Remember when the Eagles were handing out chunks of the past ten years, and it was assumed such baffling restructuring would cement them a low-place finish in exchange for a transitional period?  When that dumbass ESPN bus thing was traveling to all the NFL training camps to give guys like Matt Hasselbeck the chance to say “Yeah, I think we’re contenders!” even though it would invoke nothing but a piteous smile and a series of dark thoughts from all those watching?

Remember on that same trip, they went and saw the Eagles and their number one starting celebrity quarterback, Kevin Kolb?  Remember how he sat there with that Victoria, Texas drawl painting every colloquialism that fell out of his mouth, and tried to create an image of the Eagles achieving marginal success in 2010-11?

Did you believe him?

When he said the crux of his plan was to become a ninja, morale plummeted.

[Style Points]

Well, don’t answer that, because even if you did, he wasn’t the guy who brought the majority of it to us.

Last night, as Eli Manning turned Lambeau Field into a gallery of dog shit, chucking four interceptions (“Does he even see the Packers?!”  –my dad) amidst six Giants turnovers as the Packers’ John Kuhn stepped on anything that got in his way (snow, ice, human skulls, the dreams of the innocent, etc.), the Eagles, who were too busy being cancelled a couple hundred miles away, won the NFC East.

It was such an extravagant reversal of the predicted “whatever”-ness of the Eagles’ season that they declared Philadelphia in a state of emergency.  They said it was because of an impending fart of snow that was soon to menace the city, which many considered cowardly, and then a little scary, and then that fart evolved into a shitty blast of highly fecal winter precipitation.  But I think we can all agree this was one of those celebratory mass-cancellations we’ve come to know and love.

It was Michael Vick and his redemption storyline, it was Jeremy Maclin and his heroic stiff arms, I guess it was Andy Reid somehow, but last night and last week, it was mostly the Giants who gift wrapped the NFC East division, placed it on a platter garnished by their own shortcomings, turnovers, and utterly abysmal failures, and handed it right the fuck over to the Philadelphia Eagles, who are 10-4 and look to become even better when they finally do play the Vikings.

But it wouldn’t be a true Philadelphia sports victory if other people in other places weren’t suffering in some public, humiliating fashion (other than the Giants I mean; you can assume if Philly succeeds in any way, New York crumbles a mite).

If Donovan McNabb’s Washington D.C. adventure is any indication, and it clearly is, Jayson Werth’s experience as a Philly-transplanted Washingtonian (or whatever the baseball team is called) is to be ill-fated.  Even though they play different sports, have different styles, and carry severely varying stances on the merits of wild-eyed stares and untamed beards.