Roger Goodell — musing on the upcoming NFL season and the media hoopla surrounding Mike Vick’s penchant for poor pet ownership — explained that the league will remain a top dog.

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell insisted Michael Vick-related news is not eclipsing enthusiasm about the game itself.

“I don’t think it’s overshadowing the season,” Goodell said Thursday after visiting with Detroit Lions coaches and players. “I think our fans are excited about football, but I understand the interest in the story.”

Yea, I agree. People won’t be put off — in the least — because, after all, we are watching 325 lb. men try and destroy each other. We, as Americans, live for this, Mr. Gooddell. Have no fear.

However, if that weren’t the case, and we were suddenly whipped up in a rash of 1960’s revolutionary spirit, Goddell’s words could be equated to the following situations.

Just fill in the blanks … “If the Michael Vick incident will have NO bearing on the NFL’s quest in global domination, then … __________”

• Katrina and the ghosts left behind will have NO bearing on the attendance at Mardi Gras.
• The Buffalo Bills overall poor attendance last season will have NO bearing on the team’s eventual westward move.
• Flavor Flav’s commercially driven masquerade on VH1 will have NO bearing on the opinions of original fans of Public Enemy.

• Ray Allen’s curious situation in Connecticut will have NO bearing on the public’s overall view of New England as a utopia.
• Watching a Phish (if they were still alive) show sober will have NO bearing on the enjoyment of the experience, especially watching Trey’s longing face during his solos.
• Prince’s future antics on stage will have NO bearing on a cooter that was nurtured and worn in during the 1980’s.
• Eric Mangini’s burgeoning star power will have NO bearing on how the New York media judges him in his sophomore season.

• John Sterling’s LSD trips in the 1960’s will continue to have NO bearing on his selection of nicknames for Yankee players.
• Suzyn Waldman’s bowling alley vagina will have NO bearing on her achieving climax.
• Indian Point’s prime location on the serene Hudson River will have NO bearing on the overall quality of life for river folk.
• Hugh Hefners’s flacid, vein cluttered penis will have NO bearing on him being able to please all those thirsty clits.
• Jay Mohr’s column on Foxsports.net will have NO bearing on the credibility of the site and the sports media as a whole.
• Kevin Bacon and Michael Jordan’s decision to do an underwear commercial together will have NO bearing on the amount of homoeroticism jokes made during the 30 seconds it airs.

• Bringing your 5-year-old child to the Meadowlands will have NO bearing on “Herpes” being his show and tell “show” in first grade.
• Eating the microwavable chicken wings from the vending machine will have NO bearing on the fireballs shooting out of your ass later that day that Mario and Luigi would be envious of.
• Drafting Grimace from McDonald’s with your first round pick will have NO bearing on your last place finish in the annual fantasy football league.

• Letting Michael Jackson coach a little league T-Ball team will have NO bearing on “Little” Johnny Thompson’s shooting spree at Disney World 25 years from now.
• Sharing a case of Schlitz with Kerry Collins at your Christmas party will have NO bearing on your lack of a buzz and that mysterious pile of shit in the shower.

Hockey’s place in the sports pecking order is well established. South of the border, the Great Canadian Pasttime ranks somewhere between soccer and competitive masturbation. Some of these wounds are self-inflicted (Strikes, cowtowing to Canadian purists.) Others are systemic (ice is not naturally occuring in many parts of the United States.) But every once and awhile, even a drunk driving swerves to avoid the tree that leaps in front of him. I present the worst idea for a third jersey ever, courtesy of the St. Louis Blues.

Would you want to be the General Manager that asks Brett Hull, Al MacInnis and Chris Pronger to wear this car crash for your rods and cones? Wiser minds prevailed and scrapped this thing. I think I saw an AFP photo of a refugee in the Congo wearing one of these.Poor kid.

At one point in time, the Minnesota Timberwolves were expected to be a future dynasty thanks to a pair of young stars in Kevin Garnett and Stephon Marbury. And those expectations did indeed have promise early on, but Steph bailed on KG via trade during the 1998-99 season. Since then, the two have combined for only two playoff series victories, both coming during Minnesota’s run to the Western Conference Finals with Latrell Sprewell and Sam Cassell in tow.

After being traded to the Nets, Marbury bounced around the league, finally landing back home in New York, and has been generally disliked and spoken of negatively until his recent bout with “the crazy” this offseason:

” If my sense don’t add up to yours, then pay me no mind. Feel me?

That’s over with. I knew Beck since I was young. We were having fun.
I do have one admission. I am high, high off of life.

I drink life’s happy water which is bottled at the divine source.
It goes down much smoother than “haterade.”. How does “haterade” really taste?

I guess we could ask people like Tony who called me a lowlife…and
“islesfan” who said I was drugged up.

Let me ask YOU dudes a question. How would your mother feel if someone put you on blast in all the media and said you were on drugs in front of all your co-workers, your friends and family?”

Jeez, Steph, I just don’t know how to answer that. Gotta wait until I’m put on “blast.”

While his career averages of 20 and 8 are among the best ever for a point guard, Marbury has been saddled with the labels of “loser,” “mope” and “pussyface.” Unfortunately for Marbury, it’s been the truth, he’s never taken a team past the first round of the playoffs despite gaudy numbers and he can be a bit of a “pussyface” from time to time.

With that in mind, interesting is the case of Garnett. He’s being lauded as a savior in Boston, one that could potentially bring the team back to the glory days. But what has he done to earn that distinction? What makes him different than Marbury? Besides putting up incredible stats — like Starbury — KG has never won a damn thing.

It makes you wonder if the basketball gods frowned upon these two for the break-up in Minnesota. Combined, the two could have been something special. I mean, Jesus, just look at the chemistry in these two videos:

Oh, what could have been …

Being a big tattooed monster with the inner core of a goose-feathered teddy bear can really go along way in America. Jason Giambi, who won’t be punished by MLB for his involvement with steroids, is a prime example of this.

Jason Giambi escaped punishment from commissioner Bud Selig on Thursday because of the Yankee slugger’s charitable work and cooperation with baseball’s steroids investigator.

“He’s doing a lot of public-service work, and I think that’s terribly important,” Selig said. “He was, I thought, very frank and candid with Sen. Mitchell, at least that was the senator’s conclusion. Given everything, this is an appropriate decision.”

Wow.

Jason Giambi wakes up in the morning, greases his hair, hugs a couple of weakened children, donates some money, bullshits with a senator about his brilliant acting in The Bronx Is Burning, and he’s cleared of it all.

Barry Bonds would have to give birth to a band of traveling Mother Theresa’s out of his dick head and shit out the clone of Bill Clinton — at the same time — to escape the ire of Selig.

Giambi — causing the eye make-up on a thousand emo souls to run in the streets — proves that being a nice guy does pay off.

In today’s NY Post, Giants safety Will Demps admits to being faced with “Bimbo Overload” while plowing through the NFL groupie circuit.

I’ve had my share of fun with these types. I’ve flown beautiful women with agendas to big games . . . I’ve wined and dined them at the fanciest restaurants knowing I could’ve shared my bed with three at a time.”

Color me Pollock, but his statement reads an awful bit like, “I’ve flown beautiful women with big vaginas.”

Needless to say, the endless romp has ravaged Demps’ ID, flowering his decision to pass on the ass.

They hang in packs like vultures . . . posed with breasts spilling out of their shirts . . . In the end, I know these women can never fulfill a need beyond my libido.”

I agree.

Big pancake tits and loose vag’s don’t really fulfill a need beyond my flesh rocket either, Will.

However, your fellow train runners and roast beef rompers may not agree.

Here’s what some of your fellow Giants teammates have to say about you laying off the pussy.

“I thought I left all this liberal ‘I’m not shavin’ my pussy’ thought up in Providence.”

“Shit. Looks like I will have to triple up on my pussy eating.”

“PUSSY BUFFET!”

“Will’s gay? I ain’t know if I gon’ feel comfortable with no patch dick mother fucker ’round the locker room.”

*massages groin with bengay** “They just got a taste of the third leg last season. This is just a smokescreen by Will. He’s fifth on the pussy depth chart and he is in denial.”

“I respect A.C. Green’s decision to keep the sanctity of his eden.”

Alas, the NFL is faced with its first case of estrogen, a performance limiting drug.

Photo Via The Onion

Prince Fielder has been suspended for three-games for bumping home plate umpire Wally Bell during Sunday’s 6-4 loss to the Astros.

The incident occurred after Fielder was caught gawking at strike three.

Had it been a triple cheeseburger …

Fielder, who was blinded with rage, didn’t even realize he had bumped chests with Bell during the altercation and is appealing the suspension.

“We’re both over 250 pounds, so if our stomachs touch, that’s going to happen,” Fielder said.

We’ve heard it before, Prince, but next time you will have to buy two seats on the plane.

Not surprisingly, he’s appealing — turning a cold shoulder toward the fat of the matter.

First it was wrestling.

Now it’s rapping.

His National Street League Records, based in Atlanta, announced Wednesday that Jones will team with producer Spoaty in a duo called Posterboyz with their first single “Let it Shine” being released Aug. 27. The song talks about big money, cars and jewelry.

Once again: Big money, cars and jewelry. Totally groundbreaking stuff here.

Pacman Jones is really taking this extended off-season seriously, fully immersing himself in everything that the 2007 American job market has to offer. Well, with his sterling resume, he’s a pretty appealing candidate for, umm, i dunno, being the muscle for a child sex trade ring?

But what else could Pac’ do?

I had a few minor suggestions.

• Michael Vick’s dog walker.
• Matt Leinart’s stay at home nanny.
• Barry Bonds’ testicle massous.
• Imus’ new partner in crime.
• The 4th outfielder for the Devil Rays Single-A affiliate — Hudson Valley Renegades — in Fishkill, New York.
• Karl Rove’s slave butler.

KEEP IT GOING …

Ask any Nationals fan about the RFK Stadium experience and two common themes emerge:

• It’s fun making sure you received correct change after using a $20 to buy a $4.50 beef dog.
• More often than not, the Presidents Race is the highlight of the game (besides watching Dmitri Young shoot up insulin at first base.)

Every race features the four presidents from Mount Rushmore: Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson and T. Roosevelt. (Also because a race with FDR would be mean.)  The race starts from bullpen on the first base side in the middle of the fourth inning. Whoever crosses home plate first wins. Since the races began in 2006, Roosevelt has never won. (According to Wikipedia, Jefferson leads the season series.) Sometimes he falls down. Sometimes he tackles the leader. Once he chased after the Easter Bunny.

Read this article for more about the 26th President’s travails.

Poor Trust Buster.

Seriously though, what has Joey Harrington ever done to you?

Was this really necessary? Poor Joey …

Hasn’t the poor schmuck been through enough? After being hyped as the savior in Detroit, the dream fell apart as it always does in the Shittown. Or is it shitown? Where the fuck is Ed Kowalczyk when you need him. Oh yeah, touring minor league baseball stadiums with Counting Crows and Collective Soul. No, really.

But yes … good ol’ Joooey. After his escape from Detroit and one-year stint in Miami as Daunte Culpepper’s backup and then starter, Harrington now finds himself as “The Man” in Atlanta. And you know what, Joey thinks he’s going to do alright!

Lord pity his soul. This fuck is clearly batshit insane. First, Jon Kitna’s arrival in Detroit is treated like the second coming of Jesus because the Joey era was so god damn awful, and then he was replaced by 220 pounds of scrambled eggs wearing a No. 10 jersey and a Dolphins helmet.

Trent actually thinks he is dancing with Teresa Marmalede, his high school sweetheart

Shit man, if you’re like me and you have a nice desk job with air conditioning and a computer, it’s like the bosses shitcanning you and sticking five packages of Oscar Meyer bologna loaf in your chair instead. And they did it because they think the job will be done more efficiently by the loaf! We’re not talkin’ bout that fancy bologna loaf with the olives in it either …

But I do have some advice for Joey. After the Vick escapade, it’s time to show the people of Atlanta that you can fucking kill things with your bare hands too. Team up with that crazy shit Joey Porter and show the world that “Joey” ain’t such a faggy name for someone well into adulthood afterall.

KILL THIS MAN: