PMFL Podcast: Recent Episodes
James Dowdall
Our weekly recap session of the PMFL's games, waiver wire battles, injuries, predictions, banter and more
As Pepe le Skunkle and the Household Hard-On approached the precarious edge of the Bridge of Byes, the very chasm that bridged the gap between triumph and despair, an ominous foreboding air hung heavy. The chasm, a swirling vortex of cosmic chaos, seemed to pulsate with an eerie, unspoken warning.
The Hard-On, adorned with his illustrious PMFL trophy, strode forward confidently, his meaty form quivering with anticipation. "Ah, the fabled chasm of the Bridge of Byes," he rumbled in a booming voice, laced with both excitement and bravado. "Prepare yourself, Pepe! This is where legends are made!"
Pepe le Skunkle, though wary, felt a flicker of hope. "Let's tread cautiously," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the chasm's unnerving whispers. But before they could take another step, a bizarre tremor surged through the cosmic tapestry, unsettling the very fabric of the PMFL.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them lurched and buckled. With a resounding crack, the chasm widened, creating an abyssal void that threatened to devour them whole. Pepe, startled, clutched onto the Hard-On's meaty appendage for dear life as they teetered precariously at the brink.
The Hard-On's sausage body trembled with uncertainty, attempting to power back up against the crumbling edge. "Hold on, Pepe!" he bellowed, a tinge of panic in his mighty voice. But as the ground gave way, both plummeted into the depths of the swirling chasm.
They tumbled through a season of woe amidst the cosmic abyss, hurtling past swirling galaxies and dimensions unknown. The surreal kaleidoscope of cosmic colors blurred into a dizzying whirl, as Pepe clung tightly to the Hard-On's girthy form, both spinning uncontrollably.
Down and down they fell, their descent marked by a cacophony of bizarre sounds—a symphony of whimsical chirps, interstellar skee-yee's, and the echo of distant fantasy drafts.
"This isn't right," the Hard-On screamed, a note of terror creeping in. Observing the sudden transformation, Pepe clung tighter to the Hard-On's form, his horror growing.
Their surroundings twisted. The cosmic landscape transformed into a horrifying tableau, a nightmarish vision of a desolate putrid expanse that haunted the nightmares of PMFL teams.
They tumbled through this foul realm, past mounds of discarded fantasy hopes and shattered dreams, the air thick with the stench of defeat. The grotesque landscape seemed to mock their predicament, echoing the torment of the PMFL's most humiliating fate, where humiliation and despair were the only currencies.
Their descent continued unabated until, with a sickening thud, they crashed onto the ghastly terrain—a vile, repugnant world that was the epitome of PMFL disgrace. The filthy surroundings were rife with grotesque challenges and torturous punishments, and they now found themselves stranded amidst the horrors of the dreaded toilet bowl.
As they picked themselves up, Pepe and the Hard-On found themselves landed next to a man dressed in outrageously tight short-shorts and a Cowboy hat, vigorously practicing his volleyball serve. The Cowboy looked at them with a mix of surprise and relief, as if he had been expecting company.
The man beamed, delighted to finally have some company. "Well, howdy there, folks! Been waitin' for y'all to join me down here in this ghastly place. Welcome to the terror-filled depths of the PMFL's dreaded toilet bowl, where only the most agonizing, embarrassing, and strenuous punishments await!"
Pepe turned aghast to the Hard-On, trying to comprehend the surreal scene they had stumbled into. The Hard-On however had a knowing look on his face. He had been here before. The Copenhagen Cowboy, as oblivious to their repugnant confusion as he was to his Fantasy roster, continued his enigmatic volleyball serves with vigor.
With a sense of impending doom looming over them, Pepe and the Household Hard-On braced themselves for the horrifying ordeals that awaited them in the horrifying trials of the Toilet Bowl Playoffs.
As Cap'n D descended into the abyss beneath the bridge of byes, darkness enveloped him, and the air grew thick with an eerie chill. He plummeted, caught in a free fall through the unfathomable depths of the PMFL.
Far below, amidst the inky blackness, a faint glimmer flickered. A colossal entity shrouded in mystery and power. Its immense form emanating a foreboding aura from its slumber.
From the darkest depths of the abyss emerged the Tokyo Titan, a colossus forged from the very fabric of fantasy legends and nightmares. The earth quaked as the colossal figure ascended from the shadowy depths.
The Titan's colossal body bore the scars of battles long fought and victories long won, each scar etched into its monstrous form like tales written in stone.
With each step, the ground trembled beneath the Titan's colossal weight. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, twin beacons that pierced through the darkness with an unwavering gaze.
The Titan's physique rippled beneath a sheen of pale-blue armor. Its form exuded an air of primal dominance, a creature born from the very essence of the PMFL's most formidable adversaries.
Cap'n D's eyes widened as he gazed upon the Titan's massive form. It stirred, as its voice, deep and resonant, reverberated through the void.
"Cap'n of the Midnight Eagles," its voice echoing with a surreal echo. "Welcome to the depths of the PMFL cosmos."
Cap'n D steadied himself, feeling a surge of determination despite the palpable unease that pervaded the abyss. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice echoing into the void.
"I am the Tokyo Titan," the entity rumbled. "A force woven into the fabric of the PMFL, bound by the threads of fate and fantasy. I am the embodiment of ultimate victory."
Cap'n D's mind raced. "Why do you challenge me?"
The Titan's eyes glowed brighter. "Your ascent in the standings threatens the balance of the PMFL. I am the harbinger of true triumph, and I will not yield my position easily."
Cap'n D's resolve solidified. "I won't be deterred. I'll claim victory."
The Tokyo Titan's eyes glimmered with an ominous light. "Then let our battle commence. The victor shall claim the pinnacle of the PMFL standings."
The clash between Eagle and Titan erupted, echoing across the fantasy landscape.
At the onset of their battle, the Tokyo Titan unleashed a barrage of touchdowns, sending shockwaves rippling through the scoreboard. Cap'n D panicked, running scared, he danced between surges of cosmic force with terrified dexterity.
The Titan's colossal form shimmered with an ethereal glow as it launched a volley of strikes, each impact resonating with a colossal reverberation. Cap'n D, driven by sheer dumb luck, evaded the onslaught, dodging and deflecting the Titans heavy blows.
The Titan's voice, deep and resonant, boomed through the cosmic void. "You can't run forever, Cap'n. Victory is within my grasp."
Summoning the essence of his once undefeated spirit, Cap'n D summoned the courage to fight, countering the Titan's assault, he channeled a radiant sun-god energy of his own.
As the battle intensified, the Tokyo Titan surged forward, unleashing a cataclysmic onslaught, seeking to overwhelm Cap'n D and claim dominance over the PMFL standings. The cosmic forces clashed, and for a moment, it seemed as though the Titan's power would prevail.
Yet, in a display of remarkable defense, Cap'n D summoned a Cleveland shield, a barrier forged from the very fabric of Kicker and Defence. The shield, glowing with orange and brown, absorbed the Titan's assault, dispersing its overwhelming force into the void.
The Tokyo Titan, its celestial form flickering, recognized Cap'n D's unyielding spirit. "You are indeed a formidable opponent, Cap'n D".
With a final surge of determination, Cap'n D countered the Titan's last-ditch Monday night effort, channeling the essence Kink into a single, resounding strike. The two teams clashed, and in a burst of light, the Titan's form retreated back into the cave from whence it came.
The Bridge of Byes, a nexus of fate suspended between the realms of triumph and despair, bore witness to a duel of cosmic proportions. Midstride, Cap'n D and the Cold Hustler clashed, the ancient timbers beneath them groaning as if burdened by the collective weight of the fantasy football cosmos. The stakes were higher than mere statistics; they were dueling destinies.
Each blow exchanged resonated with the spirit of a battle that transcended fantasy football. The eyes of Cap'n D, once undefeated, met the cold glint in those of the triumphant Cold Hustler. The wooden planks beneath them became a stage for a duel etched in the annals of the PMFL.
Yet, in the shadows of their clash, Dr.Faab and the Helmet Bopper could do nothing but watch. The Bopper, weighed down by recent loss to the Owl, succumbed to the insidious whispers of blame. He turned and madly wopped Dr.Faab across the side of the head, he had succumbed to the madness of the bye weeks. "I'LL PICK UP EVERY DEFENCE, I SWEAR TO THE FANTASY GODS" he cried to the heavens, a mad look in his eye. The cacophony of accusations added a layer of chaos to the already tumultuous bridge.
Amidst the turmoil, Mr. Hungry attempted to restore order, trying to talk sense to the Bopper, when he found himself ensnared in the whimsical crossfire. Suddenly, a surreal figure descended from the fantastical ether—a bedazzled, brightly colored space pig, the Magic City Moonhog. This colossal creature, adorned in tight sequin space pants that glinted with otherworldly radiance, emanated an aura of majesty. It reared back its head and emitted a blood-curdling oink.
Mr.Hungry fought back but the Moonhog possessed the strength of a Bear and speed of a Dolphin, its snout aglow with a sequined glaze, it twirled Mr. Hungry in its snout with bizarre grace. In an instant, they vanished from the bridge, leaving behind a vortex of chaotic energy, warping to dimensions hidden from sight.
Back on the Bridge, Cap'n D, once-undefeated, teetered on the precipice. The Cold Hustler, realizing his victory, cast a final gaze upon the leader as with one final blow, he sent the Captain tumbling to depths unknown. The Hustler smiled before teleporting away with a flourish, leaving behind only the icy echoes of his conquest.
The scene seamlessly shifted into the crystal ball's distorted view, the Owl's malicious gaze reflecting upon the pandemonium unfolding on the Bridge of Byes. His laughter, a sinister symphony, reverberated through the Nest.
Turning away from the chaotic display, the Owl gloated to the chained YoungHoe Fuj, his form still hanging nude from the chandelier. "Ah, my dear YoungHoe, you've unwittingly become the linchpin of my scheme. As you dangle helplessly, your luck, your very essence, flows into the core of my victories."
YoungHoe, weakened yet defiant, mustered the strength to mutter, "You...you can't stop the PMFL Podcast. We'll endure despite your schemes."
A sinister smile crept across the Owl's visage as he revealed his grand design. "Oh, my naive YoungHoe, the chaos you witness is my orchestration. While they bicker and fight, I am the puppet master, siphoning your luck with every twist of the PMFL tale."
As he spoke, the Owl's eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a malevolent architect. "Four consecutive victories, my trophies collected in the tumult of their misfortune. The Moonhog tends to Mr. Hungry, the Cold Hustler has dealt the first blow to Cap'n D, and a monstrous Titan lurks beneath the bridge, awaiting my command."
YoungHoe's eyes widened in realization as the Owl reveled in his sinister scheme. "Your podcast may endure, but the PMFL will dance to my tune. And now, dear YoungHoe, witness the climax of my machinations."
As the Owl's laughter echoed through the Nest, the crystal ball captured the chaotic tableau on the Bridge of Byes. Cap'n D, in the throes of defeat, began his descent into the abyss, a fall orchestrated to the Owl's secret weapon, the Tokyo Titan.
Amidst the eerie gloom of the Jungle of the Bottom, Pepe le Skunkle stood paralyzed, his heart pounding. The atmosphere hung heavy with a palpable sense of hopelessness, broken only by the ghostly cries of the cursed Younghoe-Koo.
Just when despair threatened to swallow him whole, a bizarre twist of fate unfurled from the heavens above. An enormous phallic object, comically large and imposing, tumbled from the sky like a sausage-shaped meteor. descending with surprising grace, crashing down upon the spectral form of Younghoe Koo with a squelchy thud, smearing the cursed kicker into oblivion.
Pepe opened his eyes, turning to the towering sausage. "Who... who are you?"
The gargantuan, naked sausage quivered with shocked outrage. His lumpy contours seemed to ripple with indignation. He bore the legendary PMFL trophy like a mace upon his meaty person.
"Who am I? Why I'm the reigning PMFL Champ that's who. The Household Hard-On, revenant of the bottom of the standings".
The sausages meaty voice boomed; "My journey through the PMFL has brought me to this treacherous jungle before. Pepe le Skunkle, we share the misfortune of underperformance."
Pepe le Skunkle bowed his head and offered a heartfelt thanks to the Household Hard-On, who then regaled the Skunk with tales of his quests through the jungle in years past, laden with tales of soaring from their depths and capturing unlikely podium finishes.
Meanwhile, on the Bridge of Byes, Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, Dr. Faab, and the Helmet Bopper edged cautiously along the rickety pathway. The precarious bridge, constructed with all the reliability of a roster drafted by Gauz, arched over the treacherous expanse of the Bye Weeks.
As they advanced, their expressions mirrored the suspense of their surroundings. Cap'n D's leaped forward with grace, Mr. Hungry struggled, unable to keep pace with Cap'n stride, Dr.FAAB looked like he was silently rehearsing an acceptance speech for the PMFL trophy, and the Helmet Bopper seemed to be muttering prayers to the fantasy football gods.
Just when reprieve from the Byes seemed within reach, a palpable tension descended on the bridge. The air around them began to cool, and an ominous mist started to creep around the rickety bridge. Without warning, a sudden, frigid gust of wind erupted on the bridge
"HOLD ON" cried Cap'n "HERE COMES WEEK 9!"
The storm intensified, growing in ferocity, making it difficult to make clear roster decisions or savvy waiver bids.
And then, as swiftly as it had appeared, the tempestuous storm began to disperse. The swirling fog cleared, and the icy bastard left behind was revealed. Dressed in shades of arctic blue, the Cold Hustler stood on the bridge before them, blocking their path forward.
A wicked glint danced in his eyes as he issued a dramatic challenge to Cap'n D. "By Order of the Owl, I demand a duel right here on the Bridge of Byes".
Cap'n D, his competitive spirit as fierce as a rabid Yeti, bravely accepted the challenge. His comrades behind him, he advanced on the Hustler.
As the two made to battle, they both suddenly realized that they had absolutely no weapons for this epic showdown. Their faces mirrored a blend of confusion, as a torrent of football players—Christian McCaffrey, Travis Etienne, Amon-Ra St. Brown, George Kittle, Trevor Lawrence, Brock Purdy, and more—tumbled from the bridge, vanishing into the void of Bye Weeks below. The bridge suddenly felt lonelier than Cap'n D at the top of the standings.
Without their Ponies, Horsemen and Bell Cows, the two combatants threw lackluster punches and exchanged feeble kicks. They looked more like children play-fighting over the last piece of candy.
As the two stood locked in awkward bear hug on TNF, The Cold Hustler, his voice exhausted with a peculiar mix of determination and desperation, declared, "I vow to end your undefeated season, Cap'n D!"
The brawl on the Bridge of Byes reached its pinnacle of preposterousness. What outcome awaited our valiant competitors?
Pepe le Skunkle tumbled from the tattered rope ladder descending from the nest.
"And don't come back!" cried the Owl "I'm 3-4 for a reason. I'm going places. I don't need to be held back by the likes of you".
The trapdoor slammed shut. Pepe found himself utterly alone, planted within the desperate jungle of the bottom of the standings.
The air descended upon him instantly, like a heavy, damp roster, laden with a disquieting silence that sent chills down Pepe's spine.
Aside from the occasional hoot, the sinister silence was only broken by ghastly howls and distant echoes of past football defeats. Pepe gulped. He was surrounded by the horrific remnants of poor decisions and cursed seasons. Torn jerseys, cracked helmets, and a choking fog of misery were his only welcome here.
As Pepe stood, the jungle was a grotesque tapestry of every football injury imaginable. Twisted ankles and strained hamstrings dangled from ghostly branches, while dislocated shoulders and torn ACLs formed the gnarled roots that threatened to trip any hapless wanderer. The souls of first-round busts drifted like ethereal specters in the wind, lost and aimless.
Pepe tried to make his way through this nightmarish realm, but the shadows of past losses and monster performances loomed around every corner. In the underbrush, the cruel and mocking figure of Josh Gordon emerged, grinning maliciously and waving his infamous promise of greatness. Pepe quickly scarpered, haunted by the memory of Gordon's fleeting brilliance.
As he ventured further still, the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet, as the ghost of Darrell Henderson's injury-plagued past rumbled through the trees. "WHY DIDN"T THE YOUNG-HOE START ME?!"
It was as if the jungle itself was punishing Pepe for his horrific start to the year.
Devonta Freeman appeared, a phantom of lost potential. His spectral form held out the promise of fantasy points, only to vanish into thin air as Pepe reached out.
Pepe was on edge, as he continued his treacherous journey through the gloomy abyss, he tripped over a Tee Higgins rib.
As broken arms grabbed at him, pulling him to depths unknown, his savior emerged from the darkness.
As all seemed lost, a pair of enormous, friendly hands reached down from above. The voice that accompanied them was warm and reassuring. "Hop on, my friend. I'll get you to safety."
Jimmy "The Donut" Graham.
A giant in stature with a glowing aura of cinnamon-sugar and frosting; Jimmy was adorned in his trademark doughnut-patterned armor. Pepe clambered onto his enormous shoulders, relieved to be in the presence of a fellow under performer.
With Pepe securely aboard, they forged ahead, embarking on a frenzied race through the jungle's winding, treacherous paths. Jimmy's brawny strides sent shockwaves through the ground, clearing Pepe's path of spectral debris.
But even the mighty have their moments of vulnerability. Suddenly, Chigoziem Okonkwo grabbed at Jimmy's ankle. The ground quaked with the Donut's colossal fall, his sprinkled armor shattered, frosting smeared across the jungle floor. Pepe was flung from Jimmy's shoulders, as Chigoziem descended on its prey.
Jimmy, being eaten alive, his doughnut-patterned armor in ruins, looked up at Pepe. "Go on, my friend," he wheezed. "I should've never believed in myself."
Pepe turned and ran without so much as a second thought, venturing deeper into last place. It was then he felt an ominous presence gathering behind him. As he turned to the dense mass of gnarled tree's and knees, a terrifying presence materialized before him. Younghoe Koo, the cursed kicker.
Koo's spectral figure chased Pepe for miles, screaming voodoo hexes, cursing Pepe's very existence and proclaiming that he belonged to the Young-Hoe Fuj.
Pepe sprinted through his torturous journey, each step pushing him closer to the edge of the abyss. With one final gasp, he searched for the forest through the trees as he thought to himself; "Could this be the end of my 2023 PMFL Season?"
The Owl's Nest was in a disastrous state. The remnants of the Young-Hoe's chaotic spree still lay strewn about the dim chamber, like Demercado's on the waiver wire. After his chaotic spree, the Young-Hoe was now captive. Utterly nude, he dangled from a dusty chandelier in the center of the room, his chains fasted and mercilessly tightened by a weeping, bald-chested, Blue Cobra Bill.
Despite being stripped and imprisoned, the Young-Hoe still could not resist the urge to further chastise his blundering captives.
"Hey there, Owl," he jeered "How bout you come on over and Skee-Yee's Cheeks!"
The Owl, whose focus seemed strangely diverted, responded with a glare and unintelligible mumble. His attention locked on something he held hidden under his wing.
Pepe le Skunkle sat glumly on the cobblestone, caught in a gloomy reverie. While the Owl sat engrossed by some newfound $6 waiver bid, Pepe slumped, his attention fixed on his own faltering fantasy team.
Beside him stood the Cold Hustler, looking perplexed at the scene that had unfolded.
"What's with the Owl?" the Cold Hustler questioned quietly to the Skunk. "He's been staring into his wing for hours. Is that how he sleeps?"
Pepe le Skunkle snapped out of his reverie, his woe conforming to frustration. He felt overwhelmed, not only by the PMFL Season but the putrid stench that enveloped him and the ceaseless insults he'd endured from the Young-Hoe since his arrival.
"He's been starin' at it for days," Pepe le Skunkle growled. "He's in last place, and he's got a fantasy matchup with me this week. Battle for last place."
As Pepe le Skunkle vented his frustrations, his anxiety worsened, exuding a foul cloud of gas that added to the tension in the room. Blue Cobra Bill, stuck in a state of fury and sorrow, wept over his formerly pristine hairy chest, as he shouted up at the Owl's new ceiling decor.
"The pain, the humiliation... My beautiful chest, it's all gone you bastard!"
"Oh, quit your blubberin', Cobra," Pepe le Skunkle snapped.
Young-Hoe Fuj couldn't resist joining the verbal onslaught.
"Skunk, you've been sweatin' buckets in here! The whole place stinks. You even outsweat the Moonhog!"
The Owl, finally tore his gaze from under his wing, holding in his taloned fist a glowing orb, his face cracking into a wicked grin.
"You talk a big game, Skunk, but are you and your fantasy team ready to take on my prowess this week?" he taunted.
Pepe mouth opened in outrage.
"Your team may be the worst, but why do we sit here waiting for the PMFL Podcast Krew to arrive? you are a coward! I would rather walk the Bridge of Byes than suffer here at the bottom of the standings"
The Owl laughed mockingly.
"The Bridge of Bye's you say? Well, it just so happens I've been scrying that bridge with my crystal egg, and guess who I see approaching, huh?"
The Cold Hustler, answered the Owl's unspoken question.
"Another Runningback traded to the Vikings?"
The Owl shot the Hustler an angry look before returning his gaze to the Skunk.
"No. It's Cap'n D and his crew. See? Didn't I tell you? Walking right into my trap."
But Pepe had had enough.
"This is absurd Owl. Hidin' in this Shit Hole. We should meet 'em on that bridge head-on!"
Young-Hoe Fuj, relishing the chaos, added his own provocation.
"Yeah, come on, Owl. Show Skunk what you're made of, let's see who deserves to be at the bottom of the standings."
The Owl's patience finally snapped, as he lunged at Pepe le Skunkle. The room exploded into a whirlwind of feathers as the two combatants tumbled through the room.
With a cloud of noxious gas hanging around him, Pepe held the upper hand, a narrow 93-91 edge on projections.
The skirmish culminated in a heap of tangled wings and ruffled plumage. Amid the exchanged blows, the Owl and Pepe both declared, "I could withstand the Bridge of Byes better than you!"
The Owl, with his mask askew, finally disengaged. "Fine!" he squawked, "If you're so confident, capture Cap'n D on the Bridge of Byes yourself!"
In the wake of the Young-Hoe's mysterious disappearance, the PMFL Podcast crew, now joined by the Helmet Bopper and the Stab City Shamrock, found themselves at a crossroads. Determined to rescue their comrade, but still owing a duty tocomplete the podcast, they gathered in Cap'n D's apartment, a place that had become the heart of their podcasting adventures.
The large ominous hole in the wall from the Owl's balloon attack still opened to the midnight sky. The occasional mechanical Frog still ribbited sadly. A solemn reminder of their lost friend the Young-Hoe. Once the mics were on and the grog pouuured, the Helmet Bopper leaned forward, a mad look in his crazy eyes as hesucked-back a meaty gerkin.
"Ye know," the Helmet Bopper declared, his voice coated with confidence and pickle juice, "I've spent me fair share of time in the fetid area of the land where the Owl typically dwells. A place no honorable soul dare traverse, yet the Owl has made it his home nonetheless." The crew sat in silence, hanging on to the Gorz' every word. A streak of lightning flashed behind the crazed Bopper illuminating his face as he cried "A place known as theBottom-of-the-Standings!".
Cap'n D and Mr. Hungry leaned back frightened. They were eager for any lead to rescue the Young-Hoe, but the Bottom-of-the-Standings was a dangerous place to be. The Shamrock, reflected on the Bopper's words, lighting a Cigar with a dollar of FAAB. "If you wish to save your Friend, the Bopper speaks the truth, wemust cross the Bridge of Bye's and the dangers it presents".
"Lead the way, Bopper," Cap'n D said, looking back at the wily Pickleback Bandit "We'll follow you into the treacherous depths of the Standings."
The group ventured forth from The Set, crossing into the dangerous uncharted territory of Midseason, a land fraught with peril and uncertainty. The Shamrock, being no stranger to adversity this season, led the way. He knew that protecting the crew would require great sacrifices.
After several days of journey, they encountered a frothing, expansive lake, filled with treacherous white cap waves that seemed to stretch endlessly. A single wooden bridge spanned before them, its end disappearing into the horizon of the formidable lake.
"And there you have it" the Shamrock whispered to himself "The Bridge of Bye's".
It was a rickety, perilous structure, constructed from decrepit boards, some donuts, third string running backs and duct tape. The bridge was anything but safe, and the crewhad no choice but to traverse it to continue their quest.
It was the Shamrock who, without hesitation, took the lead to protect his companions. Using a massive shield fashioned from a FAAB Dollar, he created a protective barrier to shield the party from the relentless onslaught of the Bye Week waves.
The waves roared, lashing at them with incredible force as they stripped the party of their assets, each struggling to maintain their balance. The Shamrock bore the brunt of the assault, his legs wobbling beneath the pressure of the waves. The HelmetBopper clung on for dear life, getting beat down underneath the weight of two heavy waves in a row. "I was 3-0 when I joined this Podcast Cap'n!", the Bopper cried over the howling of the wind and waves, "Now look at me!"
"You think that's bad?" Mr.Hungry cried back "I had to start Deuce Vaughn last week, I'm soaked to the Bone"
The Shamrock took a beating, in the midst of the peril, he sufferedinjuries to both his knees, strained his hamstring, even pulled a calf muscle, and broke several ribs to Debones, yet he soldiered on, protecting his comrades.
As they continued their Quest to the Nest, determination burned in their hearts. The odds were stacked against them, but the PMFL Podcast crew had faced adversity before and emerged victorious. As they made camp on the Bridge, preparing for a long night, Cap'n tied himself to the bridge. Looking up to the heavens he wondered what foul devilry the Owl had in store for them next.
Dim light cast by eerie, owl-shaped lanterns illuminated the cluttered chaos of the Nest.
Filth seemed to seep into every corner. Remnants of nefarious plans and schemes long past littered the floor. Exorbitant piles of angry draft night printouts, their corners crumpled and names scribbled out in frustration, lay piled in tattered stacks.
Taylor Swift memorabilia adorned the walls, a jarring contrast to the Owl's otherwise sinister demeanor. Posters, album covers, and even a life-sized cardboard cutout of the pop sensation created a surreal contrast in the decrepit lair.
In one corner, a burned Aaron Rodgers jersey hung as a grim reminder of past failures and shattered hopes, while a dartboard with Cam Akers' face as the target stood as a testament to the Owl's grudges.
In the center of the room lay the Young-Hoe Fuj, his lower half encased in an icy prison – an unsettling resemblance of Joe Burrrrrow's season thus far.
The Cold Hustler bore an expression of icy indifference. "Here's your prize, Owl". He muttered, gesturing to the Frozen Hoe "I've also brought you a reminder of your misfortune in our fantasy matchup last week." He pulled out his phone, revealing once more the digital thrashing he had inflicted.
The Owl couldn't help but bristle at the reminder of his humiliating defeat. However, he maintained his composure, choosing to focus on his captive.
Pepe le Skunkle and Blue Cobra Bill, both reveled in the Owl's apparent victory, watching with anticipation. The Counts feathers ruffled with malevolence, unable to resist the urge to gloat, "You've unwittingly stumbled into my grasp once more, Young-Hoe. This time, escape is a mere fantasy."
"Think you can outsmart me Owl?" the Young-Hoe taunted, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Let's dissect your draft strategy. It's almost as ludicrous as your fashion choices."
Before the Owl could retort, the Young-Hoe, seized a moment of opportunity, turning to Blue Cobra with a devilish grin, "You know, Bill, I've always been curious about your prowess. Mind if I give your chest a little attention?"
Blue Cobra, taken aback by the unexpected proposal, stammered, "Well, I... I suppose..."
The Young-Hoe wasted no time, demonstrating his resourcefulness, he produced a small container of wax from a hidden pocket, dousing the Pirate's naked furry chest in the tarlike substance.
As the waxing proceeded, Blue Cobra Bill winced and protested, "You'll pay for this, Young-Hoe," he threatened, though the pain in his voice was evident.
Undeterred by his dire situation, the Young-Hoe, seized an opportunity to further chastise the Owl.
"Owl, your performance in the PMFL so far has been abysmal. 3/4 weeks scoring under 80 points?"
The Owl, outraged, opened his beak to retort, seemingly at a loss for words.
With Houdini-like magic, the Young-Hoe escaped his icy shackles and proceeded to froggystyle the Owl, turning the tables in a remarkable display of audacity. The Owl, his mask falling off, hooted furiously.
Pepe le Skunkle could not watch. He rushed to the aid of his Froggy'd liege, but the Young-Hoe was seemingly prepared for all outcomes.
"Oh no you don't you stinky fuck!"
Seemingly out of thin air, the mischievous Demon had procured a can of Axe body spray. With impeccable precision, he sprayed Pepe with a jet of condensed Phoenix perfume, filling the room with a pungent cloud of nostalgic fragrance.
The Skunk coughed and gagged amidst the noxious fumes. His toxic aroma battling for nasal supremacy in the confined space.
"ORDER, ORDER" The Owl cried above the absurdity and chaos, "ORDER IN THE NEST!"
His feathers may have been battered, but his determination to lure Cap'n D and Mr. Hungry to his lair and end the PMFL Podcast once and for all, remained steadfast. This little Froggy Fuck was not about to get in his way.
"Your antics may have ruined my gloating," the Owl thundered angrily. "But you remain trapped all the same. And when your friends arrive, I will end the PMFL once and for all!"
As the PMFL Podcast trio, along with their new companion, ventured deeper into the Set, the chilly night seemed to intensify. The crisp air whispered tales of secrets and danger, and the trio couldn't help but exchange uncertain glances.
The Cold Hustler, his haunting violin melody replaced with grumbles about Calvin Ridley. His banged-up ankle leading the way with an air of frustration.
"I can sense something isn't right," whispered Mr. Hungry to Cap'n D, as Kenneth Walker scored another touchdown. Cap'n D nodded, his eyes locked on their enigmatic guide. "Agreed, Mr. Hungry. Let's keep our guaaaard up and be ready for anything."
Meanwhile, the Young-Hoe Fuj remained vigilant, watching his team drop to 0-3. His intuition told him that this encounter was far from what it seemed, however he stuck to the Script.
As they turned a corner, the Cold Hustler abruptly stopped, their piercing gaze fixed on a hidden doorway in a weathered building. "Our destination," they announced in their icy tone.
"Cold Hustler, before we proceed, could you share your story with us? You seem unfazed, like you're not worried" The figure remained still, almost asleep, responding vaguely, "In due time, Captain. First, let's enter this building. I have something to show you."
The trio followed the Cold Hustler into the dimly lit building, their footsteps echoing through the narrow hallway. As they entered, a scene of horror met their eyes.
It was the Copenhagen Cowboys Bench! And a room filled with icy blue crystals that emitted an eerie glow. In the center of the chamber was a frozen, crystalline pedestal. Atop it rested a life-sized ice sculpture of the Young-Hoe Fuj, etched in a froggy squatting thrust.
Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and the Young-Hoe Fuj exchanged bewildered glances. "What be the meaning of this?" demanded Cap'n D. The Cold Hustler's eyes gleamed with malevolence. "This is where your journey, like the Owl's Playoff aspirations, ends. You've fallen right into my trap."
Before they could react, the chamber filled with a blinding mist. The trio found themselves barraged with ice. The Cold Hustler laughed as the podcast crew was left frozen in place.
As all hope was lost, the room echoed with a new sound—a mighty roar, "LET'S GET BUCK".
From the shadows emerged two figures, their presence a beacon of hope. It was the Gorz!, a hairy pickle-swallowing swashbuckler and Dr. Faab, a large man in a trench coat holding mountains of pennies in his arms.
The Gorz swung a rusty helmet with precision, smashing through the icy encasement that held Cap'n D and Mr. Hungry. Dr. Faab followed suit, hurling a barrage of coins at the Hustler, who defended with Jaylen Waddle's head.
The Cold Hustler's frosty powers met their match in the Gorz's demented determination and Dr. Faab's relentless coin assault. Ice and coin clashed, creating a dazzling display of elemental warfare.
In the chaos, the Young-Hoe Fuj struggled against his icy prison but couldn't break free. He couldn't get a win. As the Cold Hustler retreated, he conjured an impenetrable ice wall, shielding himself and the trapped Young-Hoe from the PMFL Krew.
With heavy hearts, the remaining members of the PMFL Podcast Krew could do nothing but watch. The Cold Hustler made his escape, dragging the Young-Hoe Fuj in tow.
As the Cold Hustler vanished into the shadows, the Gorz cried out, "Remember, the best offense is a better defense! You can never have too many defenses!" His words were a reminder that they needed to regroup and fortify their podcast crew againstthe Owl's relentless pursuit.
With the Young-Hoe Fuj in the clutches of the enemy, Cap'n D and his new comrades knew they had to act Deandre Swiftly. The battle against the Owl was far from over. They were determined to rescue their comrade and continue their quest to protect the PMFL Podcast from the Owl's sinister plans. New challenges awaited them on the horizon, and they were prepared to face them head-on.
On that brisk, chilly night in Port Moody, the town's denizens were nestled warmly in their homes, oblivious to the unfolding drama. The moon hung low in the clear sky, casting an ethereal glow upon the cobbled streets. Father Winter's icy fingers seemed to dance through the air, nipping at the cheeks of those who dared venture outside.
As the PMFL Crew fled the chaotic scene of the Owl's treacherous balloon attack, they found themselves navigating the winding streets of the Set. This quaint and historic part of Port Moody was known for its charming Victorian-era houses, their facades illuminated by soft, amber-hued streetlamps that lined the cobblestone pathways.
The trio's hurried footsteps echoed against the narrow alleyways, each breath visible in the frigid night air. Wisps of mist escaped their lips, trailing behind them like spectral phantoms. The quaint homes, adorned with ornate ironwork and cozy bay windows, seemed to stand as silent witnesses to the unfolding chase. Brent could be seen clipping his toenails in one of them.
A light dusting of snow clung to the rooftops and adorned the eaves of the houses, turning this neighborhood into a winter wonderland. The occasional icicle glistened in the soft moonlight, casting prismatic reflections that painted the streets with a kaleidoscope of colors.
The trio pressed on. They knew that danger lurked in the shadows, but with determination in their hearts, they ventured deeper into the Set, hoping to lose whatever devilry the Owl had surely sent their way in the winding residential streets.
In the distance, the sound of a violin drifted through the night, played by a mysterious figure on a nearby street corner. Its melancholic melody harmonized with the ambiance, creating an eerie but enchanting atmosphere.
"All right, me hearties, after narrowly escaping the Owl's balloon, we find ourselves needing to record another episode" Cap'n D said between chattering teeth.
"Aye, Cap'n" Mr.Hungry replied. "That Owl's a dastardly one, but we won't let him stand in the way of the Podcast"
The Young-Hoe Fuj was watering a rose bush with his girthy plow, keeping a watchful eye on the violinist while doing so. "It's a fine eve in Port Moody, but we must remain vigilant. The Owl could strike at any moment".
The trio began their episode, strolling down Ailsa, the haunting melody of the violin growing louder. The chords had a hypnotic quality, drawing them nearer, like sailors lured by a siren's song.
The figure, cloaked in shadows, played on, seemingly lost in the melancholic tune of "Ice Ice Baby". With each step, the trio felt a sense of unease but continued their approach, compelled by both curiosity and the need for allies in their battle against the Owl.
As they drew closer, the figure slowly lowered the violin, revealing a face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat and a scarf that concealed much of their identity.
Cap'n D spoke first, his voice cautious yet welcoming, "Good evening, kind stranger. We couldn't help but be captivated by ye music. Might we inquire about y'name?"
The figure raised their head, revealing a pair of piercing, ice-blue eyes that seemed to see through the depths of one's soul. Their voice like the chill of winter itself. "Names are but fleeting whispers in the wind, Captain. You may call me the Cold Hustler."
Mr. Hungry, gave a silent nod, cracking open a cold one, while the Young-Hoe Fuj studied the figure with a discerning gaze.
"Cold Hustler, we be in need of allies in our quest to thwart the Owl's sinister plans. Would you consider joining us on our podcast episode? Your unique talents could be of great use to us."
The Cold Hustler's lips curled into a subtle smile. "Ah, a podcast, you say? Very well, Captain. I shall accompany you and share my story."
The trio, despite their earlier suspicions, felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps they had found a powerful ally, one who could help them overcome the Owl's nefarious schemes.
The Owl had been nursing his little wounds and brooding since that fateful day when his grand scheme to capture Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and the Young-Hoe Fuj had been foiled. His feathery pride had taken a hit, but his determination to end the PMFL Podcast had only grown stronger.
As he sat in his lair, the Nest, devising a new plan, he was joined by his loyal henchmen, Pepe le Skunkle and the ever sexy Blue Cobra Bill. The Skunkle's odor had, if anything, intensified, making the Owl's already miserable existence even more unbearable. But Pepe's unwavering loyalty and his ability to sneak into the tightest spots made him indispensable, even if his pants seemed to have suffered in the process.
Blue Cobra Bill, on the other hand, had a knack for seducing and manipulating others. He was the charmer of the crew, and his ability to get what he wanted from just about anyone was an asset the Owl could not overlook.
The Owl paced back and forth in his underground hideout, plotting his revenge. He knew he couldn't underestimate Cap'n D and his crew again. This time, he needed a plan that was foolproof.
"Listen up, you scallywags," the Owl declared, "I've had enough of their podcasting nonsense. We'll capture them, and this time, there'll be no escape."
Pepe le Skunkle nodded enthusiastically, though his stench filled the room like a noxious cloud, and it seemed he had also soiled his pants (in week 1), leaving a foul stain behind.
Blue Cobra Bill purred seductively, "Oh, Owl, you know I'm always ready for a naughty little challenge. Just say the word."
The Owl's plan was deviously simple but devilishly effective. He had discovered that Cap'n D's apartment was high up in a towering skyscraper, which would make it difficult for the trio to escape if he could trap them inside.
He also knew that the Young-Hoe Fuj had a peculiar obsession with frogs. So, he devised a cunning plan involving an army of robotic frogs. These mechanical amphibians would invade Cap'n D's apartment, creating chaos and distraction while the Owl's crew stormed the place.
But the Owl had learned from his past mistakes. This time, he would be prepared for the unexpected. He had enlisted the help of a crafty volleyball coach, known for his impeccable timing and precision. This coach would oversee the release of the robotic frogs, ensuring they disrupted the podcast recording at just the right moment.
As for the Owl's trashy display photo, he had decided it was time for a rebrand. He had hired an infamous graphic designer known for turning even the dullest images into captivating works of art. The plan was to unveil his new image, one that would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies and command respect from his allies.
But the Owl had an ace up his feathered sleeve—a secret weapon, an unidentified bounty hunter who was highly skilled at tracking down scallywags. This ruthless and cunning hunter was relentless in pursuit and had never failed to capture his target.
As the Owl's plan began to take shape, he couldn't help but grin with satisfaction. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and this time, he was determined to make sure it was ice-cold.
Little did Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and the Young-Hoe Fuj know that the Owl was gearing up for another showdown. The next encounter would test their wits, resourcefulness, and perhaps even their friendships. The battle of the PMFL Podcast was far from over, and the Owl was ready to take flight once more.
High up in the towering cityscape of Port Moody, Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and the Young-Hoe Fuj were gathered in Cap'n's apartment, ready to record the highly anticipated first episode of Season 5 of the PMFL Podcast. The trio was excited, sipping on grog and munching on a can of Pringles as they prepared to dive into a sea of football banter. Little did they know that their recording session was about to take an unexpected and chaotic turn.
As they discussed the upcoming season, the room suddenly shook with a deafening crash. Dust and debris filled the air, and the apartment trembled beneath their feet.
To their shock, smashing through the window was an incredible sight: a floating Owl Balloon had busted harder than Kadarious Toney into Cap'n D's living room, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.
Leaping from the Balloon, stood none other than, the Owl, their mischievous feathered rival, wearing his familiar, yet terrifying outfit and a sly grin on his beak. He wasn't alone. A band of pirates, including the notoriously smelly Pepe le Skunkle and the seductive Blue Cobra Bill accompanied him. The Owl had hatched a diabolical plan. A plan to thwart the PMFL Podcasters from ridiculing his Draft and capture Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and the Young-Hoe Fuj. Bringing them back to his home, the Nest, for reasons known only to himself.
Cornered by the motley crew of villains, Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and Young-Hoe Fuj tried to figure out a way to escape. That's when the Young-Hoe, always armed with a trick up his loose ass, pulled out a bag of enchanted frogs. With a mischievous grin, he released the frogs into the room.
The frogs leaped and ribbited in all directions, creating utter chaos. Pepe le Skunkle, already notorious for his bad odor, now found himself in a froggy frenzy, desperately trying to avoid the amphibious onslaught as they overpowered him, the room full of ribbits and screams.
"Help Monsiour Hoot Hoot! Help!" the Skunkle cried before his face was lost beneath a sea of green slippery demons.
Blue Cobra Bill, ripped off his shirt, attempting to charm the frogs with his sultry chest hair. But frogs, it seems, were immune to his charms.
In the midst of the froggy mayhem, Cap'n D, Mr. Hungry, and the Young-Hoe made a daring escape, using the confusion to their advantage. They climbed out of the shattered window and clung to the side of the Owl Balloon, gliding down to the safety of the city lights twinkling below.
The trio regrouped on the ground. Munching on Pringles, they couldn't help but realize that this was surely not the end. As they turned and looked back and the hoard of frogs still spilling from the balloon sized hole in Cap'n D's apartment. The trio made their escape, continuing to record their first episode as they did, their laughter and the ribbits of frogs creating a memorable entrance to Season 5 for their fans across the PMFL universe.
The Owl watched with a sinister gleam in his eyes. Pepe le Skunkle, emerged from underneath a sea of frogs, a grimace of defeat on his face. Blue Cobra Bill reluctantly buttoned up his shirt under the Owl's stern gaze.
The Owl's feathers ruffled. With a voice that oozed malevolence, he hissed, "They may have escaped for now, but mark my words, this is far from over. The PMFL podcast will crumble, and those meddling fools—Cap'n D, Mr.Hungry, and the Young-Hoe Fuj—will be silenced!"
His eyes flashed with a burning determination as he continued, "I'll gather an army of even more dastardly pirates, each more treacherous than the last. We'll hunt them to the ends of the Earth, through every podcast episode, until they're cornered and captured. There will be no escape!"
With an ominous caw, the Owl spread his wings and took flight, disappearing into the night sky, leaving Pepe le Skunkle and Blue Cobra Bill to ponder their next move. The battle for the fate of the PMFL podcast was far from over, and the Owl was prepared to stop at nothing to achieve his nefarious goals.
This is it Boys. The Big One. The One we all Dream of. These are the voyages of the Starship Space Pig. These are the Trials of the Mexican Dildo enthusiasts. Moonhogs. Hard-Ons. Who will etch their name on the PMFL Trophy and claim our League's greatest prize? Who will go home sobbing? Dreaming about what could have been? We break down last weeks action one final time. The Young-Hoe could not be with us tonight. He has been on the piss for 4 days straight. He can't even speak. He did however deliver this little quote to the Cap'n and Mr.Hungry shortly after wrapping up this episode:" Although the Younghoe Fuj’s are extremely disappointed with their dream team’s semi final result, they have moved on to focus on what is really important in life: punishing an owl. Fuck an owl!" - The YoungHoeThat's right. There's not just a Championship on the line. There's a punishment to boot. Oh how sick it must make the poor Primo to see on the other side of the loaded barrel he's staring at, a Young-Hoe and a Hungry Boy. Neither have pickled a PMFL Punishment before, but if you asked Joey, I'm sure he'd prefer anyone in the League be on the giving end of that punishment than a scorned Young-Whore. Fresh off defeat, the bitter taste still permeating in his mouth like Zoo's lukewarm bath water, whatever he would pick for poor Joe, would surely not be pretty.. It's been a slice this year Gents. Signing off for the final time this Season, this is your Cap'n speaking. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. The time is 7:25 pm. The weather looks good and with the tailwind on our side we are expecting to land in PMFL History approximately fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. The weather this weekend looks cloudy and dry, with a high amount of Dome's on either side. If the weather cooperates we should get a great view of the Championship action as we descend. The cabin crew will be coming around in about twenty minutes time to offer you an ass tattoo, a speedo marathon or a tar and feathering. The inflight movie "You're in the Bowl with Trevor" will begin shortly after that. I'll talk to you again next Season. Until then, sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the fight.
This week with the Cap'n and his Motley Krew of Ugly Vagabonds are out and about, so, the Pod is brought to you by a real gap hazard crew.The Hogs in their first season walk us through his approach to the Semis facing the “God Send” Fujii's. Supported along the way by two Toilet Bowl battle hardened Veterans the Hard-Ons and the Defensive Coordinator Boppers. Lucky Lucky Primo-P stood us up.They weigh in on Real Vs Fake teams, Zoovier Jones, the Garden of Eden Minshew and what it really means to be in the Bowl with Trevor. As we evaluate the Toilet Bowl, nothing in life is certain but in this case all we know is that for the first time in PMFL History, there will be a repeat Toilet Bowl Champion!
It's December 2022. I've finally revealed to the world why I, Andrew Luck, left football.
What I didn't tell ESPN is that not only did I suffer great mental and physical trauma while I was playing, but that I also suffered great trauma at the hands of the god-forsaken members of the PMFL Podcast. Those toe-sucking, froggy-styling sons of bitches have made me look like a foolish twat and have also killed my love of finger painting...something which used to be near and dear to my heart. Whenever I see my dear daughter drawing with her hands, I think of those PMFL bastards, and I feel sick to my stomach.
I can't even walk the lonely halls of my failed art-studio without that heinous sculpture of a man named Matt Fujii, pissing himself, glaring down in a mocking sort of way. "Look at me" he scoffs "I can still use my Johnson, I'm not dealing with Cock-Fright Stiffness".
The Jester's of the PMFL have made a mockery of Andrew Luck for too long. I am now seeking therapy, and while I can say that I am getting better, there is still lots of mending to be done. To let you know that there is still great pain in my life and in my heart, I will sing you a special rendition of a famous Christmas song near and dear to everyone...
Have yourself a dirty little Simpmas, get your dick on straight. Rest in Peace Uncle Hard-O, you Filthy Old Dawg!
Have yourself a naughty little Simpmas. Uncle O was gay. From now on, his troubles have all blown away
Cap'n, Mr.Hungry and Young-Hoe breakdown our Playoff Primer Christmas Episode. We get back to one of our all-time favorite activities on the pod, publicy berating Andre's inability to field a functional Fantasy Team.
There's a rumour going around that Joey has locked himself in the BMO Safe, and will not be let out until Christmas due to his horrid Fantasy Season with nothing to eat but Christmas Chewing Gum.
The Hustler's are on watch after their all-time PMFL pipping at the hands of the Vandelay Industries Football Team.
Let's make a Zoovie. The Premise you ask? Picture this. Horny Uncle O-Dog taking a pretty second place Hard-On to the Dance. We're getting to that time. The Hard-Andre, he's dressing up real nice, something Ole Horny Uncle O-Dog would be proud to wear on his arm. Something provocative. The two head down to the world renowned Zoovie Shop prior to the Dance to freshen up and powder their noses. Ole Horny Hard Uncle O-Dog even lets Andre lick the Zoovie-Pop, a rare sumptuous treat. Hello and welcome to yet another episode of the PMFL Podcast. Has anyone seen an identity? We're missing one for the second place Hard-Dogs. In other news, Joe be a nympho, he'll always be a nympho. Alright back to Football, does anyone know how to film a Zoovie? I've heard that Primo's Picks used to direct R-Rated films. Joe got the magic stick, might actually be the love doctor. As Ole Horny Uncle O-Dog and the Hard-On make it to the Film Set, Joe welcomes them onsite with a lick of his salty lips. "Care to see my second win of the season?" he whispers with a grin, revealing the inner workings of his trench coat. Ole Uncle Horny O-Dog wants none of this action and delivers a swift Tombstone Piledriver to their gracious new host. "Add that to your trophy case" he cries to the heavens as the concussed Porn Director rolls around on the cum stained cobblestones. By this point the Hard-On is getting concerned. There has been no mention of licking any further Zoovie-Pops and he still has guys in his starting line-up named Juwan, Jaylen and Isiah. Suddenly, drawn to the scene like Zack Wilson to a tupperware pyramid scheme convention, the Gorzy-Gate Bopper-Bag backs the Bopper-Mobile up, and rides right overtop of Ole Horny Uncle O-Dog. The howling screams echo across the empty parking lot as Joe whips out his video camera, still crippled from the Tombstone Piledriver he received mere moments ago. The BopDaddy gets out of his Bopper Mobile wearing nothing but silver shorts surveying the scene. "I'm trying to explain baby the best way I can, I melt in your mouth girl, fuckin not in your hands". The camera is eating it up. The Bopper is clearly referencing Zoovie-Pops, the 4th wall is broken. Scorsese could only dream of a scene like this. Lights on or lights off, this is Joe's money shot. He's never seen it put down like this before. "Let's make a Zoovie" Primo cries as the Boppers and Hard-On lock eyes. The screams of Ole Horny Uncle O-Dog ruin the moment entirely. The Damsel of Los Bombas turns away dramatically in Distress. "Will I ever have an identity?" he asks to no one in particular. At this point the Gorzy Bopper is dripping with sweat man, its on and popping. "As Long as she ain't stopping, homie I ain't stopping". This was all the Hard-On needed to hear. He leaps into the arms of the daring Bopper to be carried off into the dance, his ticket is booked, nothing on earth could make him happier. Ole Horny Uncle O-Dog is dead. He's been dead for a while. Joe doesn't care though. He delivers a second money shot all over those cum stained cobblestones. He's the Dead Last Picks, get in fucking line Horny Uncle O-Dog. "That's show business baby" the Director whispers as he flicks a half lit cigarette on the smushed remains of Uncle O-Dog. "Wanna show me how you work it baby, no problem. We keep it bussin in Joey's Kitchen". As the full moon rises overhead, Primo pats his handy camera in a satisfied sort of way as he hobbles to his Bang Bus. Removing the wrapping from the final Zoovie-Pop, the crippled Director hums "Today was a good day" to himself as he pulls out of the empty lot. Police Sirens ring in the distance as Primo lights yet another cigarette. Windows down, tearing off under the full moon, searching for the next best Zoovie. On Pod On God Pod over Cod.
We've gone in a slightly different direction this week. Lost at Sea, with no First Mate, the Cap'n was forced to sail the Stormy Sea's all by his lonesome and the results? Well.. the results are about what you would expect. An original composition of the current state of the PMFL and a gaze through the spyglass at the raucous waves of the Dance and the tepid waters of the bowl that lie ahead. Enjoy! or hate it, one of the two.
What does one do with a Free-Agent Acquisition Budget (FAAB)? To spend or not to spend? That is the question. Some spend it like there’s no tomorrow (because there isn’t) and some hold onto it like it’s real money and will be there for them next year( IT’S NOT AND IT WON’T). On tonight’s episode of the PMFL Podcast, the PMFL’s defending champion and current first place team discuss the state of the playoff race with a new segment. The Tokyo Titan also decides to share his honest thoughts on the league’s FAAB spending tendencies and the league’s lack of interest in trading.
Week 9 is in the books, the Fantasy Playoffs are approaching, everyone is in the mix. Except Joey who I recently discovered has a losing record. You know who else is in the mix? SIMPS. SIMPS are in the mix. It's big simpin' baby,spendin' G's on Darrell Henderson G. You know we thug 'em, fuck 'em, love 'em, leave 'em 'Cause we don't fuckin' need 'em on this pod, on god. Hoo will win this week? Hoo will shock? Hoo will disappoint? Hooowhen will Joey get another victory? Maybe never. But he's a big simp in every sense of the word, he don't fuckin' need to win. He give his heart to a woman? Not for nothin', never happen, he'll be forever mackin', heart cold as assassins, he got no passion. He's just that Jigga Man, Simp C and Bun B.
I see the beauty of it all, of this Fantasy Football, to join the leagues historic few.
Does the trophy even still exist? If it does all must be risked, beware of Owl's who go Hoo Hoo
Just the three of us, we’re back bustin on the pod
Just the three of us... And we're bout to bust
Just the three of us, makes me hard, stiff as a rod
Just the three of us. You, you and I
Fantasy is tough. Good thing I've got this podcast every week to remind me just how tough. When you hit rock bottom, there's only one way to go.
How Hungry is the Young Hoe? Hungry enough to entice our beloved Co-Host with a Shower by the sound of things. It is normal to feel uneasy whilst in the presence of striggoformes? I for one would say yes. Joey is the Owl. Who is the mouse? Tanner and Fujii may shit on the Owl a lot in this episode. Like an owl may shit on an unsuspecting vehicle in the night. I don't know what a striggoforme is. It's likely neither do you. Owls are quite dangerous creatures as they never turn a blind eye to those around them. Cap'n has been missing for two episodes. The Owl has been missing for 6. Enjoy this week. Enjoy this Episode. You never know Whoooooooo you may come up against Whooooooooo turns up with an unsuspecting victory.
I’m on vacation. I’m taking a break from the stress of work, moving, life and football. Still can’t escape it. Like a nagging explosive poop you need to take whilst silently suffocating under the clutches of Friendly Neighbourhood Senior-Stripper Downtown Deb’s saggy glutes at the Gorz’ Bachelor Party. That terrifying realization that you may have pre-paid your last pre-pay when you booked her for 7 hours of commercial free fanny. Like sitting at a decrepit Blackjack table as a man with 8 fingers deals you grubby blood stained cards and you realize, between yourself and the Younghoe, you’ve managed to collectively lose more than half of the PMFL Pot this year. Like realizing as you stand in Trevor’s Basement, covered in your own piss and Downtown Deb fluids, being put on trial by your so-called friends, that you may have actually put a woman’s needs ahead of your own at one or two points in your life. By Definition, you’ve simped. Of course none of these compare with the agony of being Dead-Last but hey, hopefully I was able to paint a vivid and traumatic picture of Trevor’s Bachelor Party. I didn’t even mention the Young Hustler shitting his brains out fully naked at 5pm in the disabled bathroom of Burnaby Mountain’s Driving Range with the door wide open. I doubt that high school team of female golfers will ever be the same after leaving their homes that day with the hopes of a pleasant afternoon of smacking balls.
Right on Schedule the PMFL Podcast delivers its first stunning intro of the year. Don't expect this every week unless I have Mr.Hungry back from his Mat Leave/Sabbatical or if you give me content so good I have but no choice. We welcome two familiar voices to the pod this week who break down their own games and then some. We look at the best, we look at the worst. This is shaping up to be a great year if you're not a Sad Cat. According to the Titan, no clear lines have yet been drawn in the PMFL Sandbox..
The Boozygate Podcasts continue... Tonight, Mr.Hungry sucks back Buckley's, the Titan gets taken down by Technology, the Hustler hucks back brewski's with Cap'n at the Village and that's about all you need to know ahead of this episode
Week 2. It's Late. Anchor needs to smarten up. Enjoy the first proper format of the 2022 Season PMFL Podcast
We're back once more for yet another season of THE… PMFL PODCAST. Coming at you almost live after a stunningly shocking performance from the Superbowl Champs who suffered a humbling loss at the hands of those Banging Buffalo Bellcows.
We had a full house in the new humble abode of Cap'n and soon to be Cap'n'ess D. City of Lougheed, Tower 4, 70 inch TV with a lot of floor space will make for some excellent Sunday Football Sunday Funday's which I'm sure we all cannot wait to attend.
We breakdown the action from tonight's game, we look back on yet another stunning Draft Day with in-depth analysis of picks, decisions and draft punny's. We look at some matchups post game 1 and we also invent a new little PMFL tradition. One that everyone gets a little action on and one that could involve someone purchasing a fairly homosexual retro jersey…
Cap'n D is no stranger to voodoo, but never before on the pod have with seen a filthy curse quite like this… If this shit sticks it is some serious bad mamma juju… or good I suppose, depending on which way it's interpreted.
Besides the point, we're back! You Wonky-Cocked Pelican Pounding Peckerheads! To the Semi Final week of the PMFL Season and more importantly, the week of the Toilet Bowl!
A succulent new Lord of the PooPoo's will be ordained this week, removing the brown crown from the head of the Hard-Andre. Helmet Boppers and Shamrocks.. Who will reign as Lord of the Stinks?
A very bizarre week of football capped of the lowest scoring quarter-final round in PMFL history, but in the end, four teams remain standing, none of them strangers to the Semi's. The reigning champs Skunkle Squad, the 2019 Champion the Cold Hustlers, the 2018 Champion Mr.Hungry and last years Runner-Up, the Tokyo Titan.
There is a 75% chance we see a repeat victor for the first time this year in PMFL History, exciting stuff, the coveted trophy, the stunning first plaque to go on the front of that lovely bastard, a fat paycheque and bragging rights for an entire year! It doesn't get much better than this.
As Bruce Buffer would say; IIIIITTT'SSS TIIIIIIMMMMEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Cap'n D is basking in his own comeback this week and took the night off… Save for his stunning intro… He's figured out autotune may god help us all.
Instead, tonight we have a stunning Playoff Primer delivered by the two terrible toe sucking PMFL Executives themselves. We breakdown a wild final week of the regular season, look ahead to the PMFL Championship Quarter-Finals and discuss the abrupt departure of a PMFL Franchise Owner.
Who will win the PMFL this year? It’s anyone’s game!! Oh wait... No it's not..
Do not back down, do not give up.
When you look back on your season, don't have regrets. Believe in your team, believe in your future, you will find your way.
If you don't own dancing shoes you better be saving up, cuz this puppy is kicking off with or without you. Gonna be salsa dancing, flamingo dancing, square dancing, salsa dancing.
Whatever your best two-step jive is, you better bring it, cuz there's 5 tickets left and 7 teams in the running.
A monumental season meets a monumental climax (said Fujii after his footjob). Sometimes it's better to be lucky than to be good. Courage is facing the Toilet Bowl. Fear of the Toilet Bowl holds most people back. We are not most people. We are the PMFL.
Be ye blessed with a playoff spot or be ye destined for the porcelain throne makes no difference. In the end, we are all idiots looking to defeat each other in a game of complete chance. Competing for one thing and one thing only… the coveted PMFL Trophy… and ultimate bragging rights.
Best of luck to all and to all a Good Night.
It's true what they say, you have to see the forest through the trees… And when you're stuck in the mud, up to your eyeballs in swampass voodoo, the forest can be pretty difficult to see. Some would elect to simply stop looking altogether. Saving oneself the trouble of yet another inevitably infuriating and soul crushing search for the forest. Instead, one could simply accept their cruel fate with the steely reserve of one at peace with the shit. The shit of the toilet bowl.
However, if one is to take a Journey through the trees to reach the forest, one cannot simply stop believing. Foolish, blind, unjustified hope. For without hope, what are we? I'm not going home. I'm gonna get on my boat, and I'm going up river, and I'm going to kick that son of a bitch Bison's ass so hard that the next Bison wannabe is gonna feel it! People die everyday. Friends... family. Yeah, we lost a few good men this season. But they're still with us… in our hearts. They didn't die in vain! It's not over.
Over? Did you say 'over'? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough... The tough get goin'!
I don't know what to say, really. Three weeks to the biggest dance of our professional fantasy lives. All comes down to this week, and either, we heal as a team, or we're gonna crumble. Inch by inch, play by play. Until we're finished. We're in hell right now, gentlemen. Believe me. And, we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell... one inch at a time.
Now I can't make you do it. You've got to look at the guys in your lineup, look into his eyes. Now I think, you're gonna see a guy who will go that inch with you. You're gonna see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team, because he knows when it comes down to it you're gonna do the same for him. That's a team, gentlemen, and either we heal, now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That's football guys, that's all it is. Now, what are you gonna do?
Well I guess there's only one thing left to do. Win the whole fucking thing.
Oh yeah, Gorz is in this episode
Like Thanos, this podcast is Inevitable. We took a break, give us a break, even Santa gets one once a year. You try getting Mark to sing "Let It Go"... It ain't easy out here... Especially when everyone on featured on this podcast was fresh off a fat L.
Our teams are hurting (except Andre's) but our will to deliver ridiculous content lives on. It's a long episode but we're long overdue. We hope you enjoy, yet another episode of THE.... PMFL Podcast
Slip "I'm Busting" into the chat if you read the pod intro's. It's late and I got an 8am demo tomorrow.. Trying to make Tanner and Fujii's vocals sound good is no quickly achieved feat.
Enjoy!
A week after the grand opening of his CTE Rehabilitation Center which strangely doubles as an Art Gallery.. Andrew Luck, the pod's longtime rival, short-time friend joins us to discuss the bizarre and frankly, inappropriate, submissions to his Art Gala contest and life after retirement. His love for football is overshadowed by only a few things, his love for shitty art, Shirley Temples and a newly discovered talent for singing.
Tonight, the sickeningly successful 5-1 Mr.Hungry returns after his brief one-week hiatus, allowing for the public pod pasting to be peppered on your beloved host, Cap'n D, for a second straight week. For those keeping score at home, that's two consecutive Monday Night slapping's I've been dealt, and two Monday night victors that have appeared on the very next pod... if you do it to me this week Weizy, you're not getting the invite...
We take a look at the myriad of injuries that plague the league of Squid Game, as we lost several more big name stars to devastating wounds, contusions, lacerations and torn bums. We highly doubt this is going to slow down anytime soon... What might slow down this season, is the Stone Cold Hustlers.. After two consecutive victories, rumours have surfaced that Mark was in contact with a certain Jon Gruden, formerly of the Oakland Raiders and ESPN's Monday Night Football.. The Los Bombas Legal team is currently following up on several loosely tied leads left by a fetid anonymous source.
We're into the thick of it. Everyone's on bye, half the teams don't have a kicker, almost every IR spot in the PMFL is accounted for, the Colt's fanbase are still bitter Andrew retired! Tune in this week for yet another episode of THE, PMFL PODCAST!
Joey can lick his.. well you'll get the picture. Welcome the Fuck back, another week, another episode. We wrangle long-time Houdini expert Matthew "Tasty Toes" Fujii onto the pod to test his relatively thin theory on pod juju/voodoo as well as welcome back another frigid guest who clearly loved letting it go on the pod so much last time, that he wanted to get back in the action for a second time around.
Injuries, Injuries, Injuries.. If you had Bad Juju, Saquon Baaaarkley, Chocolate Eclair's or Russel Chef Wilson in your lineup last week, you probably didn't get a win... Unless you're that lucky muck fucker Fujii and you make a living of selling feet pics on Toes and Fans.
Tonight, we break down standings after week 5.. We're in yet another tight one, it's anyone's to lose, anyone's to win.. and all of ours to royally fuck up. It's all getting rather silly if I'm being honest..
Several things are still unclear... Is Mr.Hungry winning the race for YoungHoe's heart or has the Lucky Lucky Primo P emerged as a front runner after tonight's public cry for fellacio? Is the Panama Football League really planning on sending yet another dead crow or will Team Canada burying them in the World Cup Qualifiers scare them off? Will the Stab City Banged-Up Rocks even be able to field a team by season end? These are questions that need answering... Tune in this week for yet another episode of THE, PMFL PODCAST!
What does an 0-3 team and a female frog have in common? I don't even have to answer that because you know the answer! Tonight we welcome a talented guest onto the pod whose been in with a way of bad luck as of recent weeks, he looks to turn his luck around on the pod as the exec break down a wild week 3, look at who voodoo is most likely to turn their attention to next and cover a busting week of waiver transactions. This is an episode you won't want to miss as we kick things back off into high gear. The NFL Season is back in full swing and so is the pod. Happy Listening! Andre you might wanna listen to this one or risk getting bombed!
Week 2 of the 2021 PMFL season is behind us. This week on the PMFL Podcast the Commish is MIA after his Degenerates deteriorated to a state of stench we do not often see in Fantasy Football. The Fuj's are also missing due to podcast VooDoo concerns. Spooky... Scary... Terry. Mr. Hungry corrals some knowledgable guests from the cast of PMFL managers to keep the Pod alive! The guests were class. Absolutely Stunning!
Week 1 of the 2021 PMFL season is in the books. Welcome back to the extremely informative PMFL Podcast where break down the first week of matchups, waivers, and predictions for week 2. We also examine with a fine tooth comb, which PMFL owners have caught the filthy dirty spooky injury bug at this early point in the season. Which players will turn it around in week 2? Which players will continue to ball out? Will Aaron Rodgers proceed with his glue huffing antics on the gridiron? You have questions! We have answers!
Welcome back you Hornswaggllers and Toad Suckers to the very first episode of THE PMFL PODCAST, COMIN AT YOU somewhat live, as we watched the NFL Kickoff game and broke down a stunning PMFL Draft Day along with some dart throw stab adoobie in the dark picks for how this year will shape up
Good Evening you ball buffing, elbow sniffing, toad kissing, Rudolph whanking dirtbags, to championship week, the road to glory ends here, one franchise will etch their name in the history books and the other will go home with nothing save a JJ Watt jersey. This is episode 16 of the PMFL Podcast.
Tonight we have the final episode of the season, we analyze and breakdown last weeks action, determine which font to use for Andre’s ass tattoo, and talk about every possible way that the Grumpy Grinders and Skunkle Squad's matchup could turn this weekend. Best of luck to all
It's a great life… You risk your skin in the PMFL each week and the fantasy gods give and taketh away... Setting your rivals loose so they can only come back and shoot at ya once again. If you're honest, you're poor your whole life, and in the end, most of us wind up dyin' all alone on the wrong end of a dirty scoreboard. And for what? For everythin'. For a shot at the PMFL Trophy...
Welcome back ladies and gentleman to our fifteenth episode of the 2nd season of the PMFL Playoffs. It's a doozy as Cap'n D takes a hiatus, off in the fantasy desert known as the semi-finals. Tonight, Mr.Hungry takes lead on tonights episode, joined by the two toilet bowl contenders, as they break down a wild week 14 and look ahead to thier dance with destiny, circling the poopy water of the Toilet Bowl.
Good evening Troglodytes and Titty Fuckers, to a very special episode of the PMFL Podcast, The Playoff Primer! Our shoes are shined, we've picked a partner and we are ready to DANCE. The regular season is in the books and now the stage is set. Titans YoungHoes, Shamrocks Boppers, Skunks and Hungry's and Cowboys Grinders, this is action you do not want to sleep on. On the other side of the toilet seat we got Sausages Hard-Ons and Primo's Hustlers, going toe to toe to see who will reign as 2020's ultimate Chumpion in the Toilet Bowl. Tune in as we break down a week of point shaving, playoff jockeying and froggystyle before looking ahead to the most important week of the Fantasy season.
Good Evening Dirtbags and Dickholes to episode 12 of your favorite podcast. Today we break down the shocking events of week 12 as 5/8 teams managed to book their ticket to the playoffs in the same week. We look ahead to the playoffs, we listen in to each GM on the state of their franchise and, we even get a visit from the Grinch himself.
Welcome Back you Turkey's & Testicles, to Episode 12 of the PMFL Podcast, I am your host Captain D, coming at you live on another Wednesday. Joining me in the booth this evening is my partner in crime, he's 7-4, he just clinched a playoff spot, your reigning champ…. Mr.HUNGRYYYY!!!
Week 12, Holy SmokeyPonnichio, only two weeks left before the Dance and the fat lady is getting ready. Looking a little more clear this week, 3 tickets booked to the DANCE, 5 ready to be snatched up. We've got three teams sitting at 4-7 and 2 sitting at 5-6. With two games left, absolutely anyone of those teams could make playoffs and absolute anyone of them could be joining the Hard-Turds in the toilet water he's been dirtying since week 6. Joining us on tonight's show is a very special guest. He is a man of exquisite taste. He likes busch light, pussy and fart jokes. Please give a warm PMFL welcome to our first ever Guest who does not own a PMFL Franchise, the one, the only…. BLUE COBRA!!!
Welcome back you cum guzzling elephant wankers, to another episode of the PMFL Podcast. Man oh man, do we have a tan, Covid cases, Tokyo Titans and Stab City Shamrocks are soaring, just like Cap'n D and Mr.Hungry in the air as they came back from their lovely all expenses paid vacation to Wuhan. We break down the tightest playoff race in PMFL history, analyze the lone deal on deadline day and try to predict who's going to come out on top in yet another week of Sweatbox action, as the NFL enters Week 11.
While the commissioner computer heads to the shop for some repairs, Cap'n D and Mr.Hungry decide the time is ripe to take a well-deserved break from the PMFL podcast, inviting some of your favorite Dildos & Drag-Queens, and Losers & Lesbians to host episode ten. Enjoy, as the Tokyo Titan, Guap Daddy and Gorz take you on a wild week of recaps, analysis and projections for an episode you won't soon forget
Bonjourno all you Unicorns and Leprechauns, to yet another episode of you're favorite PMFL podcast. Cummin at you again, your jolly host Captain D, joined by my co-host, fresh off an incriminating TMZ video involving the Young-Hoe, some fishnets, a video camera, an old lady, several toes and some assless chaps. The video is wild, check that shit out. Tonight we're joined by none other than the 11th place, silver medalist, COUNT CALABRESE. We share some new fun facts, analyze the for another week the tightest PMFL we've ever seen and predict who's gonna come out on top.
Good Evening all you Drag Queens and Dildo's, to another episode of The. PMFL Podcast. Coming at you live, on a brisk Wednesday eve. Tonight we have another exciting episode, the weather outside is cold as a hustler, but still not cold enough to turn down the sweat levels dripping from our league this year. Another bananas week where the league was flipped on its head, big name stars going down with injury, the Pod curse is live and well, just in time for Halloween, but perhaps the strangest of all occurrences… The Hard-On's record their first win of the season, as we welcome the Flaccid Banana on as our special guest, with everyone's favorite doctor joining halfway through.
Merry Wednesday Losers and Lesbians, and welcome to Week 7! The PMFL Podcast is back with another exciting episode as we breakdown another jaw-dropping week of action in what is quickly becoming one of the most tightly contested season in recent PMFL history. Tonight we welcome a guest who needs no introduction, the nacho-nerfing, sausage-sucking, Carlos Hyde Draftiiinnnnggg Guap Daddy. We breakdown a tightly contested week, shed a man-tear for Fitz, analyze transactions and look ahead to week 7. Enjoy
Welcome back you Fucks, to another episode of the PMFL contest, Tonight we welcome the Skunk, the David, the Donut onto the Podcast after his controversial defeat of the undefeated Tokyo Titans in Week 5. We recap performances, talk about some crooked rule clarifications, look at trades and waivers and go to our fan favorite buzzer beater projections
Welcome Back Cocksmen and Cockswomen, to episode five of The PMFL Podcst: Season Two. Tonight, we shed several man tears as we say goodbye to a fan favorite and former lover of Mr.Hungry... We welcome a former PMFL Champ onto the pod and introduce a new way of predicting matchups which I think we'll all be able to agree slaps harder that Dallas' Beer Belly after a Kegger of Ole'Mil
Welcome back laddies and gentleworms, to yet another episode of the PMFL Podcast. In tonight's episode we welcome a PMFL OG onto the pod, a man who goes by many names but needs no introduction. The General Manager of the Gorzy-Boppin Helmetbags! We had some steamy sweats last week, tune in as we break down the action and even suffer a cyber attack live on the air...
Welcome back ladies and gentledicks, to another episode of the PMFL Podcast. Tonight we break down one of the wildest nights of waiver pickups this league has ever seen, bash Joey's QB room, see some uber ultra exotic lineups and welcome one Dirty Tyler Bass onto the show. Enjoy!
Welcome back listeners to our longest ever episode of the PMFL Podcast. Tonight we welcomed two guest speakers and a new member of our crackpot legal team to provide an update on our growing laundry list of legal battles. We break down top performers on the week, duds of the week, a very active week for the waiver wire and the first trade of the 2020 year before looking ahead to week two projections.
Welcome back Football Fans. Join Cap'n D, Mr.Hungry and the YoungHoe for our first episode of debauchery for the 2020 Fantasy Season.
'Playoffs...? Playoffs....? we're just trying to win a game!" - The Skunkle Squad
Welcome back sports fans to another week of the PMFL Podcast and what a week it was. The Quarter Finals are in the books, the most exciting week in fantasy and we have 4 teams headed to the off season, 2 teams happy they're not wearing a dress, 4 teams competing for the biggest trophy in Fantasy and 2 teams preparing for the shittiest match-up of their lives. Today we're joined by all 4 semi-finalists as our Tokyo Host runs us through the intense playoff match-ups, waiver wire pickups, toilet bowl seeding and ahead to the biggest week of the year. 4 Teams remain and 2 will emerge. Join us next week to find our big winner and our stinkiest loser
Welcome back sports fans to the Playoff PMFL Primer Episode of the PMFL Podcast. Kicking things off this week with the Big 3; Cap'n D, Mr.Hungry and the Sensai. We break down our final week of the PMFL regular season, look back at the season as a whole, recap a dull week of waiver wire action and look ahead to the biggest Fantasy week of the season. Who will win and keep in the running for a shot at that sweet sweet trophy? and who will get bent crooked stuck in the mud? Stay tuned for the Playoffs
Welcome to Episode 12 of the PMFL Podcast, this is an exciting week for the league as we move into the final regular season week of Fantasy with Playoffs and the Toilet Bowl looming large ahead. Today we recap week 12's match-ups, analyze the wild PMFL trade deadline, look ahead to some predictions for week 13 and take a look at Playoff Seeding heading into our final game of the regular season.
Welcome to back to yet another episode of the 2019 PMFL Podscast where we welcome a very special celebrity guest onto the show, recap our week 10 match-ups, analyze the reshaped playoff picture, discuss a new late season trade, review recent waiver pickups and look ahead to week 11 predictions
Welcome to our Double Digit Episode of the 2019 PMFL Podscast where we recap our week 9 match-ups, analyze our leagues bench points on the year, analyze the playoff picture, discuss trades that never happened, review recent waiver pickups and bids and look ahead to week 10 predictions
Welcome back to a special Halloween Episode of the PMFL Podcast! Today we welcome two truly horrifying guests onto the show to participate in our very first game of Fanboozled! Following our gameshow we recap week 8, check out the waiver wire and look ahead to week 9 predictions.
Our sixth episode of the 2019 PMFL Podcast where we recap week 5 match-ups, waiver wire battles, week 6 predictions discuss our second trade in as many weeks and welcome Mr.Jose himself onto the show
Our fifth episode of the 2019 PMFL Podcast where we cover week 4 recaps, waiver wire battles, week 5 predictions, discuss our first trade of the 2019 season and welcome the top dawg of the PMFL's first quarter onto the show.
Our fourth episode of the 2019 PMFL Podcast where we cover week 3 recaps, waiver wire battles, week 3 predictions and (sort of) welcome our third guest speaker.
Our third episode of the 2019 PMFL Podcast where we cover week 2 recaps, waiver wire battles, week 3 predictions and welcome our second guest speaker.
Our second episode of the 2019 PMFL Podcast where we cover week 1 recaps, waiver wire battles, week 2 predictions and welcome our very first guest speaker.