Open Letter To The Guy Who Announced The Browns Game (Who Wasn't Greg Gumble)

Dear Announcer Guy (Again, Not Gumble),


I realize that as a television personality you must be super busy, what, with all that work you have to do so that you can bombard the nation with ridiculous, useless blathering every Sunday--but I was hoping to just get an eensy-weensy moment of your time so that I can ask you a simple question:


IF YOU LOVE TOM BRADY SO MUCH, WHY DON'T YOU JUST MARRY HIM?

Jesus! Like any Browns fan who had to sit and listen to you pine away for Brady, I've been searching for your address so I can start heading that way with a wrench, a bunch of tubing and some astronaut diapers. If I felt like coughing up the cash to order a transcript of the game, I'd expect to come across the words "living legend" and "incredible athleticism" as often as, say, "first down" or "complete pass". Or "football".

I know that your job is to call the game the way you see it--so I have to assume you weren't watching anything in a white uniform and an orange helmet. Also, you must have been too absorbed in the game to take one little thing into consideration: when it comes to everything besides football, Tom Brady is a huge douche.


If I were calling the game, I'd try to look at the big picture. For example:


"Wow! Tom Brady just dodged that Wimbley tackle like it was a pregnant girlfriend. What athleticism!"


"Notice how quickly Brady gets rid of the ball, just like he does with girlfriends who get knocked up? He's a living legend!"


"Look how comfortable Brady is in the pocket. It's like he is in the arms of a vapid, home-wrecking supermodel. He's always got so much protection around him. Well, not always."


Instead, I had to hear about your twisted man-crush for three pathetic hours, which would have been better spent laying behind the tires of my neighbor's car, or sticking various metal things into my electrical outlets.


Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that there were actually two teams present on Sunday, with two quarterbacks, both throwing for over 260 yards. Only one of them wasn't a philandering prick with a celebutard girlfriend.


Regards,
Steph