Let's just be thankful that Michael Vick wasn't on steroids and Belichick* wasn't filming the opposing dog fighters from the stands when he murdered those innocent little puppies. What's the sound of a million red-faced, mustachioed squashes in the car from Methuen exploding at once? Who would be left to defend the unspoiled dreams of a nation's children? Or to staff our sub shops? It'd be like The Rapture for townies, all of them keeling over at once and ascending to that magical tail gate in the clouds.

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