The defending champion Giants received an early Christmas present this year - a huge flaming kerfuffle wrapped up in fancy paper - none of that drugstore crap - with a shiny red ribbon, delivered down their chimney by Bad Santa himself, Plaxico Burress.  I’m sure you already know the details (unless you were still passed out from all the turkey and booze you ingested on Thursday) but let me recap anyway:  Plaxico - and I know it may shock you to find out he’s a frequent patron of such places - was out clubbing with his boyz Friday night when somehow, someway, the rod he was packing went off, sending a bullet through his own leg.  The wound itself, as things turned out, was actually the least of Plaxico’s problems - the bullet went right through his thigh without bothering anything important like bones or arteries, and he should be physically fine in a couple of weeks.  What’s not fine, and probably won’t be fine for a very long time, is Plaxico’s legal situation.  Cause Plax didn’t have a permit to carry a concealed handgun and, well, New York sort of frowns upon that kind of thing…frowns upon it to the point where such a violation carries a mandatory 3 1/2 year prison sentence.  I’m sure by now Plax’s lawyer has explained the meaning of “mandatory” to him, and that Plax is experiencing that special screwed feeling all over his whole body (minus the parts that are still numb after the surgery).

Yes this is bad news for the Giants, but it’s not like they haven’t won without Plaxico this year.  They can make the Super Bowl anyway.  Unfortunately, the Giants’ problems don’t end with Plaxico’s injury and possible imminent move to the hoosegow.  It’s since come out that Plax’s teammate Antonio Pierce was not only present at the time of the self-shooting, but for some reason, took the offending gun across the state line to New Jersey and stashed it.  Cause if there was anything that whole situation needed it was a comical attempt at getting rid of the evidence.  Now Pierce faces charges too.  And, just to add icing to the cake, it’s been reported that a third Giant may have been involved too.  I’m thinking this wasn’t what Tom Coughlin had in mind when he talked to the guys about building team unity.

Giants fans, I’m sure, are depressed as hell right now.  And why shouldn’t they be?  They were steamrolling their way to the Super Bowl, and now they face the possible loss of three key players, maybe more if things keep coming out the way they have been.  But, even in the darkest of moments, there are always silver linings.  I mean, yeah, shooting yourself in the leg is bad, but at least it was his own leg Plaxico shot.  At least he didn’t go all Diddy and shoot some ho in the eye.  At least he didn’t get his Ray Lewis on or, God forbid, his Rae Carruth.  There weren’t unidentified victims bleeding to death on the sidewalk when he got finished.  He didn’t have to get Al Cowlings on the horn and tell him to gas up the Bronco.  The whole thing was probably just an innocent mistake really - he just didn’t realize you needed a permit to carry a gun in a club.  And Pierce just had one of those flaky moments that can happen to anyone.  We’ve all been there, right?  Some pal just sent a round through his own thigh and you’re all like, “Damn.  I better drive the gun over to New Jersey and hide it in my ex-girlfriend’s laundry hamper.  They’ll never find it there.  And maybe I can pick up some Burger King on the way home.  I’m starved from all this misadventure.”  Yeah, it definitely could’ve been much worse.  Somebody could’ve had to call Harvey Keitel.  Somebody could’ve had to get a big syringe full of adrenaline and jab it through Uma Thurman’s ribcage into her heart.  Somebody could’ve had to get medieval on somebody’s ass.