Heeeey. (Three days of watching that clip and the LOLness has yet to depreciate. In fact, it’s even funnier when you know which voice is coming next). Hard at work writing YOUR Ole Miss Rebel Football preview for MSM, but just wanted to spread some TGIF and salute what’s turning out to be the best comments section ever on the post below. Proud of you all.
This evening. My girlfriend, Corndog Midget, arrives with takeout Japanese
Midget: Do you know what I saw on the menu at Tenno?
Me: Cat?
Midget: Something called a “Shreveport Orgasm Roll.”
Me: Like, sushi?
Midget: Yeah. They named a sushi roll after Shreveport.
Me: Wow… I am overwhelmed. Too much, too many options.
Midget: Come to think of it, I know a lot of a girls who’ve had Shreveport Orgasms.
Me: Oh now that’s just gross.
So there you go gang. By all means, fire away your list of ingredients for what surely is a delectible entree.
Why, you ask? Offseason don’t ask why. Offseason just appreciates the fine, thick, woman, ignores the NBA and tries to get on with it.
So we’re about 90ish days from the college football season. Currently I’m embroiled in a move across town, compounded by the loss of a roommate and the addition of a girlfriend (who, while not living with me in the common law sense, still promises to bloom a ton of shit I have to haul).
Combined with a neverending slog through airports across the globe and oh yeah! - that groundbreaking debut novel with a first draft deadline of September - I’ll be sporadic with updates, which is to say things will be about normal. ADHD is a disease, people. Here’s some scattered observations of little consequence, with even less importance - OOH look… a butterfly.
- I’ve embraced Twitter. It was alarming and painful at first but I’ve eased in, and yes, Twitter might as well be gay sex.
- Another all-time favorite NFL player, ever! A week after the Birds signed my probably-cousin to the roster, the AJC profiles “veteran” cornerback Von Hutchins’ recovery from a season-ending foot injury during last year’s training camp. Hutchins, aside from being a Rebel, was one of my favorite interviews as a college journalist and an unexpected late draft pick by the Colts, surviving the horrific Ole Miss 4-2-5 to have an actual CAREER in the league.
- Television’s “Marquee Moon.” Stumbled upon it by accident but now I’m convinced the entire album could be mixed into any indie rock station’s playlist and you’d never notice the 30-year difference in release dates. This album is just simply better than and/or completely stolen by every indie rock band working today.
After about two listens in you’ll feel even more embarrassment and remorse when you look back at how cool you thought the Strokes were in 2002.
This doesn’t beat the snowstorm, but it’s close.
The following, combined with the headlines about an Air France flight “disappearing” just four months after I was stuck aboard one of their humorless (and film-free) transatlantic jaunts has me rethinking my career. (Again.)
Mr. Godfrey
A suitcase that I believe belongs to you has been turned into the Seattle Police Department. Please contact me as soon as possible.
206-684-XXXX. Regarding Case number 2009-187XXX.Thanks
Det. M. WhXXXX
Seattle Police Department
Evidence Unit
Let’s back up:
1 - I was supposed to fly to Seattle Saturday, via Chicago, on Southwest Airlines.
2 - I arrived BNA Saturday and Southwest had overbooked the Chicago flight. They begged for volunteers and offered a flight voucher. I foolishly took them up.
3- I got routed from my original path of Chicago-Seattle to Vegas-Seattle, and ended up landing at 345 PST instead of 300 PST.
4 - In those 45 minutes someone took my bag from the Chicago flight. Like, stole it and apparently a few others. I was told in Nashville that a SW rep would “hold” my bags for me at SeaTac.
5 - Two days of bag-less living. Wore the same thing three days straight. I have rocked this red flannel number past the limits of hipsterdom, although if without your luggage in Seattle, a flannel shirt and beard is basically a gorilla suit in the jungle.
6 - Received said email this afternoon. I went to the evidence locker way-the-fuck-out-in-nowhere Seattle.
7- My bag is beat up and I’m missing my Ambien and two shirts. Also a broken camera (not mine) was found in the bag. To my chagrin, SPD didn’t allow me to scroll through its photos in hopes of identifying the maggot I could potentially hunt down Denzel-On-Fire style and execute under a bridge.
8 - I now have a free flight voucher and the unsettling mental image that a pile of my underwear and favorite Falcons t-shirts were found in a parking garage near downtown, some 20-ish miles from where they should have been. What happened in those 20 miles? Should I ever put that underwear on again?
Never take Southwest Airlines up on their offers. I’m not quite to the funny state of mind about this yet, so no quip will end this entry.
Hello from the off-season, where yours truly is enjoying a two-day intermission from a three week span of b’ness travel. After five days in sunny, Godless Florida, it’s off to the Pacific Northwest - specifically the Canadian capitol of Seattle.
My knowledge of said metropolis extends only to Nintendo and every rock record released in 1994, so combine the Power Glove and Mudhoney, throw in a latte and that’s pretty much the visual I’m working with.
So yes, if it’s not roughly/exactly like this, I’m going to be pissed:
I have nothing else to report, except that:
1 - Give or take a day on your team’s schedule (I’m look at you MAC), there are roughly 100 days until the college football season begins.
2 - Phil Fucking Steele. June 7. May your bowel movements quantify, your Bible study wane and your conversation with loved ones cease. Akron’s performance against the spread on Wednesday night games in November isn’t going to arrive via osmosis, bitch, so get to studyin’.
The latest copy of Mississippi Sports Magazine featuring my column on suggested summer reading is out on newsstands and available online.
Yes, that kind of summer reading. You remember books, right? Probably not. In any case, they’ve played what you might consider a “pivotal” role in our evolution - say, that religion you use to reinforce your prejudices of others? There’s a book that started that whole thing. Swear to God.
For a list of locations carrying MSM or to browse page-by-page through the magic of .pdf, check out the MSM Blog. To subscribe for real, live parchment editions click here.
And I’ve administered a libelous spanking to the throngs of counterculture enthusiasts brash enough to rise above the soul-crushing elitism of Oxford and successfully hold a rave on the campus of Ole Miss in this week’s Local Voice. You can read the online issue here, or for extreme laziness, absorb the text by merely click after the jump.
Also, I’ve placed a delicious photograph of scantily clad British Glamour Models with unjustly large natural bosoms following said “jump.” How scantily clad? How unjustly-bosomed are we talking? You’ll just have to click to find out.
At this rate we’ve got a solid two weeks before Keyboard Cat, like so many internet video phenoms before him, jumps the Keyboard Shark. Until then I will savor, celebrate and cherish every moment of this comedic renaissance. It truly is a great time to be alive and blogging…
#5 Might want to put your tongue back in your mouth.
#4 “Gone…”
#3: Off-key coffee table concerto
#2: A very special “Walker, Texas Ranger.”
#1: A cinema classic fully restored and recut. (Note Keyboard Cat’s impeccable timing on this one. Always at the ready to strike up the keys, yet never playing over the scene’s emotional crecendo. An artist, no doubt.
And because Keyboard Cat mania knows no boundaries, I present Ozark thespian Brian Walker, with a backup from The Mighty KC….
(Thanks, Halpert.)
White trash Philly fan gets the shit kicked out of him by white trash Met fans. My hatred of both of these teams allows me to simultaneously loathe and love this kind of clip. An in-general hat tip to Sports By Brooks. I find myself reading more of their stuff than any other sports blog lately. As you can see below, clearly Skip Bayless has no idea how docile and victimized your average Philly sports fan is… (while in Queens)….
“Catwoman” costume fetches over $8,000 at auction. That’s more than clothes worn by The Beatles earned the same day, meaning I probably wasn’t the only other 12-year-old suddenly ushered into mandhood by Michelle Pfeifer in black latex. Shit, you didn’t think I was talking about Halle Berry’s abortion of a movie, did you? No self-respecting comic book geek would even rub one out to that.
The “Balls Deep” Commencement Speech, Class of 2009. Drew Magary is the funniest guy on the internet. I don’t read him regularly, but his weekly bit on Deadspin during the NFL season is must-read comedy, as is his popular tome on delineating between douchebags and assholes. However, Magary’s commentary on life as a young father in suburbia might (read: will) hit a little too close to home for a lot of you. Read with caution.
ESPN to stalk Mike Vick. Two great sports media blogs - the obviously named Eye On Sports Media and Awful Announcing - do a nice job of breaking down the tripe that major sports networks usually feed us without little complaint from we consumers. AA informs us that ESPN, never content to let a news story follow its own course, will flog the holy shit out of Mike Vick’s upcoming release from prison. As a Falcons fan I should be thanking the WWL and its brethren, as they done such an overkill job on Vick’s incarceration that its no longer an Atlanta Falcons story, it’s just a Mike Vick story. It also doesn’t hurt to have a rookie white boy from the Pennsylvania suburbs who can slang that thing.
And finally, this week in Tennessee: A 58-year-old woman fended off three males in a Clairborne County home invasion by wielding a broom and throwing a bowl of chili at the men. The would-be thieves were seeking pain medication and managed to escape with only a handful of heart pressure meds.
Old El Paso: Now with more crank
Phil Fulmer, overweight and sweating in his bright orange Tennessee shirt, jumps out and starts to run…
If the the World Wide Internet had a nickel for every anti-Fulmer, anti-Tennessee blog that attempted to accentuate an attack on the Vols by painting Fulmer as a gridiron answer to Jabba The Hutt, they’d have enough nickels to pay for raw bags of Krispy Kreme dough….ah, crap. See? Sports bloggers do it so often they don’t even know they’re doing it. It’s blogging’s version of picking your nose.
Except the Fulmer barb above isn’t from one of our own, but instead the description for the character “PHIL FULMER” in the screenplay for “The Blind Side.” (Quick back story: Guy who did “Moneyball” writes book about rich whiteys adopting big blacky in Memphis, possibly to get him playing football for Ole Miss. Spoiler: It worked.)
We’ve finished reading a recent shooting draft, and among the several thoughts we’ve formed from what looks to be a solid 7.5 on the college-football-humiliated-on-film scale, it’s that a nation of moviegoers looking to feel warm and/or fuzzy this holiday season will come away from their local multiplex thinking that Boss Hog coached the University of Tennessee for a decade. (Or Fred Thompson. Wait…)
Unlike the rash of publicity-seeking SEC head coaches who have agreed to play themselves in the film version of Michael Lewis’ recounting of offensive lineman Michael Oher’s college recruitment, I’m a bit perplexed by the announcement that the former UT head coach has agreed to appear in the film.
Nick Saban? Sure - the then-LSU coach comes off like a stately gentlemen. Talks about curtains. Makes Sandra Bullock’s adoptive mother character swoon.
Ed Orgeron? Of course he would - he’s in the business of portraying himself as a “cool” guy to potential recruits, as well representing himself as an actual human being - one who elects to use indoor plumbing and sanitary products. So he needs as much help as he can get (I’ll leave my thoughts on said Yeti for a later date. Mark your snark calendars.).
Tommy Tuberville? I guess he’s just bored.
But unlike every other coaching cameo in “The Blind Side,” Fulmer gets drug through the proverbial mud. He’s written in as a scheming sweaty fatass who lusts after Oher’s raw potential as a left tackle but must court Michael’s Rebel alumni and vocal anti-Volunteer adoptive family. He fails miserably and is the butt of the joke for most of his screen. Fulmer’s short bits of dialogue and “DAGNABIT!” characterization have him somewhere between Boss Hog and a shity “Superman” villain.
Granted, I’ve read a lot of comic books in my life, but “PHIL FULMER” should just as well have decreed his robot army to kidnap Oher whilst donning a big orange cape and swinging magic scepter on top of his volcano mountain hideout. Soon he will be invincible, but only if he buy his shitty black-market quarterback E.R.I.K. some time in the pocket to you know, cause mass destruction and overthrow humanity and etc…
Has he read this script? Surely multiple drafts have come and gone, but it’s not like Fulmer doesn’t pursue Oher more than any other coach and lose in the end, unless the producers are really taking liberties. Football fans probably shouldn’t care this much, anyway. The novelty of real, live! college coaches appearing on film have been a dangling carrot for the production team to get cynical fucks like us in the door, but make no mistake, this whole thing is “Marley and Me” with Sandra Bullock and a 350lb black kid.
Behold the animalistic representation of your University of Mississippi! Penguin with a GloStick!
