Behind the Scenes of the NFL Labor Talks

It’s July and the NFL still hasn’t solved their labor issues. With training camps scheduled to open in less than a month, the billionaires and millionaires are running out of time to agree on a new Collective Bargaining Agreement. Depending on which media outlet you follow, the two sides are either close to a deal or farther apart than ever. Basically, nobody knows shit. To help shed some light on this extremely cloudy situation, we here at Gunaxin sent one of our intrepid spies into a recent super-secret meeting to get the lowdown on what’s going on behind closed doors. Here’s a transcript of the proceedings.

Several team owners and Players Association Executive Director DeMaurice Smith are seated around a large table.

Jerry Jones: Okay, where did we leave off yesterday?

Arthur Blank: We were discussing retirement benefits.

Jerry Jones: Thanks Art. I’ll start. I think it’s imperative we reach some sort of–

Zygi Wilf (cutting Jones off): How about you let someone else talk, Jerry. We’ve been listening to your annoying ass voice for weeks.

Jerry Jones: That’s a fair point, but I’m trying to move things forward. Listen, daddy needs to pay for a billion-dollar stadium, so daddy don’t have time to dick around.

Daniel Snyder: Wanh, wanh, wanh. Nobody gives a turd about your stupid stadium.

Arthur Blank: Let’s calm down. No need to get personal.

Daniel Snyder: Shut up Hitler mustache. Go sell some lumber and leave this to the big boys.

DeMaurice: Yeah! Eat my balls, green pigs!

Jerry Jones: Uh, you alright, D-Mo?

DeMaurice Smith sits in a corner playing Angry Birds on his iPhone.

DeMaurice: I’m tip top, Leatherface. Just cleared level 20.

Zygi Wilf: Do you have anything to add Smitty, or are you going to play that damn game all day again?

DeMaurice (ignoring the question): Boom! Smell my sack!

I challenge anyone to beat me at Angry Birds.

Daniel Snyder: He’s useless. We’ll have to settle this on our own.

Wayne Weaver: I propose nothing but one-year contracts for all players.

Daniel Snyder: Who are you?

Wayne Weaver: I’m Wayne Weaver. I own the Jacksonville Jaguars.

Jerry Jones: Jacksonville? I thought they folded.

Paul Allen: I think they moved to Los Angeles

Zygi Wilf: No,we’re moving to LA. Wait, did I say that out loud?

Daniel Snyder: Whatever. It’s Jacksonville. They barely register as a franchise.

A racket is heard outside the door of the conference room.

Voice (through the door): Let me in, god dammit. I belong in there, sonny.

The door swings open. A panicked Al Davis enters the room using a walker.

Al Davis: The British are coming! The British are coming! Muskets at the ready!

Jerry Jones: Oh no.

Daniel Snyder: Looks like somebody forgot to take his meds.

Al Davis: Make room for an old man.

Davis noisily grabs a chair and tosses his walker to the floor.

Paul Allen: How are you today, Al?

Al Davis: I’ll be great once we bomb those dirty Japs to smithereens.

The walking dead.

DeMaurice: How do my balls smell, bitches?

A collective sigh fills the room.

Bob Kraft: Well, this should be interesting.

Jeff Lurie: Let’s start over.

Arthur Blank: Good idea.

Jeff Lurie: As the owner of a Gold Standard franchise, I think I speak for us all when I say we need to find a way to ensure our pockets remain full during these difficult economic times.

Bob Kraft: And I think I speak for us all when I say we’ve heard enough of your Gold Standard baloney, Lurie. You’ve won zero Super Bowls and have a convicted felon for a quarterback. You’re more like the Cubic Zerconia standard.

The room points and laughs at Lurie, who lowers his head in shame.

Jerry Jones: Good one, Bob. But Jeff is right. We need to regain our focus and get something accomplished.

Zygi Wilf: I agree. The clock is ticking and we’re getting nowhere in these negotiations.

Daniel Snyder: You’re just pissed because you can’t sign Favre.

Bob Kraft: Hey Snyder, aren’t you the dumbass who handed Albert Haynesworth a $100 million contract? Shut your cake hole and let the adults talk.

Daniel Snyder: Stop picking on me!

Snyder pounds the table with his fists and runs from the room, crying.

Putting the 'D' in douchebag.

Arthur Blank: Good riddance. Little pissant was getting on my nerves.

Al Davis: Did you all hear the tragic news?

Jerry Jones: What news, Al?

Al Davis: They killed Kennedy.

Jerry Jones: Oh boy.

Al Davis: I bet it was those Commie bastards.

DeMaurice stands up and holds the iPhone against his crotch.

DeMaurice: Teabaggin’ time, piggy, piggy!

Bob Kraft: For Pete’s sake. This season is so screwed.

Larry from Sheboygan: I brought some delicious Cheddar Beer cheese if anyone would like to partake. It’s yummers in your tummers.

Larry loves his Packers... and cheese.

Paul Allen (whispering to Zygi Wilf): Who let the hayseed in?

Zygi Wilf: He’s representing the Packers.

Paul Allen: Ah, gotcha.

Al Davis: Ooh, cheese!

Davis grabs a slice and shoves it in his mouth.

Arthur Blank (rubbing his eyes): We’re doomed.

Loud snoring can be heard from somewhere in the room.

Jerry Jones: Where the hell is that coming from?

The owners look under the table.

Jeff Lurie: Looks like Tom Benson fell asleep again. Should I wake him?

Bob Kraft: Nah, just leave him. He still thinks it’s 2009 anyway.

Jerry Jones: Tom’s sleeping, Snyder’s pouting, Al is looney tunes, some dork is selling cheese and D-Mo is fondling his testicles. This meeting is officially a fu*kin’ disaster. Daddy’s creditors ain’t gonna be happy.

Zygi Wilf: I need a stiff drink. Let’s break.

Bob Kraft: Okay. Back in fifteen.

Jerry Jones: What do we tell the media about our progress?

Bob Kraft: Just feed ’em the “positive talks” BS. Those clowns at ESPN will believe anything.

DeMaurice is now dancing in the corner.

DeMaurice: I love the smell of my balls in the morning. They smell like… VICTORY!

Jones and Kraft shake their heads as they leave the room.

Jerry Jones: Man, I miss Gene Upshaw.

Bob Kraft: Amen, brother. Amen.

Al Davis: Oops. I think I crapped my diaper. Can someone help change me?

Everyone makes a mad dash for the door.