Mac Jones was a victim of duplicitous dysfunction
Was I the Captain of the Mac Jones fan club? Yes. Do many consider me a voice, perhaps a hero, of the disenfranchised, under represented, and downtroddend? The little people, if you would?
(TANGENT - Randy Newman. All American legend. Also, not a fan of little people?)
It couldn’t be. This song, like it’s subject, and artist are just misunderstood. Just like Mac Jones.
I digress. I'm not telling you Mac Jones was going to be a Hall of Famer. But, he is a shiny example of what the Patriots turned into post Brady. A sad, helpless little puppy, torn in multiple directions.
Let's get this out of the way. Mac Jones was kind of a little bitch. He walked and looked like and had the mannerisms of a high school science teacher. When pressed on the field, he needed brown paper bag breathing exercises so he wouldn't lose his shit. When it all went to hell with the walking Nutsack of Patricia and Judge, he couldn't rise above the dysfunction. Belichick saw the end coming in New England, Mac Jones could not overcome the spiteful duplicitous behavior from the greatest coach of all time who shrunk the kid’s brain into a BOTPOD size raison.
That being said, if Belichick and the Patriots were everything that told us they were he would've been perfectly fine as the quarterback to keep them consistently competitive.
But they are not who they told us they were. Belichick’s comedy of errors in decision-making from the roster to the coaching staff caught up to him fast and in a big way. Now we are learning that it wasn't all Bill Belichick tightening those purse strings. That philosophy comes all the way from the top.
So, you combine a cheap ass, owner, a dickhead head coach, and a shitty armed bag of milk for quarterback, you get a six round pick as a return after the most disastrous season this franchise has witnessed under the Kraft’s ownership.
It was a power struggle of spite in the wake of the greatest player of all time exiting this once illustrious franchise, exposing the warts and farts that may very well had always been there stinking things up behind the scenes only to by masked by the musk of a stallion sporting #12. Mac Jones is no stallion. He is a baby dear, a fawn freshly born sucking at the teet of his mother (Do deer have teets?) waiting for Daddy to come home. But Daddy never comes home. No, this isn’t Bambi. Daddy wasn’t venison stew. He just didn’t love you. Because you’re a winer, Mac. And Daddy wanted a winner. So, Daddy stuck you square in the middle of his football operation rampage and said deal with it pig. Suck on this defensive coordinator as your offensive play caller who quite literally can’t come up with enough plays to make it through a whole game. Bow down to your lord of QB knowledge, Joe Judge. He knows not of what he speaks and he does it loudly, you little bitch. The stallion has left the stadium. It’s Daddy’s house now and I’m gunna watch it burn.
Sorry, I blacked out. Anyway,
Be free Mac. Let that Florida son bronze a smile back on that hairless face, you whiny twat.
