NYPA romance may be brewing between Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow and country songstress Taylor Swift. Page Six reported that Tebow was the toast of a pre-Oscars bash on Friday night, where he spent some time chatting up Swift. The pair then had dinner Monday night at Toscanova Italian restaurant in Century City, according to the website Clevvertv.com. “After dinner, he walked her out,” a source told the website, adding that it was unclear whether the get-together was a date. “Then he walked back in to join two other people. I think they may both have been with their agents.”

Perhaps they were just meeting to discuss some future cross-promotional opportunities. Or maybe their agents know each other and just wanted to grab something to eat. Or maybe they’re just good friends. I don’t know the details — none of us do. But what I do know is that if by some crazy last-second desperate act of Satan himself he overpowers Football Jesus and forces him to ravage the virginal body of America’s sweetheart…none of us will survive.

It will officially be the end of all conversation, as every man, woman, and child will be left only able to grunt and bark about Tebow and Swift-related subjects. Television would cease to exist, as every network on the dial would become nothing more than random flashes of their images, with only occasional predictive baby photoshops cutting into the madness. The sports world and the internet would simultaneously crumble when every athlete on the planet would spend their traditional practice and game time Tweeting about the Tebow/Swift pairing, overloading Twitter and exploding the entirety of cyberspace. In short: it would be the end.

Pretty sure Taylor Swift wouldn’t survive the incomprehensibly vicious fuck-thrusts of a testosterone-filled meathead whose never busted a nut in his life but has lived with pussy in his face for 24 straight years.  That skinny broad would be a corpse in five minutes. But hey, wouldn’t them two together be NEAT?