Hear Us Out: A Horny Jaguars Coach Who Also Wins Games

With the NFL Draft around the corner all eyes are on the first pick from the Jacksonville Jaguars. With Urban Meyer out, and Doug Peterson in the entire NFL community is wondering what kind of coach Peterson will be. Will he fit for our beloved Jags? Will he live up to Jacksonville’s standards?

It’s a foregone conclusion that any Jacksonville Jaguars coach is going to be a horny middle-aged pervert; there’s no two-ways about that. And that’s A-OK with us folk up here in northern Florida. That’s our baseline. It’s our innate horniness that gets things done. We’re all out here acting on animal instinct and raw impulse. How do you think we built those nine amazing bridges so quickly if not to give the panhandle’s most damaged exotic dancers access to our town?

But horniness alone will only take you so far. That’s where Urban Meyer went wrong. It’s not enough to be digging around in a coed’s ass; you gotta be the kind of person who can dig into her butt AND into the hearts of your team with the hands of a skilled lover.

We need a coach who can translate their horniness into the bold, rash, and aggressive decisions that make your team believe in you; a poon-hunting, birddoggin’ coach who gets so revved up his veins pop outta his head in the lead up to the sweet release of a 6-9 win; a coach who knows how to edge himself and his team with a pregame speech at one of the 12 strip clubs adjacent to the stadium.

Not any old “successful” coach can do that either. The Jags once considered hiring Nick Saban only to find out the man peaked at a half-chub most games. And though Bill Belichick has one of the best records of any coach, he didn’t make it past the first round of interviews in Jacksonville due to that frosty tundra betwixt his legs—if there’s anything there at all! We need someone who can dedicate their full attention and a full mast each and every Sunday.

Until that perfect mix of coaching ability and the red-blooded, unshackled horniness of an unfixed hound come along, we’ll just keep hoping that ole Doug Peterson doesn’t give us even more blue balls.