OMG OMG OMG OMG Favre retires ---
We are at code Favre, people. Sound the horns, spin the gumball lights. Enter "INT" into the keypad, man! We have no time! Bristol has to be a on a war footing in two minutes and there's so much to do.
--Mobilize the Rachel Nichols Mobile Bumpkin-Stalking Unit!
--Get Ed Werder out of the rafters of the Vikings training facility and into a suit, now!
--Have Mark Schlereth's cue cards copied and prepared. Yes, just the word "competitor" and "warrior" copied onto 86 alternating cards. Yes, he does need them.
--Get Hoge...OH, FOR PETE'S SAKE SOMEONE TIE HIS TIE PROPERLY.
--Get me Tom Rinaldi and that band of morose musicians who follow him around all the time and play in the background of his pieces. We need tears, and Rinaldi wakes up every day mooning over a daffodil in soft-focus. The man's blood type is AB-emo, and we need him here STAT.
--Call Berman. Wait, don't. Just have him yell '70s "Feelin' Good" song references from his house. We can hear him just fine from here, and he won't leave self-tanner stains all over the place that way.
--Have Jaworski compile his most brilliant, gutsy, and smilin' interceptions.
--Have Josh Elliott shot. We can't tolerate smartasses who say things like "this is the third time I've announced Favre's retirement." Dispense of the bodies in the usual manner.
--I'm gonna need a golden tamarind monkey, a switchblade, and $3,000 in cash. Why? THERE'S NO TIME FOR REASONS MAN. We're on Threat Level Favre. That should explain everything, young man. NOW MOVE.