It was not THE #1 ZINGER headline. Two Cheerleaders In A Toilet Stall may never be topped…. but Brett Favre’s Sister Arrested in Mississippi Meth Lab Bust ranks darn high on the YeeHaa-meter. Don’t you think?
Was your first thought “these last 12 months ain’t been too good for Brett” which is an under-statement. Almost exactly a year ago he threw a rookie’s interception in the closing minutes vs The Saints starting a 12 month humdinger of a year. “…. Sister Arrested In Meth Lab Bust” accompanied by her mugshot that would scare the oink out of a pig wrapped up this Favrian Nightmare.
Three years ago when Brett began the longest Farewell Tour in Sports by Someone Not Named Michael Jordan. You thought he was pretty cool, didn’t you. The Mississippi Gunslinger on The Frozen Tundra – all you wondered about was that oddball “v before r” in his last name.
…. Brett Favre, bless his heart, is the living personification of a Jeff Foxworthy routine on redneck football players. He’s never pretended to be anything else. I appreciate that, don’t you?
From Kiln, Mississippi …. part Choctaw Indian …. his daddy was his high school coach …. he only received one college scholarship offer – to Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg. Drafted by Atlanta, he languished on their bench for several years, until traded to Green Bay and starting 1,000,000 games in a row without ever wearing a shirt with a collar or saying anything remotely remarkable.
Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg …. the only person who’s ever spent any time in Hattiesburg MS who can count to 11 without taking off at least one shoe is my pal “Little Ricky” who coached FB there in the late 70s. THE most often asked question by visitors to Hattiesburg is “Where is The Grove?” which is not a question to ask a Hattiesburger if you’re trying to make a friend.
Brett and his wife Deanna met in kindergarten and subsequently married after the birth of their daughter. She is that breed of hot-bloodied Gulf Coast women who could, in her prime, captivate an entire truckstop wearing a pair of tight jeans and Candies sandals. Jenn Sterger is that same version 20 years later. Both gals look like they mighta been peeled off a mudflap.
Brett is a football slinging savant. He could, maybe still can, throw a pigskin 80 yards …. into a bucket …. from his knees ….. at midnight …. with a 40 mph swirling crosswind. That’s not as easy as it sounds. The market value of that skill along with the ability to bark signals while maintaining a pinch between your cheek and gum is $15,000,000 to the right NFL mogul.
Brett has enough bucks in his britches to afford a dozen of Manhattan’s finest call girls from Elliot Spitzer’s personal collection ….
Coon huntin’ with a bazooka
but he got caught swappin’ cell phone porn with an internet skank. It made sense at the time …. like going coon hunting with a bazooka sorta makes sense.
He did ads for Wrangler and Snapper riding mowers. Despite access to all the free jeans he wants he only has two pair. The pair he’s wearing and the pair he’s not wearing. On really cold days in Green Bay or Minneapolis he might wear both.
Brett has never opened a book that did not have the word “Play” in its title. His mastery of the alphabet begins with X and ends with O.
His preferred off-season hobby is going over to the local high school stadium and play “everybody go long” with a bunch of 17 y/os Mississippi youngans.
His crib is larger than The County Courthouse. Unless Deanna hired a professional decorator, it would have all the understated charm of Graceland.
His idea of dining is animal flesh burned over a pile of charcoal and drenched in ketchup. He pays cash to have private jets fly him around while wearing a t-shirt, cut-offs and flip flops.
Deanna saying “be on your best behavior tonight” means (1) carry a spit cup for your chaw and (2) don’t write a personal check for your lap dances.
He thinks all cable guys really are named Larry.
He thinks “retire” means get a new set of radials on the F-150.
The surprise is NOT that sister Brandi was busted in a Mississippi meth lab this week. The surprise is that it took 20 years in the superstar spotlight for it to happen.
Brett Favre will NOT be the first cultural iconoclast first-ballot member of the NFL Hall of Fame. Football, she been very very good to Brett. We should all be so fortunate to find our one singular skill niche and prosper with it for so long and so well.
Now Brett returns to deep rural Mississippi. One day in the next 20 years he will either get shot in a deer hunting accident involving his cousin Eugene …. or he drives his pick-up truck off the Tallahatchee Bridge at 2 AM while trying to change out a Barbara Mandrell CD and eat a Slim Jim.
Reading his obituary, a member of Teamsters Local #574 in Green Bay will mutter “serves him right …. a**h*le!”