Other questions include, “why would a grown man live out his life vicariously through an offensive line?” Or even worse, “why would an adult let his life be consumed by the stats of a newly acquired placeholder?” These questions are just part of the enigma that are Fantasy Football Fans, a group immensely growing in numbers while ironically, their cocks shrink.
“Irony” is the proper term for this pathetic culture of loserdom. The F3 is a big proponent of all things masculine: reading FHM, doping drinks with GHP, and shopping at GNC. All in all, F3 lives in a fantasy world (obvious by his name). But on Sunday, all that masculinity culminates to a couch cushion in order to perform the least manly thing possible: watch television and let a computer tally up statistics. F3 plops himself on the couch for an arduous day of nothing but potential bragging rights at the water cooler tomorrow. In doing so, he has become the perfect example of the pussification of the American male.
Whereas only 10 years ago, adult males would enter the workplace on Monday morning to trade stories about who’s penis went where over the weekend or about how much property damage they caused — today’s men meet at the water cooler to boast about who traded up for Ricky Waters prior to Sunday afternoon*.
Even more stupendous than their pussification is the event they hold just before their 5-month internet hard-on. I’m referring to the Fantasy Football Draft, which, if some of you aren’t familiar, is the equivalent of the motivational huddle fluffers create the first day of shooting on a gay-porn set.
Spotting an F3 is one of the easiest tasks to master. For one, F3 outfits are as uniform as the referees they’ve come to detest. By sporting their favorite football team’s home jersey or t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, the F3 announces to the general public that A) I’m a huge fan of Eli Manning and B) I’ve abandoned self-confidence and have given up caring about my place in society.
Secondly, all F3s congregate in the same place: their homes. There once was a time where F3s wandered planet Earth like the husky dog in heat. But much like the husky breed, they’ve been neutered, trading in their natural ways for a fat, domesticated life on the couch. Nonetheless, an enticing menu of chicken wings and boobs can get F3s out of the house, but the lack of internet access hinders their social behavior. And while you’re trying to kick it to a pair of slutty Chargers fans, your F3 “Wingman” will be too busy texting his buddy Karl to hit the refresh button, and update him on their fantasy league.
By Scott Glockholder
Also Known As: Tim Couch, Peyton Not-a-Manning, Warren Goon, Warren Sappy, Mean Joe Recliner, Robert DeNiro in The Fan, Season Ticket/Dick Holder