Christmas with the C3POs

By DeJuan C3PO
Fly Scribe

O holy night and shit! The stars be shining sparkly, hallelujas and all that jazz and it's Christmas time! Who's ready for presents? Dog, I better hope this year's festival of navidady is better than last year, when my dipshit brother D-Unit Reptilion C3P0 spoiled everything by eating all the fruit cake and then farting while we was saying grace. Shit dog, you don't mess with grace.

Also, I will not be purchasing any gifts for any of my lovelies this time around, as I did for the fine Virginia Sanchez last holiday. Yo, she was trying to get her certification to be a nurse and shit so I got her a nurse's outfit. Dog, it's hard for a dude to buy a chick nice clothing, it ain't my fault that I got it a size or two too small.

1. Madd Skillz. Baby Jesus has given Ed Schillinger two thumbs up, cuz this donkey is 12-1 and just waiting for the paperwork to be filed so he can run to the nearest pawn shop and get himself another plaque tag. Dog, DO NOT get your plaque shit from Sandra Washington at Trophys, Inc. on Third Street – she looks fine and all and she's as easy as pancakes on wheat, but she was a dude up until the mid-1990s. I have proof.

2. The Nihilist Marmot. Someone give that little bitch an asterisk! With his clinching all but automatic, the Ethos-Absent Rodent picked up a win over his probable first round playoff opponent, the Poo, and the Poo is falling apart, folks. Happens when you flush, that's just a dirty fact of life. So for now, the tentative edge goes to Marmot. Get that shit? Edge. Like Edgerrin James. Good looking man. Better looking than when he played on the Partyboat.

3. Naj Davenport’s Poop. He's still gonna be the second seed and he's still probably gonna have at least Hines Ward for the playoffs, and he's still eminently do-able. But there are other cats (Chris Henry, Willis McGahee, Greg Jennings) who have been nursing injuries or closely resemble Asian women. And having Morris on his team is tempting fate and shit, similar to when I told a reasonably attractive woman tending airport security that I had thirty guns in my briefcase. I was hoping for a strip search, and folks, I got one. It's not even one-eighth as kinky as it sounds.

4. Tice’s Partyboat. The whiny little slut needs a win and Champ Whitlock to lose in the final week of the season, and he'll get into the playoffs despite an 0-3 start to the season. LL Cool J calls that a comeback, and encourages us to do it and do it and do it well. Champ gets Skillz, endorsed by Baby Jesus, and Tice gets that diseased Mexican in his last battle of the season, so advantage, Float of Fornication. Shit, bringing Ron Mexico and Tice's Partyboat together can only mean one thing: uninhibited burning desire. Feel the burn, hussies.

5. ChamPeons. All the babyfaced badass had to do was defeat the minister of inactivity, Andrew Stem, but somewhere between expired trade offers, inactive players starting and the occasional crucial update on college football, Stem's team came to play. Take that, haters. Bad news for Champ, who now has an uphill task back to the playoffs. Cheer for Mexicans to storm across the border! Shit, that was political satire right there.

6. Fresh Legs. Technically, the fat one has a chance, just like technically I have a chance to get freaky with Halle Berry in the hallway next to the elevator outside my apartment. He needs to win, outscore Champ by 21 points, and have both Champ and Drew lose. Disappointment will ensue, my babes in toyland. But it's Christmas! And I'm frisky.

Others of disinterest:
7. The Slumpbusters. Dog should change his name to "The Slump" now that he's lost four straight.
8. Who is Ron Mexico? When he's not getting his manlove on with Tony Romo, he's busy stockpiling keeper running backs.
9. Cellar Dwellars. (this space intentionally without comment)
10. Father Abraham. I will send you some Christmas cookies, my good man.