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!