


[Theil] Mr. Holmgren? Hello? Mike? What do you make of the receiver situation?

[Holmgren] .............

[Clare Farnsworth] Do you think your receiver position is cursed? Kinda like bad mojo?



[Steve Kelly] Oooh! He lookth aaaaaangry!

[Holmgren] You raise an interesting point. I mean, what if they are cursed? My goodness! How do we game plan for that?

[Reporters busily write on their scratchpads] ....

[Holmgren] Shoot. Honest to goodness, that is a terrible thought. Say - are any of you close to God?

[Mike Sando and John Clayton, simultaneously] I'm close to God. Have you seen my work?

[Holmgren] No, no, I mean like personally close. Where you talk and pray and see visions and stuff.

[Reporters] ........................

[Holmgren] Never mind. Please bow your heads with me.

Dear God,

Whose COCK do I have to SUCK to catch a BREAK AROUND HERE!?!?!?


[Sounds of pencils hitting floor]


I MEAN, JEEZUZ CHRIST!!! ARE WE CURSED?!?!


[Reporters look at each other, aghast. Sando and Clayton run out of the room. Theil hides under a chair.]


HOW ARE YOU GOING TO HELP US THROUGH THIS GODFORSAKEN... ABORTION... OF A SEASON?!?!?!


[Lights go out. Windows to outside darken. Loud sound of thunder, shaking the walls]






[God, voice thundering] M I C H E A L .


[Holmgren] God!


[God] M I C H E A L .


[Holmgren] God!


[God] M I C H E A L .


[Holmgren] God!


[God] ..........


[Holmgren] ..........


[God] Y O U   H A D   A   Q U E S T I O N ?


[Holmgren] Umm, oh, yeah... uhhhh....


[God] S P I T   I T   O U T ,   I   D O N ' T   H A V E   A L L   D A Y .


[Holmgren] Yeah, ummm, I was thinking about all our adversity with injuries and stuff, and goodness, just wondering if, ummm.....


[God] Y E S ?


[Holmgren] Think you might be able to help a little? [Flinches]


[God] W H Y   T H E   H E L L   D O   Y O U   T H I N K   I   H A V E   Y O U   P L A Y I N G   T H E   R A M S   N E X T   S U N D A Y ,   A N D   T H E N   T H E   B Y E   W E E K   A F T E R   T H A T ?     W H A T   D O   Y O U   W A N T ,   A   G O D - D A M N   M I R A C L E ?   J E E S U Z ! ! !


[God leaves room. Lights come on.]



[Everyone, sitting in stunned silence] ........



[Farnsworth] Mike...?



[Holmgren, still stunned] Huh?



[Farnsworth] Your appearance......!



[Holmgen] What?

[Kelly] You look fabulousth!

.

According to Ichiro: How to Do When You Are Panic

When favorite team has bad opening game, is like whiffle ball bat to man-peanuts. At first, there is feeling if pain and bending over with agony and hold breath. Then there is sick stomach and groaning. Then anger and sick stomach move away to make room for anger.

Anger can make man-peanut injury victim stupid. He can have anger at person with whiffle bat, or he can grow fear of whiffle bat and flinch at sight, or he can keep control and kill whiffle enemy with outstanding skill and fury of hanbo to enemy groin. Yes, hanbo to enemy groin. To quote legend video game, "FINISH HIM!!!" This make you win at end. But you must be master of anger.

Hello, I am Ichiro Suzuki. I am your outstanding wise guide to fan of Seahawks. I help you understand meaning of winning and losing and sometimes sexy things. Today I help you in special way of not being panic of bad game and losing injury of weak players and chopping away players that are bad with team.

Not Being Panic of Bad Game

There are many excuse for bad game. No excuse is good. Forget excuse for loss.

"It was 10:00 road game." Panda-poop.

"Hasselbeck has not practice with team." Yak-smegma.

"Branch and Engram not playing." Double-Dragon felch spittle.

Excuse make player weak. Excuse make fan weak. Excuse make anger weak, and vengence weak. Excuse teaches bad game is acceptable show of weakness. Sense of self weakness makes panic.

I give you example. If sexy geisha girl has not shave legs and bushy baboon cooter, you get surprise disappointment. If she make excuse, "I have long day washing your ninja suits," you do not accept. Geisha must be like glistening-white smooth patty-cake sex machine. If you do accept, you will have many prickly night in future. Many prickly night in future makes warrior go through trouble of looking for new geisha any horny panic looking for right geisha all over again. Horny panic makes warrior weak.

So do not accept excuse.

Not being panic losing injury of weak players

Many players of Seahawks lost games for injury. Do not become panic! What good will be panic? There are more players. Fresh players fight very hard for short time. They will be injure also. Just keep send more bodies like China. Just keep fight. Many will be lost. Did you thought Seahawks would not lose player with injury? No! Then do not become panic. All teams will lose players. Keep fight. The last team with fight will be champion.

Not being panic chopping away players bad for team

You do not send child into war, do you? "But he is good with bo staff. He beat up neighbor children like no child ever before today," you do not say. You will not send him to battle with growed-ups.

Some players this year are like pimply children not ready for real battle. Forsett and Kent beat up neighbor children on playground of preseason, and may be future warriors. But today they are weakness. They must be chopped away until ready.

This is also like young geisha in training. She may be of 14 years and have full lips, ample boobies, and eat banana in one swallow. but you DO NOT GO THERE. Just wait until ready. Then you will have crazy yummy sex. But you must wait.

And not panic.

Will Dick Nolan Help His Son's Team From Beyond The Grave?

We here at 12 Seahawks Street revel in analyzing the obscure, going where no sane person dare to tread. This might mean telling you the truth about some sensitive matters, occasionally exploring the gayness of certain players, the fundamental stupidity of NFL managment, and even the crossing of Seahawks and spirituality.

Once again, as your trusted Seattle Seahawks spiritual advisor, we delve into the supernatural, bringing you hyper-glowing enlightenment, guaranteed to make your game bets safe*.

One item of note: 12 Seahawks Street is non-denominational, meaning everyone is right! Diverse views will be expressed, and, of course, they all will prove true.

On to the current topic: Will recently departed Dick Nolan wield his influence from the afterlife, affecting the outcome of 49ers @ Seahawks? Let's examine the issue from several theological angles:

Family Circusism

You know the story -- Billy's grandpa dies. His looming ghost does cute little things from heaven, and is readily involved in the day-to-day affairs of the family--especially the grandson, Jeffy. One problem with this scenario -- the deceased grandfather in The Family Circus appears, albeit in heaven, to be in the same old, gray, wretched condition that he was at the time of death.

This notion does not bode well for the Nolans, for the elder coach suffered late in life from Alhezeimer's. One could only imagine what dunderheaded meddling would occur if 'pops' decided to intervene tonight, given his condition. Causing fumbles on the wrong team, making the wrong guys trip--heck, he may not even recognize his son and strike him blind.

Expect a lot of sloppy play in this matchup.

Shazamism

The most awesome of all these thoelogies, Shazamism invloves the central character procuring super powers and existential wisdom from a bunch of Greek gods, and one dead Bible character named Solomon. He runs around with an old dude in a Winnebago and looks flashy by contrast.

How does this apply in this matchup? Look for Mike Nolan to seek guidance from his dead father, and get it. But don't be surprised if he fails at first, because there are lots of life lessons in this gig that he just has to learn from himself (all within 30 minutes, of course.) Not to mention the hedonistic influence of the rivals spirits -- those Greek gods were such selfish, manipulative pricks -- and likewise, I'm sure dead dudes like George Halas, Vince Lombardi, and Tom Landry will give the Nolans a wild ride.

Mike Nolan will be confused and pissed tonight, should this hold true.

God Healed My Footism

One of the more bothersome of the -isms, God Healed My Footism gathers complexity when the opponent has spirits on his side, too.

Take Shaun Alexander. God healed his foot last season, and he ran through Green Bay's defense on Monday night like they were cheese. And as long as Shaun has faith, high goals and works hard, there is no reason he shouldn't be able to rush for 2,000 yards and score 40 touchdowns this season.

This creates a huge obstacle for the 49ers - basically it forces Mike Nolan to have more faith than Alexander if he wants to have any hope of winning. And given his newfound incentive to believe in the afterlife, he may just do it.

***BREAKING NEWS***

Shaun Alexander has lost faith, and he is out for tonight's game with a knee injury.

Ohhhh... Shit.

Wonder Womanism

This one really has nothing to do with anything. I just found this bitchin' clip of some dude doing exactly what I wanted to do to Wonder Woman when I was seven years old. Pretty much all I knew about foreplay at the time. In fact, if any of the girls at school remember me, this was pretty much our regular routine at recess. Yes, I got sent to the office a lot.

Ahhh, the prepubescent boners of yesteryear...

Well, I hope I was a helpful guide. Enjoy the game.

*For entertainment purposes only. Do not place bets based on this information. That would be stupid.

Prophecy and Blasphemy for the 49ers Game

1: The word of Bloof.
2: Hear this, ye old screaming fans, and give ear, all ye inhabitants of the hawks nest. Hath this been in your seasons, or even in the seasons of your fathers?
3: Tell ye your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children another generation.
4: That which Alexander hath left, Morris shall run; and that which LeRoy Hill hath left, Bentley will tackle; and that which the Holmgren hath left, Walrii shall gnash sardines.
5: Awake, ye drunkards, and weep; and howl, all ye drinkers of Bud; for it is not enough to help you forget.
6: For a lameass team is come up upon our stadium, weak, and with injuries, whose teeth are the teeth of an Englishman, and he hath the mouth parts of a great homosexual.
7: He hath laid our Kevin Bentley to waste, and rammed the ball through his pensive assignment: he hath made a driveway, and trodden through it; the tackles thereof have been ankle biters.
8: Lament like a virgin penetrated by the husband of her youth.
9: Be ye ashamed, O ye 12th man; howl, O ye bloggers, for the days of Knox; because the harvest of 2000 draft is perished.
10: The running back is dried up, and the offensive line languisheth; the great left tackle, the leader at center, and hall of fame fullback, even all the touchdown celebrations, are withered: because joy is withered away from the running game.
11: Gird yourselves, and lament, ye fans: howl, ye holders of the 12th man flag; come, lie all night in the parking lot, ye tailgaters of my team: for the meat offering and the drink offering is withholden from the house of Qwest.
12: Sanctify ye a fast, call a solemn assembly, gather the bloggers and all the forum dwellers of the land into the house of the 12th man, and cry aloud unto the field,
13: Alas for the day! for the day of the Seahawks is at hand, and as a destruction from the NFC West champs shall it come.
14: Is not the crimson and gold homosexuals cut off before our eyes, yea, joy and gladness from the house of our team?
15: The scrotum is rotten under their groin, their manhood is laid desolate, the fags are bewildered; for the penis is withered.
16: How do the 49ers groan! the quarterback is perplexed, because he has no clue; yea, the starting left tackle is injured.
17: The remaining left tackle of the field cry also unto thee: for he is a pussy, and he will be facing Tapp and Peterson.
18: Glory be unto our team. That is, of course, unless we have fourth and one.

Cheer Up, Charlie - You've Got a Golden Ticket

I just have a tiny bit to say about the Charlie Frye trade: He's coming from an abysmal situaltion in Cleveland. His line sucks, the coaching sucks, (they pick their starter with coin flip? IDIOTS!!!) the city sucks, and he would eventually be replaced by an ambiguously gay Brady Quinn.

Now he's going to a legit Super Bowl contender, the best QB-mentoring head coach in the business (with three hall of fame students in his wake), and just the right amount of time behind the 1st and 2nd string QB's in front of him to develop into a damn fine, prepared QB.

I had this idea to point out the similarities between Charlie Frye and Charlie the lame orphan kid that takes over a whole fucking chocolate factory, but I got sidetracked when I found this classic clip you see below.

It's much better than anything I had to write anyway.

Here's to Frye making the best of this golden freaking opportunity!

Shaun Alexander, Songwriter for Jesus

Maybe you've heard--Shaun Alexander loves his church. So much, according to the Federal Way Mirror, he wrote a song. He even gave a speech:

Willis pointed to one church member that the congregation is particularly proud of — Seattle Seahawks running back Shaun Alexander.

Alexander wrote a song celebrating the church’s first service and spoke to the congregation.

“We will change the world with this church,” Alexander said.

This gathering was not without controversy. Pastor Casey Treat, leader of the Christian Faith Center where Alexander spoke, had his share of protesters outside.

“We do not believe that Christian Faith Center represents the true gospel of Jesus Christ,” said Mark, who declined to give his last name. “We believe in following the Bible... Casey Treat cherry-picks Scripture and he twists it.”

Lazaro Lopez said he was protesting because he believes Casey Treat is duping his congregation into making him rich. He noted Treat’s luxury vehicles and frequent helicopter rides.

This is just sad. Can't a fella start a church, bring in some celebs, get a massive following by developing a party-like atmoshphere, and live the high life anymore?

Surviving the Off Season with No NFL Network

Hello, there! I used to post here on a regular basis. Alba once called me a blogging diva. And if Alba says it, it must be true. Then, I retired, I guess. Now, like Michael Jordon and Mario Lemiuex, I am back.

Like most of you, I’m going through some serious football withdrawals here. I mean, if I’m actually happy that Team USA beat Brazil in the U20 FIFA World Cup, you know there’s some serious lack of awesomeness in the sports world.

Unlike most of you though, I do not have NFL Network. Nor do I have the means to do so. I’m not quite a college graduate, living at home, with not a lot of money. Basically, I’m like most bloggers out there. I must go without NFL Network for one more off-season. So, I present to you: Alan’s Guide to Surviving Without God’s Gift to Television.

10:30 am- Wake up. High five oneself for getting up before noon. Unemployment has some upsides.

11:00 am- Read sports section and funnies while eating breakfast. Some Bengal gets arrested, possibly in Garfield or NFL Notebook. Can’t remember. I undoubtedly have Wheat Chex: the best flavor of Chex. Do not disagree with this.

Noon: Shower? Might as well.

Noon-thirty: Turn on TV, check channel that NFL Network would be on to see if maybe I’ve done something to appease the pagan gods and I get NFL Network for one day.

Noon-thirty-one: I knew I should have sacrificed that goat.

12:45 Go online…hope for some big breaking story at Seahawk Blue.

12:50 Happy birthday Piratesloth…not quite big breaking news. Continue to poke around Blue, end up leaving post in Sonics forum that makes fun of Clay Bennett. Look longingly at Seahawks forum and remember the days when a Jeremy Stevens joke was gold. As Cream sang, “Those were the days, yes they were, those were the days.”

1:00 Go to Sando’s blog. Not sure whether to trust Frank Hughes. Miss Sando.

1:05 Wonder if Sando will team up with Salisbury to get John Clayton.

1:07 Invent Battle Royal style tournament for all ESPN NFL Analysts. Decide I would totally watch it. Stuart Scott would undoubtedly host. Whose f***ing Now, ESPN?

1:09 Realize I am eight billionth person on Earth to make fun of the “Whose Now” series. Don’t care.

2:00 Attempt to watch Arena Football…bitch to TV that the AFL is still gimmicky like it was five years ago when I honestly thought it could make it big. Wonder how I could be so dumbtarded.

2:15 Slowly and sadly realize that given my desire to go into sports casting, I will probably have to pretend to care about Arena Football for three hours each week at some point. Contemplate becoming a hand model.

2:30 Please, let there be Seahawk news….Damnit.

3:00 Go to store to find something lunch-ish, come across football preview magazines.

3:30 Baffle myself and only buy one college football magazine. Read through Pac-10 predictions at home, say mean things about USC. They win everything.

4:00 Check back to NFL Network…still a black screen.

5:00 Happy hour! Except the house is out of bourbon…and rum. What the hell? The parentals need to get on that.

Till 6:00: Wish I had a breathalyzer to see if I could get closer to legal limit without going over than Tank Johnson.

6:01: Briefly think I could take Tank Johnston in fight. Then realize, he carries 40 guns at him at one time.

7:00 Dinner. Sadly, no NFL News.

7:30 Read some random power rankings. WHAT?!?!? They have the JETS ahead of the Seahawks?!? That guy knows nothing about football...he should be commentating AFL games. Wish I had something unbreakable to throw.

7:35 Go to Blue, find thread about said Power rankings. Put in token “Its only preseason polls/who cares what they say anyway” post. Take holier than thou approach to people who seem genuinely upset about the rankings.

8:00 Thank God its not Thursday, don’t have to watch Grey’s Anatomy.

8:15 Go to KSK, realize its weekend and they have no new material. Reread the Friday Cheerleader post for about twenty minutes.

8:35 Start to get excited for the next Michael Vick off-season adventure.

9:00 Two hours till Adult Swim…two hours till Adult Swim…Watch SportsCenter. There is very little NFL News.

9:35 When the Whose Now subject comes on, succumb to dark side and put betting lines on my Battle Royal. Best bet is Steve Young to be knocked out in the first round. I decide I like Tom Jackson to win it by jacking someone up, and Michael Irvin to get distracted by some cocaine. Jaws will breakdown film afterwards.

10:30 Half hour till Adult Swim! If you haven’t watched Adult Swim on Cartoon Network, then you desire to golf with Osama bin Laden.

10:45 Check once more for NFL News, nothing interests me.

11:00 Adult Swim! Grab beers, watch cartoons.

2:00 a.m.-Adult Swim goes to Anime mode. Weak. Go online, see if Pacman Jones was at a strip club earlier.

2:30 a.m.-No evidence suggests he was, but I have my doubts. The nation’s strippers are safe for another night.

3:00 a.m.-Bed. Pray that planets align in some weird way to bring me NFL Network tomorrow.

4:30 a.m.: Dream about having NFL Network. Greatest dream ever. Wait…is Jennifer Gardner turning on my 100 inch plasma HDTV with her titties? GREATEST. DREAM. EVER.

5:00 a.m.-Wake up right before best part. Audibly curse. Go back to bed, have dreams that are nowhere near as awesome. Like the Seahawks winning the Super Bowl.

5:30 a.m. OK, the Super Bowl Championship was a good dream to, I reason with myself. But, well, NFL Network…gigantic TV…titties…sigh. That dream was awesome.

10:30 a.m. Wake up, mark one day off the calendar till training camp.

Bootleg Shannon Sharpe Sex Video

Oh, dear lord. He was such a fine player. 815 catches for 10,060 yards, and now his life has come to this - getting hand jobs on Youtube.

Wait, maybe it's not Sharpe. It's hard to tell with him foaming at the mouth so much, and the indirect camera shots to his face. Then again, maybe it's Eugene Robinson. He's a slut.



Pretty impressive the fluffer has to wear a helmet, huh?

The NFL According to Ichiro: New York Giants

In the coming weeks before training camp, 12 Seahawks Street will feature a season preview of your favorite NFL team, courtesy of everyone's Favorite Quotable Japanese Major League Baseball Player With a Seriously High Batting Average, Ichiro Suzuki. Last week, he pulled the kimono from the Indianapolis Colts. This week, he brings the Giants down to size.

In offseason, your favorite NFL team is like new electronic toy. You look at shiny box and crazy commercial. You talk to salesman is store. It sound like new toy will make you very happy and give amazing fun. But then you open box and play with shiny toy but it sucks donkey shit and shoots sparks and you lose eye.

How can you know if fancy toy is good or not? It helps to hear the very strong opinion from person with special insight and no favoritism. The person open box and check out toy for you, so you know if is good happy fun, or fucked up waste of yen.

Hello, I am Ichiro Suzuki, and I am your guide for up coming NFL season, telling you what teams will be good or bad so you know what to expect, not like surprise shitty toy causing blindness. This week I open box of New York Giants.

Last Season:Finished 8-8; 3-5 at home (yuk); 5-3 on the road (huh?); and 4-2 in the division. Finished 3rd in division with no playoff prospect.

New York is very strange team. If you listen to hype before last season, you think Giants are impressive dynasty, like Hirohito. But really they are average shithead, like joe garbage man with bitchy wife, mangy dog and pregnant children on drugs.

Why are the Giants of American football so dwarf of accomplishment? They seem so full of talent. The answer lies in their infantile leadership.

You would think quarterback on professional football team would be leader. But Eli Manning has discipline of drunken motherless two year old. Sure, he is fantastic in fourth quarter. But where the hell is he for first three? No discipline. He also can throw the ball nice for lot of time, but then for no reason he will lob one like flushed waterfowl with epilepsy. Definitely not leadership type.


Then you have great talent at tight end with Jeremy Shockey. He make great plays that show up on ESPN. Unfortunately, his stupid mouth show up on ESPN, too. Definitely not leadership type.

Don't even talk to me about Plaxico Burress. Another great talent, but if downs off were days off, he would be unemployed hobo living in Cleveland. Definitely not leadership type.

Michael Strahan is very good player, gives strong effort. But spending much time publicly arguing with estranged wife over recent activites of penis is tiresome, especially if she says it was stuffing the pooper of another man. This is fucked up shit, definitely not valiant leader type.

Jay Feeley sucks in clutch. Missing three possible game winning goals in one game tells me he has sparrow eggs for testicles. Definitely not leader type. Not even follower type.

This leaves them with Antonio Pierce for leadership. Big huge, squinty YAWN.

Without any new leaders coming up this season, the Giants will just get worse. When going get tough this season, Giants will wilt like hundred year old dick.

My Own Very Strong Prediction: 7-9 (and I'm being generous); third place in division.

Check back again for more great insight from me, Ichiro Suzuki.

Budweiser, Ex-Lax, and Blueberries

Yeah, I'm a pretty good shot.

http://kissmesuzy.blogspot.com/2007/06/we-want-you-we-want-you-we-want-you-as.html

Rumor: Odell Thurman In Party Clash With Guns

Dear lord, not again.

With Leather received a hot tip that Odie may be in trouble again. He confirmed it with a phone call, and now we have confirmed the incident on Youtube (Not suitable for work):

Secret Special Letter From The Desk of NFL Commissioner Richie Cunningham

299 Carroll St # A
Brooklyn, NY 11231


Pittsburgh Steelers
% Offensive Line Coach Larry Zierlein
100 Art Rooney Ave
Pittsburgh, PA 15212


Dear Larry,

It has recently come to my attention that you have publicly apologized for e-mailing a video showing a mommy and a daddy sharing a special kind of hug.

While I think it is very cool that you are a standup guy and you may be embarassed or uncomfortable about accidentally sharing these special private moments with all the other guys, I am here to tell you that it's A-OK, buck-o. What you're experiencing is just a natural, healthy exploration of your special private parts, and the funny feeling you get when you sleep on your stomach or cllimb a gym rope -- that's all part of growing up.

You see, I understand. When I first started to get these feelings, it was when Joannie and I were drying off after taking a bath. She dried me off first, and I got that funny feeling. Then she sat on my lap while I dried off her back. You know that part of you down there that gets all hard like it has a bone in it? It 'accidentally' went into her pooper. I just kept drying and drying and drying and drying, but then we had to stop for dinner.

Things were really strange after that. It was all I could think about. I got huge callouses on my hands from the gym rope, and we got really good at drying each other off. That is, until she met Chachi, then we didn't do it anymore.

That is when I met Lori Beth. With her, I learned so many new and special things. I had no idea that a surpressed gag reflex, getting things shoved up your pooper, asphyxiation, whippings, felching, rodents, paper towel tubes, surgical tubing, body paint, clothespins, coat hangars, handlebar grips, crochet hooks, brillo pads, feather dusters, 9 volt batteries, broken chair legs, fishbowls, corkscrews, and all those other things could be so harrowingly fun. I'll never forget the time I woke up to her pissing on me. Fonzy laughed, tackled her, and the next hour or so was a blur of flesh, leather, body waste, and dapper dan.

I guess what I'm trying to say is don't worry, buck-o. This is all natural, normal stuff. Feel free to send me more. Really. Anything you got. Lori Beth has one request, though -- she was wondering if you had anything interracial or in public places.

Have a great season. Tell Art he still owes me money for XL.


Sincerely,

Richie Cunningham
NFL Commissioner


P.S. Go Giants!