Chilichimp posted:

For real, though, Mel was a Steelers fan like a months ago, right?

Mel Mudkiper posted:

A NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHES

ALL-PRO SEXMAN posted:

Mel has always been at war with Eastasia.

fartknocker posted:

Bad Moon posted:

Mel-"I love Tim Tebow"

*gunshot*

Sash! posted:

A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air. It was the bulletin! Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A sort of electric drill ran through the cafe. Even the waiters had started and pricked up their ears.

The trumpet-call had let loose an enormous volume of noise. Already an excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but even as it started it was almost drowned by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run round the streets like magic. He could hear just enough of what was issuing from the telescreen to realize that it had all happened, as he had foreseen; Von Miller stripped Cam Newton, the Broncos recover on the five, the white arrow tearing across the tail of the black. Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: 'Vast strategic manoeuvre -- perfect co-ordination -- utter rout -- four turnovers -- complete demoralization -- three for fifteen on third down -- bring the game within measurable distance of its end victory -- greatest victory in human history -- victory, victory, victory!'

Under the table Mel's feet made convulsive movements. He had not stirred from his seat, but in his mind he was running, swiftly running, he was with the crowds outside, cheering himself deaf. He looked up again at the portrait of John Elway. The colossus that bestrode the world! The rock against which the hordes of Carolina dashed themselves in vain! He thought how ten minutes ago -- yes, only ten minutes -- there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the Santa Clara would be of victory or defeat. Ah, it was more than a Mid-Atlantic team that had perished! Much had changed in him since that first day in TFF, but the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.

The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of touchdowns and sacks and a punt return, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Mel, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in TFF, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The longhoped-for bullet was entering his brain.

He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved John Elway.

old dog child posted:

yes forever

Bad Moon posted:

A horse hoof stopping on the human face forever

bigmcgaffney posted:

The greatest TFF achievement was not a single post, but the full hour of goons calling into the Pittsburgh post game radio to talk about clown shoes and dogs that refresh

MechaFrogzilla posted:

I'm actually Mel, we swapped names. I'm a Steelers fan pretending to be a Seahawks fan, he's actually a Jaguars fan pretending to be a Broncos fan. Parm is a false flag, and Intruder is controlling it all with chemtrails.

Sash! posted:

A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air. It was the bulletin! Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A sort of electric drill ran through the cafe. Even the waiters had started and pricked up their ears.

The trumpet-call had let loose an enormous volume of noise. Already an excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but even as it started it was almost drowned by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run round the streets like magic. He could hear just enough of what was issuing from the telescreen to realize that it had all happened, as he had foreseen; Von Miller stripped Cam Newton, the Broncos recover on the five, the white arrow tearing across the tail of the black. Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: 'Vast strategic manoeuvre -- perfect co-ordination -- utter rout -- four turnovers -- complete demoralization -- three for fifteen on third down -- bring the game within measurable distance of its end victory -- greatest victory in human history -- victory, victory, victory!'

Under the table Mel's feet made convulsive movements. He had not stirred from his seat, but in his mind he was running, swiftly running, he was with the crowds outside, cheering himself deaf. He looked up again at the portrait of John Elway. The colossus that bestrode the world! The rock against which the hordes of Carolina dashed themselves in vain! He thought how ten minutes ago -- yes, only ten minutes -- there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the Santa Clara would be of victory or defeat. Ah, it was more than a Mid-Atlantic team that had perished! Much had changed in him since that first day in TFF, but the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.

The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of touchdowns and sacks and a punt return, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Mel, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in TFF, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The longhoped-for bullet was entering his brain.

He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved John Elway.

bigmcgaffney posted:

Also, the Matt Ryan fanfic posts were really good

Mystic Stylez posted:

OxySnake posted:

TFF has had some great moments in the past.

The Aaron Rodgers Civil War General posts the year they won the SB were pretty good. Especially the end with the "And Lt. Mathews has given me a sporting new cumerbund."

Back when TheChigurgon was posting, his comics were always comedy gold. I especially remember the Rodgers and Favre as Jedi, and his 2008 poster with Kyle Orton riding a bottle of Jack Daniels to the superbowl, with Phillip Rivers pouting underneath.

The excitement after the Tebow vs Steelers game when the radio hosts announced "And up next we have Ross from San Diego."

In the 2013 superbowl when the power went out and Gendo made the gif of Jovan Belcher fading in and out like a ghost.

TFF is the best yall.

swickles posted:

Fiz destroying Jimmy Clausen on twitter by exposing the fake pics Clausen posted of "his girlfriend".

The Big Jesus posted:

I think I missed something glorious.

Chimeric posted:

Biodome and Chris Henry's death.

swickles posted:

Fiz destroying Jimmy Clausen on twitter by exposing the fake pics Clausen posted of "his girlfriend".

swickles posted:

Gendo's Minnesota sports site managing to piss off the entirety of TexAgs forum.

Fiz destroying Jimmy Clausen on twitter by exposing the fake pics Clausen posted of "his girlfriend".

Ross nearly dying on camera live in front of lots of goons.

Febreeze's stuff ending up on Sports Center and other mainstream ESPN outlets.

Febreeze posted:

That was truly a wonderful moment that we shouldn't forget

AAA DOLFAN posted:

Hm tough call. I can't say what's my funniest TFF moment but I'm thinking...

The photoshops with nnnAdam. A lot of his stuff was genuinely the funniest poo poo on the Internet.

A lot of the original fake twitters we all found. Inspired a lot of fake Omar kelly.

Heteroy posted:

Oh I just remembered how funny the response to Kellen Winslow Junior's motorcycle accident was.

effectual posted:

Please give deets.

Febreeze posted:

So Chris Henry had his accident when he fell out of the back of a truck, right? He was in the hospital. Some goon/twitter troll named Biodome changed his twitter avatar to make him appear to be some local dallas sports reporter, and he started tweeting reports of Henry's death. Schefter, Mort, all of those NFL ESPN reporters started picking it up and retweeting him, and Henry was essentially being reported dead by everyone in the sports world when he was actually still alive. Biodome kept giving incremental updates and everyone kept buying it, he was being cited in news stories. Eventually someone figured out he was a fake and the backlash from the reporters was hilariously vicious. It was a glorious 3-4 hours.

and then once everyone finally knew he was still alive Chris Henry died for real the next day

swickles posted:

Fiz destroying Jimmy Clausen on twitter by exposing the fake pics Clausen posted of "his girlfriend".