Listen up shitbag,
There are only about 32 rich white guys who can say, do, or tweet anything they want while I just sit by quietly. And guess what? You aren’t one of them. If you want to throw $45 million a year my way, I’ll stand at a podium and say literally ANYTHING you tell me to say, in total and complete earnest – any defense of something you did or tweeted after one too many wine coolers on the back 9, any racial slur, Helen Keller joke, bit of locker room talk, or rumor you come up with about what Hildawg and RayJay did in a Vegas hotel room. Hell for $45 million I’ll throw on a toga and one of those leaf headpiece things and we can spend a three-day weekend reenacting scenes from Caligula in a suite at Trump Hotel. But until you write me an eight-figure check (and I make sure it clears), I’m gonna have to ask that you kindly fuck off.
Personally, you’re actually taking some heat off me which I have to say, I appreciate. I’ve been the most intellectually challenged, morally bankrupt, clueless leader this side of North Korea for the last decade or so, but you’ve taken that baton from me and are running with it quite impressively. It’s been like the HOA and all my neighbors complaining about my overgrown hedges and “tacky” Christmas decorations for years. Then you show up, paint your house fucking gold, make a habit of dumping your trash out and setting it on fire in the street, and hit a couple neighborhood kids with your car. Suddenly the Goodell family’s 37 ft inflatable snowman with a carrot for a dick instead of a nose doesn’t seem so bad. I still spray paint my initials on a cinder block and throw it through someone’s window around 2:00 AM every so often so people don’t forget about me. But you usually do something to make them forget by the next morning. It’s like crabs just isn’t that big of a concern when full blown AIDS enters the fray.
That all being said, I still get $45 million reasons to live by a code: Protect the Shield. And you’re fuckin with the shield bro, so I’ve gotta take you down. I’ve had enough of you and so has everyone else so you are hereby suspended indefinitely. And none of this Zeke Elliott stuff where we make up some shit so he can be un-suspended when ratings suck. You’re fired (I’ve always wanted to say that).
That means no more pretending to be friends with Brady or Kraft, no more NFL Redzone, no Superbowl invite. And your favorite singer, Taylor Swift, might be playing halftime this year. New Taylor. Oh and I’m giving Al Michaels the green light to take whatever shots he wants at you on Monday Night Football. It’s about to be open season. Now you’re the one that’s having a worse week than Harvey Weinstein. Sucks to be you but you did it to yourself.
If you shut up about your wall, stop tweeting, quit talking shit about everyone outside of your immediate family, stop throwing paper towels at Puerto Ricans, and stop bragging about the stock market, I will review your reinstatement in 6 months.
By the way, what’s all the shit about the stock market? You’re like the Browns telling everyone that you had best draft in the league all off-season. Who are you trying to convince, us or yourself? You can have the worst draft of all time then say whatever you want or lie about it all summer. Then you can hide it for the first 6 weeks of the season but sooner or later you’re gonna have to throw Johnny Football or Brandon Weedon out there against an NFL defense. Eventually you’re gonna look like an even bigger asshole than you do now. And this isn’t like your hotel business. You can’t just decide to bail, take the three good players you have to go make a new team and pretend like you didn’t just take your last team, build it into a house of cards and douse it in kerosene.
Just basically be the opposite of yourself and keep my league’s name out of your mouth and out of your tweets until further notice. Maybe we’ll talk down the road and consider nosebleeds for Superbowl 55.
Roger Goodell, Commissioner
PS – Tell Ivanka Roger said Sup