The walking, talking, two-headed disaster known as Dolan & Isiah which rules Madison Square Garden needs to face facts:
The only way to blow the roof off of a sold-out MSG is to pull the plug on the Knicks' season (immediately!) and preempt the remaining games with what we saw tonight -- Uno The Beagle struttin' his stuff and winning Best In Show.
Talk about the embodiment of "GOD" spelled backwards ...
It seems abundantly clear that the only way that the NBA team which occupies MSG could equal or surpass the buzz of tonight would be if someone somewhere passed a law whereupon the name "Knickerbockers" was changed to "Knickerbeagles."
Bottom line: The Big Apple hasn't been this overwhelmed by a four-legged creature since that time when the Cloverfield monster destroyed three-quarters of the city.
Still, the Westminster Kennel Club owes the Free World an explanation as to why it took 516 years for its judges to come to their senses and offer some long-overdue respect and admiration for the second-best breed in the universe (behind the Golden, of course).
Swear to god ("d-o-g" spelled backwards) ... it (apparently) was no misprint that "no beagle had won the Hound group since 1939."
What was the problem then?
Administrative error?
There was no disputing Uno's unassailable status as the People's Puppy; the crowd went nuts every time that rascal was anywhere near the main action ... which was somewhat reminiscent of the early '70s when Hawthorne Wingo would wow the MSG crowd.
So many Americans sweated out that final 20 minutes of the Best In Show judging on the USA Network -- particularly since two of those seven finalists were a pair of iguanas-adorned-with-cotton-balls known as the standard poodle and the toy poodle.
Nobody has ever sufficiently explained why it is necessary to groom such a slightly-less-than-medicore breed of dog (the poodle) in such a manner so as to give the impression of what an iguana looks like when dressed in poofy cotton.
The beagle, meanwhile, is your typical, everyday cutey-pie who enjoys playing, socializing, receiving tummy-rubs and, if trained to do so, can sniff out drugs, snakes or explosives.
Fun ... and functional (depending how one feels about the beagle's bark -- or "bay" -- which can make ya mental). Folks who are pro-poodle usually try to argue the merits of their breed, but, c'mon ...
No, seriously ... the toy poodle's name was "Vikki."
"Vikki" is not (never has been, never will be) an acceptable doggie name.
"Vicki" was the name of the best-lookin' chick in our algebra class (however, "Vickie" was the hottie who sat in the back of 5th period Social Studies ... although nobody is naming little girls "Vicki" any more, opting instead for "Brittany" and "Cassidy" and "Britney" and "Chelsea" and "Brittinnee" -- not unlike the way that guys' names have shifted from "Gary" and "Scott" to "Chase" and "Tanner" and "Cassidy").
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, only a mere moments before the final decision was made, Vikki's coat (which spends more time in the salon than in the real world) was receiving a frenzied combing from her handler.
Which was for naught.
Because Uno is a champion's champion.
As for the standard poodle, Remy -- apparently, he was so named for the cognac, Remy Martin.
How aristocratic.
(Insert here your favorite line from any of the neurotics portrayed in the movie "Best In Show" ... )
America is well aware that cognac doesn't go well with a club sandwich and a side of steak-cut fries -- but, by the same token, America wouldn't mind seeing Uno, in his first act as King of the Canines, ordering Vikki and Remy to spend the night inside the boa constrictor exhibit at the reptile house at the nearby Bronx Zoo.
If it's true what David Duchovny's voice has told us about how "Dogs rule," then, what the heck ... let Uno make the rules.
Then again, it's humans who possess the cruelty to feed a poodle to a boa constrictor (which is why it seems ludicrous to have humans running the planet ... humans who affix 34 or 35 cotton balls to the feet, the hindquarters, the tail and the head of an iguana and call it "a poodle").
It's a form of mutilation which is in direct conflict with God's law and the Law of The Jungle ... which won't matter much in the Year 5528 when Earth is merely a burned-out lump of coal in the solar system and Jupiter's colonists chuckle while referring to this dead planet as "LoserTown" or "Idiotville."
Before 5528 rolls around, however, no one should be surprised if, in the near future, a baby goat wearing a burlap sack wins the "non-sporting" group in the WKC show in MSG in NYC.
Hopefully, it'll never come to that -- and maybe the best way to bridge the gap between this man-vs.-canine misunderstanding is to arrange for a meeting between the toy poodle and a certain currently-incarcerated NFL quarterback.
The tiny white dog and the talented black QB ... with the banner headline blaring: "VIKKI VISITS VICK!"
Strange as it may sound, the football metaphor definitely works. In fact, what transpired tonight paralleled Super Sunday on many levels.
Follow along:
The allegedly-"pretty" Vikki -- with her 108 best-in-show victories -- was akin to the New England Patriots and their pretty-boy QB, Tom Brady, putting their 18-0 record on the line against the regular-guy sensibilities of the New York Giants.
Again ... there's that New York angle.
Hey ... none of us has the inkling of going door to door and surveying Americans as to whether they are more anti-poodle/anti-Brady than they are pro-beagle/pro-Giants, yet, Uno's victory seems to signify that common sense CAN triumph.
The highly-beatable unbeatens CAN be defeated (which serves as some powerful vindication for Attucker, the energetic sweetheart of a beagle who, during Puppy Bowl IV on Super Sunday, CLEARLY outclassed Abigail, the Parson terrier, the so-called "Most Valuable Puppy").
And, maybe Uno's victory can open some doors for other breeds in a competition which, for much of its 100-some-odd years of existence, has favored the terriers.
Twelve times during the first 30 "Best in Show" competitions (1907-1937), fox terriers were the overall winners. Scottish terriers have won six Best in Shows ... Airedale terriers and Sealyham terriers have won four times each (one of Uno's fellow finalists was a Sealyham).
We've had West Highland terrier victories in 1942 and 1962 ... the Welsh terrier victory in 1944 ... the Bedlington terrier who won in 1948 (y'know ... the breed which looks like a little lamb) ... not to mention Best in Show wins for the Lakeland terrier (1968, 1976), the Skye terrier (1969), the Yorkshire terrier (1978), the Norwich terrier (1994, 1998), the Kerry Blue terrier (2003) and the Terrier Which Doesn't Look Like A Terrier, "Rufus" ... the rough-n'-tumble little Bull terrier with the football-shaped noggin who won our hearts two years ago.
Damn you, terriers (except for you, Rufus ... oh, and you, too, all you psycho Boston terriers who've never won and all you nut job Jack Russell terriers who've never won the grand prize).
Uno's victory has some of us dreaming of the day when a Golden Retriever will take top honors for the first time ever. That breed has its work cut out for it, considering that its three chief traits -- handsome, smart and sweet -- doesn't exactly fit the mold of the other so-called "champion" breeds (i.e. dogs which are not real-world compliant ... dogs which have an agenda ... ).
Hard to believe that a Golden has as many Best in Show ribbons as the Sloughi and the Azawakh combined.
For chrissakes, the Golden has as many First Prizes as the Billy, the breed of dog named after the Chateau de Billy in Poitou ... the breed which is actually a combination of three now-extinct breeds, the Ceris, the Larrye and the Mountaimboeuf.
Can we get a ruling? (That is, a ruling from somebody other than you, Mr. Know-It-All, Herb Kirkstreit).
The peanut-butter-coloured Golden which runs this outfit -- "The Colonel" -- is sick to death of Jerk Jerkstreit gettin on ESPN and askin' the tired, rhetorical question, "Is Uno the best champion of all-time?"
Not until he tosses out the ceremonial first pitch at either the Daytona 500 or the NBA All-Star Game this weekend, he ain't.
And, until Uno orders his handlers to convince those geniuses at Fathead that an UNO Fathead would have a positive impact on profit margins, we'll reserve judgment.
Besides, we're saving our best rush-to-judgment impulses for the next big event on our dance card:
Clemens vs. McNamee.
Clemens vs. McNamee, Clemens vs. McNamee, Clemens vs. McNamee, Clements vs. Macrame, Clements vs. Macrame, Clements likes to macrame, Clements likes to macrame, Clements likes to macrame ...
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
"Dad Got Me This Swell Job"
Indeed ... O'Reilly Auto Parts lost a legendary member of the family today when the regional manager of the Lubbock Division abruptly resigned.
The reason given for the resignation of the regional manager of the O'Reilly Auto Parts Empire-Lubbock Division was that "Daddy's tired."
"Tired"?
Is that "tired" as in "showing symptoms of mental exhaustion and emotional fatigue" -- or "tired" as in "tired of being mediocre" ... or "tired of being perceived as mediocre"?
Or "tired" as in "sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time"?
(Simply typing those tiring paragraphs makes one tired ... and hungry -- and that's "hungry" as in "craving some Campbell's Chunky Fully-Loaded ... either that or a Manwich")
Either way, the thing that Dwight Schrute needs to remember is that Pat Knight was not "the assistant regional manager" of O'Reilly Auto Parts-Lubbock Division.
He was "the assistant to the regional manager."
There's a huge difference.
Not that it matters now.
So, somebody with a spotty assistant coaching record is the new big kahuna of b-ball operations at a football school -- and, if Pat Knight is the chip off the ol' block that we think he is, the Rough Riders (or whatever they call that team) are all squared-away for as many 15-13 seasons (w/ either a first-round, Big 12 tourney exit, a first-round, NCAA tourney exit -- or both) as A.D. Gerald Myers can stomach.
"It's a football school, everybody" -- which is what we were all saying from the minute that Papa Knight took that job and used his forefingers-shaped-as-pistols to shoot those imaginary six-shooters into the air during that press conference when the exiled Indiana coach was introduced as the new Red Rovers coach.
No word yet as to whether Sonny will ditch his T.G.I.Friday's look -- sweater vest/polo shirt combo ("hey, kid ... we need more tartar sauce for our fried clams and can the Mrs. get a refill on that iced tea?") -- in favor of some snazzy O'Reilly Auto Parts apparel (long-sleeved mock T and plaid sportcoat combo or a v-neck sweater with the "O''Reilly" logo which dwarfs the interlocking "TT" insignia?).
During the next five seasons (as long as Myers decides that 15-13 seasons are an acceptable "bridge" between football seasons), it'll be interesting to see which puppeteer -- Daddy or O'Reilly Auto Parts -- has greater influence on the string-pulling of what we can now call "The PupPAT."
Notwithstanding the fascinating paradigm, this transition from Knight, Sr. to Knight, Jr. is the exact reason why a lot of Americans have shunned O'Reilly Auto Parts in favor of Kragen or Napa or Meineke or Auto Zone -- because O'Reilly isn't visionary enough to see that maybe there's an up-n'-coming coach in this big, vast land of auto-parts consumers ... a no-name, by most standards, who has paid his dues and is maybe five or six times more qualified to run the TTU program than the relative stiff whose only real visability during his TTU career was the role he played as a cardboard-cutout in the "Knight School" series on the Disneyland Sports Channel a few years ago.
That's the bottom line: Bobby Knight cares so much about "the team" that he gave the head coaching job to the same kid who used to steal a spot on the Indiana varsity from a kid who was probably more-deserving.
What message does that send to America's children? Knight's always positioned himself as a champion for "workin' our asses off is gonna make us better than our opposition at the end of the day" -- however, once that mission statement got doused (not with the sweat of that hard labor but) with the urine of the head honcho, somebody with the "proper" bloodlines got the job.
That's in Chapter 3, Verse 12 in the Bobby Knight Book of Contradictions.
For many Lubbockians, the fact that Texas Tech is a football school and not an O'Reilly Auto Parts Basketball Funhouse means that Bob bailing on the team with a dozen or so games will not register, in those people's minds, a "way to tough it out, Knight" on their radars.
To those people, the only landmark victories of note during Knight's stint were the memorable occasions when A) The Red Rovers came back from a 38-7 deficit midway through the third quarter against Minnesota and won, 44-41, in overtime in the '06 Insight Bowl which nobody watched ('cuz it was on the NFL Network) and B) The Red Rovers rallying from a 28-14 deficit in the final four minutes to beat Virginia, 31-28, in the most-recent Gator Bowl which nobody watched last month (because America was clicking back-n'-forth between the second half of the Cotton Bowl and the first half of the Capital One Bowl).
Hard to believe that Bob would walk away from all those good vibes and from a university which, during his stint in Lubbock, produced household names such as Kliff Kingsbury, B.J. Symons and Sonny Cumbie.
Oddly enough, it is Sonny Cumbie who fills up an arena the way that Knight used to (only Sonny does it as an Arena Football League superhero).
Sonny Cumbie has definitely earned his place in the O'Reilly Auto Parts Athletic Ring of Honor (if such a thing exists) -- although it's up to the O'Reilly board of directors to determine Bob's place in the Lubbock cosmos, given that "resignation" is nuthin' but a fancy, clinical term for "quittin'."
And, it's up to The PupPAT to decide if he wants to embrace Daddy's legacy or distance himself from it.
After all, he could create an identity for himself other than the guy who rode the bench for Daddy and averaged 2.4 PPG as a "player" (as well as moving the needle on the charisma meter past "zero") by doing something unique, creative and groundbreaking -- and not the crude schtick which marked Daddy's IU career, such as destroying the sno-cone machine in a rage or, on a few occasions, forcing the players (because he was pissed at them) to dress in the hallway while permitting the team managers to get changed in the locker room.
Maybe the PupPAT could separate himself from Papa by wearing an O'Reilly Auto Parts baseball cap (or an O'Reilly Auto Parts floppy hat, like the ones you get at the ballpark during those promo giveaways) during TTU ballgames.
Think about that. "Pat The Hat" -- the only coach in D-I b-ball with the cajones to wear a lid while coaching.
It's not as crazy as it sounds.
Moreover, it's the only chance that the Man In The Hat ... the PupPAT ... has to elevate TTU above middle-of-the-pack status, not to mention getting a leg up on that waste-of-space who coaches Oklahoma State ... Sean Sutton (another tribesman in the Big 12's pro-active "nepotism-in-action" campaign).
Meanwhile, over in Waco (a tumbleweed Texas outpost nearly as desolate and unappealing as Lubbock), a Baylor program which was dead as a doornail (literally) is enjoying a resurrection under a fresh-faced kid named Scott Drew (the son of a respected coach who actually got his job by "leaving the nest").
It's almost beyond belief what Drew has accomplished in such a short time ... gettin' Baylor (Baby Knight's first opponent) to an almost-historic level while The General and his T.G.I.Friday's son were molding slightly-less-than-marginal ballplayers into barely-above-adequate ballplayers.
As we all know, many (but not all) of the problems at Baylor stemmed from one of Knight's cronies (Dave Bliss) losing what they call "institutional control of the program" -- ending his career in embarrassing and humilating fashion following the murder of Patrick Dennehy.
In the days/weeks ahead, we'll hear quite a bit of babble and blather from Knight and Knight super-supporters who will blah-blah-blah about Bob's integrity and loyalty and accountability (Digger Phelps would punch his aunt in the head to ensure that he's the loudest voice in that group).
These testimonials should provide some amusing material for those of us who haven't overlooked Bob's friendship with Bliss, not to mention past alliances with Tates Locke and Norm Ellenberger (two of the '70s dirtiest cheaters ... gentlemen who didn't really INTEND to run dirty programs, it's just that they were swept away in the undertow of unfortunate circumstances and blah blah blah blah blah ...).
Papa Knight is likely to remain on the warpath (and, if he provides some laughs ... bonus!) when he hits America with his mega-tough-guy schtick of "I-don't-give-a-sh**-about-those-motherf**ers-who've-never-met-me-and-think-I'm-an-a**hole."
Bob will tell us that he doesn't need to defend himself to anybody.
Then, he'll go ahead and do it anyway.
The goal of Bob's media circus will be to divert attention from his untalented son, who, by the end of this month, probably will have opted against wearing a sombrero or a fedora during games (that is, unless the Red Rover guy who rides that horse onto the field before Red Rover football games lends him that snazzy, Zorro-like hat ...).
America has been through this whole routine (read: tired schtick) before ... we're supposed to forgive the F-bombs because Bob REALLY cares about the kids .... we're supposed to forget the jerk-off, jackass behavior because he donated $1 to the campus library ... we're supposed to go along with the contradictions because his boys were recruited properly and, more than likely, will receive a diploma from the university ...
However, one-half of America will respond with (in terms that Bob can identify with): "So F-ing what ... "
The other half of America -- led by mega-dork, turbo-kiss-asses such as Disneyland Basketball's Digger and Dickie V. -- will paint the portrait of Bob as a legendary legend of legendary status.
As a backdrop, ESPN will offer video imagery from the Knight Library ... all of those unforgettable scenes from his 28 years at Indiana interspersed with a black-n'-white snapshot or two of his days at Army (even though the only images available from his six-plus seasons in Lubbock are of him seated on the Rough Rider bench as he wore his black sweater with the O'Reilly Auto Parts logo dwarfing the "TT" logo, not to mention the scenes of Bob standing with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as the O'Reilly Auto Parts logo on his black sweater dwarfs the "TT" logo ... ).
What we won't get is that classic moment when Knight appeared on "Larry King Live" several years ago ... and Larry showed America the footage of Knight slamming his paw -- one of the two paws which spent A LOT of time riding the bench at Ohio State 35 years earlier -- up against Neil Reed's trachea and Larry asking, point-blank, "What was that?" ... and all Knight could come up with was, "I don't know."
Hopefully, Bob isn't too tired/fatigued/exhausted to dig up some new material 'cuz that was a mighty dumb answer.
Bob, it seems, wasn't too tired/fatigued/exhausted to travel to South Williamsport, PA last Aug. to waste our time occupying ESPN air-time with his "connection" to the Lubbock Little Leaguers ... and he wasn't too tired/fatigued/exhausted shortly after that trip to sign a 3-year contract extension ... but, now, it seems, he's too tired/fatigued/exhausted to get his point across about the fundamentals of winning b-ball to those O'Reilly Auto Parts b-ballers.
Fatigue/exhaustion is funny that way ...
Which leaves it up to the fresh face and young brain of Pat to pull off what Mike Davis did at IU in the springtime of '02 -- take a bunch of rag-tag lowlifes which "The Genral" (wink wink) recruited and turn 'em into a veritable, lean, mean, b-ball killin' machine which wins the NCAA Southeast Regional and comes oh-so-close to winning a national championship.
You're on alert, America: The O'Reilly Auto Parts' Cinderella story could be coming to an NCAA Regional near you during March Madness of '09 or '10.
Or not.
Until then, those of us who were once grabbed brusquely about the shoulders by Knight following that win over Ohio State in Jan. '96 (and who are married to an IU undergrad who has dozens upon dozens of classic, behind-the-scenes stories from Knight, '84 thru the '87 national championship run) have only one place to turn to refute the nonsense of the weeks ahead.
We will seek refuge in the Playboy interview from '01 ... and Bob's pre-O'Reilly Auto Parts car trip to Akron to watch Junior work his magic as a Zips asst. coach.
The exchange between Knight (who was driving) and Playboy writer Lawrence Grobel (who occupied the passenger seat) wasn't quite the confrontation that America might've compared favorably with Lt. Kaffee and Col. Nathan R. Jessep ("Did you order the Code Red?" ... "YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!!!"), but it came damn close.
KNIGHT: (bangs the center of the steering wheel with his fist) "Jesus Christ! This is bullshit! I'm not here for a fucking inquisition! And if that's what this is, then get the fuck out and hitchhike back home! The fucking stepfather was a fucking goddamn fucking asshole from the word goddamn go. He fucking lied and he lied and he lied! Jesus Christ! I mean, this is my fucking life we're talking about! My fucking heart was ripped out by this goddamn bullshit!"
Grobel: "OK ..."
KNIGHT: "OK, my ass! It isn't OK! Goddamn it, I don't need this shit with 'Playboy' or anybody else! I'll drop you off in fucking Dayton and you can get home."
Grobel: "Please, Coach ..."
KNIGHT: "This is fucking bullshit! I don't want to hear another fucking word."
Vintage Bobby ... tellin' his side of the story in Playboy ("what? Penthouse didn't return your call soon enough?")
In case Bob forgot, in that issue of Playboy -- which, by the way, isn't the magazine of virtue that, say, "Field & Stream" might be -- the centerfold was Miriam Gonzalez ... and, not only was she was typically smokin' hot, but she has the same birthday as this sports reporter (ret.).
Bob's so classically classic -- which is the Y2K way of saying that he's a man's man, a coach's coach and a hypocrite's hypocrite.
And, he's the only American we know (figuratively ... because nobody knows him literally) who can get away with adding profanity to "The Star-Spangled Banner" (y'know ... the song about the rockets' red glare and the F-bombs bursting in air ...).
In the month or so remaining in the O'Reilly Auto Parts-Lubbock Division season, America will NOT be deprived of the man who bailed on the O'Reilly Auto Parts-Lubbock Division b-ball program.
How so? Well, every time somebody asks The PupPAT how he feels about this or that -- or what his reacton is to various outcomes -- we can simply translate every single answer in very basic terms.
"I feel how Pa tells me to feel ..."
"My reaction is what Pa tells me it is ..."
That is, until the fatigue sets in ...
Sunday, February 03, 2008
PUPPY BOWL IV: What, No Flea-Flicker?
That was probably the only football-related/canine-oriented pun which Harry Kalas DIDN'T use during his almost three hours of narration for this, the fourth edition of puppy playtime mayhem.
Oddly enough, despite some corny lines from the script which Animal Planet gave Kalas (along with his own improvisation, we reckon) ... and notwithstanding some unusual questionable choices for the music soundtrack and the slightly-uneven deployment of fake crowd noise (not to mention our referee -- a.k.a. "SuperDork" -- stopping play by calling "Time OUST!"), most of America will be nodding in agreement that Puppy Bowl IV was our best Puppy Bowl to date, flea-flicker or no.
Still, it pains us to ask the obvious question after hearing David Duchovny's voice during any of those approximately 837 Pedigree Adoption Drive commercials:
"Did Echo find a loving home?"
(Said the Mrs.: "Echo's dead.")
The Mrs. might've been confusing Echo for one of the pit bulls at the Vick Compound in Virginia.
Nevertheless, Echo has a face that would melt the coldest and unyieldingest of hearts -- although the Mrs. was practically breathless with the cute-n'-cuddlyness of those three Corgis, particularly the Corgi named "Cornelius" who was playin' watchdog by the water dish at the 5-yard line ... offering a "back off, Jack!" bark every time that the black-hooded, pesky-and-perky Parson terrier (a variation on the popular "Jack Russell" terrier) Abigail encroached.
That might've been the only other major qualm with today's 4-legged showcase -- that Abigail ran off with the Most Valuable Puppy award in the on-line voting.
Abigail was an attention-getter, no doubt, albeit, quite possibly, for all the wrong reasons.
It was reminiscent of last year when Indianapolis Colt center Jeff Saturday played the best game and his Super Bowl XLI MVP award was mistakenly given to the more-popular Peyton Manning.
While Abigail had a lot going for her, she did not remain within herself and did not allow the game to come to her.
Her sprints were random and frenetic ... she was out of position more than once ... and all of that splashing at the water dish was completely unnecessary, not to mention psychotic.
Abigail gave all the appearances that she hadn't received much coaching, taking the element of "wreckless abandon" a little too far.
Not unlike a puppy version of Bill Romanowski.
Oftentimes, Abigail would grab a toy (although, admittedly, America laughed every time she picked up the toy referee) and dart about the field ... as though she'd been fed a lot of amphetamines (or puppy uppers).
It was as if she'd sneaked into Bill Romanowski's stash of pills.
Anyway, the smarter MVP vote would've been for Attucker the beagle, despite the silly name.
Attucker played under control, carried out his assignments and, overall, exhibited smarter, more-disciplined play (usually while rolling around on the Puppy Bowl logo at midfield and wrestling with one of those feisty Beagle/Pinscher mixes).
Overall, what we saw out there today during the initial broadcast (and/or during the replays at 6:00, 9:00 and midnight -- hell, yes, some of us watched it more than once ...) was several quality one-on-one skirmishes and no mention of Cover 2 -- a defensive philosophy which nobody really understands or explains very well.
And, if America was impressed by the intensity and focus of Bingo and Daisy, it should be pointed that that they are two Amstaff/Ambulls (American Staffordshire terrier/American pit bull mixes) from the same litter, though they didn't look much like brother and sister.
Even so, both had plenty of upside.
Regrettably, Bruin -- the 14-week-old, 44-lb. Malamute -- did not receive nearly enough playing time.
Ditto for Colt, the Bernese mountain dog, and Dixie, the Golden.
Bruin had a real Refrigerator Perry quality about him ... massive, yet fun-loving (although maybe possessing a higher I.Q. than the Fridge).
There's no escaping the inescapable truth: Any time there's a dozen or so pups inside a designated play area, the spectators win.
This is in direct conflict with the evil act of putting two pit bulls into a ring and wagering on the outcome.
Hence, what happens in these Puppy Bowls -- which coincides nicely with the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show which takes place the following week -- creates a positive vibe about dogs and responsible dog ownership.
America has gone through a brutal stretch since Puppy Bowl III, watching footage of pit bulls (when ESPN decided to exploit it) fighting 'til one dog was crippled or near death.
The details of what happened to those once-sweet pups before they arrived at the ring and after they exited the ring was almost as barbaric as what transpired inside the ring.
For those of us who, unlike our spouses, believe that Echo ISN'T dead, we were hoping to see Mike Vick serve his sentence inside a cinderblock cage with no toilet, so that he could eat his meals each day next to his puddles of urine and piles of feces.
Again ... that's a cinderblock cage with no toilet.
And no squeaky football toy ...
Thankfully, the Puppy Bowl was invented to stimulate our propensity for being pro-puppy -- although, we must confess that after spending three hours observing these wee pups, we feel as though we could improve the game ... y'know, such as eliminating the kitty-cat halftime and maybe granting eligibility for coyote pups which lack the resources to organize their own coyote leagues.
As puppy-lovin' know-it-alls, we've been known to second-guess the Rules Committee, protesting mildly when we see what we did today -- an orange-and-yellow, squeaky-toy porcupine on the field.
Initially, we found ourselves getting indignant and stating emphatically that there was no place in football for squeaky porcupines.
That is, until we saw how many pups ran right to the toy and enjoyed a hearty session of gnawing.
Son of a bitch ... the orange-and-yellow, squeaky porcupine earned its keep.
It should remain a fixture.
As the adorability and tummy-rubability grows each year, it's easy -- particularly when you live roughly 15 miles from the Animal Planet headquarters/stadium in Silver Spring -- to get all sentimental and promise the Mrs. that next year "we're gettin' tickets for the game!"
That is, until you realize that the only "fans" in attendance are faceless people painted on the walls.
OK ... then how did Bingo and his sister Daisy get to the stadium?
Summm-buddd-deee had to drive them ...
Anyway, the 5 1/2-year-old Golden -- Colonel Ka-Duffy -- who calls the shots at Planet Haystack ignores this Animal Planet showcase event each year because, as he's hinted, without actually saying it, that the game nowadays has changed on so many levels.
Which is why he interrupts our viewing by grabbing either his fuzzy hedgehog or the football w/ the tennis-ball-like, fuzzy shell and banging it up against Mommy or Daddy's leg.
Time for tug.
Actually, The Colonel might enjoy teasing Echo with the fuzzy football.
If only we knew if Echo was still alive (the Mrs. insists that he isn't ... what say you, Duchovny?).
To recap, Harry Kalas was a good sport to add his Hall of Fame voice to the event. He was given many more lines than in the previous three Puppy Bowls and we're certain that he was paid in either Milkbones or Marlboros, though we're not sure which).
Sadly, we have nowhere to turn for quality, game-related announcing for the next month (until the Big Dance arrives) -- and ESPN is attempting to be real coy about its surprise party for America by NOT disclosing in the promos for UNC-Duke three days from now that the primetime game will mark the return of Mega-Egghead Dick Vitale and his tired list of cliches.
There's a great many Americans whose reaction to this development was best demonstrated by what the lab-mix with the white racing stripe down her snout ("Mrs. Roper," they call her) did approx. 31 minutes before the end of Puppy Bowl IV.
Mrs. Roper squatted and plopped a little poopy on the 38-yard line.
Good call, you little bitch ... good call.
We'll second that motion on Weds. nite ...
Oddly enough, despite some corny lines from the script which Animal Planet gave Kalas (along with his own improvisation, we reckon) ... and notwithstanding some unusual questionable choices for the music soundtrack and the slightly-uneven deployment of fake crowd noise (not to mention our referee -- a.k.a. "SuperDork" -- stopping play by calling "Time OUST!"), most of America will be nodding in agreement that Puppy Bowl IV was our best Puppy Bowl to date, flea-flicker or no.
Still, it pains us to ask the obvious question after hearing David Duchovny's voice during any of those approximately 837 Pedigree Adoption Drive commercials:
"Did Echo find a loving home?"
(Said the Mrs.: "Echo's dead.")
The Mrs. might've been confusing Echo for one of the pit bulls at the Vick Compound in Virginia.
Nevertheless, Echo has a face that would melt the coldest and unyieldingest of hearts -- although the Mrs. was practically breathless with the cute-n'-cuddlyness of those three Corgis, particularly the Corgi named "Cornelius" who was playin' watchdog by the water dish at the 5-yard line ... offering a "back off, Jack!" bark every time that the black-hooded, pesky-and-perky Parson terrier (a variation on the popular "Jack Russell" terrier) Abigail encroached.
That might've been the only other major qualm with today's 4-legged showcase -- that Abigail ran off with the Most Valuable Puppy award in the on-line voting.
Abigail was an attention-getter, no doubt, albeit, quite possibly, for all the wrong reasons.
It was reminiscent of last year when Indianapolis Colt center Jeff Saturday played the best game and his Super Bowl XLI MVP award was mistakenly given to the more-popular Peyton Manning.
While Abigail had a lot going for her, she did not remain within herself and did not allow the game to come to her.
Her sprints were random and frenetic ... she was out of position more than once ... and all of that splashing at the water dish was completely unnecessary, not to mention psychotic.
Abigail gave all the appearances that she hadn't received much coaching, taking the element of "wreckless abandon" a little too far.
Not unlike a puppy version of Bill Romanowski.
Oftentimes, Abigail would grab a toy (although, admittedly, America laughed every time she picked up the toy referee) and dart about the field ... as though she'd been fed a lot of amphetamines (or puppy uppers).
It was as if she'd sneaked into Bill Romanowski's stash of pills.
Anyway, the smarter MVP vote would've been for Attucker the beagle, despite the silly name.
Attucker played under control, carried out his assignments and, overall, exhibited smarter, more-disciplined play (usually while rolling around on the Puppy Bowl logo at midfield and wrestling with one of those feisty Beagle/Pinscher mixes).
Overall, what we saw out there today during the initial broadcast (and/or during the replays at 6:00, 9:00 and midnight -- hell, yes, some of us watched it more than once ...) was several quality one-on-one skirmishes and no mention of Cover 2 -- a defensive philosophy which nobody really understands or explains very well.
And, if America was impressed by the intensity and focus of Bingo and Daisy, it should be pointed that that they are two Amstaff/Ambulls (American Staffordshire terrier/American pit bull mixes) from the same litter, though they didn't look much like brother and sister.
Even so, both had plenty of upside.
Regrettably, Bruin -- the 14-week-old, 44-lb. Malamute -- did not receive nearly enough playing time.
Ditto for Colt, the Bernese mountain dog, and Dixie, the Golden.
Bruin had a real Refrigerator Perry quality about him ... massive, yet fun-loving (although maybe possessing a higher I.Q. than the Fridge).
There's no escaping the inescapable truth: Any time there's a dozen or so pups inside a designated play area, the spectators win.
This is in direct conflict with the evil act of putting two pit bulls into a ring and wagering on the outcome.
Hence, what happens in these Puppy Bowls -- which coincides nicely with the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show which takes place the following week -- creates a positive vibe about dogs and responsible dog ownership.
America has gone through a brutal stretch since Puppy Bowl III, watching footage of pit bulls (when ESPN decided to exploit it) fighting 'til one dog was crippled or near death.
The details of what happened to those once-sweet pups before they arrived at the ring and after they exited the ring was almost as barbaric as what transpired inside the ring.
For those of us who, unlike our spouses, believe that Echo ISN'T dead, we were hoping to see Mike Vick serve his sentence inside a cinderblock cage with no toilet, so that he could eat his meals each day next to his puddles of urine and piles of feces.
Again ... that's a cinderblock cage with no toilet.
And no squeaky football toy ...
Thankfully, the Puppy Bowl was invented to stimulate our propensity for being pro-puppy -- although, we must confess that after spending three hours observing these wee pups, we feel as though we could improve the game ... y'know, such as eliminating the kitty-cat halftime and maybe granting eligibility for coyote pups which lack the resources to organize their own coyote leagues.
As puppy-lovin' know-it-alls, we've been known to second-guess the Rules Committee, protesting mildly when we see what we did today -- an orange-and-yellow, squeaky-toy porcupine on the field.
Initially, we found ourselves getting indignant and stating emphatically that there was no place in football for squeaky porcupines.
That is, until we saw how many pups ran right to the toy and enjoyed a hearty session of gnawing.
Son of a bitch ... the orange-and-yellow, squeaky porcupine earned its keep.
It should remain a fixture.
As the adorability and tummy-rubability grows each year, it's easy -- particularly when you live roughly 15 miles from the Animal Planet headquarters/stadium in Silver Spring -- to get all sentimental and promise the Mrs. that next year "we're gettin' tickets for the game!"
That is, until you realize that the only "fans" in attendance are faceless people painted on the walls.
OK ... then how did Bingo and his sister Daisy get to the stadium?
Summm-buddd-deee had to drive them ...
Anyway, the 5 1/2-year-old Golden -- Colonel Ka-Duffy -- who calls the shots at Planet Haystack ignores this Animal Planet showcase event each year because, as he's hinted, without actually saying it, that the game nowadays has changed on so many levels.
Which is why he interrupts our viewing by grabbing either his fuzzy hedgehog or the football w/ the tennis-ball-like, fuzzy shell and banging it up against Mommy or Daddy's leg.
Time for tug.
Actually, The Colonel might enjoy teasing Echo with the fuzzy football.
If only we knew if Echo was still alive (the Mrs. insists that he isn't ... what say you, Duchovny?).
To recap, Harry Kalas was a good sport to add his Hall of Fame voice to the event. He was given many more lines than in the previous three Puppy Bowls and we're certain that he was paid in either Milkbones or Marlboros, though we're not sure which).
Sadly, we have nowhere to turn for quality, game-related announcing for the next month (until the Big Dance arrives) -- and ESPN is attempting to be real coy about its surprise party for America by NOT disclosing in the promos for UNC-Duke three days from now that the primetime game will mark the return of Mega-Egghead Dick Vitale and his tired list of cliches.
There's a great many Americans whose reaction to this development was best demonstrated by what the lab-mix with the white racing stripe down her snout ("Mrs. Roper," they call her) did approx. 31 minutes before the end of Puppy Bowl IV.
Mrs. Roper squatted and plopped a little poopy on the 38-yard line.
Good call, you little bitch ... good call.
We'll second that motion on Weds. nite ...
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
23 (or 26) Questions TOM BRADY Refused To Answer
Super Bowl Media Day wrapped up a little while ago and, aside from that chick reporter for TV Azteca who showed up in the wedding dress and made her marital sales pitch to Tom Brady, it looked like the usual timid yawnfest.
America's infatuation with Tom The Bomb's terrifickly-dimpled chin and Aquafresh smile is so profound that, sometimes (actually ... "all the time"), the important questions remain unasked.
Face facts, America: Roughly 92 percent of the media representatives we saw out there today would elbow their girlfriends/boyfriends in the forehead to cut to the front of the line for the once-in-a-lifetime thrill of running their tongue along that chin-crater and those Aquafresh-pearlie whites.
But, lest we get too carried away w/ the meat-market atmosphere of today's event, it's necessary not to overlook the most-important role that Tom The Bomb plays in the real world -- as part-time daddy to a bastard child born out of wedlock named Johnny Moynahan.
Little Johnny is only 5 mos. old, so he cannot fully comprehend the magnitude of this momentous occasion. In that respect, that's how Little Johnny is like most of the media personnel.
His brain is very small right now ... but, unlike a sportswriter or some TV network stiff, Johnny's mind will develop with the expansion of his cranium as he ages ... and, barring the blunt-force trauma which has impacted America's skull, Johnny's brain will never completely lose function until he's well into his 80s or 90s ...
However, today represented the perfect opportunity for someone /anyone to ask Tom Terrific the questions which will help Little Johnny establish a better understanding of his absentee father (for when Little Johnny is watching the Super Bowl XLII Media Day DVD with his step-daddy 10 or 11 years from now).
It's all about knowing what to ask, rather than regurgitating the same ol' drivel. Seriously, when Tom answered "U2" when asked his favorite band, it made ya wanna follow up with, "How PC ... how popular ... how mainstream ... " -- when everybody knows that the truth behind the answer is, "My favorite band is whichever band Movado and Stetson tell me is my favorite."
In that vein, we need to have Tom The Bomb address what REALLY matters in the real world.
Topics such as:
1) "How soon 'til Gisele has a bumper sticker on her car which reads: 'Proud Step-Mom of a Fairview Middle School Honor Roll Student'?"
2) "Will you be offended if, 10 years from now, Johnny is wearing his #9 Carson Palmer Patriots jersey to school?"
3) "When, seven years from now, Johnny eats an entire bag of Gummi bears half an hour before dinnertime, is it Bridget's job or Johnny's step-dad's job to dole out the punishment?"
4) "If, seven years from now, Johnny eats an entire bag of Gummi bears 15 minutes before dinnertime, should you expect an angry phone call from Bridget as she curses you up n' down because Johnny said, 'Gisele doesn't care if I eat Gummi bears before dinner.'?"
5) "Which was a greater thrill -- playing in three Super Bowls or performing the ceremonial coin toss at Super Bowl XL and stealing not only the thunder of not only America's Team, but also Jerome Bettis' as he returned to his hometown?"
6) "Didja know that Larry Foote is from Detroit, too?"
7) "Speaking of the Steelers, when you walked up to Anthony Smith after that first TD pass two months ago, were you being neighborly and offering some of your favorite wok recipes -- or were you, as your body language suggested, momentarily shedding your St. Thomas facade and pelting that guy with 15 or 20 F-bombs which you often preceded with the prefix 'mother-'?"
8) "What will be your reaction if, 10 years from now, instead of a #9 Carson Palmer Patriots jersey, Little Johnny chooses to wear a #10 Brady Quinn Dolphins jersey to school?"
9) "At what age is it appropriate for Little Johnny to wear a Movado wristwatch and Stetson cologne to school?"
10) "After you won your first Super Bowl, you made an important documentary which was filmed in black n' white (actually, it was part of SNL's "TV Funhouse") ... and, in it, you played a important role in educating Male Office-Worker America about the do's n' don'ts of sexual harassment in the workplace by grabbing Amy Poehler's left tittie before you stuffed Tina Fey's phone number into your white cotton briefs, which you were wearing around the office with no slacks to cover them ... the summary of the filmstrip was that, to avoid a sexaul-harrassment lawsuit, the guys needed to remember three things: 1) Be handsome 2) Be attractive 3) Don't be unattractive ... do you think that's the proper message for America's youth, particularly for a bastard child born out of wedlock?"
11) "If you were to push in front of a freight train (notice how we didn't say, 'Throw under the bus') any Bellarmine Bell who violated you during those wacky, West Catholic Athletic League days of the early-'90s, who would it be?"
12) "Are you saying that living well is the best revenge?"
13) "If you win this fourth Super Bowl ring, will you give it to your bastard son or to that bastard son's potential future step-mom?"
14) "Do you find it bizarre that less than 24 hours after you, the Patriot quarterback, showed up in New York City last Monday, Heath Ledger, the actor who starred in that movie 'The Patriot', was dead?"
15) "Was that your friendly way of saying that New York ain't big enough for TWO Patriots?"
16) "Whaddya gonna buy for Johnny's fifth birthday in 2012 ... a dirt bike or an X-Box?"
17) "Do you believe that you're the football version of 'The Jeter Effect' ... by that, we mean that guys in their 20s whose girlfriends wear Jeter #2 Yankee gear fantasize about the dreamboat, can-do-no-wrong athlete in the buff as much as their girlfriends do?"
18) "Didn't ya find the Patriots so much more lovable when the logo on the side of the helmet was that friendly Minuteman prepared to hike the football?"
19) "Why is it that in the TV ads for Gillette Fusion, the athletes chosen were Tiger, Federer and somebody named Thierry Henry? You're the most-famous footballer on the planet ... you play in GILLETTE Stadium ... and a footballer named Thierry Henry was chosen to round out the Big Three? 'Zup wiff dat?"
20) "Didja know that former Patriot QB Hugh Millen was born on Nov. 22, 1963 ... the day that JFK was assassinated? Coincidence?"
21) "What was a bigger thrill for you -- sitting in the gallery for one of President Bush's state of the union speeches, shaking hands with Pope John Paul II or performing the ceremonial coin toss for a Jerome Bettis Super Bowl?"
22) "Did it dawn on you that one half of America thought such appearances were pretentious and artificial while the other half of America smiled and sighed, 'Tom Brady is more powerful than any President since Teddy Roosevelt and more beloved than Pope Pius X'?"
23) "How would you take down al-Qaeda?"
24) "How many poopy diapers have you changed this month?"
25) "How many poopy diapers has al-Qaeda changed this month?"
26) "As a celebrity power couple, do you and Gisele outrank Joltin' Joe and Marilyn? What about Bob Waterfield and Jane Russell? What about when Jeter was with Mariah?"
27) "Do you think that Little Johnny will be happier that Tara Reid is not his step-mom or more thankful that Tara Reid is not his natural mother?"
28) "In that movie, 'I, Robot,' Will Smith was not wearing a shirt in a few scenes. Was it a bad career move by the mother of your bastard child to NOT volunteer to do some of her scenes while topless?"
29) "Is it possible that hot chicks are drawn merely to the tag 'NFL QB' rather than what you bring to the table, lookswise and personality, given that creepy-lookin' NFL QBs with marginal talent such as Jeff Garcia and Tim Hasselbeck pulled in wool comparable to Gisele when they bagged and then wed Carmela and Elisabeth?"
30) "Do you realize that if Kyle Boller played for the Patriots, he'd be The New Messiah?"
+ + + + GOOD GRAVY ... this could go on all night ... and on and on and on into the weekend ...
America's infatuation with Tom The Bomb's terrifickly-dimpled chin and Aquafresh smile is so profound that, sometimes (actually ... "all the time"), the important questions remain unasked.
Face facts, America: Roughly 92 percent of the media representatives we saw out there today would elbow their girlfriends/boyfriends in the forehead to cut to the front of the line for the once-in-a-lifetime thrill of running their tongue along that chin-crater and those Aquafresh-pearlie whites.
But, lest we get too carried away w/ the meat-market atmosphere of today's event, it's necessary not to overlook the most-important role that Tom The Bomb plays in the real world -- as part-time daddy to a bastard child born out of wedlock named Johnny Moynahan.
Little Johnny is only 5 mos. old, so he cannot fully comprehend the magnitude of this momentous occasion. In that respect, that's how Little Johnny is like most of the media personnel.
His brain is very small right now ... but, unlike a sportswriter or some TV network stiff, Johnny's mind will develop with the expansion of his cranium as he ages ... and, barring the blunt-force trauma which has impacted America's skull, Johnny's brain will never completely lose function until he's well into his 80s or 90s ...
However, today represented the perfect opportunity for someone /anyone to ask Tom Terrific the questions which will help Little Johnny establish a better understanding of his absentee father (for when Little Johnny is watching the Super Bowl XLII Media Day DVD with his step-daddy 10 or 11 years from now).
It's all about knowing what to ask, rather than regurgitating the same ol' drivel. Seriously, when Tom answered "U2" when asked his favorite band, it made ya wanna follow up with, "How PC ... how popular ... how mainstream ... " -- when everybody knows that the truth behind the answer is, "My favorite band is whichever band Movado and Stetson tell me is my favorite."
In that vein, we need to have Tom The Bomb address what REALLY matters in the real world.
Topics such as:
1) "How soon 'til Gisele has a bumper sticker on her car which reads: 'Proud Step-Mom of a Fairview Middle School Honor Roll Student'?"
2) "Will you be offended if, 10 years from now, Johnny is wearing his #9 Carson Palmer Patriots jersey to school?"
3) "When, seven years from now, Johnny eats an entire bag of Gummi bears half an hour before dinnertime, is it Bridget's job or Johnny's step-dad's job to dole out the punishment?"
4) "If, seven years from now, Johnny eats an entire bag of Gummi bears 15 minutes before dinnertime, should you expect an angry phone call from Bridget as she curses you up n' down because Johnny said, 'Gisele doesn't care if I eat Gummi bears before dinner.'?"
5) "Which was a greater thrill -- playing in three Super Bowls or performing the ceremonial coin toss at Super Bowl XL and stealing not only the thunder of not only America's Team, but also Jerome Bettis' as he returned to his hometown?"
6) "Didja know that Larry Foote is from Detroit, too?"
7) "Speaking of the Steelers, when you walked up to Anthony Smith after that first TD pass two months ago, were you being neighborly and offering some of your favorite wok recipes -- or were you, as your body language suggested, momentarily shedding your St. Thomas facade and pelting that guy with 15 or 20 F-bombs which you often preceded with the prefix 'mother-'?"
8) "What will be your reaction if, 10 years from now, instead of a #9 Carson Palmer Patriots jersey, Little Johnny chooses to wear a #10 Brady Quinn Dolphins jersey to school?"
9) "At what age is it appropriate for Little Johnny to wear a Movado wristwatch and Stetson cologne to school?"
10) "After you won your first Super Bowl, you made an important documentary which was filmed in black n' white (actually, it was part of SNL's "TV Funhouse") ... and, in it, you played a important role in educating Male Office-Worker America about the do's n' don'ts of sexual harassment in the workplace by grabbing Amy Poehler's left tittie before you stuffed Tina Fey's phone number into your white cotton briefs, which you were wearing around the office with no slacks to cover them ... the summary of the filmstrip was that, to avoid a sexaul-harrassment lawsuit, the guys needed to remember three things: 1) Be handsome 2) Be attractive 3) Don't be unattractive ... do you think that's the proper message for America's youth, particularly for a bastard child born out of wedlock?"
11) "If you were to push in front of a freight train (notice how we didn't say, 'Throw under the bus') any Bellarmine Bell who violated you during those wacky, West Catholic Athletic League days of the early-'90s, who would it be?"
12) "Are you saying that living well is the best revenge?"
13) "If you win this fourth Super Bowl ring, will you give it to your bastard son or to that bastard son's potential future step-mom?"
14) "Do you find it bizarre that less than 24 hours after you, the Patriot quarterback, showed up in New York City last Monday, Heath Ledger, the actor who starred in that movie 'The Patriot', was dead?"
15) "Was that your friendly way of saying that New York ain't big enough for TWO Patriots?"
16) "Whaddya gonna buy for Johnny's fifth birthday in 2012 ... a dirt bike or an X-Box?"
17) "Do you believe that you're the football version of 'The Jeter Effect' ... by that, we mean that guys in their 20s whose girlfriends wear Jeter #2 Yankee gear fantasize about the dreamboat, can-do-no-wrong athlete in the buff as much as their girlfriends do?"
18) "Didn't ya find the Patriots so much more lovable when the logo on the side of the helmet was that friendly Minuteman prepared to hike the football?"
19) "Why is it that in the TV ads for Gillette Fusion, the athletes chosen were Tiger, Federer and somebody named Thierry Henry? You're the most-famous footballer on the planet ... you play in GILLETTE Stadium ... and a footballer named Thierry Henry was chosen to round out the Big Three? 'Zup wiff dat?"
20) "Didja know that former Patriot QB Hugh Millen was born on Nov. 22, 1963 ... the day that JFK was assassinated? Coincidence?"
21) "What was a bigger thrill for you -- sitting in the gallery for one of President Bush's state of the union speeches, shaking hands with Pope John Paul II or performing the ceremonial coin toss for a Jerome Bettis Super Bowl?"
22) "Did it dawn on you that one half of America thought such appearances were pretentious and artificial while the other half of America smiled and sighed, 'Tom Brady is more powerful than any President since Teddy Roosevelt and more beloved than Pope Pius X'?"
23) "How would you take down al-Qaeda?"
24) "How many poopy diapers have you changed this month?"
25) "How many poopy diapers has al-Qaeda changed this month?"
26) "As a celebrity power couple, do you and Gisele outrank Joltin' Joe and Marilyn? What about Bob Waterfield and Jane Russell? What about when Jeter was with Mariah?"
27) "Do you think that Little Johnny will be happier that Tara Reid is not his step-mom or more thankful that Tara Reid is not his natural mother?"
28) "In that movie, 'I, Robot,' Will Smith was not wearing a shirt in a few scenes. Was it a bad career move by the mother of your bastard child to NOT volunteer to do some of her scenes while topless?"
29) "Is it possible that hot chicks are drawn merely to the tag 'NFL QB' rather than what you bring to the table, lookswise and personality, given that creepy-lookin' NFL QBs with marginal talent such as Jeff Garcia and Tim Hasselbeck pulled in wool comparable to Gisele when they bagged and then wed Carmela and Elisabeth?"
30) "Do you realize that if Kyle Boller played for the Patriots, he'd be The New Messiah?"
+ + + + GOOD GRAVY ... this could go on all night ... and on and on and on into the weekend ...
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The "Juck Fesus" T-Shirt Controversy
For those Americans who don't -- but have seen Americans who do -- own a t-shirt or a necktie with the familiar letters WWJD prominently displayed, it's lookin' more n' more as though the What Would Jesus Do? acronym needs to be replaced by the TJWDJF logo.
Exactly ... "Touchdown Jesus Wants Dana Jacobson Fired."
For those of us Americans who don't -- but know fellow Americans who do -- have some religious affiliation to speak of, we're conflicted about what that no-talent chick from the Disneyland Sports Network said the other night at the Mike & Mike roast which triggered such dismay and outrage.
From what the intra-web sez, America is taking sides re: Jake's crime of gettin' wasted and blurting out something about how we should all "fuck Touchdown Jesus" and "fuck Notre Dame."
For those of us Americans who are open-minded enough to see both sides of every argument, the pros and cons of this matter are gnawing at our insides.
On one hand, it's not as though Drunk Chick called Jesus a homo ... or said He was a nappy-headed ho ... or accused the Prince of Peace of having a swastika tattoo.
Such epithets are taboo.
What America is learning as this controversy unfolds is that Dana Jacobson might actually be a victim (yes ... a "victim").
That's to say, a victim of bad timing and a lack of talent.
As per the "bad timing" aspect ... this controversy was upsetting to the 16.3 percent of America which was gettin' completely amped for the opening ceremonies of Winter X Games 12.
On top of that, when some of us Americans were clicking the TV-remote clicker a few moments ago, we heard Pat O'Brien of "The Insider" boldly proclaim this as "The Death of Heath Ledger: Day 3."
Day 3 of somebody's death?
Punch line: "On what day are the closing ceremonies?" (laugh track)
Notwithstanding the death of an American icon of the cinema, we're coming to realize that Dana Jacobson -- with her horse teeth and that Cleopatra hairdo -- is too simple-minded to be witty (and sober) during a celebrity roast.
Instead of gettin' all vulgar and profane (while gettin' wasted), Jake coulda kept it clean by callin' the university "Notre Dumb" and by referring to that 3-8 football team as the "Farting Irish."
Exactly ... "Touchdown Jesus Wants Dana Jacobson Fired."
For those of us Americans who don't -- but know fellow Americans who do -- have some religious affiliation to speak of, we're conflicted about what that no-talent chick from the Disneyland Sports Network said the other night at the Mike & Mike roast which triggered such dismay and outrage.
From what the intra-web sez, America is taking sides re: Jake's crime of gettin' wasted and blurting out something about how we should all "fuck Touchdown Jesus" and "fuck Notre Dame."
For those of us Americans who are open-minded enough to see both sides of every argument, the pros and cons of this matter are gnawing at our insides.
On one hand, it's not as though Drunk Chick called Jesus a homo ... or said He was a nappy-headed ho ... or accused the Prince of Peace of having a swastika tattoo.
Such epithets are taboo.
What America is learning as this controversy unfolds is that Dana Jacobson might actually be a victim (yes ... a "victim").
That's to say, a victim of bad timing and a lack of talent.
As per the "bad timing" aspect ... this controversy was upsetting to the 16.3 percent of America which was gettin' completely amped for the opening ceremonies of Winter X Games 12.
On top of that, when some of us Americans were clicking the TV-remote clicker a few moments ago, we heard Pat O'Brien of "The Insider" boldly proclaim this as "The Death of Heath Ledger: Day 3."
Day 3 of somebody's death?
Punch line: "On what day are the closing ceremonies?" (laugh track)
Notwithstanding the death of an American icon of the cinema, we're coming to realize that Dana Jacobson -- with her horse teeth and that Cleopatra hairdo -- is too simple-minded to be witty (and sober) during a celebrity roast.
Instead of gettin' all vulgar and profane (while gettin' wasted), Jake coulda kept it clean by callin' the university "Notre Dumb" and by referring to that 3-8 football team as the "Farting Irish."
As we've come to learn, the appropriate way to drop the F Bomb is to wear one of those popular t-shirts with the message "Muck Fichigan" or "Duck Fuke."
However, in Jake's case -- one of those Jewish chicks (we presume) who attended the college which some people have referred to as "the Jew-niversity of Michigan" -- we reserve the right to request she wear a wet "Muck Fichigan" t-shirt (as long as she has a bag over those horse chompers and the Cleopatra 'do).
Those who are pro-She-Jake will offer a defense that F-bombs and Jesus appearing in the same sentence isn't a major crime.
In fact, there are a lot of us Americans who are guilty of hitting a bases-loaded pop-up during a softball game (or, ummmm ... we Americans who have read about someone hitting a bases-loaded pop-up during a softball game) and, while slamming the bat to the ground, growled, "Jesus F-ing Christ!" in anger.
On top of that, how many of us Americans haven't seen/heard a chick with horse-sized chompers and a Cleopatra hairdo gettin' wasted and talkin' all sorts of smack?
Five or six of 'em lived down the hall from us in our co-ed college dorm.
Nobody's sayin' that Dana Jacobson should be gang-raped or sodomized in a back alley somewhere ("oooops! Ummmm ... "lynched in a back alley somewhere" ... ) because, once America considers the source and grasps the context of the spoken word, we can all offer a big grin.
That is, once we remember that the crazy thing about crazy chicks is that a lot of crazy things come out of their crazy mouths (i.e. emotional rhetoric, pointless rants ...) when they aren't putting crazy things into their crazy mouths (i.e. booze, smokes, genitalia ...).
Perhaps the most-ironic twist to Jacobson v. Jesus is that the Disneyland Empire TV show she co-hosts airs during the daytime hours -- a time when the Espy Network hits America mighty hard with commercials pushin' that Christian-anthem CD "Open The Eyes Of My Heart" ("and, if you order right now, you can also get 'Days of Elijah'!"). //// Meanwhile, at the same time on another network (ABC) under the Disneyland umbrella, the gals are spewin' anti-Bush rhetoric and chattin' 'bout their vuh-jay-jays (or is it "vajingoes"?).
As it stands, only 13 people in America watch Juck Facobson's revamped "Weak Piss" sh, errrrrr ... "Cold Pizza" show -- far smaller than the viewership which the Disneyland Empire gave her on the first day of 2008, allowing her and ESPN, hair-gel, no-talent Jay Crawford host the Tournament of Roses Parade on ABC (the only reason we know this is because the Outback Bowl and Cotton Bowl were kinda boring, so we took a spin around the TV-remote clicker and, it was odd that ABC had chosen Jake n' Jay -- clowns from the Disneyland Sports Sector -- rather than choosing big stars from ABC's hit shows, such as Judith Light from "Who's The Boss?" and maybe Peter Jennings from the news division).
In the aftermath of these recent developments, it's amusing to see how America has chosen up sides as to whether we would've wanted to see Jake nude on a Rose Parade float ... or if we wanted to see her run over by a Rose Parade float.
It's obvious that if Jake was a sober guy droppin' N-bombs, she'd probably get a permanent vacation from the Espy Network's studio wherein she sits next to Skip Bayless (who may or may not be a pedophile and who may or may not be a bedwetter -- we simply don't know -- but who we're sure is a full-time dickhead).
Disneyland and its World's Strongest Man honchos will, no doubt, gloss over the matter by having a casual sit-down with America and explain that A) Juck Facobson was actually remarking that we should "forget" (not fuck) the MURAL on the side of the library -- the artist rendering which has been nicknamed "Touchdown Jesus" due to its proximity to Notre Dame's football stadium -- and B) America was never supposed to see/hear Jake since the roast was scheduled for a time when America was supposed to be sucking on another re-run of poker.
It was Disneyland's hope that cameras and microphones would never capture Juck Facobson in action -- and then dispense it on the intra-web.
Alas, the shit hit the fan like the Mel Gibson arrest report and the Paris Hilton sex tape, proving once again that America oftentimes sees/hears things it's not supposed to.
Lucky for Juck Facobson, America has no jurisdiction to "fire" her -- because, if we did that, Americans would have to fire all of its rap stars and its stand-up comedians for naughty language, not to mention issuing pink slips for all of the members of the clergy who drop trow and engage in bad touching with minors.
America is a wonderful, caring land of forgiveness, thank fucking God ...
The words "fuck" and "Jesus" in the same sentence ... why, they're as natural as together as "step-dad" and "13-year-old step-daughter" in the same bed together.
While many of us can't condone the aformentioned pairings, Disneyland sez, "Hey, shit happens ... whaddyagonna do, y'know?".
The reality is that Disneyland shouldn't fire Juck Facobson because of recent controversial remarks.
In truth, she should be fired because she's not very talented and she about as appealing to look at as Tony Kornhusker's comb-over, scraggly facial growth and super-crooked teeth.
For some of us, the only way that justice will be served is if Disneyland, rather than fire her, forced Jake to sit in a room for a week and watch some footage of fun-filled beheadings of women in other countries whose crimes are far less-serious than saying, "Fuck Allah."
Y'see, certain countries which aren't as enlightened as Disneyland Nation are infamous for decapitating women for failure to veil their buck teeth and their Cleopatra 'doo.
Another option might be to have Juck Facobson watch that "60 Minutes" episode from a few weeks ago wherein Anderson Cooper (on a netwoork which isn't Disneyland) reported on the documentation of females (ranging in age from 6 to 75) in Africa's Republic of the Congo who are routinely raped and/or sodomized for no reason at all.
Instead of hosting "Cold Pizza" or getting a guest spot on the "Fuck Jesus Celebrity Showcase," those females will oftentimes have a hand or arm macheteed off after they've been violated.
Sadly, none of this will hit home for Juck Facobson because, godfuckingdammit, she lives in a nation where freedom of speech is a right ... and, gee whiz, that's a tough break for those girls and women who paid the ultimate price in the truest definition of the word "fuck."
Dana will back at work (if ya wanna call that "a job") soon enough, keeping America abreast (he just typed "a breast," hee hee) of all the non-stories related to Super Bowl Week.
The Americans who didn't tune her out long ago will do so now -- but one person who will watch with rapt attention is someone we call "The Next Atta."
He's taking notes and drawing up a game plan for when he'll take his hijacked jumbo jet full of Jew-loving Americans, as he sees it, and crash it into whichever landmark he pleases.
When (not "if") The Next Atta so desires, he can make the ultimate expression of "Fuck Touchdown Jesus" by "connecting" with 85,000 Americans during a home game at Notre Dame Stadium.
Ballgame!
And, there goes the mural!
Well, even if this remains a nation divided about Jesus, Disneyland and no-talent chicks, there's one thing we can all agree on.
U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
More Smiles, Less Smiles
The Buckeyes have black eyes because they turned a blind eye to the warning signs.
And, when that happens, the subsequent whoopin' is usually fierce and painful.
It all began a few hours before tonight's tussle in the Superdome when one of those recently-aired "This Is SportsCenter" promos hit the airwaves.
In this one, Richard Simmons was leading the inner-office aerobics and Brutus Buckeye collapsed from exhaustion during the workout.
Then, only minutes before kickoff, Tom Rinaldi (we think it was) offered a pointless anecdote about Ohio State opting to wear the crimson jerseys tonight.
Somebody else echoed the "crimson" sentiment -- but, by then, it was too late.
Brutus Buckeye was still lying on the office floor ... unable to get to a text message to America that Ohio State's official version of red is actually SCARLET, not crimson.
Ballgame!
Once the school colors get mixed up, the dominoes will fall -- just like Brutus.
So, under the same roof whereupon the LSU Tigers won a national championship four years ago when they throttled the crimson-clad Oklahoma Sooners, they outclassed their scarlet-shirted opponent and Coach Sweatervest.
This was a semi-watchable ballgame (except for the part wherein Ali Highsmith frickin' decapitated Todd Boeckman in much the same manner in which, six days earlier, the Georgia Bulldogs -- in the same building, no less -- continually body-slammed Hawaii QB Colt Brennan amid our chuckles of watching Colt's skull gettin' righteously bounced on the Superdome turf >>>> "Hey, right tackle ... stop practicing your Haka Dance and try using yer dance-step moves to put yer 380-lb. frame in the way of that dude with the 'G' on his red helmet who is sprinting past you! ... Never mind! ... Too late!").
There's not much to talk about from that game which ended approx. 45 minutes ago -- that is, unless somebody wants to make mention Warning Sign #3 which Ohio State ignored.
That one states: In the past 20 years, only two QBs who wore #17 have won a national championship -- and both of them were black QBs (Charlie Ward, Florida State, 1993 ... Tee Martin, Tennessee, 1997).
Boeckman is not black -- he's a white boy QB wearin' #17 -- and, so far, the college football gods haven't allowed white-boy #17s into the Kingdom to join the bounty of the harvest.
So, yeah ... just as we wrote last year when Heisman Trophy-winner Troy Smith (wearin' Art Schilchter's #10) wasn't nearly good enough to beat Florida, Sgt. Sweatervest needs to find either A) The next molecular-genetics-major QB (a la Craig Krenzel) or B) Somebody like that cardboard-cutout Keanu Reeves, who was ex-Ohio State QB Johnny Utah in "Point Break" and who was ex-Ohio State QB Shane Falco in "The Replacements" (Cornelius Greene and Joe Germaine -- a coupla clutch Buckeye QBs who wore #7 -- scoff at Hollywoodland for portraying Reeves as a throws-like-a-girl ... a left-handed girl ... Buckeye QB >>>>> although Herb Kirkstreit and Steve Bellisari ask, "What's the big deal?" since neither of them had the arm-strength of either Utah or Falco ... )
Back on the white-boy scene, here's a big "hats off" to LSU TE Richard Dickson catching two TD passes ... thus, becoming the first white-boy TE to catch two TDs in a national championship game IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE.
Funny thing is, on that first TD, America likely received a 45-minute diatribe from FOX analyst Charles Davis before the GameDay dorks took their 30-minute whack at breaking down the play, but, here's the juice America:
That's called "a pop pass" ... teams were runnin' that in the '70s and '80s, particularly San Jose State QB Steve Clarkson to TE Tracy Franz back in the day (and it is simply adorable how TV-talkin' doofuses spend a lot of time analyzing and re-analyzing formations and tendencies and formation-related tendencies and blah blah blah ... it's a TD borne out of street ball ... four guys split to the right, OSU can't figure out who's guardin' who ... Flynn told Dickson he'd hit him at the fire hydrant or by the Davidson's Country Squier station wagon ... bingo! ... NOT a big mystery ... )
Since Fowler, Corso and Herb Kirkstreit only know three facets of college football -- A) Team speed B) The life story of every college head coach and C) Team speed -- America never learned what happened to LSU safety Craig Steltz after he suffered that stinger in the second quarter and had to leave the ballgame.
It's not as though the kid was named to most All-America teams.
In the ESPN warp, it's "hey, let's talk about the brilliant head coach and how that genius will utilize his team's speed to offset his opponent's team speed."
Again ... ESPN needs a Post-It note stuck on the GameDay fridge:
"College football is played by college football players."
The Winter X Games Network gives us more insight into the 4 DAYS of athletes in the Winter X Games than it does for 4 MONTHS of college football.
(By the way, in case anyone sez, "Lou Holtz has forgotten more about college football than you'll ever know" the most-sufficient comeback is, "His forgetfulness definitely shows.")
Gotta love that lisping, mushmouthed waste of space, waste of time ...
Well, now that LSU coach Less Smiles is fashioning a big, wide grin -- while Sgt. Sweatervest re-imagines what to do with those 50-day layoffs before the biggest game of the season -- America can now return to what really matters.
Such as non-stop Roger Clemens updates for the next 48 weeks.
And, when that happens, the subsequent whoopin' is usually fierce and painful.
It all began a few hours before tonight's tussle in the Superdome when one of those recently-aired "This Is SportsCenter" promos hit the airwaves.
In this one, Richard Simmons was leading the inner-office aerobics and Brutus Buckeye collapsed from exhaustion during the workout.
Then, only minutes before kickoff, Tom Rinaldi (we think it was) offered a pointless anecdote about Ohio State opting to wear the crimson jerseys tonight.
Somebody else echoed the "crimson" sentiment -- but, by then, it was too late.
Brutus Buckeye was still lying on the office floor ... unable to get to a text message to America that Ohio State's official version of red is actually SCARLET, not crimson.
Ballgame!
Once the school colors get mixed up, the dominoes will fall -- just like Brutus.
So, under the same roof whereupon the LSU Tigers won a national championship four years ago when they throttled the crimson-clad Oklahoma Sooners, they outclassed their scarlet-shirted opponent and Coach Sweatervest.
This was a semi-watchable ballgame (except for the part wherein Ali Highsmith frickin' decapitated Todd Boeckman in much the same manner in which, six days earlier, the Georgia Bulldogs -- in the same building, no less -- continually body-slammed Hawaii QB Colt Brennan amid our chuckles of watching Colt's skull gettin' righteously bounced on the Superdome turf >>>> "Hey, right tackle ... stop practicing your Haka Dance and try using yer dance-step moves to put yer 380-lb. frame in the way of that dude with the 'G' on his red helmet who is sprinting past you! ... Never mind! ... Too late!").
There's not much to talk about from that game which ended approx. 45 minutes ago -- that is, unless somebody wants to make mention Warning Sign #3 which Ohio State ignored.
That one states: In the past 20 years, only two QBs who wore #17 have won a national championship -- and both of them were black QBs (Charlie Ward, Florida State, 1993 ... Tee Martin, Tennessee, 1997).
Boeckman is not black -- he's a white boy QB wearin' #17 -- and, so far, the college football gods haven't allowed white-boy #17s into the Kingdom to join the bounty of the harvest.
So, yeah ... just as we wrote last year when Heisman Trophy-winner Troy Smith (wearin' Art Schilchter's #10) wasn't nearly good enough to beat Florida, Sgt. Sweatervest needs to find either A) The next molecular-genetics-major QB (a la Craig Krenzel) or B) Somebody like that cardboard-cutout Keanu Reeves, who was ex-Ohio State QB Johnny Utah in "Point Break" and who was ex-Ohio State QB Shane Falco in "The Replacements" (Cornelius Greene and Joe Germaine -- a coupla clutch Buckeye QBs who wore #7 -- scoff at Hollywoodland for portraying Reeves as a throws-like-a-girl ... a left-handed girl ... Buckeye QB >>>>> although Herb Kirkstreit and Steve Bellisari ask, "What's the big deal?" since neither of them had the arm-strength of either Utah or Falco ... )
Back on the white-boy scene, here's a big "hats off" to LSU TE Richard Dickson catching two TD passes ... thus, becoming the first white-boy TE to catch two TDs in a national championship game IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE.
Funny thing is, on that first TD, America likely received a 45-minute diatribe from FOX analyst Charles Davis before the GameDay dorks took their 30-minute whack at breaking down the play, but, here's the juice America:
That's called "a pop pass" ... teams were runnin' that in the '70s and '80s, particularly San Jose State QB Steve Clarkson to TE Tracy Franz back in the day (and it is simply adorable how TV-talkin' doofuses spend a lot of time analyzing and re-analyzing formations and tendencies and formation-related tendencies and blah blah blah ... it's a TD borne out of street ball ... four guys split to the right, OSU can't figure out who's guardin' who ... Flynn told Dickson he'd hit him at the fire hydrant or by the Davidson's Country Squier station wagon ... bingo! ... NOT a big mystery ... )
Since Fowler, Corso and Herb Kirkstreit only know three facets of college football -- A) Team speed B) The life story of every college head coach and C) Team speed -- America never learned what happened to LSU safety Craig Steltz after he suffered that stinger in the second quarter and had to leave the ballgame.
It's not as though the kid was named to most All-America teams.
In the ESPN warp, it's "hey, let's talk about the brilliant head coach and how that genius will utilize his team's speed to offset his opponent's team speed."
Again ... ESPN needs a Post-It note stuck on the GameDay fridge:
"College football is played by college football players."
The Winter X Games Network gives us more insight into the 4 DAYS of athletes in the Winter X Games than it does for 4 MONTHS of college football.
(By the way, in case anyone sez, "Lou Holtz has forgotten more about college football than you'll ever know" the most-sufficient comeback is, "His forgetfulness definitely shows.")
Gotta love that lisping, mushmouthed waste of space, waste of time ...
Well, now that LSU coach Less Smiles is fashioning a big, wide grin -- while Sgt. Sweatervest re-imagines what to do with those 50-day layoffs before the biggest game of the season -- America can now return to what really matters.
Such as non-stop Roger Clemens updates for the next 48 weeks.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Another Sooner Schooner Fiesta Fiasco
The Fiesta Bowl ended less than 20 minutes ago, so, as Monday "breaks the plane" and inches into Tuesday, it's probably not too early to consider everybody's feelings re: the 48-28, Mountaineer ambush of the Sooner Schooner.
Satisfied: Khori Ivy.
Displeased: Corey Ivy.
And who is the "anti-prophet"?
Geritol Corso, of course ... that is, after he unabasahedly proclaimed that OU would win by three touchdowns, a testament to the fact that he not only believed that the Mountaineers were pussies, but that they were inbred, bed-wetting, NAMBLA-literature-reading pussies.
That was the implication. anyway.
It's true ... we don't actually have to phone up the satisfied Khori Ivy or the displeased Corey Ivy to gauge their levels of satisfaction and/or displeasure because most of us coll. FB diehards ("which doesn't include you, coll. FB anti-Christ, Herb Kirkstreit!") remember when KHORI IVY was a senior WR on WVU's '00 Music City Bowl champions -- only a few years after COREY IVY (the current Baltimore Raven CB) was spendin' his senior season on the Sooners' '98 team (a squad which sucked pretty bad, ultimately leading to the firing of John Blake and the hiring of a Florida Gator assistant named Bob Stoops).
Indeed ... rare is the night when America can delight in a football classic between Khori Ivy's alma mater and Corey Ivy's alma mater (although some of us knew that it was merely a matter of time for the football gods to deliver a WVU-OU showdown as compensation for what happened exactly 10 years ago when we were denied Tar Heel center Jeff Saturday squaring off against Farting Irish linebacker Jimmy Friday ... "Holy smokes! Saturday just knocked Friday into next week! Saturday just beat the crap outta Friday!").
It's just a hunch (and we're too tired to look it up right now), but the Mortty Ivy who was wearin' #42 and startin' at LB for the 'Neers tonight is probably related to Khori Ivy (little bro? nephew? cousin?).
However, the '97 Sooners of exactly 10 years had TWO guys named "Corey Ivy" standing on their sideline ... the previously-mentioned Corey Terrell Ivy and a "Corey L. Ivy" (and we're pretty sure that Corey T. Ivy and Corey L. Ivy were, at the very least, NOT brothers because no parent -- other than George Foreman and his six or seven sons named "George" and Mrs. Laettner and her sons Christian and Christopher -- would ever name one son Corey T. and the other son Corey L., right?).
Nobody knows what happened to Corey L. Ivy during this difficult time of strife between Khori Ivy's team and Corey T. Ivy's team.
All we can go by is what we see on the field -- and while we mentioned that Corey Ivy's last game at OU was the Sooners' final game before Stoops took over, it is fascinating that Khory Ivy's final game at WVU was the final one, too, for legendary coach Don Nehlen (a victory over Ole Miss in which Khori had a pair of TD receptions as the 'Neers built a 49-9 lead over Ole Miss before sophomore QB Elisha Manning pulled the Rebs to within 49-38 ... which is amusing in the sense that, in the previous season, Elisha was a freshman on the Ole Miss team which rallied for an Independence Bowl win over the Sooners and rookie head coach Stoops in THE FINAL FOOTBALL GAME OF THE 20th CENTURY ... Les Binkley's field goal winning it for the Rebs approx. 20 minutes into the new millennium ... if you stayed up for that one -- as some of us diehards not named Herb Kirkstreit did -- it was very memorable) ...
For those of us who care about the pecking order of the coll. FB universe, the dawn of the 21st Century in Morgantown, WV served as a farewell to Don Nehlen and the hunt for a coach who could take the 'Neers to "the next level" as "that kid" Stoops had done in Norman, OK (Bobby guided the Sooners to the national championship a week after Nehlen's farewell game).
Right about now, though, Corey Ivy and Corey Ivy might be wondering how the guy got the name "Big Game Bob" instead of "Broken Heart Bobby."
That hit list includes:
** The K-State Massacre in '03 followed by the LSU heartbreak in the Sugar Bowl ...
** The 55-19 mess against 'SC to end the '04 season (which woulda been 77-19 if the Trojans hadn't mailed in the final 20 minutes) ...
** The 0-12 season of '05 ...
** The hook n' lateral on 4th down ...
** The halfback-option, TD pass on 4th down ...
** The walk-off, Statue of Liberty magic ...
(Go ahead and toss in that game from six or seven weeks ago when the Sooner D got brutalized during the first half of that prime-time beatdown in Lubbock) ...
So sad to see Ryan Reynolds (the Sooner LB Ryan Reynolds, not the actor Ryan Reynolds who was everybody's favorite Ryan Reynolds in "Smokin' Aces") so egregiously befouling the cream-n'-crimson #8 jersey which Nate Hybl (the golf-star transfer from Georgia) wore with such dignity and decorum while winning MVP honors in the 2003 Rose Bowl Game Presented By Citi.
Number 8 ... that's the number that Khori Ivy wore for the Mountaineers when he was carving out a college career that was slightly more-recognition-worthy than what Corey Ivy and Corey Ivy achieved at OU.
Number 8 ... that jersey number is now worn by WVU DB Quinton Andrews, the player who came up with that drive-killing INT tonight against the rookie Sam Bradford.
Quinton Andrews, however, is not to be confused with OU's "Q-factor" -- considering that we saw Quentin Chaney have a breakout game with a few clutch receptions ... which happened before the FOX Sports cameras showed America a glimpse of Sooner Quinton Carter nibbling his nails as he stood on the sideline.
What stuck in the craw of those on the Schooner was that Carter was seen wearing #20, which, when ya get right down to it, seems like a bit of sacrilege, given that #20 is what Billy Sims wore with such distinction and honor while winning the Heisman in '78 ... the same #20 which Rocky Calmus wore so proudly while winning the Butkus Award in '01.
Look ... it's not Quinton Carter's fault that he'll never be our fave #20.
Or that he'll always rank behind Quintin Griffin (OU's Cotton Bowl MVP six seasons ago) and Quentin Chaney as the Sooners who can get away with wearing a "Q" pendant on a 24K gold chain.
Notwithstanding that unavoidable sidebar, what we know about Bob Stoops is this:
He's a master re-builder.
Each year, the Sooners win 10 or 11 games -- and then Bob consults with the FEMA handbook after his bowl-game opponent huffs and puffs and blows his house down.
Nobody can say that they anticipated what unfolded tonight for Stoops' Troops against the school which many of us have playfully referred to as "Worst Virginia" ... or "West Vagina" ... or "the Meltdowneers."
Seriously, there's no a soul amongst us who did not chuckle when, during the WVU-Rutgers game on ESPN last season, we saw that fan in the stands with the sweatshirt with the big, block letters:
WEST FUCKING VIRGINIA.
It was America's intent to giggle as WVU returned to the Land of the Laughingstock after the 13-9 loss at home to Pitt which prompted Coach Fraudriguez to bolt for Michigan.
The last straw for the 'Neers had to be what happened on New Year's morning when Corso ate that entire tube of Fixodent and informed this nation that Oklahoma would win by three touchdowns.
Because, as he implied (and we inferred), Worst Vagina is a bunch of pussies.
So, rather than donning their banana-yellow pants and banana-yellow shirts (which is what they wore vs. Pitt), the WVU players opted for blue pants and white jerseys as the appropriate apparel for openin' up a can of whoop-ass on OU.
Tomorrow, none of us with no affiliation to Morgantown will remember the name of that crusty curmudgeon coach named "Bill" who was acting as interim head honcho.
Meanwhile, Herbie, Corso and America's third-favorite, all-time host of "Scholastic Sports America" (behind Sharlene Hawkes and Dan Debenham) will try to convince you that it was WVU's team speed, team speed, team, team speed, team speed and team speed -- in addition to OU's inability to counter WVU's team speed -- which was the difference in the game (alas ... "team speed, in this context, might be a cop-out of a euphemism for failure to identify the team which was either smarter or more-competent).
Case in point: WVU had all of this team speed against Pitt, however ... we all saw how that turned out.
Does Herbie expect team-speed-focused America to believe that a team-speed-deficient 5-7 Pitt team, for one night, possessed enough team speed to take down the team-speed-oriented team whose primary strength is team speed?
Well, here's the dee-lee-ohh:
When everybody's favorite mohawk-wearin' psycho, Owen Schmitt, was busting loose for 50 yards for the game's first TD, it wasn't entirely a team-speed issue.
Similarly, when Schmitt later sprinted into the pass pattern and safety D.J. Wolfe took the bait and went four steps toward the line of scrimmage instead of "staying home," uh-oh, Spaghetti-o's ...
Pat White had one of the easiest TD throws of his life.
For all we know, D.J. Wolfe was hustling over to ask Schmitt for tips re; hair care (if you saw Owen earlier this season, you remember him with the messy mohawk and the beard when he was walking along his sideline, smashing his forehead with his own helmet ... and if you saw Wolfe seated on the OU bench earlier this season, you remember all of those goofy-ass symbols he'd etched into his scalp ...).
Apparently, Schmitt remarked that tonight's mohawk -- neat n' tidy by mohawk standards (no beard, either) -- was tightened up with a "business cut."
Not to burst the bubble of Herbie and the Old Fart, but, maybe -- just maybe -- sometimes the game isn't about team, speed, team speed, team speed, team speed, team speed, team, speed and team speed.
Sometimes, it's about tightening up the business cut and gettin' down to bidniss.
And playing assignment football.
On every play ...
(Another hot tip for the laziest dicks -- Herbie and Corso -- on your TV screen: Sometimes, it's not about the college football coach and his college-football coaching coaching-ness, but -- get this -- it's about the players. This may provide inner-conflict for Herbie, who is in the middle of another love poem to Pete Carroll ... as soon as he seals with a kiss his poem to Rich Rodriguez ... )
Another dose of reality is this: Lovable though he may be, Schmitty will probably never surpass in popularity the 280-lb. FB legend who was Khori Ivy's teammate ... the one and only Wes Ours!
He was one of us.
He was one of ours ...
OK, OU ... granted, Bob & His Visor probably could've used Reggie Smith and Lendy Holmes in the secondary tonight, although, in fairness to scrubs Darien Williams and Dominque Franks, it might not've mattered.
After all, Marcus Walker had air-tight coverage on Tito Gonzales -- only Pat White made the best throw of his career ... and the result was one of the 'Neers' lengthy TDs.
Again ... two players makin' a play.
Quality throw ... solid catch ...
"At the end of the day," the final score tonight was a mild surprise, albeit not a total shock to those of us who actually watched the first half of OU's 17-7 win at Iowa State (it was on another network, Herbstreit ... when you were jetting across this nation and downloading porn on your laptop instead of rehearsing new material rather than the tired, ol' cliches of "they need to run to set up the play-action pass" and "if they have success with a vertical passing game, that'll set up the ground game" ...).
The Sooners's halftime deficit at Ames was 7-0 during an exhibition in which the massive left side of the OU line -- Phil Loadholt and Duke Robinson -- couldn't seem to get their 350-lb. frames outta the quicksand which seemed to be following only them.
What a "Soooooner Snooooozer."
Textbook boredom.
Generally, the rule of thumb is that teams which are capable of falling behind, 7-0, to signficantly inferior opponents (or blowing a 24-7 third-quarter lead in Boulder) possess certain characteristics which allow such developments to occur.
In other words, they didn't blow a 24-7 lead to a mediocre Colorado team "by accident."
OU accomplished that task by yielding to mediocrity.
In such instances, it might be that the players are sleepy ... or disinterested ... or maybe they wanna go grab some snacks at the Exxon Tiger Mart and watch some TV or play some X-Box.
While Stoops wowed us by turning around the 0-12 team of '05, he took a(nother) hit tonight -- but maybe all he needs is Corso to deliver one of those "Oklahoma is a bunch of pussies" punchlines.
TWICE tonight OU received 30 yards worth of penalties on a single snap of the football (late hit + unsportsmanlike conduct on one play in the second quarter ... later: P.I. + personal foul) ... and, on top of that, WVU didn't have pre-season Heisman contender Steve Slaton for more than a token first-quarter appearance.
For a team which beat Misouri twice this year, OU didn't show a helluva lot tonight.
Sam Bradford and his 36 freshman TD passes kept battlin', but to no avail.
It's still hard to believe that LB Curtis Lofton was the Big XII Defensive Player of the Year.
Must be all that team speed which everyone talks about.
Some of us, though, will use all of the team speed which God gave us, and sprint to the backyard in order to burn this #20 Kejuan Jones SOONERS jersey in the trash-can fire.
The scene is different in Morgantown.
They're tossin' another sofa cushion onto the bonfire.
The shot at the national championship went into the crapper with the loss to Pitt, but the opportunity to gulp some moonshine and to sing silly songs about Corso pantsless in the barn ... as the couchfire's flames grow higher and higher, yeah ... it's a great way to ring in '08.
Back in Norman, they're gettin' ready for a HUGE b-ball season from Longar Longar -- which'll, no doubt, lead to another prompt exit from the Big Dance (which'll have the folks 'round town wonderin' how soon it is 'til Stoops has the boys out for spring ball in anticipation of a 10-2 season gettin' urinated on by another coll. FB upstart).
Next season, it's Florida Atlantic's turn to tip over the Sooner Schooner.
That'll leave Corey Ivy displeased ...
And Corey Ivy dismayed ...
The happy ending?
Corey Ivy's problems are not Khori Ivy's problems ...
Satisfied: Khori Ivy.
Displeased: Corey Ivy.
And who is the "anti-prophet"?
Geritol Corso, of course ... that is, after he unabasahedly proclaimed that OU would win by three touchdowns, a testament to the fact that he not only believed that the Mountaineers were pussies, but that they were inbred, bed-wetting, NAMBLA-literature-reading pussies.
That was the implication. anyway.
It's true ... we don't actually have to phone up the satisfied Khori Ivy or the displeased Corey Ivy to gauge their levels of satisfaction and/or displeasure because most of us coll. FB diehards ("which doesn't include you, coll. FB anti-Christ, Herb Kirkstreit!") remember when KHORI IVY was a senior WR on WVU's '00 Music City Bowl champions -- only a few years after COREY IVY (the current Baltimore Raven CB) was spendin' his senior season on the Sooners' '98 team (a squad which sucked pretty bad, ultimately leading to the firing of John Blake and the hiring of a Florida Gator assistant named Bob Stoops).
Indeed ... rare is the night when America can delight in a football classic between Khori Ivy's alma mater and Corey Ivy's alma mater (although some of us knew that it was merely a matter of time for the football gods to deliver a WVU-OU showdown as compensation for what happened exactly 10 years ago when we were denied Tar Heel center Jeff Saturday squaring off against Farting Irish linebacker Jimmy Friday ... "Holy smokes! Saturday just knocked Friday into next week! Saturday just beat the crap outta Friday!").
It's just a hunch (and we're too tired to look it up right now), but the Mortty Ivy who was wearin' #42 and startin' at LB for the 'Neers tonight is probably related to Khori Ivy (little bro? nephew? cousin?).
However, the '97 Sooners of exactly 10 years had TWO guys named "Corey Ivy" standing on their sideline ... the previously-mentioned Corey Terrell Ivy and a "Corey L. Ivy" (and we're pretty sure that Corey T. Ivy and Corey L. Ivy were, at the very least, NOT brothers because no parent -- other than George Foreman and his six or seven sons named "George" and Mrs. Laettner and her sons Christian and Christopher -- would ever name one son Corey T. and the other son Corey L., right?).
Nobody knows what happened to Corey L. Ivy during this difficult time of strife between Khori Ivy's team and Corey T. Ivy's team.
All we can go by is what we see on the field -- and while we mentioned that Corey Ivy's last game at OU was the Sooners' final game before Stoops took over, it is fascinating that Khory Ivy's final game at WVU was the final one, too, for legendary coach Don Nehlen (a victory over Ole Miss in which Khori had a pair of TD receptions as the 'Neers built a 49-9 lead over Ole Miss before sophomore QB Elisha Manning pulled the Rebs to within 49-38 ... which is amusing in the sense that, in the previous season, Elisha was a freshman on the Ole Miss team which rallied for an Independence Bowl win over the Sooners and rookie head coach Stoops in THE FINAL FOOTBALL GAME OF THE 20th CENTURY ... Les Binkley's field goal winning it for the Rebs approx. 20 minutes into the new millennium ... if you stayed up for that one -- as some of us diehards not named Herb Kirkstreit did -- it was very memorable) ...
For those of us who care about the pecking order of the coll. FB universe, the dawn of the 21st Century in Morgantown, WV served as a farewell to Don Nehlen and the hunt for a coach who could take the 'Neers to "the next level" as "that kid" Stoops had done in Norman, OK (Bobby guided the Sooners to the national championship a week after Nehlen's farewell game).
Right about now, though, Corey Ivy and Corey Ivy might be wondering how the guy got the name "Big Game Bob" instead of "Broken Heart Bobby."
That hit list includes:
** The K-State Massacre in '03 followed by the LSU heartbreak in the Sugar Bowl ...
** The 55-19 mess against 'SC to end the '04 season (which woulda been 77-19 if the Trojans hadn't mailed in the final 20 minutes) ...
** The 0-12 season of '05 ...
** The hook n' lateral on 4th down ...
** The halfback-option, TD pass on 4th down ...
** The walk-off, Statue of Liberty magic ...
(Go ahead and toss in that game from six or seven weeks ago when the Sooner D got brutalized during the first half of that prime-time beatdown in Lubbock) ...
So sad to see Ryan Reynolds (the Sooner LB Ryan Reynolds, not the actor Ryan Reynolds who was everybody's favorite Ryan Reynolds in "Smokin' Aces") so egregiously befouling the cream-n'-crimson #8 jersey which Nate Hybl (the golf-star transfer from Georgia) wore with such dignity and decorum while winning MVP honors in the 2003 Rose Bowl Game Presented By Citi.
Number 8 ... that's the number that Khori Ivy wore for the Mountaineers when he was carving out a college career that was slightly more-recognition-worthy than what Corey Ivy and Corey Ivy achieved at OU.
Number 8 ... that jersey number is now worn by WVU DB Quinton Andrews, the player who came up with that drive-killing INT tonight against the rookie Sam Bradford.
Quinton Andrews, however, is not to be confused with OU's "Q-factor" -- considering that we saw Quentin Chaney have a breakout game with a few clutch receptions ... which happened before the FOX Sports cameras showed America a glimpse of Sooner Quinton Carter nibbling his nails as he stood on the sideline.
What stuck in the craw of those on the Schooner was that Carter was seen wearing #20, which, when ya get right down to it, seems like a bit of sacrilege, given that #20 is what Billy Sims wore with such distinction and honor while winning the Heisman in '78 ... the same #20 which Rocky Calmus wore so proudly while winning the Butkus Award in '01.
Look ... it's not Quinton Carter's fault that he'll never be our fave #20.
Or that he'll always rank behind Quintin Griffin (OU's Cotton Bowl MVP six seasons ago) and Quentin Chaney as the Sooners who can get away with wearing a "Q" pendant on a 24K gold chain.
Notwithstanding that unavoidable sidebar, what we know about Bob Stoops is this:
He's a master re-builder.
Each year, the Sooners win 10 or 11 games -- and then Bob consults with the FEMA handbook after his bowl-game opponent huffs and puffs and blows his house down.
Nobody can say that they anticipated what unfolded tonight for Stoops' Troops against the school which many of us have playfully referred to as "Worst Virginia" ... or "West Vagina" ... or "the Meltdowneers."
Seriously, there's no a soul amongst us who did not chuckle when, during the WVU-Rutgers game on ESPN last season, we saw that fan in the stands with the sweatshirt with the big, block letters:
WEST FUCKING VIRGINIA.
It was America's intent to giggle as WVU returned to the Land of the Laughingstock after the 13-9 loss at home to Pitt which prompted Coach Fraudriguez to bolt for Michigan.
The last straw for the 'Neers had to be what happened on New Year's morning when Corso ate that entire tube of Fixodent and informed this nation that Oklahoma would win by three touchdowns.
Because, as he implied (and we inferred), Worst Vagina is a bunch of pussies.
So, rather than donning their banana-yellow pants and banana-yellow shirts (which is what they wore vs. Pitt), the WVU players opted for blue pants and white jerseys as the appropriate apparel for openin' up a can of whoop-ass on OU.
Tomorrow, none of us with no affiliation to Morgantown will remember the name of that crusty curmudgeon coach named "Bill" who was acting as interim head honcho.
Meanwhile, Herbie, Corso and America's third-favorite, all-time host of "Scholastic Sports America" (behind Sharlene Hawkes and Dan Debenham) will try to convince you that it was WVU's team speed, team speed, team, team speed, team speed and team speed -- in addition to OU's inability to counter WVU's team speed -- which was the difference in the game (alas ... "team speed, in this context, might be a cop-out of a euphemism for failure to identify the team which was either smarter or more-competent).
Case in point: WVU had all of this team speed against Pitt, however ... we all saw how that turned out.
Does Herbie expect team-speed-focused America to believe that a team-speed-deficient 5-7 Pitt team, for one night, possessed enough team speed to take down the team-speed-oriented team whose primary strength is team speed?
Well, here's the dee-lee-ohh:
When everybody's favorite mohawk-wearin' psycho, Owen Schmitt, was busting loose for 50 yards for the game's first TD, it wasn't entirely a team-speed issue.
Similarly, when Schmitt later sprinted into the pass pattern and safety D.J. Wolfe took the bait and went four steps toward the line of scrimmage instead of "staying home," uh-oh, Spaghetti-o's ...
Pat White had one of the easiest TD throws of his life.
For all we know, D.J. Wolfe was hustling over to ask Schmitt for tips re; hair care (if you saw Owen earlier this season, you remember him with the messy mohawk and the beard when he was walking along his sideline, smashing his forehead with his own helmet ... and if you saw Wolfe seated on the OU bench earlier this season, you remember all of those goofy-ass symbols he'd etched into his scalp ...).
Apparently, Schmitt remarked that tonight's mohawk -- neat n' tidy by mohawk standards (no beard, either) -- was tightened up with a "business cut."
Not to burst the bubble of Herbie and the Old Fart, but, maybe -- just maybe -- sometimes the game isn't about team, speed, team speed, team speed, team speed, team speed, team, speed and team speed.
Sometimes, it's about tightening up the business cut and gettin' down to bidniss.
And playing assignment football.
On every play ...
(Another hot tip for the laziest dicks -- Herbie and Corso -- on your TV screen: Sometimes, it's not about the college football coach and his college-football coaching coaching-ness, but -- get this -- it's about the players. This may provide inner-conflict for Herbie, who is in the middle of another love poem to Pete Carroll ... as soon as he seals with a kiss his poem to Rich Rodriguez ... )
Another dose of reality is this: Lovable though he may be, Schmitty will probably never surpass in popularity the 280-lb. FB legend who was Khori Ivy's teammate ... the one and only Wes Ours!
He was one of us.
He was one of ours ...
OK, OU ... granted, Bob & His Visor probably could've used Reggie Smith and Lendy Holmes in the secondary tonight, although, in fairness to scrubs Darien Williams and Dominque Franks, it might not've mattered.
After all, Marcus Walker had air-tight coverage on Tito Gonzales -- only Pat White made the best throw of his career ... and the result was one of the 'Neers' lengthy TDs.
Again ... two players makin' a play.
Quality throw ... solid catch ...
"At the end of the day," the final score tonight was a mild surprise, albeit not a total shock to those of us who actually watched the first half of OU's 17-7 win at Iowa State (it was on another network, Herbstreit ... when you were jetting across this nation and downloading porn on your laptop instead of rehearsing new material rather than the tired, ol' cliches of "they need to run to set up the play-action pass" and "if they have success with a vertical passing game, that'll set up the ground game" ...).
The Sooners's halftime deficit at Ames was 7-0 during an exhibition in which the massive left side of the OU line -- Phil Loadholt and Duke Robinson -- couldn't seem to get their 350-lb. frames outta the quicksand which seemed to be following only them.
What a "Soooooner Snooooozer."
Textbook boredom.
Generally, the rule of thumb is that teams which are capable of falling behind, 7-0, to signficantly inferior opponents (or blowing a 24-7 third-quarter lead in Boulder) possess certain characteristics which allow such developments to occur.
In other words, they didn't blow a 24-7 lead to a mediocre Colorado team "by accident."
OU accomplished that task by yielding to mediocrity.
In such instances, it might be that the players are sleepy ... or disinterested ... or maybe they wanna go grab some snacks at the Exxon Tiger Mart and watch some TV or play some X-Box.
While Stoops wowed us by turning around the 0-12 team of '05, he took a(nother) hit tonight -- but maybe all he needs is Corso to deliver one of those "Oklahoma is a bunch of pussies" punchlines.
TWICE tonight OU received 30 yards worth of penalties on a single snap of the football (late hit + unsportsmanlike conduct on one play in the second quarter ... later: P.I. + personal foul) ... and, on top of that, WVU didn't have pre-season Heisman contender Steve Slaton for more than a token first-quarter appearance.
For a team which beat Misouri twice this year, OU didn't show a helluva lot tonight.
Sam Bradford and his 36 freshman TD passes kept battlin', but to no avail.
It's still hard to believe that LB Curtis Lofton was the Big XII Defensive Player of the Year.
Must be all that team speed which everyone talks about.
Some of us, though, will use all of the team speed which God gave us, and sprint to the backyard in order to burn this #20 Kejuan Jones SOONERS jersey in the trash-can fire.
The scene is different in Morgantown.
They're tossin' another sofa cushion onto the bonfire.
The shot at the national championship went into the crapper with the loss to Pitt, but the opportunity to gulp some moonshine and to sing silly songs about Corso pantsless in the barn ... as the couchfire's flames grow higher and higher, yeah ... it's a great way to ring in '08.
Back in Norman, they're gettin' ready for a HUGE b-ball season from Longar Longar -- which'll, no doubt, lead to another prompt exit from the Big Dance (which'll have the folks 'round town wonderin' how soon it is 'til Stoops has the boys out for spring ball in anticipation of a 10-2 season gettin' urinated on by another coll. FB upstart).
Next season, it's Florida Atlantic's turn to tip over the Sooner Schooner.
That'll leave Corey Ivy displeased ...
And Corey Ivy dismayed ...
The happy ending?
Corey Ivy's problems are not Khori Ivy's problems ...
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
2008: Chinese Year of the Rat
We've come to learn that, according to the Chinese calendar, we're about to transition from the Year of the Pig to the Year of the Rat -- although, in our hearts, it'll always remain as David Bowie described it ages ago ("The year of the scavenger, the season of the bitch ...") //// // 2007's Dying Wish -- Little Conner knelt at his bedside, closed his little eyes, clasped his tiny hands and whispered, "Please, Lord Jesus ... don't ever let Billick and Belichick join forces on the same sideline or else there'll be a Two-Headed, Mega-Satan that You might not conquer." //// Little Conner then asked Jesus why bad things happen to mediocre people .... ///// And Then It Was New Year's Morning -- and, again (!) Herb Kirkstreit was fucking with the Michigan football program by informing America that current freshman Ryan Mallett (who filled in semi-competently for the semi-competent Chad Henne this season) cannot run Rich Rodriguez's spread offense next year ... but if hot-shot recruit Terrelle Pryor commits to UM, the sky's the limit for the Wolves (i.e. an undefeated season), but Pryor opts not for Ann Arbor, Michigan is a 6-win team, etc ... //// Effin Kirkstreit doesn't even bother to cloak his remarks with some subtlety any more. In other words, he's removed the term "hidden" from the expression "hidden agenda." ///// He never once crusaded for the fact that Michigan gettin' voted out of the Top 25 following the loss to App State was immoral -- and that little prank (on Dec. 1) w/ leaking a rumor in which Less Smiles was 'sposed to get the UM job "this week" ... well, it doesn't seem as though Herbie is making the best use of his time when he's not administering a tongue bath to Pete Carroll's inner thigh. ////// Ryan Mallett already has enough on his mind in trying to live up to the standards of the most-famous #15 in Maize N' Blue lore (Elvis Grbac) without havin' to hear, "You suck, Mallett" from the guy who went 0-4-1 vs. Michigan; 0-4 in bowl games; and was unable to beat out a cardboard cut-out named Kent Graham as the startin' QB in C-Bus. ///// It's a shame that Ryan Mallett has to pay the price for Herbie's inability to get it up for the GameDay groupies (some are girls, some are not) when he's on the road and Mrs. Herbie is back in C-Bus with those screamin' brats who will one day also fail to earn the starting job as a Suckeye QB. ////// The Obvious Punchline For The Sugar Bowl -- "Georgia's Junkyard Dawg defense violated Colt Brennan in (probably) the same manner as his 'illegal-use-of-hands' penalty which got him bailin' on Boulder and sayin' hello to Hawaii." ///// Georgia wasn't too fussy about its displays of good touching and bad touching ... Of course, any NFL team would be foolish to touch Colt with anything more than a 7th-round draft pick which has been approved for throwing away. ///// That sidearm delivery is the shits -- however, White America was too busy nitpicking Vince Young's mechanics and/or the fact that Andre Woodson usually gets his elbow mighty high when he cocks his arm. ////// Hawaii '07 is not as good a story as Tulane '98 (with Tommy Bowden as head coach, Rich Rodriguez as off. coord. and current ESPN NFL analyst Shaun King as the do-it-all QB) .... Ameirca is tired of the hairdos, the war paint, the haka, the hairdos, the grass skirts, the tiki torches, the hairdos, the chants, the so-called "brotherhood," parents who named their son "Colt," an adult male who allows himself to be called "June" .... ////
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