Patriots Hit by Flu & Zombie Apocalypse

 DATELINE: End of an Era?

 Patriot Apocalypse!

Football fans of the New England Patriots have asked what’s going on!  Is it the zombie apocalypse? We have bad news beyond two feet of snow burying us.

After seeing Zachary Quinto discuss the fall of civilization and the end of empires on In Search of,  has it come to the Patriots like the Rapa Nui and Mayans?

We can only add two cents, after ten books of blogs on the Patriots. No, it is not the apocalypse. It is more like the inevitable enemy of mankind:  a bad case of the flu.

No expert dared to cite that nearly half of the team came down with the flu this week. The miracles of IV drips and antibiotics, and the prodding of Captain Bligh Belichick, made no man look at illness as an excuse.

There were two planes: one for the lepers who needed to avoid being cast out and cast off at 37,000 feet without a parachute. We can only imagine the Belichick cure-all.

We now have a view of the bleak future: based on the fact that on top of the plague, the Patriots have sent every decent receiver reeling out of Foxboro in a uniform of tar and feathers, with better contracts elsewhere.

Tom Brady is adrift and out to sea like the victim of an iceberg hitting the unsinkable Patriots. There was no room in the lifeboat for such a thing as Tom’s receiving corps.

Like the band on Titanic, the team played on while sinking with the franchise.

Can the Patriots recover? Not this year, and maybe not for another decade. This loss will hasten Tom’s departure to another team next year: one that will give him joy of playing for the few years he has left in this world of football.

As for the Patriots, the zombie apocalypse may be settling in at Foxboro. Remember the good old days when the Pats stunk up a storm? NO? Well, history is about to show you what it was like back before six Super Bowls, Brady & Belichick. Return with us now for the Keystone Kops aka Patriots.

It happened to the New York Yankees of the 1950s & 1960s, and now it is the Patriot turn of events.

The Great Hoodie Shoots All Lame Horses!

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DATELINE: Belichick’s Message!

For the third time in three years, the Patriots will find a new doctor to tend to the variety of wobbly knees, bent attitudes, and separated shoulders.

Of course, the present doctor praised the organization and his dream job with the Krafty business. You wouldn’t expect a respected professional to be dismissed by Belichick. Dr. Matt Provencher has been associated with Mass. General Hospital. We are not talking about a guesswork meteorologist that irked Bill Belichick.

So, the housecleaning at Patriot Place continues with anyone associated with the weaknesses of this year’s team find themselves pushing the revolving door, spinning out quicker and quicker.

You might theorize that rats leave a sinking ship, if you were a Denver Bronco, but you’d be wrong. Belichick is giving a heave-ho and a pushy push-push to anyone who seems askance.

Since these are the staff members who labor for the glory of being with the Patriots, you can imagine what the Great Hoodie has in store for those whose salary towers over their performances.

Bill likes a good return on his dollar—and he likely will find a bunch of unknowns and undrafted John Doe types. They will shine for a season or so under the Hoodie—before wanting big bucks.

As far as we can tell, there are few untouchables in the Belichick caste.

Brady and Gronk seem to be top of the list. Indeed, Patriots will find another Gronkowski brother in the draft, already having interviewed him, to keep Gronk happy. He had another brother on the team a few seasons ago.

As for that notorious O-line that has the same porous quality of the notorious O-ring for NASA thirty years ago, you can expect that Brady’s staunch defenders will be unrecognizable come this summer.

Brady at the Bat

DATELINE: DERAILED IN DENVER

Yikes, history repeated itself this weekend.

There was no joy in Mudville, nor in Foxboro.

The Mighty Brady has struck out.

Fans were thrown a curve ball, and the pitcher was an aging knuckleballer named Manning.

The bases were loaded in the bottom of the ninth, and Brady had many times in the past knocked the ball out of the park. But, on this pleasant day with ordinary meteorological conditions in the Mile High City, he was caught looking.

Back in the day the Mighty Brady would have pulled off a last second victory, but the sneer is gone from Brady’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate at Goodell; he pounds his fists on the deflated ball, and now he lets it go.

The vengeance was shattered in Denver’s light air, and in the fans’ hearts.

Somewhere in the favored land of Foxboro, the sun will shine again; the Minutemen with their muskets will fire upon a Gronk spike; and sometime in the future, Pats’ fans will laugh, and children will shout, but for this season, the Mighty Brady has struck out.