Forgive me future subjects, but I must use the space to briefly defend Father, Uncle William, and the rest of the New England Patriots Orwellinization from vicious lies, mistruths, and accusations that surely approach libel. As you no doubt have heard, petty teams and others who have been conquered by Father and Uncle William either on the gridiron or their marriage have conspired to convince the public that the team has been cheating by stealing the signs of their opponents' defensive coordinators. I assure you citizens of the world, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation:
The signals were given freely to the Patriots.
Don't you see? How do you congratulate a man for breeding pure excellence? How do you pay him a compliment worthy of his raising the world's next great savior? How do you honor his achievements both real and those still locked away in dreams? You cannot. But you can, as many do - turn your life over to that man, and submit to his benevolent rule. This 'taping of defensive signals' was less a case of espionage and more of a ruined surprise "video scrap book" meant to be presented to Father upon his 4th Induction into the Hall of Fame; a life-in-review of the many defensive calls he thwarted through the channeling of his own inner excellence, while demonstrating his merciful vanquishing of opposing defenses. But, no - you asshats out there had to ruin the surprise. I hope you're happy. You are the kinds of knuckledraggers who dip their balls in the punch at parties. Once I am crowned, you shall feel my wrath. But for now I will protest by throwing these footballs into space. Take THAT! and THAT! and THAT and THAT and THAT! I think I've made my point.
It reminds me of ze strangers I zervice in taxicabs in your American Zitees!
Growth Note: My muscle fibers support more pounds per square foot than the world's largest suspension bridges.