You thought we were going to lose to the Giants?
Eli Manning and the Giants?
Give me a break, you drivel-doodling dimwits. I’ve produced majestic fecal matter that gave me more trouble than Eli Manning.
I know you soft-boiled scribblers had your led-balloon leads all ready, just waiting for us to lose.
The mighty have fallen!
The Giants slay NFL giants!
I’ll bet you were rooting for us to lose, you pen-pushing pissants.
Don’t bother denying it, you homo-submoronicus wretches.
I know what you’re thinking before your Pony Express synapses deliver the information to your pre-Cambrian minds.
You pea-brained, cliché-spewing philistines think this is all about 16-0?
A perfect season?
Another Super Bowl championship?
You finger-flailing keyboard cadets have no idea.
No idea, you hear me!
We will rule the world!
And you thesaurus-ransacking geniuses will kneel at our feet and thank us for it.
Mark my words, you tin-eared troglodytes.
Mark my words.