The Broncos Are On The Series Of Tubes

So I'd be remiss if I didn't at least mention in passing the existence of several other Broncos blogs. While it's a proven science type fact that the only Broncos blogs of any value are this one and the ones linked to on the sidebar, I've also noticed that the Broncos organization has their own little blogosphere. I only have so many hours in the day to read shit, so I don't go there very much, but you might like it. There you can hear from Andrew Mason about how everything is hunky dory in Broncoland and Mike has everyone right where he wants them, or you can go to the Community Development blog where you can read about, um, guys digging with shovels or something. You can read the blog of the guy in the horse costume, who could probably give some great career advice, since he's obviously climbed the stinky costume wearer food chain from the guy dressed like a giant taco handing out coupons for a buy one/ get one free Chalupa Supreme to the glory of his current position. Or you can read Mark Cooper's blog, who apparently used to be a Broncos player and appears to have specialized in scowling and sweating profusely.

More importantly, however, are the cheerleader blogs, belonging to Keela Harris and Laura Sobon. Personally, I blame the XIX Amendment, which allowed women to vote. Ever since then, women have gotten all uppity thinking that they're real people entitled to opinions, and they've forgotten that their major function is supposed to be making me nutritious yet savory meals and vacuuming.* Here's an excerpt from Keela's blog:

Sarah Culter, a fellow teammate and myself decided to put our attention to a
different adventure this past weekend by joining the ultimate race in Denver;
“The Muddy Buddy “of course! For those of you Denverites who have not heard of
the event, it is a sold-out race in Boulder with approximately 900 teams.
Everyone brings their “A” game to the table, competing with names like “The
Mediocres” or my personal favorites, “Kanondo Kakkala Anyika”–my team name of
course( Tonga for “turtle that lives on land”) and “Sparkle Motion,” Sarah
Culter’s team name.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Chicks like this are the reason I gave up threesomes for Lent and never looked back. After several consecutive minutes of rocking their respective worlds, I'd be laying back and trying to decide what kind of sandwich I wanted (usually roast beef), but there'd be some broad to my left jabbering on about, "so my cat was playing with his cat toy, and Sam- that's my cat, he kept batting at it, but then it went under the armoire..." so I'd turn over and try to ignore her, but then there's some other chick who's all, "and then Jaime ran into Dan at Banana republic, and Jaime really like Dan, like likes him likes him, but Tina told me that Dan doesn't like her back..." meanwhile I can't escape so I'm miserable and nobody is making my goddamn sandwich. No thank you. Veteran readers of this site might remember my Cheerleader of the Week feature, which lasted all of one week before I ran out of interesting cheerleaders. Based on a study I'm inventing for the purposes of this point- the hotter they are, the smarter they ain't. Hot chicks have gotten by forever just by being hot, so they usually don't need to be smart or funny or interesting. That's why fat girls are usually funny and give good head- they have to, or no one would look at their disgusting asses.

*note- talk like this is the reason I'm so popular with the ladies. I'm often called "Silver Tongued Devil" over the CB radio because all I need to do is whisper sweet nothings into a girl's ear and sooner or later she's going to be leaving the back of my van with her bra in her purse and a bewildered look on her face. I think it's because of my smooth talk. It might also be the chloroform, but I'm not sure. What am I, some kind of science doctor?