We will be using the medium of babies to express how we feel about this scenario.

the superlative increase be “going to towns”? These are articles about some of those people who merely went to town in their ridiculousness, but did not fully commit by going to towns.)

“For the first time in years I felt sexually alive.”

The headline reads: Indiana Grandmother  Is Having A New Baby. With Her Grandson. It´s from yet another retarded “mom blog.” She is 72, he is 26. They didn´t know each other for most of his life (there was some kind of adoption scenario, who cares?), but when they met, it wasn´t even a matter of time before they were slapping pink wrinkly against gray wrinkly in the game of horizontal shuffleboard.

“I called Phil into my bedroom, sat him on the bed, and then I leant over and kissed him.”

They are in love, they make fulfilling, passionate, incredibly careful whoop, and they are going to be parents.

“I never in a million years thought at 72 I’d be ‘pregnant’ and in love with my grandson.”

The entire scenario is so deliciously groady, so horrifically and philosophically rank  that it rolls around the mouth like well aged santorum (c´mon, catch up).  In case we weren´t clear, Scumbag Style completely endorses this – - wait what?

The pair paid $54,000 (£35,000) to find a surrogate mother and buy a donor egg to inseminate with Phil’s sperm.

Let us get this straight, Phil. You went far enough to engage in a multi-generational incestuous…. nyehhh carnal relationship with your grandmother. You decided, against the very dictates of nature, to make a frigging baby with this woman who may not live to see the birth, let alone Junior Prom. You are able to describe, in graphic, hilariously nauseating detail, your first kiss and subsequent sex life with what amounts to a living sex doll made of rheumatism, arthritis, and extra skin who is also related to you. You did all of this and you didn´t have the decency to grant us the opportunity for a couple of retard jokes?

This one isn´t even cute.

That was pretty inconsiderate, Phil. You choose now to do the responsible thing? Your entire adult life has been the setup to a monumental knock knock joke of proportions H.P. Lovecraft couldn´t have imagined, and you chuck the punch line at the last minute? You bastard! We mean, shit, the author of this SBS post is a whole year older than you, and he isn´t entirely sure he is old enough to make the kind of sexual decisions you are making for yourself, and you go ahead and get all conscientious on us?

Listen, bro. Nobody is judging your relationship. We bet you are madly in lust, absolutely in love, and up until now, we wished you the best. We just also thought it was super icky, like Garbage Pail Kids. Exactly like Garbage Pail Kids. Because remember when you collected all the cards, and these kids were just plain hilariously gross? And then they made the movie and you saw your trashed out, scummy assed friends once destined for toothless, methy gutter laughs suddenly singing songs about friendship and working together and good civic duty and shit? That´s what you´re doing to our fun, and we don´t appreciate it. If you´re going to be a scumbag, embrace it! You don´t half-ass the scumbaggery.

She´s not even going to technically be the mother now, you realize. You bought eggs and rented a womb. This is your baby! She friggin´ tricked you! She´s just going to be the great grandmother, and you´re just producing your own competition. When she´s 96, she´s going to trade up to the newer model of you. I… gar! You had potential, Phil. And you blew it.

This baby feels better now that he has ralphed. You make babies ralph. High five.

 *As an aside: Mothers, I understand you want pictures of your ugly-assed spawn all over the internets, taking up space that could be used for valuable info. Shit, I want it too, obviously, I need these things. But for fuck´s sake, they don´t need to all be 2000×2000 pixels. It only makes it harder on the people who want to exploit them for a cheap laugh.

Uh, no, Tim. I´m over here. I kicked that field goal. Tim!

When Peyton Manning died, or was raped insensate by mutant squirrels, or whatever happened to him so that he couldn´t play anymore, I admit I felt a little lost. I wasn´t sure my NFL experience would be as full, as magical, as fulfilling as it was when I had a clearly defined antagonist. Someone to hate passionately, almost for no good reason except that it was fun to watch him fail. And he usually delivered. Manning was as key to my enjoyment of football as the Patriots ever were. Careful what you wish for, as your mom said before she bit my dick. Peyton is gone, and the void he left nigh unfillable – -

What´s that? The NFL has a special gift just for me? On Tim Tebow, Peyton Manning´s douche-pants actually look a little tight. Tim Tebow who plays like shit for three and half quarters, then happily divvies up the credit for a squeak-by win between himself and his fucking god. I mean, this guy is a real piece of canine fecal matter.

While he´s luxuriating on his knees on the side-lines, his team is busy cleaning up his mess and pulling out another against-the-odds win. He´d contribute more in that position as a team fluffer, letting his teammates write John 316 on his face in spunk. And when they lose, despite all the praying, what is the goddamned logic? If being right with god is supposed to work, why did New Orleans win that Super Bowl? (Don´t answer that, conspiracy nuts)

The game last Sunday against the Bears was won in overtime with

"Thank you God, for helping the Broncos beat the Bears!"

two field goals, and when the ball sailed over the goal post to win the game, what did Tebow do? Run over and hug the kicker? NO! He fucking pointed up to his sky buddy in appreciation. GOD HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT; ASSHOLE! MATT PRATER FRIGGING WON THAT GAME FOR YOU! In fact, Prater has won at least four of your games for you already this season. If God doesn´t give enough of a shit to do anything about genocide in Africa, or hurricane victims all over the goddamned world, he does not give two shits about whether the Broncos win. Still, infuriatingly, they keep doing just that.

And how does the media react? The Washington Post: Tim Tebow guides Broncos to 13-10 OT win over Bears, keeps Denver in playoff hunt.

Associated Press: Irresistible force Tebow pushes NFL around

LA Times: Tim Tebow pulls off his weekly miracle

It´s infuriating! It´s infuriating because it is incredible arrogance passed off as an extreme form of humilty. It´s infuriating because, during the games, they keep doing QB comparisons with genuinely legendary players as if he belongs in that caste. It´s infuriating because Tim Tebow genuinely sucks in a professional capacity. It´s infuriating because, against all laws of nature, he has a decent record. Which means he has a great team under his command, or there´s something to this cult nonsense afterall.

"Thank you God, for helping the Broncos beat the Bears!"

Tebow is famous for winning a Heisman and then interrupting our Superbowl  to remind us that, unfortunately, his mother failed to act on her instincts in time, and Tim was not aborted. Now we are forced to watch, week after week, hoping Tim Tebow gets his head knocked off his shoulders by an errant tackle. Or even better, a career ending knee shattering, so he can watch while someone with more talent and self-respect leads his team to the great season he can´t give them. “Where´s your god now, bitch?” I will happily exclaim.

This week was, for this fan, the perfect week in the NFL. God helps those who help themselves, and Brady, Welker, Gronkowski and the gang helped themselves to large piece of Tebow´s ass. Wins for

"Thank you God, for helping the Broncos beat the Bears!"

New England, Arizona, Detroit, Cincinatti, Miami (my mother-in-law is a fan, so a win for them is a win for me), and New Orleans. Losses for Baltimore (good for NE), Green Bay (!), both NY teams, and Pittsburgh. Amazing. But don´t think I won´t be vigilant for the rest of the season, sitting in my little gringo bar on Sundays, hoping beyond hope Tebow gets his ass seriously hurt. But deep down, I will be hoping he doesn´t, because after the initial gloating celebration, without the perfect antagonist, you might as well be watching football to masturbate at Tom Brady, and there´s nothing cool about that.