Brett Favre, you fucking suck. The entire state of Wisconsin and some loyal fans outside the Cheddar Walls built you, you fuck. Remember when you threatened to retire after 1997's big Super Bowl win? I do. Broke my heart, but I remember, as much as a 7th grader can, thinking - good for you. Go out in style. Remember when you threatened to retire a few years later, after your dad passed away? We were right there with you. Remember when you cheated on your cancer survivor wife and we still loved you? Do you remember when you came out as being addicted to pain killers and we said, "At least it's not coke?" DO YOU REMEMBER?
And then, you finally did it. You really retired. We were so proud to have had you, and so sad to let you go. But we knew you needed to do it. Spend time with the family. Endorse shit. Spread the love. Ohhh but then you came back out of retirement. We wouldn't have you. This is like the story of the boy who cried. Not cried wolf, just cried, "I'm a little bitch, and you need me. So you'll have me or I'll show you!" With the Jets? Really, you tried to show us with the Jets. Well lookie here bucko - sure, they had a great season with you, but Rogers rocked Lambeau. We can survive without you.
Now, one year henceforth, you're pulling the same old shit again. The Vikings are wooing you, and even they know that its a grudge match in the end. You're starting to seem like the dirty cousin who just got out of rehab and needs $1,000 to pay his rent/car payment/ coke habit. And the Vikings are going to loan the cash, because they really think you've got your shit together this time. And you can throw the shit out of a football, and lord knows they need you.
All I can say is, if I see the number 4 on a purple jersey... I don't care who's wearing it, they're going up in flames.
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