Dear world,
Fuck this gay earth, and fuck the goddamn gutless worthless sacks of shit also known as the fucking retarded-ass, ugly whore-children also known as the motherfucking Chicago shithole Bears.
Dear Lovie Smith,
Why the
fuck would you try to have Robbie Gould hit a 54-yard field goal? Jesus, just because he barely cleared a 53-yarder last week doesn't mean he's suddenly Jason Elam. Fucking Christ. Kill yourself.
Dear Mike Martz,
I know you hate running the ball with the fury of a thousand suns, but,
fuck, man, you could at least try something other than the Ron Turner "run up the gut" strategy. Also, have you not learned by now that you
do not have the goddamn offensive line to make Cutler do 7-step drops? Christ, he's making a decent receiving corps out of those scrubs, and you're going to get him killed. I'm pretty sure he's on track to demolish Carr's record for sacks, even after missing a game. Putting in a tight end to protect Cutler's blind side may
not, in fact, be a bad idea.
Dear Mike Tice,
Watch some game tape from last year and see how fucking terrible Frank Omiyale was at tackle. Then, after you do that and also watch today's game tape, if you ever feel the urge to put him on the outside ever again, eat a gun immediately.
Dear Devin Hester,
You are ridiculous. You tied Brian Mitchell's record, and you've got many years ahead of you. Way to go.
Dear Earl Bennett,
God damn, son. You fucking destroyed the Seattle punter on Hester's runback. Nice.
Dear Lance Briggs,
Holy holy holy holy
holy shit, get better soon. Urlacher's slowing down quickly, and he desperately needs you at his side.
Dear Robbie Gould,
Don't feel bad, buddy.
You're still lights-out from inside 50 yards. It's not your fault that your head coach is a barely functional retard. I still love you.
Dear Matt Forte,
Looks like Chester Taylor just took your starting job, as he, unlike you, doesn't go down after the first hint of contact.
Dear Bears Offensive Line,
I ... I just have no words anymore. You have broken my soul. I can't even muster up anger. That you are utterly pathetic and Bad At Football and entirely incapable of doing anything against a defensive line that puts up more fight than a newborn puppy is simply a fact of life, now. Your mothers are whores and your fathers are harlots and deceivers. You have no spirit, no energy, no enthusiasm whatsoever. You simply don't care. And that's the most disgusting thing of all. It'd be hilarious, if it weren't so pathetic.
Dear Jerry Angelo,
You built the group of sad-sack miscreants you call an offensive line, so you take the blame. Get raped by Michael Clarke Duncan.
Fuck you. This team wouldn't be nearly as bad if A) you held the coaches accountable and B) you didn't systematically remove role players who show shreds of talent in favor of keeping
Rashied Fucking Davis for another goddamn year. I hate you so goddamn much.
With no hugs or kisses whatsoever,
Tim