Source: Golf Digest

There's never a shortage of barrel-scraping human behavior on Super Bowl Sunday, but this year's annual Purge Night was unlike any other. Uber-bro Bradley Cooper went full Silver Linings, Kevin Hart blacked out on live TV, Tom Brady wouldn't shake anybody's hand, and Dodge tried to use MLK to sell pickup trucks...and that was all before Eagles fans descended on the streets of Philly to burn stuff and feast on horse dung. Still though, in this pantheon of literal and figurative shit, one man stood alone:

Floyd Mayweather, clad in a $100,000 Chinchilla-fur coat, head shoved so far up his own ass it was coming out of his neckhole.

It was bad enough when NBC panned over Pretty Boy's luxury box in their requisite Celebs-At-The-Big-Game rundown, momentarily absolving the domestic abuse allegations and homophobia and rampant asshollery because his necklace was shiny. On Monday afternoon, however, it got even worse when Mayweather, apparently unhappy with the quantity of attention-barf being spewed all over a guy who monetizes his belief that Duracell pajamas can conquer the aging process, took to Insta to clear up three things:

His jacket was hewn from somewhere north of 60 Chinchilla souls and cost more than your life.

It's not like 'American Gangster' Frank Lucas's jackets. Frank Lucas was a dirty snitch and shopped "off the rack."

Floyd Mayweather still f—king sucks so so so so much.

Do you agree this was the worst part of the Super Bowl?