Pffffft. Tee-hee. Mmmmph. We're about to play... the... huh-huh... Seaha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hawks in the playoffs! Hilarious.
The football gods are smiling on us this day, Bears fans. The skies parted and delivered us a team of NFL rejects, ripe for slaughter.
Look at these clowns.
In the backfield, you've got Marshawn Lynch, a player so overrated, the Bills didn't even want him. Backing him up, there's Justin Forsett, a guy Seattle already let go once. Then he rusted in the running back graveyard that is Indianapolis for a few years. Now he's back.
Their kicker is Olindo Mare. You may remember Olindo Mare from such historical events as the creation of fire and the extinction of the dinosaurs.
At wide receiver, let's hear it for Brandon Stokley, a fragile, elderly man most people thought had already retired.
Then there's Mike Williams. He's a receiver whose ego was so enormous, he and Maurice Clarett tried to jump from college to the NFL earlier than everyone else. A judge slapped him down, so he spent a year eating Cheetos and watching "Match Game" reruns on the Game Show Network. Then the Lions drafted him tenth overall. He continued eating Cheetos (and truckloads of marshmallow Peeps) until he weighed roughly 479 pounds. The Lions cut him. The Lions cut him. Then he spent two years out of the league. And now he's starting in Seattle.
Leading this freak show of has-beens and never-was-es is Pete Carroll, a man with the moral compass of a flatulent rhinoceros. When he comes to Chicago, clutch your valuables tightly. He will take anything not bolted down. He will sell your children into slavery. He will spend your retirement money on crack, then feed it to puppies. He is evil incarnate. And he must be stopped.
This is a losing team. If the Bears can't destroy them by 20 points, we should close Soldier Field and never speak of football again.