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The Dallas Cowboys vs. The Seatle Seahawks Told Through Greek Mythology

By Lord Castleton | Miscellaneous | October 14, 2014 | Comments ()

By Lord Castleton | Miscellaneous | October 14, 2014 |


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Week six in the NFL was Olympian in scope, and to honor that achievement, I’m going to start with a retelling of an old myth: The story of Icarus & Daedalus. Sure, sure, we all know that old chestnut, but the NFL brands things in different ways and has a reality all its own.

In the words of Soren Kierkegaard, “Life has its own hidden forces which you can only discover by living.” And the NFL has its own hidden agendas which you can only discover by reading on.

Without further ado, then. Quick sip of coffee … everyone comfy? Then let’s begin.

Once upon a time there was a man named Daedalus who was a great architect.

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Well, he was actually just kind of a “good” architect to begin with but a really, really good salesman. His first two employers had buyers remorse.

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And Daedalus knew he had to change something up. At his third job, Daedalus decided to fracture a few building regulations which helped him succeed where other, more scrupulous architects had failed. This advantage quickly made him one of the most sought after designers in the land. Eventually though, people started to wonder how a half-talent like Daedalus could be building structures of such impressive magnitude. When the truth about his transgressions came out, Daedalus was exiled from the warmth of his homeland and forced to reside in a land where the tears of the gods shower the landscape with shame more than half the days of the year.

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Daedalus cried for his lost life. The lost sun. The lost Bacchanalias. “Oh Daedalus!” He cried. “What a fool you’ve been! One cannot build lasting structures on a foundation of smoothies and pomade and coupons to Baja Fresh! How long can one flirt effectively with high school moms across the country in an effort to bring their sons to your army?” All those lost winks. All those handshakes where he may or may not have used his index finger to surreptitiously tickle the inside of a matronly palm. The shame enveloped poor Daedalus, for he had read his Kierkegaard, and he knew that “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

“Damn right.” Thought Daedalus. “Damn right.” He knew that he would not make the same mistakes ever again. He knew in his heart he had brought this strife upon his own head and he yearned to be a better man. If not for himself, then for his two, curly-haired sons, Icarus and DangeRuss.

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“We will regroup and we will be stronger and smarter and better than ever before.” Daedalus told his boys.

But the lukewarm rain of exile was a bridge too far for Daedalus’ eldest, who made plans to leave his father.

“My son! You’re not ready!” cried Daedalus. “You have so much yet to learn!”

“I’m ready, old fool.” Said Icarus coldly. “I was fuckin’ born ready.”

With that, Daedalus shook hands one last time with his beloved boy and turned away from him forever.

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And lo, it wasn’t long before Icarus himself tasted the business end of fate’s phallus. Turning his nose up at his father’s hard-won counsel, he instead offered his services to a violence-crazed hill-beast …

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Where he ran directly into the ass of another man.

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Daedalus watched in horror as Icarus flew too close to the sun, and was nearly snuffed out by it. Confused, exposed and alone, Icarus bounced around from what appears to be various penal systems …

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…until he found work toiling in obscurity for one of the great white giants of the east.

And Daedalus wept for his lost child, entombed forever in Kelly’s clan, a place where Daedalus’ “defense first” teachings would fall on deaf ears.

And that’s usually where the story stops. But our Daedalus did not fly off into the sunset. Our Daedalus poured all of his knowledge into his youngest son, Dangeruss, and the boy became something of a wunderkind.

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Unlike his foolish older brother, Dangeruss was spiritual and humble and kind, and he revered Daedalus above all else except for mighty Zeus himself.

And slowly, almost below the floor of his own notice, Daedalus began to love the place of his exile, and he didn’t long to escape like this dude on this island:

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…or any dude on this island:

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Instead Daedalus turned inward. Rather than fleeing, he put down roots. Rather than sending his youngest child into the wild like Icarus, he built a citadel around the boy.

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And put a Beast at the gate.

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And surrounded Dangeruss with a legion the like of which had never before been seen.

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And though world sent its mightiest warriors to topple Dangeruss, they all broke themselves on the rock of Daedalus’ making.

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And Daedalus saw that his years of toil were not wasted. He had finally built something of worth. Something with value. Something he didn’t have to bend any rules to get. And in doing so, he went from being kind of a grumpy, shunned outcast to quite the man about town.

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And when Dangeruss wasn’t being showered with what might be partially acid rain 168 days per year, he was showered with love from his father.

And, far above, where no mere mortal has ever tread, upon his cloud (computing) throne, mighty Zeus was content.

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And for a short while, peace reigned across the land.

But, as with any story, joy goes hand in hand with sadness and peace goes arm in arm with war, and far to the south, Zeus’ own spiteful, disfigured brother, Hades, was plotting against him.

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Never before had anyone ever taken Hades seriously and deep down, his raisin-sized heart was positively gurgling with jealousy and malfeasance.

So, while no one was looking, he built an even bigger fortress in his empire.

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And had anyone happened to notice the magnificence of his headquarters, they would have laughed it off as folly. “The only person who needs a jumbotron that big is a person with the worlds smallest penis,” they may have said.

“I can’t believe so many people will pay that much for disappointment” another may have said.

“That idiot will never amount to anything. Goddamn jinx.” Perhaps said a third.

No one ever cared because he never had the army to do jack shit. His legions were always a moveable feast of incompetence. And they were compiled by Hades himself. It was like he was recruiting the seven deadly sins themselves.

Lust…

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Gluttony…

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Greed…

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Sloth…

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Wrath…

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Envy…

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…and Pride…

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And though he had seen the light, briefly, years ago, he hadn’t ever been back to the top of the mountain. And that made Hades angry. And Hades spent millions of dollars in a comically desperate attempt to get back into the Nexus.

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“What the hell am I doing wrong?” Hades asked himself.

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“I, like, totally don’t know!” said the river nymph he had stolen from a nearby….er….brothel.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” said Hades.

“Mmmmm you feel that, Big Boy?” said the gyrating nymph.

“I don’t feel anything. Ever.” sighed Hades.


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“You should totally, like, draft Johnny Football. I’d like, be over here all the time.” Said the nymph.

“You would?” asked Hades.

“Oh my god. Totally.” Said the nymph.

And Hades sat back and thought. Johnny Football. Johnny Football. Here was the exact type of soldier Hades needed. Flashy. Irresponsible. Self-absorbed. Obnoxious. A veritable hooker-magnet.

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“Yesssssss.” Hissed Hades. “Yesssssssss. He will be mine!”

And when the annual meat-capturing festival began, that was his intent. Hades looked across at the other gods and ne noticed that they were all snickering at him. He was a laughing stock.

With his meat-selecting turn rapidly approaching, Hades closed his eyes and thought.

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“Why am I always such an embarrassment? Why can I never get to the promised land? Is it because of my anaconda skin? Is it because I’m dead from the neck down? Is it because I’ve spent eons basing all of my meat-selecting choices on information I garnered from nude, hired gutter nymphs? Is it-“

Wait! That was it! Hades had learned everything about empire building from nymphs he had hired for pleasure. My god! That was the problem!

With that, Hades stormed over to his meat-picking board and tore down the name of Johnny Football.

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“Shit.” Murmured Apollo.

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And Apollo called the other gods to let them know that the nymph hadn’t worked, and that Hades was uncontrolled for the first time in years. And then Hades did the unthinkable at the meat-capture. Instead of choosing the flashiest toy that the nymphs had always whispered about through lip-gloss tainted promises of glory, he thought: What would Apollo do? Who would Apollo pick? And then Hades picked this thing.

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My god, the hideousness of it. But when the battle season began, Hades realized that not all that glitters is gold. Sometimes, it’s not what’s outside, but what’s inside that counts, and this scruffled he-minotaur helped to change everything.

Instead of being pushed around like an effeminate dad at a One Direction concert, now his warriors were the ones setting the tone. Now he was the one with the Ray Harryhausen monsters.

And his monsters were ready for all takers.

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Meanwhile, far to the north, Daedalus was worried, and he was among the first to notice the growing threat from Hades. He brought Dangeruss into his counsel.

“My beloved child,” Daedalus began, “we are now faced with a threat that I fear we can’t easily overcome.”

But the youth just smiled at him.

“Do not worry, father, for we have the power of the eternals behind us and with Zeus at our back we can never fail.” said Dangeruss.

“Yes, yes.” Said Daedalus. “That’s all well and good, but we should have some sort of, you know, “plan,” in case, y’know.”

“Do not fear!” said Dangeruss. “If the enemy is strong I will merely call upon the services of the Beast, or, I will throw short, hyper-reactive passes to the Serpent three yards behind the line of scrimmage and he will contort his body in such a way as to defy the laws of physics and we shall be triumphant!”

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“Jeez, I don’t know…” said Daedalus.

And Dangeruss laughed. “Father! You worry too much! I laugh in the face of adversity! And you should laugh with me! Like Hades is going to come in here with an army that could defeat us. Hades! The biggest joke under Olympus!”

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And Daedalus was emboldened by the faith and optimism of his blessed child and so he cast his fear to the side and threw his head back and laughed.

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“Hahaha!” laughed Daedalus.

“Haha!” laughed Dangeruss.

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“Hahahahaha!” laughed Daedalus.

“Hahahahaha!” laughed Dangeruss.

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“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Laughed Daedalus.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Laughed Dangeruss.

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“AHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” squealed Daedalus.

“AHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Laughed Dangeruss.

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“OHHOHOHOHOHOHHO. OH GOD. Oh god, we gotta stop. I’m gonna die here.” Said Daedalus.

“Hahahahaha. Wow. Whew. Woooo-weee!” said Dangeruss.

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And they stood there, Father and Son, ready to fight together one more time. Ready to handle anything and everything that Hades could throw at them.

Except what Hades did.

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Because, for the first time in written memory, the army of Hades marched into Daedalus’ citadel by the sea and they looked like a real army.

And, in front of a stunned populace, in a way that would have left Herodotus searching for adjectives, they absolutely pushed Dangeruss’ dick in.

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And when Hades marched out, victorious, Daedalus raised the battered body of his most beloved and whispered a solemn promise.

“I will get you a smoothie.”

And elsewhere all the gods shuddered, because Hades had managed to finally assemble an army that mattered. And the god of the dead reveled in his new-found power.

“I’m coming for all y’all motherfuckers.” He said.

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So, at this very moment, no one is safe. Dangeruss lies humbled, slowly sipping some kind of weird wheat grass/avocado thing as his father rocks slowly above him in a sunless vigil.

And the army of darkness marches on, toward home, where next week they’ll be better prepared than ever to slay some Giants.

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So, what can we take away from this? How can we make sure that we don’t make the same mistakes as Daedalus? Can we retire to the safety of our own tenement houses and servile farms and merely wait it out, hoping for the best? No! For in the words of Kierkegaard, “The highest and most beautiful things in life are not to be heard about, nor read about, nor seen but, if one will, are to be lived.”

As for you, Dangeruss, if you’re out there reading this: hang in there, kiddo. You’re gonna be alright. I think you know what it’s all about.

Who, me? That’s so sweet.

Until next week, true believers. Until next week.


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