Mean Old Grandpa Carl's Locks of the Week
Here at FTT, we believe in America. And the Greatest Generation.
So who better to turn the prognostication reins over to for this week's epoch shattering championship playoff games to then...
Our very own (and very old) Mean Old Grandpa Carl!
Carl has been picking games longer than anyone over at the World Wide Lemur. His canny decision to take the Colts over the Ravens last week, based on the "Who the hell are the Ravens?" logic, leads us to trust his counsel in a world where road underdogs go 4-0 against the spread. So we made our way to his palatial nursing home suite to benefit from his wisdom.
FTT: Carl, so good to see you again.
Carl: Eh? How many times do I have to tell you, into the horn!
FTT: I said, IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU...
Carl: Shut the hell up. I ain't deaf!
FTT: I'm so sorry.
Carl: So was your wife.
FTT: What?
Carl: Heh heh. You have the pills?
FTT: No...
Carl: Four hours, my ass. Lying sacks of...
FTT: Anyway... who do you like in this week's games, Carl?
Carl: Who with the what now?
FTT: Saints at Bears. Patriots at Colts.
Carl: Oh, you're talking about football, now. I thought you were here to steal my horseradish. I make it myself.
FTT: Um, no.
Carl: You eat just a bit of this, you can clear out half a nursing home. And those people know stink.
FTT: Can we talk about football, please?
Carl: Once, I ate a whole jar of it, then sat down and played the accordion to cover the sound. For two hours. Finally had to stop when the sprinklers went off. You can still see where the paint failed.
FTT: That's disgusting.
Carl: So's your wife.
FTT: What?
Carl: There's no way in hell that George Halas and Sid Luckman are losing to a bunch of Johnnie Come Wetlies. I like the Bears and the points.
FTT: Sid Luck...
Carl: Look it up on that thing on your lap, sissy! I killed the Nips in '48 so that you could have that.
FTT: That makes no sense.
Carl: Look, all I'm saying is that the -- Saints, is it? -- will have no answer for Bronko Nagurski up the middle. You know what they said about Bronko Nagurski?
FTT: How do you spell that again? I'm pretty sure he's not on the team...
Carl: Shut the hell up. They once asked the Giants coach "How are you going to stop Nagurski?" And he said, "With a shotgun. In his face, like a great black cock of death, until that fat son of a bitch tells me that he likes it, and then he's gonna lick..."
FTT: OK now, got it, you like the Bears. Now, how about the Colts and the Pats?
Carl: I shouldn't even pick that game. The Pats play in the Fag League, don't they?
FTT: You mean, the AFC?
Carl: AFC, fah. That's the AFL. Fags. You can tell by the sissy pants on the refs.
FTT: Actually, I'm pretty sure that the refs dress the same no matter...
Carl: Shut the hell up. Anyway, I'm picking this game against my better judgment. Unitas leads the Colts over the upstarts, and makes Joe Namath cry like the little girl he is.
FTT: Um, the Colts moved out of Baltimore twenty years ago, and Johnny Unitas would probably rather be confused with Richard Simmons than Peyton Mann...
Carl: Colts. Bears. Now get out of my sight. And tell your wife less teeth next time.
Ladies and gentlemen, Grandpa Carl!
So who better to turn the prognostication reins over to for this week's epoch shattering championship playoff games to then...
Our very own (and very old) Mean Old Grandpa Carl!
Carl has been picking games longer than anyone over at the World Wide Lemur. His canny decision to take the Colts over the Ravens last week, based on the "Who the hell are the Ravens?" logic, leads us to trust his counsel in a world where road underdogs go 4-0 against the spread. So we made our way to his palatial nursing home suite to benefit from his wisdom.
FTT: Carl, so good to see you again.
Carl: Eh? How many times do I have to tell you, into the horn!
FTT: I said, IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU...
Carl: Shut the hell up. I ain't deaf!
FTT: I'm so sorry.
Carl: So was your wife.
FTT: What?
Carl: Heh heh. You have the pills?
FTT: No...
Carl: Four hours, my ass. Lying sacks of...
FTT: Anyway... who do you like in this week's games, Carl?
Carl: Who with the what now?
FTT: Saints at Bears. Patriots at Colts.
Carl: Oh, you're talking about football, now. I thought you were here to steal my horseradish. I make it myself.
FTT: Um, no.
Carl: You eat just a bit of this, you can clear out half a nursing home. And those people know stink.
FTT: Can we talk about football, please?
Carl: Once, I ate a whole jar of it, then sat down and played the accordion to cover the sound. For two hours. Finally had to stop when the sprinklers went off. You can still see where the paint failed.
FTT: That's disgusting.
Carl: So's your wife.
FTT: What?
Carl: There's no way in hell that George Halas and Sid Luckman are losing to a bunch of Johnnie Come Wetlies. I like the Bears and the points.
FTT: Sid Luck...
Carl: Look it up on that thing on your lap, sissy! I killed the Nips in '48 so that you could have that.
FTT: That makes no sense.
Carl: Look, all I'm saying is that the -- Saints, is it? -- will have no answer for Bronko Nagurski up the middle. You know what they said about Bronko Nagurski?
FTT: How do you spell that again? I'm pretty sure he's not on the team...
Carl: Shut the hell up. They once asked the Giants coach "How are you going to stop Nagurski?" And he said, "With a shotgun. In his face, like a great black cock of death, until that fat son of a bitch tells me that he likes it, and then he's gonna lick..."
FTT: OK now, got it, you like the Bears. Now, how about the Colts and the Pats?
Carl: I shouldn't even pick that game. The Pats play in the Fag League, don't they?
FTT: You mean, the AFC?
Carl: AFC, fah. That's the AFL. Fags. You can tell by the sissy pants on the refs.
FTT: Actually, I'm pretty sure that the refs dress the same no matter...
Carl: Shut the hell up. Anyway, I'm picking this game against my better judgment. Unitas leads the Colts over the upstarts, and makes Joe Namath cry like the little girl he is.
FTT: Um, the Colts moved out of Baltimore twenty years ago, and Johnny Unitas would probably rather be confused with Richard Simmons than Peyton Mann...
Carl: Colts. Bears. Now get out of my sight. And tell your wife less teeth next time.
Ladies and gentlemen, Grandpa Carl!
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