The NFL offseason is still fresh, but Howie Roseman seems to be picking up right where he left off a year ago, making creative and aggressive moves that help position his team for a deep playoff run. As he continues to sit in his office at the NovaCare Complex making boss moves and windmilling his considerable package around in celebratory circles as he does so, the Dallas Cowboys sit idly by, much to the chagrin of their fans. I, for one, enjoy the juxtaposition. This Cowboys fan does not:

I don’t fancy myself as much of a science guy, but I remember from high school biology class that as a response to something positive, the brain releases “feel good” chemicals like endorphins, serotonin and dopamine. It makes sense because I have 100% developed an Eagles-based chemical dependency that dates back to September. And while nothing satisfies my jonesin’ like a win, today’s Michael Bennett acquisition, along with the unrest it has caused our enemies, combine to sufficiently sustain me. So thanks, Howie, for doing that magic that you did. You fulfill me.

As for any Cowboys fans out there, well, don’t worry-your team is also in the news today after making a substantial headline-making transaction! Behold:


Jones, you will remember, threw what ultimately amounted to a prolonged and expensive public temper tantrum to fellow NFL owners over the planned contract extension of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. Once a vocal proponent of Goodell, Jones began singing a different tune last year, which just so happened to coincide with the league issuing a six-game suspension to star Dallas running back Ezekiel Elliott. And now he has to pay for wasting the time and money of all involved parties.

And yeah, I know—$2 million is absolutely insignificant to someone like Jones, but it’s not the money that makes this story so satisfying. Rather, it’s that for what has to be one of the very few times in his life, the guy simply did not get what he wanted. Elliott’s suspension stood, Goodell was extended, he had to pay a fine, and, oh, by the way, the Eagles WON THE SUPER BOWL. It’s a quadruple Jerry Jones dick punch and I am here for it.

If I could, I would find a way to turn these past few months into a tangible object. I would hold it in my arms and cuddle it for awhile before cutting it up into a thousand little pieces. I would throw it into a frying pan with some olive oil on high heat for a few minutes, letting it crackle and splash about. At its peak temperature, I would then pour the hot, nay, blistering concoction all over my body. The pain would be temporary, but the scars would forever serve as a lasting reminder of our triumph.

Okay, maybe that’s way strong and a little weird. But you get the point.