You Aren't Worth One to 2,000 Pennies More

Dear Chris Cooley,

 

I was disappointed when I heard that you were cut from the Redskins in the pre-season, but I got over it pretty quickly.  No one wants to see fan favorites go, but watching Sir Robert Griffin the Third and Fred Davis together made everyone forget who you were until poor Davis got hurt.  Instantly, Washington was like, "Where's old Whatshisface?  Cooley! Cooley!  COOOOOOOOOLEY!"  I started Googling you and found a quote about how you thought that the Redskins might re-sign you if something happened to Davis: “If Fred gets hurt or something like that, I think I’d be the guy they sign. I think that.”  I read on to see if you qualified that statement with a "Hopefully he stays fine!" or a "not that I want that to happen," but you didn't.  Kinda mean, Chris.  It makes me feel like you spent the first month of the season watching the games, clutching your little Fred Davis voodoo doll and waiting for the opportune moment to tear his Achilles' tendon and get your position back.  SHADY.

 

Redskins fans love making mascots out of favorite players, though, so everyone was happy to have you back, but you haven't really done anything.  I feel like I got excited for nothing and that's disappointing.  I felt a little better today when I read that you wanted a case of beer after every game to be added to your contract this time around.  That's incredibly stupid.  I'm not even going to roll my eyes at Danny Snyder for not letting it slide when someone could easily sue him and the Redskins organization when you inevitably realize that your career is over, drink all of one of those said cases, get in your much too expensive car and mow down a bunch of fans because why should they live when you can no longer be a gridiron hero?  Also, it's funny that the Redskins were desperate for a tight end but still didn't add, "And $20 for Mr. Cooley to buy a case of some shitty ass Miller Light," to your contract.  You are worth exactly what they are paying you and not one to 2,000 pennies more.

 

Now that Flying Dog is going to supply you with some of their beer, here's who you should share some of it with:

 

Sir Robert Griffin the Third: If I have to tell you why this guy deserves beer, love songs, and papal blessings, you must be comatose in a room that isn't within ten miles of a TV or a radio.  There is no excuse for anyone who doesn't sing this guy's accolades every day.

 

AMMO!  Alfred Morris, affectionately called "Ammo" in my house (Redskins Friend/Housemate coined it) reminds me of Clinton Portis on the field back when he was young and not accident-prone, but this guy doesn't have an ego!  It's amazing!  His car is even shittier than mine!  Give that guy a beer.

 

Santana Moss.  Did you SEE that catch on Sunday?  Just...wow.

 

Kai Forbath, the kicker.  I know, I know.  I hate kickers, but he hasn't screwed up yet.  Give him half a beer because he's not great at kick returns--maybe the incentive of some frothy goodness will give him the motivation that he needs.

 

Phristopher Polumbus--this guy has an awesome name.  Every time that I see the back of his jersey, I laugh at him.  And every time that he gets a false start penalty called on him because he's an idiot, I get to say, "PHRISTOPHER!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"  Say it aloud.  Once you do, you'll forget forever that his real first name is...um...ah...starts with a T?  Oh, forget it.  He should just get his name legally changed.  (Side note: the more that we call him "Phristopher" the more that it sounds like a real name to us.  Redskins Fiance is pulling for us to name a futue child Phristopher, but his last name isn't Polumbus or Pooley, so I will have to veto that.)

 

In the future, if I hear that you're actually on the field for a play, I want to hear that you do something spectacular and noteworthy--especially now that you're getting your beer.

 

Happy Thanksgiving and Good Luck on Thursday,

 

Karen

I Have So Many Emotions

Dear Mike Shanahan,

REMEMBER ME?  I'm sure that my nearly 18-month absence lulled you into a false sense of security.  Perhaps you believed that drafting an absolute stud like Mr. Griffin the Third was enough to silence me, but you were wrong.  As I told Redskins Fiance throughout today's game, I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS and now you get to hear alllllllll about them.  Strap yourself in; it's going to be a long and disturbing ride, just like my experience watching the Redskins lose to the Atlanta Falcons.

To be nice, I'll start with what I like: Alfred Morris.  Like all the previous Alfred's before him, he's a class act and super impressive at his job.  Just like Batman can't eat breakfast in the morning without his Alfred, Mr. Griffin the Third can't be as effective without his own wingman (I mean...we can't expect him to throw the ball to himself--though I'm certain that he'd be good at that if he set his mind to it).  Alfred Morris is amazing.  He reminds me of a young, effective Clinton Portis and everyone knows how much I adored Portis.  This guy is a MONSTER and it's hard to take him down.  One of my favorite things today was watching them play the exact same play over and over again and the Falcons looking surprised that Morris was able to get a first down despite their mediocre efforts.

DeAngelo Hall was surprising, too, since he generally misses tackles and has one good play a game--but today he had at least TWO good plays and I was super proud of him.

Who noticed Sav Rocca's punt within the 5-yard line?  I noticed, I liked, and I almost started regretting my notoriously sour feelings against punters just because they're almost like cousins to kickers..but don't get me STARTED on "Cousins."

He's an unsung hero, but London Fletcher is still a beast in my eyes.  Yes, he had a penalty against him, but how often does he get penalized?  The answer is "not often" because he's really just that great.  Did that one penalty cost us the game?  Of course not.  Kirk Cousins cost us the game, not any one penalty.  But we'll get to that douche canoe later.

Brandon Banks gets a bad rap. He's this little, tiny guy and he's not very effective. Most of the time when he runs with a kick or punt return, he gets stopped at the 20-yard line and EVERYONE is like, "DUDE!  I could do that!  Just take a knee in the End Zone!"  Honestly, I love that he still tries, unlike Antwaan Randle El back in the day.  And today, Brandon Banks had an awesome return that put us in Falcon territory.  He's not a perfect player, but I was proud of his attempts.  I think that he can do more than he has, but he keeps me interested in seeing what he'll do  every week.

Mr. Griffin the Third is...well, it's too soon to call him Saint RGIII unless he actually dies from his probable concussion (the "Saint" title is reserved for real saints and Joe Gibbs).  I love watching this man play football.  He makes me feel like I could be a better person and that poverty could be cured just because of the beauty I see everytime that he pitches the ball to Alfred Morris and we get a first down.  Please get better, Mr. Griffin the Third.  I love AND respect you.

Let's not forget Ryan Kerrigan.  Even Anti-Redskins Best Friend loves this guy and for good reason.  I love that when he caught that interception, he didn't hesitate.  He just got it and ran it in for the touchdown as if he does it all the time when we all know that he doesn't because he's a Redskin and he almost NEVER gets that opportunity. 

Josh Wilson was sometimes good and sometimes bad.  But he's #26, Clinton Portis' number, so I have a a soft spot in my heart for him.  And I expect more than what he did...but he had just enough good plays to keep my mouth shut for another week.

But you know what, Shanahan?  You have problems...two in particular.  The first is Billy Cundiff.  I wasn't willing to overlook last week's dismal 25% field goal completion rate AT ALL, but today was a new game and all I cared about was winning--if it had to be with him on our team, SO BE IT.  Then he missed another field goal.  FOR SERIOUS.  I don't even...I don't understand.    There are no words.  My brain shuts down whenever I try to determine why Cu**f*** (yeah, I made up a name for him) is still on the team.

The second problem is Kirk "Ken Doll" Cousins.  The name "Cousins" gives me a nice warm feeling because I LOVE my cousins and I was pleasantly surprised by his touchdown pass to Santana Moss.  "Oh my God!" I shouted at my TV.  "Kirk Cousins!  He doesn't suck!"  Smiles were seen, wine was poured, and wine was savored (by me--lots of it).  Even if the Redskins offensive line is still terrible, maybe we have a valuable backup in Kirk Cousins!  Though it was like a knife stabbed into my heart to see a dazed Mr. Griffin the Third walk to the locker room to get looked over, I was cautiously excited.  Maybe Cousins was more than just the stupidest fourth round pick than I'd ever seen.

Then he threw an interception.  Suddenly, the game was tied up.  Redskins Fiance tried to convince me that this kid was okay and he'd just had a little bad luck, but I was not quick to agree.  I've been a football fan longer and harder than this guy (I would never agree to marry someone who thought that he was a bigger fan--it would open him up to a world of physical pain every football season when I proved otherwise through cage-fighting) so I know a LITTLE (a lot) more about the game than he does.  I was proven right when Cousins threw yet ANOTHER interception.

Please pass on this message to Kirk Cousins:  I understand that you LOOK like a Ken doll...but are you playing like crap because you have no penis...LIKE A KEN DOLL?  That is my only explanation.  I hope that Barbie can assuage your feelings of impotence tonight, but I don't have high hopes--

Much like the rest of Washington.  Until Mr. Griffin the Third is fully healthy, no one has high hopes.  Please get him back.

Your team's #1 fan,

Karen

I Guess That I Should Thank You

Dear Billy Cundiff,

Hi.  We haven't met yet, but I'm certain that you've heard of me because my letters strike fear into the hearts of many a player.  Especially kickers.  I think that you've heard of kickers, right?  I feel like I have to ask because today's game against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers leads me to believe that you don't know what that position entails.  Let me spell it out for you:

KICKERS ARE SUPPOSED TO MAKE FIELD GOALS.  You might be confused because you were signed by the Washington Redskins and we all know their history of kickers. I still can't hear the name Shaun Suisham without immediately needing to take a scalding hot shower where I might sometimes sit and cry until the water grows cold.  Or I might not.  Whatever.

Last week, against the Cincinnati Bengals, I understood when you missed the 62-yard field goal.  Sure, some kickers would have tried extra hard to win the game for their team, but 62 yards is kind of a lot to ask.  So I was disappointed, but didn't hate you.  Yet.  Don't worry, you made it happen today.  I almost wrote a song about how I detest you, but no one wants to hear me sing just the two words, "F**k you" over and over again in different pitches.

"But, Karen, I won the game," you'd probably say if I deigned to speak to you ever.  WHATEVER.  A 25% field goal completion record is pretty dismal.  I could let go of the 57-yarder, but there's really no excuse for missing 41-yard and 31-yard kicks that aren't blocked or touched.  So I asked myself what could have happened in your past to make you so terrible and I found the answer.

You used to be a Cowboy.  Apparently, the powers that be in the Washington Redskins organization did not learn from previous mistakes (Jim Zorn, Deion Sanders, Shaun Suisham, etc.) and ignored the biggest rule in D.C.: never sign former Cowboys to the Redskins.  What kills me a little inside is that you replaced Shuan Suisham in Dallas and then (after he screwed us over in a game against the Cowboys) he replaced YOU.  Someone thought that the scourge of D.C. was better than YOU.  I don't think that Shaun Suisham ever even missed three field goals in one game and he was awful.

In a way, I guess that I should thank you.  Thank you, Billy Cundiff, for proving to me once again that kickers are never to be trusted.  Thank you for outraging me sufficiently enough to write to you and thank you for the nightmares that I'm sure to have about being forced to watch you and Shaun Suisham miss field goals and then jump in the air and high five about it because you're the worst men in the NFL, despite players like an ex-convict, Adam "Pacman" Jones, and Ray Lewis who DID NOT kill a guy.  Allegedly. Ahem.

Oh, and thanks for finally doing your effing job and making a field goal at the end,

Karen

Are You a Businessman or a Crybaby?

Dear Dan Snyder,

I have something for you here.  Come closer.  Do you see it?  Yup, in the words of the meanest teacher that I had in high school, Sister Satan, "This is the smallest violin in the world playing 'My Heart Cries for You.'"  She was being sarcastic because she was a horrid person who didn't deserve to be married to Jesus, but her words have stuck with me nevertheless and I hope that they stick to you as well as Vinny Cerrato's lips stuck to your butt all the while that he worked for you and helped to make my beloved team what it is today: a team of  losers.

As everyone in the DC area is already aware, you've filed a lawsuit against Dave McKenna from the Washington City Paper and accused the paper of being a tabloid among other offenses because of his article that basically just reminded every Redskins fan of all the reasons why we dislike you.  Really, guy, people talk trash about you all the time.  For me, a conversation isn't complete until I've eviscerated you in some way (for example, when I spoke to a belligerent client on the phone about his dissatisfaction with my division and I quipped, "At least we're not Dan Snyder with the Redskins," and then he and I had a good laugh and became best friends).  Unfortunately for me, I'm pretty sure that I'm unprotected from your retribution unlike Dave McKenna is as member of the media.  I might have spent more time doing homework for other classes than actually doing...whatever it is that I was supposed to be doing during the year that I spent in Journalism (also the same year that I had Sister Satan as a teacher.  Hmm), but I did learn that journalists are at least a little bit protected from lawsuits.  Even though McKenna's article was super long (because you've screwed up that many times), did he really write anything libelous?  Even though he went on...and on...and on, you only picked, like, three things to complain about and one of them was a cartoon where someone drew horns on your head.

Look, Dan, people aren't always going to agree with you; mostly it's because you make terrible decisions, but I feel like it's also a good, general life lesson to learn that maybe no one has ever taught you.  You also never learned that the worst way to get your city on your side is to SUE ONE OF ITS NEWSPAPERS.  Come on.  It's no secret that Redskins fans despise you for...just about everything.  Why are you even defending yourself?  Are you a businessman or a crybaby?

It's bad enough that Albert Haynesworth is still on the team and getting indicted for assault because of the whole sticking-money-in-a-waitress's-cleavage thing.  We don't need more bad publicity!  McKenna's article only became famous because you decided to sue; he wasn't saying anything different than anyone else in this town.  Your lawsuit has actually generated more bad publicity for you than his article ever could have.  So congratulations.  You win.  At being the biggest loser in sports.

Please sell the team, you freaking asshat,

Karen

Please Get Your Collective Act Together

Dear Redskins,

Yep.  ALL OF YOU.  I can't turn my back on you (and by "turn my back" I mean "drink my weight in wine and then some," not actually giving up on you clowns) for three months before you're causing trouble all over the place.  Every time I hear a new piece of news, I tell people, "I'm so going to write a letter to that guy!" but then another one of you gets into the biggest pickle of the off-season.  I am way too busy and important to keep track of all this, but I'm going to do my best to address what I can.

1.  Albert Haynesworth.  I'm mad at you.  Seriously.  Mostly I'm mad that I'm trying to write you this darn letter one-handed because I don't want to put down my wine glass (I'm over 21, don't judge me), but I'm also upset because of assault.  You've assaulted my eyes and my senses because I had to read this and this.  Come on, guy.  We've all felt murderous rage towards other motorists, but at least some of us are smart enough not to get caught.  As for the other thing, as a female and former waitress I can tell you in no uncertain terms that women don't want strange dudes putting fingers in their cleavage.  I PROMISE YOU.  Please stop.  Also, I shouldn't even be writing to you because you shouldn't be on the team anymore.  LEAVE.  You'd be too expensive even if you were performing well, which you aren't.  Suspension kind of leads to that.

2.  Brandon Banks.  What the eff, kid?  I'm not really a fashionista (though I know better than to wear a Canadian tuxedo), but I'm pretty sure that Stacy and Clinton have said that wearing white after Labor Day is A-okay in their books.  So, why, why, WHY would you start a fight with a be-knifed dude over his white-on-white outfit?  You do realize that the real police come to altercations, right?  The "fashion police" come to alterations.  And their existence is just a joke that I wish was totally and completely real (let's face it: if the fashion police existed, we'd be able to avoid Ed Hardy, Uggs, and websites that show horrific things like this).  I know how hurtful it is when people don't dress to impress--I GET IT.  But you know who isn't ever in the news for stabbing or being stabbed?  That's right, ME.  Learn it, love it, live it.

3.  Dan Snyder.  I'm so tired of you.  I understand that all you care about is money.  I mean, I understand that that's a thing that some people care about.  I care about it, too, when I'm hard on my luck and midgets little people appear in the King's castle and offer to spin a bunch of straw into gold so that I don't die or something.  But you know what I care about more than money?  WINNING.  Duh.  Guess what the Redskins have NOT been doing?  And do you know what doesn't help your image as one of the most inadequate owners in the NFL?  Suing journalists who call you one of the most inadequate owners in the NFL.  The only time in your entire tenure as owner that your worth went up was unfortunately when Sean Taylor (RIP #21) died.  Since I don't want any more star players to die, I have no idea how you're going to manage that feat again unless you start groveling to fans.  Maybe start with lowering the cost of stadium beer from $8 a cup to anything below that.  We're in a recession, after all, and I know how to sneak booze inside and drink for free.  Just saying.

4.  Clinton Portis.  I love you too much to include you with these guys.  When I drink enough again, you'll get your own letter.

Until then, Redskins, please get your collective act together.

Love,

Karen

Welcome to my Rex Grossman Nightmare

Dear Mike Shanahan,

It may surprise you to learn that I actually enjoy watching good football.  Every weekend during the greatest season next to Christmas, I spend about three hours watching a horrible, gut-wrenching game and then turn off the Redskins and watch a game (or two or three) where two better-than-mediocre teams come together and play their hardest.  Players catch balls, run for first downs, and kickers even make field goals.  It's beautiful and slightly enlarges my Grinch-sized black heart.  Only slightly, though, because we can't get too carried away.

Anyway, I'm a little slow because I'm only just starting to expect a Redskins loss every week.  Deep down in my aforementioned black heart, I truly thought that you wanted the team to win and that many of the players also wanted that.  Sure, a lot of them suck hardcore, but we still have a few gems who I look forward to watching, like Ryan Torain, Brandon Banks, London Fletcher, and DeAngelo Hall.  Do you know who is missing from that list?  REX GROSSMAN.

I know that Donovan McNabb isn't that great.  I wrote a lovely poem on Easter Sunday about how I didn't want him on our team, but everyone told me to give him a chance.  "He's better than Jason Campbell!" I heard.  Grudgingly, I decided to give McNabb a shot because he's our quarterback, though I'd like to point out that Campbell is ranked #20 for NFL quarterbacks and McNabb is at #25 (to be fair, though, Campbell would be much worse if he was still here.  I think that the NFL has given him extra points to make up for all his years of suffering at the hands of Dan Snyder).

So maybe whether McNabb or Campbell is better this season is up for argument, but are Redskins fans seriously supposed to believe that anyone other than Rex Grossman himself believes he is the right direction for the 'Skins to take?  I'd like to think that he's smart enough not to think that, either, but I'm probably wrong.

Ironically, since today is our game against the Cowboys, I feel like I'm watching an old episode of Dallas.  Just like Season Eight's "dream season" where not a single episode mattered, not a single Rex Grossman-led game for Washington will matter, either.  The hardest thing is knowing that Pam woke up from her horrible nightmare and I'm only starting mine.

Merry Christmas, Jerk,

Karen

P.S. Because of team loyalty, I will root for Rex Grossman to do well today.  And if he surprises the entire universe and succeeds today and into next season, I'll get a Grossman jersey.  I might have to scour my entire body after every time I wear it, but I'm willing to do it if it helps the Redskins win.

Still On The Team--For Now

Dear Graham Gano,

I generally catch a lot of flack for how I treat Redskins kickers in my letters which I've never understood because LOOK AT YOU GUYS.  I really thought that anyone was better than Shaun "Shortbus" Suisham as evidenced by my many poetic overtures saying that almost word for word, but you're forcing me to reconsider.  I don't appreciate being forced to do anything (just ask Redskins Dad how long I stood next to his chair, refusing to swallow a mouthful of green beans last week when I was a toddler--I dare ya) and I especially don't like thinking about Shaun Suisham, even for purposes of comparison.  It makes my tummy hurt.

But sometimes a girl has to get a hot cup of tea and some crackers and calm her stomach enough to make a few comparisons.  It's called taking one for the team, which you might be unfamiliar with because of how many field goals you miss on a weekly basis.  That's called not being a team player, jerk-who-I-hate.  Prior to today's game, you had missed nine of twenty-nine field goals, ranking you 36th in the NFL.  THIRTY-SIXTH!  THE NFL ONLY HAS THIRTY-TWO TEAMS!  Don't expect your ranking to get much better after today.

I'm also disappointed because your birthday is the day (and a few years) after mine and you were born in Scotland, which makes you seriously cooler than Shaun "I-hail-from-the-Great-White-North-eh?" Suisham.  Yeah, yeah, he sucked pretty badly and you'll never get me to say otherwise, but you're still worse because you're still on the team.  For now.

You've been (kind of) warned,

Karen

For Serious, Dude

Dear Joey Galloway,

Guess who has two thumbs and isn't sad to see you released?  THIS GIRL!  What will I not miss the most about you?  How you couldn't catch the effing football.  For serious, dude.  By the way, as established, you're super old, so don't you think that it's about time to shorten "Joey" to "Joe"?  You're not Sonny Jurgensen, for God's sakes; besides, it's not like we can call him "Son Jurgensen."  It just won't work.

Anyway, I'm gonna get back to watching this game, but I just wanted to tell you to retire like you should have done a few years ago--or go play for the Cowboys.  Whichever.

Peace out, cub scout,

Karen

Let's All Vote NO Today

Dear Mike Shanahan,

Question:  Does Karen think that bringing JaMarcus Russell to Washington, DC to do anything more strenuous than lift a cup of Purple Drank a good idea?  Answer:  No!  No, no, NO! A million times NO!

I'm confused because I'm pretty sure that April Fools' Day is on April 1st every year and it never ever falls on November 2nd, but is there any other explanation for this atrocity?!  I know that Donovan McNabb hasn't been the best quarterback that the Redskins have ever seen, but he's kind of the best that we've seen in a long time (sorry, Jason Campbell, but I'm not going to lie).  He had that 45-yard run which was pretty sweet, you gotta admit.  Right?  Right?  So why are you having Russell practice with the team?  WHY?!

Hamstring issues aside, you can't possibly think that JaMarcus Russell is better than McNabb.  It just doesn't make sense.  The Oakland Raiders cut him!  They think that Jason Campbell is a better player than Russell (again, sorry, Jason)!!!  Even allowing that the Raiders suck and don't really know how to build a team anymore, isn't it likely that they know to drop the deadest of the dead weights (if it's unclear, I'm saying that Russell is that weight).  I'll even take Rex Grossman over Russell and we all saw what he did on Sunday--and it wasn't pretty.

Haven't you punished us enough with Joey "Wait-you-want-me-to-catch-the-ball?" Galloway and Stephon "I-got-your-penalties-right-here" Heyer?  Why must you threaten us with Mr. Purple Drank himself?

Voting NO on Russell this Election Day,

Karen

What, What, What Are You Doing?

Dear Mike Shanahan,

What are you doing?  What, what, what are you doing?  I've decided that you are the one to blame for what is now the Redskins' biggest problem because you're head coach.  For years, the biggest problem has been not converting on third downs, but I hereby proclaim that this is no longer true because NO ONE CAN FREAKING CATCH A FOOTBALL.

First, Carlos Rogers couldn't catch, but no one really expected him to suddenly start doing his job, so this wasn't enough to elevate the issue to Threat Level Orange.  But then it wasn't just him.  Everyone started missing catches and dropping balls until I had to seriously consider the possibility that all the players' bodies have been inhabited by football-repelling aliens.  I'm still deliberating.

At least the offense used to be able to catch, but Donovan McNabb insists on throwing a few balls towards Joey Galloway whose motto should be, "Don't throw the ball to me; I'm not even supposed to be here!" because he's not supposed to be there.  He should be sitting at home, watching the game on TV beneath a crocheted blanket, muttering to anyone who walks through the room that he could play better than "those young whippersnappers."  Because he's old.  Did you all catch that?

Anyway, Mike Shanahan, please fix this.  Immediately.  Santana Moss isn't sucking completely, so maybe get McNabb to keep throwing his way.  After this game, please work on catching drills--and I don't mean drills where the players practice catching the football.  I want them to literally have to catch power drills and the like (chainsaws, hammers, wrenches, and ballistic missiles are also acceptable).  They're never going to get better if you baby them.

Now I'm going to go back to watching the game.  You may resume coaching.  If you can call it that.

Love Kinda like,

Karen

Their Own Personal Meat Market

Dear Clinton Portis,

Sometimes, dear sir, you really need to keep your mouth shut.  I've written to you about this before, but I didn't really care about your feelings regarding Jim Zorn.  I do care about your insulting remarks about women reporters, though, because I'm a woman and, as such, I'm appalled that you didn't get it right.  To refresh your sporadically concussed memory, a female sports reporter, Ines Sainz, is complaining that New York Jets players sexually harassed her.  When apprised of the situation, you had some choice words that irritated me.  Let's break it down together, shall we?

"You know man, I think you put women reporters in the locker room in positions to see guys walking around naked, and you sit in the locker room with 53 guys, and all of the sudden you see a nice woman in the locker room, I think men are gonna tend to turn and look and want to say something to that woman. For the woman, I think they make it so much that you can't interact and you can't be involved with athletes, you can't talk to these guys, you can't interact with these guys.

"And I mean, you put a woman and you give her a choice of 53 athletes, somebody got to be appealing to her. You know, somebody got to spark her interest, or she's gonna want somebody. I don't know what kind of woman won't, if you get to go and look at 53 men's packages. And you're just sitting here, saying 'Oh, none of this is attractive to me.' I know you're doing a job, but at the same time, the same way I'm gonna cut my eye if I see somebody worth talking to, I'm sure they do the same thing." (Transcript courtesy of D.C. Sports Blog's Dan Steinberg)

Problem 1: You didn't even mention how women shouldn't be allowed in the locker room in the first place because they have no right to take jobs that belong to men.

Problem 2: Um, hello?  These women need to be reminded that it's really hard for them to cook your dinner if they're not at home in the kitchen.  Where was that comment, Portis?

Problem 3: Where's the fact that women who walk into a room full of naked men are clearly on the prowl?  Don't be kind and give them the benefit of the doubt by saying "I know you're doing a job," because if they're actually good at their jobs, they can arrange for interviews outside the locker room with fully clothed players.  These female reporters are treating you poor men like their own personal meat market and I don't think that you should stand for it any longer.

Problem 4: Why didn't you question who these women slept with to even get into the locker room in the first place?  Affirmative action can get them into the stadium, but that's not enough to get past security.  If you know what I am saying.

Problem 5: Maybe it's because you're a guy and guys don't pay attention to fashion, but you didn't even wonder what Sainz was wearing on the alleged day of harassment?  Granny sweater and mom jeans = no harassment allowed, but anything-that-makes-it-evident-that-she's-a-woman?  That's like giving someone a Freedom to Harass card (Ben Roethlisberger approved) and men and women everywhere should know this and respect it.

Problem 6: Too much implication and too few direct statements.  I want you to say definitively for the record that any female (reporter or not) who walks into a room and gets to see fifty-three male "packages" is a damn liar if she denies finding at least one that's attractive.  And not only is she a liar, but she's also being spiteful for dragging down the fragile egos of those poor men.  Come on, women!  Show some respect and let these men know that the only reason why you wanted to be a sports reporter was to ogle their goodies!

Problem 7: While you're at it, ask when it became a crime to give a woman a compliment?  If she feels dirty afterward, that's her problem, not yours.  And she probably has daddy issues.  Or low self-esteem.  Or too high self-esteem.  OOH!  Maybe she was on her period.  Women are such witches during their time of the month (except for me--I'm still a delight and I'll cut anyone who suggests otherwise).

Problem 8:  Other topics regarding female reporters that you didn't address but should have: their dumb questions, how they turn everything to some story starring themselves (this girl at my work is always doing that and it's so freaking annoying to everyone*), how none of them really know anything about sports, how they cry all the time, how they don't know when not to put a drunk on live television (I'm looking at you, Suzy Kolber); you really missed the boat, Portis, and I expect someone with a name like Clinton to have a little more knowledge of women than you showed the other day.

Severely disappointed in you,

Karen (Who is on Her Way Back to the Kitchen Immediately and Deserves to be Slapped if Dinner isn't Served at 5:00pm on the Dot)

P.S.  For homework, please watch these prime examples of women failing at being sports reporters

*the girl is me

Snyder and Jones, BFFs 4 Lyfe!

Dear Dan Snyder,

You really had me fooled.  I knew that you were a jerk and bad at being an owner, but I thought that all of your missteps and attempts to stuff cash into the holes of a sinking ship were done out of blind love of the Washington Redskins.  "Of course I hate him," I'd say in confidential tones to friends, family, and strangers on the Metro, "and of course I'd rather have anyone else as an owner, but at least he loves the team.  It's a lot like the love of a toddler for a pet that he will squeeze until its eyes bug out or it dies, but it's still love."

Love?  I scoff at the word.  An owner who loved his team would not pal around with the enemy.  That's right, we know that you and Dallas Cowboys' owner, Jerry Jones, are BFFs 4 lyfe.  I bet that you even have a photo of the two of you in a frame on your desk that says it.  I can excuse the Papa John's commercial, mostly because of my great love for Papa John's pizza (seriously, Papa John, if you read this I'll trade my first born child for a lifetime supply of your pizza...or even a months' supply), but you couldn't just keep it to friendly, tongue-in-cheek commercials with the Redskins' arch-nemesis, could you?  It's a rhetorical question, but I'll go ahead and answer it for you just in case you're a bit slow--NOPE, you couldn't just keep it there.

When I stopped by Redskins Parents' house this morning to eat Redskin Brother's stale popcorn and help rid Redskins Dad of a Corona Light (okay, it was more like 1:30pm, but that's still morning for me on the weekends), I felt figuratively warm all over because the family was watching football together already.  I had no warning of the upset that I would soon receive.  As everyone complained that I hadn't written any letters recently and they were surely going to start a hunger strike soon in hopes that I would bless them with something new*, I said that I was looking for inspiration.  I picked up the Washington Post in hopes of finding something that would inspire me, but all I saw was Donovan McNabb's advertisement for Capital One.  He was supposed to look confused because he's new in town, but I think that he was confused because he was in an ad without Campbell's Chunky Soup in his hands or his mommy by his side.  (Is she going to lace up your sneakers tonight, too, Donovan?).

Anyway, I lacked inspiration and Redskins Brother gave it to me when he told me about THIS interview:




That's right, Danny boy, you can't hide from the truth: your family vacations with Jerry Jones' family.  This is like Harry Potter and Voldemort hanging out and laughing about how they try to kill each other five months out of the year, but during the off-season they like to go to Boca and argue good-naturedly about whose turn it is to serve the mimosas.  Actually, that's probably an unfair comparison because Harry Potter has some good qualities and actually has some reasons to be an angsty teen whereas you are far too old to be a teenager.  And I'm waiting on the good qualities.

But seriously, Jerry Jones?!  It was bad enough watching you look up at him with that sickening puppy-dog look of adoration on your face during the interview, but hearing Jones blather on about how he's so surprised that the Redskins haven't won a Super Bowl under your reign of terror was like eating one insult after another.  Of all the owners in the entire league, you had to choose the only jerk as big as you as a mentor.  In fact, if I were faced with the choice of you or him as the owner of the Washington Redskins, I think that my mind would implode and I'd stand in place until someone rescued me.  Hopefully someone with ice cream...or Papa John's.

The jig is up.  You don't love the Redskins; in fact, I think that your friendship with Jerry Jones proves that you're probably working against the Redskins from within.  After all, who cares if you lose every season if the fans keep coming back game after game and paying $8 for a Bud Light?  You suck.

Go Redskins!  Beat Dallas!

Karen

*I'm lying.  They did not do this.

Redskin Letters Is YouTubing It

Dear Redskin Fans,

Today's a big day, folks.  Redskins Brother and I attempted the Redskins conditioning test that Albert Haynesworth finally passed today.  We had, uh...mixed results.  But the great news is that you all get to see for yourselves.  That's right--Redskin Letters has graduated to video.  Please excuse the major suckage in the video editing because this is my first try at making a movie since Anti-Redskins Best Friend and I created "Grammar in the City" back in college.  Also, please excuse the major suckage in the content of the video.  Um, spoiler alert?





So there you have it.  Albert Haynesworth is better at passing a conditioning test than Redskins Brother and I.  I'm appropriately ashamed of myself.

But does Haynesworth know how to write a letter?  Or make a YouTube video?  Yeah, I didn't think so.

Love,

Karen

Don't Even Try To Sit On Me

Dear Albert Haynesworth,

Washington, DC is all abuzz with the news that you want to be traded from the Redskins.  Well, whoopty-doo.  Guess what, Al?  We want to get rid of you, too.  In fact, many of us haven't been pleased with you since...oh, when you were signed for a $100 million contract.  You wouldn't have been worth that insane amount of cash even if you had stayed healthy and hadn't had to sit out to regain your precious breath after every play where you actually did something worthwhile for once; you definitely weren't worth $55,000 per snap.  You weren't worth one of my addicting butterscotch cookies per snap and I give those babies out like they're...well...cookies.  Or babies.

Since you seem to be completely uninterested in anything awesome pertaining to the Redskins, you may be unaware that this is my slow time when it comes to writing letters, but here I am anyway, popping up to let you know that you're a tool and not even a very good one.  You're like an electric drill that stops working when the batteries die, when all anyone really needs is a screwdriver.  Or a broken escalator when people just need stairs.  Or Jay Leno when everyone under the age of sixty-five just wants Conan O'Brien.

In conclusion, you suck.  Don't let the stadium doors hit you on your fat behind on the way out--if you can walk out under your own power without stopping for a hit off an oxygen tank first.

Looking forward to getting money back for any other player ever (besides Tony Romo),

Karen

P.S.  Don't even try to sit on me.  I've been working out and I can outrun you!

I Can't Believe That Jesus Died For This

Dear Donovan McNabb,

Thanks for ruining my Easter, jerkface.  I wanted to find the best possible way to let you know my true feelings about you becoming a Redskin, but I simply don't have the time to drive up to Philadelphia and nail my version of Martin Luther's "95 Theses" to your door.  Do you know what I do have time for, though?  That's right, a poem.  Because that's how I roll, sucker.

Once upon a time in the land of D.C.
Redskins fans everywhere had the same dream
That Shanahan and Allen wouldn't ruin our season
But what they've done seems more like treason

Sure, we might be lacking in the quarterback position
But it doesn't excuse this terrible decision
The only players who are worse than Donovan McNabb
Are probably just the ones that we already have

Signing Rex Grossman was a horrible call
But trading for McNabb is the worst one of all
The only thing that could make me sicker
Is getting Shaun Suisham back as our kicker

Who in Hell wants McNabb on their team?
(Obviously, I'm angered to the extreme)
His past performance is not that of legends
Why should we take Philly's sloppy seconds?

I wish that I had a hot tub time machine
To go back to Coach Gibbs and the 1980s
And forget this Easter and everything gone amiss
Because I can't believe that Jesus died for this.

Happy Stinkin' Easter,

Karen

My Children Are Going to be Winners

Greetings Redskins Nation!

I'm sure that you've been wondering where I've been amidst the end of the season, the playoffs, the firing of Jim Zorn, the hiring of Mike Shanahan, and free agency.  Let's just say that I've been biding my time, getting the lay of the land, and figuring out if being a fan of George Allen on Facebook will help me get free tickets from his brother, Bruce (verdict:  so far, not really.  But I have high hopes for when the season starts).

Anyway, I apologize for being away (well, on my couch watching the Disney Channel and TeenNick--shut up, don't act like you're too good for the wholesome hijinx on iCarly and Sonny with a Chance) just when you all need a guiding light to help you through yet another harrowing rebuilding year.  But cheer up!  I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere (unless someone has Girl Scout cookies.  I'll go anywhere for Thin Mints--except Dallas.  NEVER THERE).  But I can't cover everything that I need to cover in long, thoughtful detail, so I'm just gonna go with what we in the blogging Redskins Letter Writing business call "snippets."  Do you hear that, Redskins fans?  It's a contented sigh coming from all of you.  Well, you're welcome.

Let's get started:

Jim Zorn was fired and is now a Quarterbacks Coach again, this time for the Baltimore Ravens.  This is like being demoted twice in a row.  In fact, if I was him, I'd rather retire than take two steps back.  He could then open up a camp for boys with mediocre dreams of one day being fired as a professional head football coach.  I mean, I would never send MY children there (my children are going to be winners), but maybe he'll have better luck with Andy Reid's sons.

And Mike Shanahan is now our coach.  Despite his very Irish name and appearance, this guy doesn't fit my vision of your friendly neighborhood drunk lying in a ditch.  This disappoints me as I have very specific requirements out of my stereotypical Irishmen, especially this close to St. Patrick's Day.  What he has going for him aside from an ability to "spot the blarney," is that he doesn't seem to be taking crap from Dan Snyder yet.  We'll see how this continues, but I'm going to go out on a huge limb and speculate that his hiring might not be the worst thing that's ever happened to us.

Bruce Allen as GM.  Well, I really didn't realize that there were other Allens besides George the coach and George the former Governor and Senator, but I'm willing to accept one more Allen into my life.  Don't screw up, Bruce.  We wouldn't want the macaca to hit the fan.

Recent layoffs of Smoot, Cartwright, Randle El, etc.  Thank God that Randle El is gone.  I mean, he seemed like a friendly guy, but he was a little too friendly to other teams.  That's the only explanation for all the fair catches that I can make up; he probably just wanted to be "fair" to the other team.  Somewhere after our fifth loss I would have hoped that he'd get over that.  He didn't.  So long, Fair Catch.

Backtracking to Christmas.  I was privileged to receive not one, but TWO awesome Redskins-centric gifts!  The first was a Secret Santa gift from my friend, Mollie (Thanks, Mollie!  And congrats to Doug on your acceptance of his proposal!).  Please note that it has Clinton Portis' number and my nickname, Good Karen, on the back.  It's kind of like I'm on the team, but without any of the broken ribs, Snyder butt-kissing, or uncomfortable jockstraps!  Yay!

The second gift was from Redskins Brother.  He told me that it was going to be my favorite gift and I shouldn't have been so doubtful because he is a surprisingly good gift-giver.  When I neatly removed the wrapping paper (yeah, I'm one of THOSE people even though it's going directly into a trash bag) and saw Joe Gibbs' book, I was like, "...um...yay?" I mean, I adore Saint Joe, OF COURSE, but Santa Claus had already brought me a 100-pack of Slim Jims and I didn't see how this book could possibly be my favorite gift after that.

Then Redskins Brother told me to look inside.  Yeah, that's right, everyone!  Personalized autograph by Saint Joe himself!  And he wrote in INK that he wants God to bless ME!  ME!  Muahhahhahahah!  Obviously a "God bless" from Saint Joe pwns Slim Jims all over the place!  Thanks, Redskins Brother!  And sorry about that time that I complained that you were the worst brother in the world!  Sometimes I'm mean!

I've lost my pink Redskins snow hat and I'm pretty bummed about it.  I mean, it's probably in my house somewhere, but unless it's in my sofa cushions, I'm probably never going to find it.

I'm thinking of getting a fish.  It might teach me some responsibility.  If it doesn't, the toilet is just a flush away.

Yeah, not completely joking about that.

How is a fish related to the Redskins?  Well, it isn't.  Unless I name it after one of them.  Maybe I could get two and one could be Shaun Suishfinn.  Then I'd train the other one, Clinton Portfish, to attack and kill him.  Or Salmonta Moss?  Ha! (Clearly I'm a bit rusty because of my absence).

As far as Byron Westbrook and Chad Rinehart are concerned...well, what the heck, guys?!  Do you think that you play for the Cowboys or something?

Sigh.  We're in for a long off-season.

Love,

Karen

I Hope That Santa Leaves You A Lump Of Coal

Dear Jim Zorn,

I warned you.  I told you that Shaun Suisham was a spy for the Dallas Cowboys, but no one wanted to listen to me.  Do you think that it's a coincidence that Suisham missed not one, but two field goals against the Cowboys and then a measly twenty-nine days later is signed by them?  SERIOUSLY?!!?!?!?!  This is NO coincidence!  This was planned, it was intentional, and it is unacceptable!  When, for God's sake, when are we going to stop signing former Cowboys?  It is never ever a good decision.  And perhaps you didn't sign Suisham to begin with...but you kept him on the team for as long as you did.

I hope that Santa leaves you a lump of coal in your stocking.  If he leaves you nothing at all, you might think that he just forgot you, but if he leaves you coal, you'll know that you're on the Naughty List.

You're already dead to me, but you're going to be worse than dead--zombie food--if Shaun Suisham kicks a field goal to win the game against us when we play Dallas on Sunday.

Enjoy your coal,

Karen

I'm Going To Suggest Seclusion

Dear Vinny,

May I call you Vinny?  Oh, who am I kidding, I don’t really care.  I am ecstatic that you have resigned.  I mean, it’s kind of seriously making my day right now…and my Christmas!  What was the last thing that I put in my “Joy to the World: Shaun Suisham’s Fired” song?  Something like, “I hope that Cerrato is fired next!”  Yeah.  Well, you weren’t fired, but I’m fairly positive that you were given the “resign or I’m firing you” ultimatum from Danny Boy.

You might wonder where you go from here.  I’m going to suggest seclusion where you’ll have time to grow a beard, put in some colored contacts, maybe gain fifty pounds and reinvent yourself.  No one will have to know that you were one of the worst General Managers in Redskins history—nay, football history itself.  You should have been fired or resigned directly after you wasted a draft pick on a punter.  And a terrible punter at that.  Durant Brooks.  I still hate that guy (note:  I realize that I have a weird, but all-consuming contempt for kickers/punters.  I have no idea why this is because I’ve never dated or been supremely wronged by one in my life.  My brother was a high school kicker and even though I still make fun of him for it, I’m unable to identify exactly what makes me do it.  In twenty years I’ll probably end up in therapy uncovering a repressed memory of a professional kicker stealing a lollipop from my three-year old hands).

Because I love to wax poetic, here is an acrostic poem for you (one of the easiest kinds):

Very
Ineffective
Nerdy and
Never going to succeed
You suck

I’m pretty sure that I speak for all of Washington, DC:  hit the road, Vinny, and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more.

Wondering who to pick on next,
                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
Karen

What I Really Want To Do Is Break Out Into Song

Dear Shaun Suisham,

What can I say?  This is the end of a long, hard road for me.  For ages I have tirelessly worked to get you fired...letters...poems...dognappings.  A small part of me is a little sad that I have to find a new punching bag, but mostly I'm elated that I got another sucktastic player fired.  I need to celebrate with all of Washington, D.C., but what's the best way to accomplish this?  Sure, drinking until I don't even remember your name is an option, but I really want to enjoy and savor this for the rest of my life--or at least until the end of football season.  I could get another tattoo...change "Fire Suisham" to "I Fired Suisham"....the choices are kind of endless.

But what I really want to do is break out into song.  So here goes.  Ahem.

Please sing this to the tune of "Joy to the World"...but not the "Jeremiah was a bullfrog" version.

Joy to the World! Suisham is gone!

We'll see him suck no more!

Zorn finally did something right;

And Suisham won't miss a goal

And Suisham won't miss a goal

And Suisham won't miss anymore field goals!

Joy to the Earth! Suisham was fired!

Listen as D.C. cheers!
They told us that he could kick, but

Instead he made us sick

Instead he made us sick

Instead of kicking well, he made us sick!

If Zorn had listened to me last season

We might have stood a chance!

And my blog would've been more kind!

We could have beat the Cowboys

We could have beat the Saints

And had a better record than three-and-nine!

Today has been super awesome

Since Redskin Brother's text!

And all that's left to wonder is

Who'll be fired next?

Who'll be fired next?

I hope that Cerrato is fired next!

And so farewell, Shaun Suisham.  I'm sure that underneath your lousy kicker exterior, there lives a good guy just waiting to show the world that he's more than a horrible, awful kicker.  Now's your opportunity.

Peace out cub scout,

Karen

Sucker!

Karen's Note:  This letter was inexplicably sent back to me.  Huh.  Guess Shaun Suisham isn't there anymore.  Muahahahha.  Stay tuned for more developments.

Dear Shaun Suisham,

The reason why I generally don't listen to post-game interviews is because I like to believe that players I dislike show no remorse for their transgressions.  I was disappointed that you took all the blame on yourself for your missed field goal against the Saints because now I'll feel slightly guilty for petitioning to have you fired.  It won't stop me, but it does make me act like a girl by considering your lousy feelings.  I hate when that happens.

I've tried to get you fired.  I've tried to give you pointers.  I've tried to shame you into performing better, but none of it seems to work.  What do you want from me, Shaun?  What can I possibly do for you that will help you to help the Redskins?

You're married, so I can't hook you up with girls with an attraction to sub-par professional kickers.  Your job doesn't require you to write anything more than your signature, so I can't edit your work (and, honestly, if you need an editor for your signature, you have more problems than even I can solve).  I already regale you with fine examples of snark all the time, so it's doubtful that you need more.  I am a delight to have at parties, but I understand that you don't invite me to anything for fear that I'll bring up your shoddy performance--as you should be concerned because I'll do exactly that...and after enough Red Bull-and-vodkas, "Holiday" egg nog, and spiked punch, I won't even feel guilty (I probably won't feel hungover, either, because of the tolerance that I've developed since Halloween).  I have some money saved, but you earn more than twenty times what I make and you should probably give most of that back.  How about a return of $10,000 for every kickoff where the ball doesn't land within the first five yards in the opposing team's territory, $15,000 for every missed extra point, and a return of $25,000 for every missed field goal?  By the end of the season, you'll probably be paying to play.  Thank goodness because the Washington Redskins franchise is going to start hemorrhaging money if we keep losing.

We still haven't answered what I can do for you, Shaun.  I propose a week with no nasty letters from me to you or about you.

Starting eight days ago.

Sucker!

Karen