Week 10: -43,500 jermajesties
Season Total: -9,000 jermajesties
On to Week 11
Week 10: -43,500 jermajesties
Season Total: -9,000 jermajesties
On to Week 11
Week 8: +135,000 jermajesties
Season: +95,500 jermajesties
Warning: This blog is being written by a grown adult male who has overdosed on Nerds and tropical Starbursts and is completely full of false bravado after sweeping the board with his Week 8 prop bets. Please proceed with caution.
Week 6: -52,500 jermajesties
Season: +5,500 jermajesties
Week 6 was a disaster. I split my four picks, got screwed over by Denver in the first half and — of course — by the Texans, who I was foolish enough to put in a three-team teaser again. I think if Matt Schaub bet on himself as much as I do, he’d cheer his own injuries. And by the way — there are worse examples of fans displaying their insensitivity at public events. What about the people who applaud the dead names during the Academy Awards' in memoriam montage? Talk about coldhearted!
OK, enough nonsense. The good news is I raised my own debt ceiling and am ready to fire away on some NFL propositions. We’ll worry about how we’re going to get this boat full of jermajesties* to China later.
On to Week 7
+47,500 jermajesties last week
+133,000 jermajesties overall for the season
Hello, degenerates! As you can see, life is good again. Week 4 proved to be profitable. Now all there’s left to do this weekend is to put our heads together and amass a bundle of tax-free jermajesties.* Yes — that’s right — any amount won while our inept government is on strike is untouchable. Don’t believe me? Check the NFL Propositions of Independence. Here’s my plan to free ourselves from our bookie’s stranglehold in Week 5.
I hate to say I told you so. But let’s face it, I told you enough so to last a lifetime. Last week I went right up to each and every one of your degenerate gambler faces and urged you to jump on my prop bets. And did you listen? Actually there’s no way for me to really tell. But at a quick glance, you seem to be wearing the same rags from Ross Dress for Less as you were when we started this thing, so I’m guessing no.
My Week 1 plays netted 73,500 jermajesties.* I barely survived the Colts halftime bet (thank you, Sebastian Jani-hook-ski!), capitalized on a lethargic Steelers offense, and then hit on a miracle three-team teaser where two of the teams trailed in the fourth quarter. That hasn’t happened for me since back in the days when Bo Jackson ruled Tecmo Bowl and Q*bert ruled Q*bert.
more of the same.
Hello, degenerate gamblers. March Madness is upon us, so whataya say we get mad together? Props are plentiful in this year's NCAA tournament. Some of these are harder to find than a clean Lindsay Lohan urine sample, but I promise if you go online and search hard enough you'll hit pay dirt.
There will be ZERO buzzer-beaters during the second-round (Thursday-Friday) games (-140)
Aside from the over/under for Joey Chestnut hot dogs consumed, this is my favorite annual bet in all of sports. I've won with this play the last two years. Yes — betting against buzzer-beaters makes me the equivalent of the kill-joy douche bag who plays the don't-pass line in craps. But I don't care — it's an adrenaline rush like none other. Remember — you lose only if the game ends on the shot itself. If the shot sends the game into overtime, it is not considered a buzzer-beater. If there's .3 still on the clock after the shot is made, it is not considered a buzzer-beater. If some drunken coed sets off an app that sounds like bees swarming while a free throw is converted — not a buzzer-beater.
Let's break down this prop. Of the 32 second-round games, 25 or so are not going to be within seven points in the final 30 seconds — so those are throwaways. (I completely made up that stat but it sounds about right.) That leaves only a handful of games you have to watch from the edge of your laptop. Please jump on this one with me, if for no other reason than I don't have to feel like such a loser.
Rough week last week. My NFL prop picks got smoked harder than a blunt backstage at a Bieber concert. I pulled a giant oh-fer, wiping out my entire jermajesty savings account. In fact, I now owe 22,500 jermajesties*.
But look at me. Do I seem worried? Not even a little, and you know why? Because I have this week — traditionally the most effed-up week of the NFL season — completely figured out. Every year during the divisional round of the playoffs there's a huge (eight points or higher) upset. Let me quickly refresh your memories:
2012: Giants 37, Packers 20
2011: Jets 28, Patriots 21
2010: Jets 17, Chargers 14
2009: Cardinals 33, Panthers 13
2008: Chargers 28, Colts 24
In 2007 Tom Brady and Peyton Manning for some reason played on the road, otherwise the streak would've been six-plus years.
The divisional playoff round is when the bookies make a killing. Well — this year we're gonna kill them right back. Come Monday when you're gathered around a water cooler talking about the games you'll be able to pull out your own bottle of artesian mineral water and tell everyone you've got boatloads of it back home thanks to Cousin Sal steering you away from the big favorites.
Here's how we're doing it. I'll do it with jermajesties. You use the real stuff. Just follow my lead. Especially with this first prop:
Why does rooting for sports hurt so much? How does one allow himself to get to a point where his favorite player blowing a winnable game for his favorite team is as painful as hearing about the near death of a loved one or a breakup of a long-term relationship?
A normal person would step back and realize that the sadness/frustration that goes with rooting for a game played by mostly thuggish multimillionaires who couldn't give a crap about you should fall somewhere between getting a parking ticket and not being able to guess someone's offering on Draw Something. That's it. No more demoralizing, no less.
So what if Tony Romo came up short again? Why, after 41 years on this planet, why should I care? If I were still 7 years old, fine — but 41? The fact that I can't outgrow this is grotesque. I feel like I can laugh off "I know you are but what am I?" retorts. I can roll my eyes at a grownup singing about my wife and me sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G. So why is it so enraging if a hundred Twitter followers send me the same stupid tweet: "How do you say Romo in Spanish? Sanchez." Not funny — don't laugh.
Don't worry — I don't expect you to have an answer to these rhetorical — yet painful questions. My New Year's resolution is to not care as much about stupid shit. And if I break that resolution — I don't care as much. See — I'm off to a great start!
Good thing that therapist of mine is still accepting jermajesties* cuz I have plenty of those lying around. 185,000 to be exact. That's the profit I've turned wagering on NFL propositions this season. My road to a million jermajesties (sounds like a bad Max Allan Collins novel) has taken a few slight detours. Let's get it back on track this wild-card weekend:
If you're reading this, the end of the world did not take place and the Mayans will forever be seen as crap-filled liars. Let's hope that's the case.
As far as my personal interest goes, the end of the football world (at least the season) has been perplexingly delayed by my beloved Dallas Cowboys. I guess they just want to disappoint me closer to the holidays. This team is the equivalent of unwrapping a bolo tie on Christmas Day.
I actually thought of a way the Cowboys could prolong the inevitable agony for their fans before even stepping on the field this Sunday. I know bullying is frowned on in today's society, but I wouldn't mind seeing uber-rich Cowboys owner Jerry Jones make a public statement before the Saints game. And it should go something like this: "Let it be known that if we are to lose this week against the Saints, we will actively and aggressively pursue Sean Payton in the offseason. And don't think we won't." And then when New Orleans backs off and lets us win — we steal Payton away in mid-January anyway.
There you have it. Easy Peasy George and Weezie.
Here's my jermajesty* update: -19,500 last week and +180,000 overall. My apologies for last Sunday's Ray Rice over 19.5 carries prop. I thought I read somewhere that the Ravens hired a new offensive coordinator. He must not have started yet.
This week, we up the ante in our quest for one million jermajesties.
Here's week 16:
And so ends this dismal installment of Thursday Night Football 2012. Remember when Thursdays used to be must-see TV? At best — this season — NFL Network presented us with “Must C-minus TV.” I fondly recall the legendary names associated with Thursday night television: Cosby, Seinfeld, J. Fox. Just like that, those icons have given way to the likes of Cassel, Hartline, and Heyward-Bey. If nothing else, we shouldn’t be featuring Clay Harbor this close to the anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Too depressing.
Back to what’s important — gambling on men who protect their genitals with plastic! Was anyone else bold enough to urge you to bet that Mark Sanchez would end his coveted interception streak last week? Probably not. I can’t brag too much as, overall, my prop bet predictions took a small dip — bringing my season-long tally to a positive and still impressive 199,500 jermajesties overall.*
(*Obligatory weekly explanation: A "jermajesty" represents the fake name given for a dollar amount in this blog. It’s also the unfortunate name of one of Jermaine Jackson's sons.)
Here’s Week 15:
Before Thursday night’s game, teams that were 8+-point underdogs at home were 21-1 against the spread. 21-1! Leave it to the dismal Raiders to screw up that trend.
But still, that’s a bizarre progression — one that will undoubtedly trip up even the most astute degenerate gambler. That’s why I like that I stay clear of the lines themselves and play the prop bets, where there are no pitfalls to speak of whatsoever. Yeah, right.
We took a little hit last week, shaving 7,500 off our bundle, which took the grand total to 210,000 jermajesties* overall. Our quest for a million jermajesties in the hopes to buy some really cool fake Christmas gifts begins right now.
Here’s Week 14:
Quick question: Is it safe to hide jermajesties* in the crisper or will they eventually go bad? I have a serious problem trying to hide the many bundles I’ve accumulated from the wife and kids. Thanks to my Week 12 prop bet conquest, I’ve now amassed 217,500 jermajesties on the year.
Let’s recap my glorious Week 12:
Basically, if the Dolphins’ defense were on the field for punt returns, I would’ve swept the board.
Here’s lucky Week 13:
Quick poll: Did anyone else turn a 70,000 -jermajesties profit on NFL propositions last week, taking his or her season-long total to 182,0500 jermajesties in the plus overall? Probably not, since jermajesties* don’t really exist, except in Jermaine Jackson’s household. Actually, I did come across some good news, as the soon-to-be-defunct Hostess Brands Inc. has agreed to let me purchase their remaining stock using jermajesties. Looks like everyone’s getting a gross of Twinkies and Suzy Q’s from me for Christmas.
Where was I? Oh yeah — Twinkies. This is a tough week to pick props. Mainly because as of Tuesday night, there were absolutely none to be found.
Because everyone on the Grantland staff (including and especially myself) is too lazy to work on Friday, we’ll have to make do on three propositions that I’m pretty sure will be on the board, followed by a bunch I’m positive you will not be able to wager on.
Here’s Week 12:
Only I could win four out of five of my major prop bets, go 3-and-0 with my best bets against the spread, and not have a dime to show for it. Yes — I too loaded up on a three-team teaser with the 49ers over the Rams. Neither team won, so as a result, I became the only loser. They say a tie is like kissing your sister, but I’d like to see another example of a peck on a sibling’s cheek that results in a lost car payment. And that includes the oddly amorous connection between Angelina Jolie and James Haven last decade.
For those keeping track — in make-believe degenerate gambling land, I netted +47,000 jermajesties*, which takes it to +112,050 jermajesties overall this year.
Here’s Week 11:
No matter what your affiliations are, or how you were affected by this week’s big news, you must admit we’ve experienced a major moment in the storied history of this country. That’s right: an African American man once again put himself in a position to make a decision that can change millions of lives for the better. Yes, fellow countrymen — Jermaine Jackson has decided to change his name.
This week, the brother of pop legend Michael Jackson filed a petition at an L.A. courthouse asking to change his last name to “Jacksun.” In case you still can’t figure out the difference, Jermaine just wants to scrap the “o” in Jackson and make it a “u.”
I’m sure the letter O is thrilled to be done with this lunatic. (Calls have been put out to O’s publicist — still no response.)
But this is especially fun news for me because (a) I love when celebrities (albeit D-listers) lose their minds, and (b) Jermaine is solely responsible for this blog’s long-running monetary unit.*
Back in 2000 (presumably when he was more lucid), Jermaine thought it would be wise to name his son Jermajesty. So the poor bastard is stuck with that first name, but his old man feels it’s necessary to have a minor surgical procedure done to his last name that doesn’t even change it phonetically?
He claims the switch is for artistic reasons, but Jermaine, I have a feeling you’re going to find out the “u” will not help so long as the “you” is behind the celebrity.
OK, back to winning jermajesties. After hearing about political propositions all week, I think people have forgotten about the propositions that count, those being the ones I cover in the NFL.
Last week, I went in the tank 31,000 jermajesties, bringing my yearly total to +65,050 jermajesties overall. On to Week 10