In a forward-thinking move by the organization that brought you the all-CCTV Wife Dragging Championships, the NFL will welcome it’s first lady referee. Thanks, Obama, now who’s going to cook the roast? Are you happy now, outrage machine? Token lady, on the field and everything? Bossing big, sweaty, alpha-males around? Yeah, that should sate the ravenous hordes. There’s no way this seemingly perfect, progressive gesture to the public at large could go wrong.
Let’s get ’em out of the way: “A chick? On a show that guys watch?” “What, is this some kind of cross-promotion with Hooters?” “No, it’s the Hustler porn parody of the NFL we’ve all been wildly anticipating.” “She’ll bleed all over the ball, and that will somehow result in everyone calling Bill Belichick a cheater.”
“I’m Bryant Gumbel here to talk to you about the aspects of sports no actual fan cares about. Tonight’s Real Sports top story: Are vaginas big enough to house a decoy football, and if so, can they be used by an offense to fake a punt?”
This is going to be a shit show of massive proportions, and I couldn’t be happier. My Pats took their swan song Superbowl in 2015, everything NFL from here on out is the goofy sequel featuring Vanilla Ice. The largest institution in the country has chosen this season to undergo a hellish puberty, leading eventually and painfully to an adulthood where female refs aren’t news anymore. I genuinely hope Sarah Thomas, the poor pioneer, knows the magnitude of the dysentery on her particular Oregon Trail. Because men, on a whole and in groups of three or more, are objectively awful, and ulta-feminists are in season, flocking to outrage like lab rats to the cocaine water-bottle.
Here’s what Sarah had to say:
“Being raised with brothers I’m just one of the guys, I guess,” she said. “I don’t try to be one of the guys. I am a female, but I don’t look at myself as just a female. I look at myself as an official. With their respect and the respect that I have for them, it just doesn’t feel like it’s a male-dominated profession.” – Bleacher Report
Aw. I hesitate to refer to quotes from the first female NFL official as ‘adorable,’ but here we are. You’ve put me in this position, Sarah. Give it about six minutes of actual game-time, kiddo. Probably won’t even need that. This summer is going to be 75 new flavors of hell you couldn’t have comprehended officiating college ball. College football is a huge industry too, but this is the big stage, where people who don’t even like sports keep an eye out for things to lose their minds over. Sarah Thomas is in the pros now, and that means professional monsters and professional indignants, and professional scumbag spectators like the good readers at the Bajeezus.
If you were one of the dicks who thought having an openly gay player on a pro team would be “too much of a distraction,” wait until every call is questioned and re-questioned because it was made by a woman. Wait until a depressingly white defensive end from Florida, with typical grammatical grace, lays the loss of a whole season on the slender shoulders of Ms Thomas’ menstrual cycle – – and not the fact that Florida hasn’t fielded a winning team since the World Trade Center was still smoldering (a bad year all-around for America) – – and Dallas’ first Superbowl since 1995 is delivered with a giant, pink asterisk. There’s a better chance than anybody wants to admit that a Baltimore lineman will mistake Sarah for his wife and belt her in the jaw for having a vagina and opinions at the same time.
Within 30 minutes of her pro debut, an announcer at the desk – the real undiscovered country for women in the NFL – will verbally pat Sarah Thomas on the tuckus. That’s not speculation, it will happen, you can bet your toddler’s testicles. Feminists will be outraged, MRAs will be on Fox News defending their first amendment right to bear dicks, Facebook friends will be forever lost. Rachel Maddow will pretend like she didn’t expect this exact thing to happen, Bill Maher will host a panel that will be too honest for its liberal audience, feminist groups will picket topless and painted with slogans demanding to be taken more seriously. Scott Walker, Tom Cotton, and Bob Ballinger will join forces to defend a misogynist public comment one of them is bound to make, wrapping a “What? What did I say?” in the sweet shawarma pita of religious freedom, somehow.
Marriages will end when women, happily serving up nachos to their husbands’ friends in pleasant displays of domestic compromise, hear the locker room talk from the kitchen and barf their nuptial devotion directly from their nostrils. “She may not know shit about football, but damn are them some tit-tays.” Sales of pink-and-white Brady jerseys will plummet in the Northeast, while gender traitors in the South bolster sales of similarly styled Drew Brees shirts. “Could be worse, we could be watching bull-dykes ruin our national pastime.” Sarah Thomas’ family will receive death and rape threats, because the human species, on the whole, is a parasitic disease this organism Earth would have done well to vaccinate against.
The most common response from modernity minded women and men to the first Lady Zebra has been, “About time.” Yeah, until you remember that women taking over traditionally male roles in sports usually works out, but when men try to participate, you get this:
Powderpuff football was a step in the right direction for feminists until high school athletic departments inserted themselves, practically literally.
The only conclusion to draw is that the NFL is a masochist. It keeps inviting absurd controversy from non-fans, buckling itself onto the media rapin’ bench every time it is left to its own devices. It’s the single largest institution in the country, with embassies in/around every major city, and the largest audience of literally everything else, including The Big Bang Theory, which they force people to watch in the secret internment camps to keep it on the air. It is an almost perfect working socialist model in a country that treats socialism like a four-letter word, and the only way it could be more successful is if they made equipment for for-profit wars.
But for the past two years, they’ve been gleefully shooting themselves in the PR foot like a gun nut redneck’s child that’s allergic to walking. Gay rights people complain that Michael Sam isn’t already in the hall of fame by simple virtue of being gay. Hippies demand the NFL be taxed all that money they must be taking in, because they don’t know how the system works. Women demand the heads of violent players, when it’s obvious these dudes’ brains have been pulped to the point they can’t be held any more responsible for their actions than a turnip – – and their own
victims wives keep taking the checks over the self-respect and dignity of their gender. Fuckwits with too many pairs of sweat pants and serious deficits in spiritual and economic advisers shoot themselves in nightclubs. Brain damage, suicides, cronyism – – you would think anyone with operational nerve ending would want to take a break for a year, but not the NFL. The NFL is a sick, sick puppy.
Of course, every good person in the country is happy to have Sarah Thomas and all the other women we can squeeze into this operation. Welcome, welcome, Sarah! But you know what you’re getting into, and you’ll forgive me for sitting back and enjoying the Michael Bay flick that is to be the next two years of your career. I hope your character survives. I leave you with an unedited block of 4 straight comments on Fox Sport’s page:
If they like watching four hours of television featuring exclusively men, there’s tons of gay porn out there. It’s free. Beer sales are going to double this season.