Things a first-round pick should never say just after being selected to join the NFL

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April 28, 2016 at 5 p.m. PST the NFL Network will broadcast its annual National Legalized Slave Auction Day. If you’re one of the lucky ones to get jumped into the league, here’s a primer of some thoughts you might just want to keep under that flat-billed hat at your first presser.

By Andrew J. Pridgen

The difference between playing college and at the next level? I think it’s pretty obvious. Now I’ll get paid to sit in a hotel room, play video games and Snapchat hookers.

Really, I think I’ve shown all I can on the field. Now it’s up to Master P. to take care of the rest.

Now it’s time I really start to focus on how to not get caught or at least pay the right people to make things go away.

Now I can pick myself up off waivers in week 6.

After this? I dunno, probably fly to Vegas and meet up with Manziel and his crew. Do a bunch of blow…basically see where the night takes us.

Looks like someone just got Jamarcus’d — snap!

Do you have any idea how much vape equipment I’m about to invest in?

I hate to cut this short, but I got an Amy Grant show at an Indian Casino to go to.

Thank god it’s not Cleveland, #amiright?

The performance enhancing drug regimen I’ll be taking won’t be detectable by the league until at least 2020. Since the average lifespan of a NFL player is under three years, I should be good.

Now I can pay for all these babies I made from those girls I got pregnant with.

You see this watch? It’s a fake. Just like you. Just like this whole thing.

On behalf of everyone about to get paid millions to play a child’s game, fuck Bob Costas.

Personally, I think tattoos on athletes are ugly.

I really thought Amy Brenneman’s restrained performance in Heat was one of the most notable in cinema over the last two decades. I think the way the movie was marketed—this Pacino v. De Niro almost videogame-esque matchup—just really overshadowed a career best from her.

I really think Kobe left a void in professional sport for a teammate who is selfish on the field and a narcissist off it. I hope I can be that guy.

I didn’t show up here in this suit with this haircut with all my pubes shaved to go to the fucking Jaguars

I see myself most in the mold of Chris Borland and A.J. Tarpley. One and done baby.

If Chris Berman gives me one of those silly, vaguely racist nicknames, I’m going to punch him in the fat face.

I dunno. I think Roger Goodell is kind of cute—for a ginger.

I told myself a long time ago, right about the time Patrick Swayze died, that if I couldn’t be a dancer, this is where I’d want to be.

I was sort of hoping to get drafted by Buffalo, so I could get laid in the parking lot before a game.

Just as soon as I sign this contract, I’m signing another with Stanford or Harvard to donate my brain for research.

Guess I can trade in that Hyundai right now, unless you’re out there listening Hyundai. In that case, it’s trade that Kia in.

I haven’t seen that much good GM’ing since Kevin Costner.

Hold on a second while I don’t tweet this.

I heard NBA groupies do the most dick-sucking across all leagues. I think fivethirtyeight did something about it. Nate Silver said the NFL is a close second; I’ll take that.

It’s days like this I miss ODB most.

I don’t know much what to expect. But I’m going to start studying Any Given Sunday as hard as I can and hopefully come to camp prepared.

If the performance on the field starts to go south, I have a gender reassignment back up plan to stay trending.

This money is going to go a long way to pay off the gun and assault charges I’m planning on getting starting later in the week.

To be honest, I haven’t really worked hard to this point. People who work hard are the ones running bakeries or installing pavers in the back yard. I’m just a genetic freak in case you haven’t fucking noticed.

Nobody can have too many friends—unless you’re Drake.

To that old man way up there wearing a jersey and booing—what the fuck man? What the fuck are you doing?

Taken fifth muthafuckas! Mel Kiper Jr. and his hair helmet can eat a bag of dicks.

To all my coaches and teachers along the way who had faith in me—thank you. But I’m still not giving you any money.

Is it regimen or regiment? I’ve heard both.

I’m used to losing. So this situation in ______ shouldn’t be much different.

The cult I recently joined says we’re going to be riding up on a tail of a comet by the fall of 2018, so I’m just trying to make some traveling money now.

You mean Jerry Glanville isn’t coaching anymore? Sheeeeeiiit. I’m out.

All I know is nobody really misses Bill Simmons.

I really would love to play next year, but I met a girl in Hawaii and she’s overcome a lot of shit to be a professional big-wave surfer, so I’m going to focus my time and energies on helping her bring that dream to fruition.

First off, I wanna start by saying there is no god. We live, we die. We sleep in darkness through all space and time. That’s it. This is what you get.

What do you mean they killed fucking Han Solo? Now I know you’re a liar. Fuck Disney man.

I’d just like to thank my father for never, ever being there. Suck it dad. How does minimum wage taste now? Probably tastes like Arby’s because that’s where you’re gonna be stuck working for the next two decades. Old man.

Before this draft I told my people, ‘Anywhere but Texas’…now that I’m here I guess I’ll just do what everyone else here does, buy a really big stucco house and hide in my panic room after any forthcoming club incidents.

Finally enough for BOTOX.

I fancy myself as a kind of an Aaron Hernandez-OJ type, both on and off the field.

Am I the only one who thinks pretty much every one of the 32 owners in this league look—and act—like  direct descendants of slave owners?

This just gets me one step closer to Kate Mara. Kate, I’m comin’ for you baby. Look out.

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