Many weeks ago I went in search of the room where Greg Jennings and other former Packers-players-turnedVikequeens had been brainwashed.
I never found the room, but a different type of journey ensued – one that took me to the other side of the world and back. It was all because I was getting too close to the truth and the NFL powers that be are looking to prevent me from exposing the hidden secrets that exist against the Green Bay Packers.
I awoke in the back of the cargo hold of a 747, in a steamy, tropical locale. The back of my head was throbbing as if I had been struck by an errant Mason Crosby field goal attempt. A sliver of light broke through the towers of luggage and I managed to crawl my way through to freedom.
Shielding my eyes from the brightness, I found myself alone, armed only with my Donald Driver jersey, a receipt from Curly’s Pub and $1.50 in spare change. I began to put together the pieces of the last few days.
As I departed the Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame, I remember three black SUVs flying up and surrounding me in my classic Pontiac Vibe. Dragged out of the car by men in dark glasses and suits I was told that my time was up and that I would never get the opportunity to expose the truth to the masses and that I should enjoy my last few free hours as a Packer fan.
The last thing I remember was getting thumped upside the head and I assume thrown in the back of one of the SUVs and driven off. When I awoke, I was alone and far away from any known Packer bar. Then nothing.
After getting my bearings, I realized that I had been transported to the Philippines – a location where my research into Packers bars clearly proved there were none located anywhere on Luzon. Fortunately for me, the minions of Emperor Goodell were not aware of my family ties in the Philippines so I jumped on the first jeepney I could find and headed off to San Juan, Batangas, to catch up with my family and plot my voyage home.
As I traveled the narrow roads leading home to Bagong Pook, Bataan, I began to realize what a mistake the evil powers made, for they dumped me off in a country that clearly bleeds green and gold. Everywhere I looked I saw nipa huts painted Green and Gold, green palm trees tinged with yellow on the edges of their leaves and bananas glistening in the sun, ripening from a vibrant Packers green to a golden luster. I was surrounded by the power of the Packers.
Empowered with the infusion of Packers pride, I journeyed to my in-laws and celebrated my safe arrival. I then made plans for my trip back to America and Packers Nation.
After two weeks of planning I was on my way back to expose the truth of how the NFL was trying to silence me from exposing how they were secretly planning on stopping the Packers from going to New York for the Super Bowl.
I arrived in time to catch the game against the Forty-Whiners and there in all its glory was the dark side of the NFL derailing another Packers victory as the referees had been replaced with the same guys from last year’s Seattle game just so blown calls would factor into the outcome of the game – a factor that would cost us a victory.
Forget the shoddy play of the secondary and the inability to generate a running game, the NFL powers controlled the outcome of this game from start to finish.
Cyborg replacements, fake referees and the conspiracy against the Pack lives on. Emperor Goodell, the NFL Illuminati, and all other dark forces of the No Fun League can try as they might, but they will not silence me or prevent me from exposing the truth this season as I look at each game and point out the atrocities heaped upon us as every roadblock imaginable is used to stop Aaron Rodgers, Clay Matthews and the Packers Nation from hoisting the Lombardi trophy in victory.
We are the Packers Nation. We will not be silenced and we will not go quietly (unless it is to a secluded beach!) and we will search out the truth no matter where it takes us, including the Philippines.
GO PACK GO!!