In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. There were no football fans anywhere in Heaven or Hell.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
“Whew! I’m bushed.” Said God. And God ordered pizza and the pizza was good. And God yelped that the pizza was “decent but not the best” and compared it to an obscure place no one has ever heard of just to sound interesting. But how interesting can you really be if you spend a solid 40 percent of your free time writing Yelp reviews?
And God said, “This light is relatively useless without something beautiful to shine upon.” God said, “Let there be DangeRuss” and there was DangeRuss. And God said “it is Good.” Because DangeRuss was super polite and called everyone else “Big Dawg.”
And God stroked DangeRuss’s hair with milk and honey and gave him some scented candles and a pet unicorn to ride around on and sometimes, if God was like super bored, they would eat Oreos together and smile.
And God said to DangeRuss, “Are you happy my child?” and lo, DangeRuss, ever polite, said “Totally, Big Dawg. Totally. I just feel like I need something else. I need to run. I mean, I love this cloud but it’s tough to run on and I’ve almost Gerald Ford’d off the edge of it like eleven times.”
And God drank a yoohoo and said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God saw that it was good. And then God created field turf, which was basically half real and half synthetic and more or less kicked ass. And then he installed the field turf properly in every NFL stadium except for Washington because God loves everyone, but he loves dirty racists less.
And DangeRuss ran around like a little kid. And God said “Are you happy my child?” And DangeRuss said “Heck yes, Big Dawg! I just wish I had something to actually do with my arms.” And God made the football and even he was surprised by how good it was. “Am I crazy or is this football like, one of the coolest things I’ve ever made?” Said God.
“It’s better than anything else.” Said DangeRuss.
“Even your unicorn?” Asked God
“Yeah, with ‘Land’ and my legs, I don’t even really need that unicorn anymore.” Said DangeRuss.
“Hold up!” said the unicorn, “whoa whoa whoa!” But with a snap of God’s fingers the unicorn vanished forever, as did the potentially lucrative unicorn-walking business for former baristas who still wanted to afford urban rents and designer drugs and abortions without actually working that hard.
And DangeRuss started throwing like a million footballs to nobody like Peyton Manning did in that ad when he was the pitchman for Wheaties Fuel.
And God said “That looks hella boring. You want me to make footballs automatically return to you like boomerangs?”
And DangeRuss said “No thank you, Big Dawg. I’d rather have actual people to throw the ball to and other people trying to stop us.”
“Holy cow.” Said God. “That’s like a crazy good idea. Did you come up with that all by yourself?”
“Most of it. I got the idea from this slithery thing in that garden over there.”
“What the-” said God.
“Hello.” said Bill Belichick.
“Aaaaagh!” said God. “I didn’t make you!”
“I was made according to the rules.” said Bill Belichick. “I checked the rules beforehand and I was made inside of the intention of the rules as I understand them, according to my interpretation of them.”
“But…you’re hideous.” Said God.
“All the better to make your golden boy shine.” said Bill Belichick.
And God thought about that. And he realized that he had made human beings a certain way, and that they were generally gullible and needed to have things dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. And they liked to have a good guy and a bad guy in every situation, which is where you get pictures like this.
And God realized that for human beings to be truly happy, they needed to pick a side. And in the absence of a side they could believe in, they would zealously attack the side they hated more. And God allowed Bill Belichick to continue to exist.
“Welcome, Big Dawg.” said DangeRuss. “Great to have you here.”
“Get bent.” Said Bill Belichick.
“Wowzers! He’s ominous.” Said DangeRuss, winking at God.
And Bill Belichick made a whole new group of NFL coaches, all over the spectrum and that shook things up like crazy.
And the Nielsen ratings, (which God should have sent back to the drawing board on day 2), shot through the roof. And God looked at the NFL and said is was good.
And then God belched and like half a million New York Jets fans were created. And they immediately began to fart and gain fifty pounds and grab their crotches and give everyone else the finger.
And on like the fourteenth day, Bill Belichick made Tom Brady.
And God looked at Tom Brady and then Tom Brady’s wife
And then God looked at the dude he made.
And God kinda felt like his guy was starting to kinda look like a turd.
“Where’s your hot wife?” Asked God.
“Right here in this picture.” Said DangeRuss.
“Whoa. How many cans of Fresca can she fit in that mouth?” Asked God.
“I don’t know.” Said DangeRuss.
“Well, have her come to the big game against the Patriots.”
“I can’t, Big Dawg, ‘cuz I divorced her right after the last Superbowl!” Said DangeRuss.
“Goddamnit! Why would you do that?”
“Don’t like, y’know, take your name in vain, Big Dawg.”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I damn well please.” said God. “Don’t make me unicorn your ass.”
“I don’t think unicorn is a verb.” Said DangeRuss.
“It will be.” Growled God.
And lo God looked over at Bill Belichick and couldn’t believe what an evil-seeming prick he was. And God marveled that Bill Belichick “allegedly” deflated balls even after God had him busted for filming and sent Forrest Gump to humble him in two Super Bowls.
And God couldn’t believe that this asshole just kept winning. And God made everyone in New England sigh audibly at having to continue to defend Bill Belichick to the d-bags in their fantasy football leagues. But by virtue of their geographic location they were all of a sudden supposed to know the ins and outs of who touched whose balls and when and somehow connect them to Bill Belichick or disconnect them from Bill Belichick. And they just wanted all their fantasy football friends to know that New England is cold and hateful place with nine month winters and no one has enough vitamin D so they’re mean and surly and they just want to get through this football season in one piece because they have the entire seasons of You’re the Worst and blackish and The Affair unopened on their DVR’s and they have Locke and Calvary and Obvious Child and the Duplass Brother’s last movie on DVD and Boyhood reserved for pickup in their nearest RedBox and two unwatched seasons of House of Cards on Netflix and one full season of Transparent on Amazon and the purportedly seamless import of Commander Shepherd from Mass Effect 2 to Mass Effect 3 didn’t work so it’s like looking at a whole different dude and the kids can’t stop fighting over which one of them gets to play with Baymax or Rocket Racoon in Disney Infinity 2.0.
And God looked at all of this and smiled because he smote the Golden Globe away from Louis C.K. for trying to make a funny rape and now he was going to do the same to Bill Belichick.
DangeRuss knew that he won last week because of God.
And if you saw it, he must have because huh? What were we even watching? How the hell did that happen?
But God isn’t done. Because even though he has bigger things to deal with like pandemics and quasars and gamma rays and the Higgs boson and also having an unwatched season of blackish on his DVR, he still finds the time to rig individual plays in American Football games. And that’s what makes him the #1 monotheism in the U S of A.
As for deflategate? Well, the truth will come out. I don’t know what to tell you. There are things in this world I will never understand. Like my brother the gay Catholic or my friend the Black Republican or whatever would possess anyone even tangentially connected to the Patriots to do anything that is even remotely approaching the realm of the suspicious in any fucking way. It defies understanding.
But we can all take comfort knowing that Jets fans everywhere are ecstatic, pounding their Cheeto-stained snug-fitting Sanchez jerseys in victory and waiting for the type of deliverance that only God and DangeRuss can provide.
Super Bowl Preview next week! See y’all then.