I have a job, which is hard to believe, I know. Since I work 9 to 10 hours a day, it’s inevitable that I have to use the bathroom facilities. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except the bathroom is outside our office and shared by every Johnson, Dick, and Visanthe who wanders into our building. UPS dudes, my co-workers, the few folks remaining in the mortgage joint next door, all share the same two-urinal, one-toilet-stall wonderment we call the first floor bathroom.
I know your mom told you to share. Well, I’m here to tell you sharing a bathroom isn’t something that should be done. The etiquette in that bathroom is proof of the cultural decline of America. Screw the collapse of our free market economy or peak oil, historians will look back at the shared bathroom etiquette as the true beginning of the end. I’m not being hyperbolic – the shit I’ve seen (unfortunately, literally) in just three short years has me wondering what the hell happened.
Don’t believe me? Here’s my proof:
Proof Point #1 – Every time I walk into the bathroom – be it 7 a.m. or 6 p.m. – there’s a puddle under the nearest urinal. Now, call me crazy, but I have no problem hitting the urinal. It’s pretty big. And pretty wide. A swaying Stevie Wonder could hit the damn thing. So why can’t anyone else?At first I chalked it up to condensation. Or faulty plumbing. But then I realized that condensation typically isn’t yellow. Nor does it smell like urine.
Proof Point #2 – Cell phones are a great invention. They allow you to talk to anyone damn near anywhere. Including the first floor bathroom.”Uh, yeah, I’m calling because I’d like to order a pizza.”Seriously? You’re sitting there expelling the pizza you had last night, the stench of which is making me gag, and decided it was time for another? It couldn’t wait until you were back at your desk, car or cardboard box?”Can I get extra anchovies?”
Ahh, it all makes sense now.
Proof Point #3 – As a wise man once said, you have to know when to hold ‘em. Meaning, if you’re standing next to me and taking a leak, don’t start farting. Not cool. Know when to hold ‘em there buddy. And if you do let one leak, don’t say “Better check my drawers on that one.” Really not cool.
Proof Point #4 – Speaking of talking, how about you not do it at all? My favorite was when I walked in and a dude taking a piss at the urinal was having a conversation with the guy dropping the kids off at the pool in the stall.
“Did you watch Jersey Shore last” – grunt – “night?”
“Nope. But I TIVO’d it.”
“It was awesome – one of the guido bitches” plop, splash “got punched in the face!”
New rule – no dropping spoilers while dropping soilers, OK?
Proof Point #5 – Possibly the oddest thing I see in the first floor bathroom, though: Boogers. I guess when you’re emptying your colon, it’s also a good time to empty your nostrils. And by no means should you use the toilet paper next to you – just pick and flick, or pick and wipe on the wall. Cause dried boogers are fun to look at.
Those are just five proof points and I’m sure if I inspected the women’s bathroom I could come up with many, many more (soiled toilet paper in the garbage? Really?). As far as this shitting pisser is concerned, the decline of Western civilization has begun and the proof is in the chocolate pudding.
I hate Division 1 college football. Wait, let me rephrase that since the NCAA is more retarded than Corky from Life Goes On – I hate NCAA Division 1 Football Bowl Subdivision (FBS) football. I have nothing against Division 1 Football Championship Football, because it includes a playoff and crowns a champion.
But not in the “real” Division 1 football.Instead, something called the Bowl Championship Series, controlled by six of the Division 1 conferences, determines what I like to call the mythical national championship. For that reason, I’m continuing my annual tradition of not watching a single bowl game.Not one. You know why? Because they DON’T FUCKING MATTER!
This year, undefeateds Alabama and Texas will square off for the “title.” Ain’t watching. Why? Because there are three other undefeated teams (Cincinnati, TCU and Boise St.) and because I think there are a number of other teams (Oregon and Florida come to mind) that could contend for a title if a playoff existed. Heck, given the way Nebraska’s D played against Texas, I wouldn’t count them out if they made the playoffs.
Since I’m not one to whine without offering a solution, here’s my solution: Institute a FUCKING playoff. This is why I get paid the big bucks – to come up with totally outside-of-the-box solutions. Don’t worry, I’ve heard the “praise” for the current system:
1. It usually works – the two best teams play each other.So that’s your great solution? It usually works? If your toilet usually worked, but when it didn’t, your shit was expelled right back at you, would you still use it? The beauty of this argument: Those supporting the current shitty system admit it is shitty and the best team doesn’t always win the national title. Wow. Just wow.
2.The regular season doesn’t mean anything with playoffs. Really? Did the regular season mean anything to Boise St., Cincinnati or TCU? At least one of those teams will not lose a game this season and also will not win a national title. So why even play? Essentially, every game outside the six conferences that created the BCS monopoly is pointless. Nobody outside of the BCS conferences will ever win a national title. I don’t know if anyone paid attention, but the only games that mattered the last couple of weeks were games involving Florida, Alabama and Texas. No other game meant anything. You institute even an 8 game playoff and you’ve expanded the number of games that matter exponentially.
Every game is still just as important – for seeding (assuming at least one round is at the highest seed) and just for getting into the playoffs. And guess what? You have a bunch of playoff games that matter, too. Instead of one pseudo-title game that I could care less about.
3. Playoffs don’t reward the best team, just the hottest team. I love this argument. Umm, doesn’t the bowl system do the same thing? The team that is the hottest at the end of the year and wins in the faux-title game is crowned the winner. How is a playoff system any different? And wouldn’t you rather reward a team that gets better over the course of the season? Say an Ohio State loses to a Texas in the first game of the season, then rolls through the rest of the regular season unbeaten and by the end of the year are playing better than anyone in the nation. Don’t they deserve a shot to prove that they’re the best team? That they’ve improved and could beat Texas if they played again? More often than not it seems like the title contenders (take Texas, who squeeked by Nebraska) aren’t really the ones that are playing well at the end of the season. Playoffs reward teams that may have stumbled early, but improve by the end of the year – the BCS punishes those teams, even when they appear to be playing better than unbeaten teams.
4. But we’d have a 15 or 16 game schedule.That’s too much. In case you missed it, we’re already up to about 14. And why not cut back on the number of games in the regular season? Mandate 11. Playoff teams would play three more, tops. You’re still at 14. They do it at every other level of college football – Mount Union and Whitewater at the D3 level both entered their title game at 14-0. They played 15 games and wrapped up their season in early to mid December with what was the most fundamentally sound college football game I’ve seen this season.
5. But what about Academics? There are finals in December!Dude, really? Aren’t a whole lot of Rhodes Scholars coming out of D1 college football.And even so, most bowl-bound teams ( which is a larger number than would be invited to a playoff) have to practice, go to team meetings, etc. during finals week, anyway. It’s not like they drop everything for finals. Let’s not pretend D1 football is something that it isn’t – they’re paid full ride scholarships to play football, not to get good grades. And the folks in D3 – who are taking physics instead of ballroom dancing or intro to physical education at what are usually much more academically rigorous schools – don’t have a problem with the championship games falling during finals.
I still can’t find a good reason not to institute a playoff system – other than keeping the bowl tradition alive. Which is great and all, but there also used to be a tradition of sacrificing virgins to appease the gods. Luckily for Tim Tebow, that’s no longer the case. It’s time to evolve college football into a real sport instead of something like figure skating, where a couple people’s opinions of who is better decides the winner.
So I’m doing what I’ve done for years – not watching a single game during the D1 college bowl season. I might watch my dog lick his balls, I might watch Jersey Shore, I might just stare at the wall. But I will not watch a college football bowl game until a playoff system is instituted. Case closed.
Ah, Tommies v. Johnnies. One of the best rivalries in D3 sports. The city kids vs. the country hicksters. RIch white kids vs. well, rich white kids. So you’re guaranteed some rich white kids go home sad. What’s not to like about that proposition?
And this Tommies/Johnnies game actually meant a lot in terms of playoff positioning for both teams. Let’s face it, Tommie fans, your team hasn’t been a playoff contender for years. But entering this game 6-0 and with really only one more challenging opponent on the schedule (Bethel), a win in this game would put your plucky squad in the driver’s seat for a MIAC crown and playoff berth, something you haven’t sniffed since, what, Ronald Reagan was telling the Ruski’s to tear down walls and Miami Vice was a hit?’
Like the 15th ranked Tommies, the Johnnies entered the game as they usually did – undefeated. But this wasn’t your typical Johnnies team. This was a team that had become hooked on last second wins. It was their heroin. Their crack. Their meth. Instead of blowing out their opponents and pulling their starters in the third quarter, this was a team that instead was used to pulling off miraculous wins and moshing with the student body afterward.
Don’t believe? Against Wisconsin Eau Claire in their home opener, the Johnnies seemingly had the game wrapped up, only to have the cheesers score what appeared to be a game-tying TD with a couple minutes left. But a blocked extra point kept the J’s with a one-point lead. Game over, right? Nope, after a failed on-side kick, Eau Claire (smartly) played dead and the Johnnies (dumbly) took the bait, scoring a TD that only gave them an 8 point lead. Eau Claire then promptly drove inside the 10, where, on the last play of the game, a pass was just a tad high in the back of the end zone, and the Johnnies had a heart-stopping win.
A couple weeks later, the Johnnies trailed Bethel by 14 in the fourth. A couple gritty drives later and the Johnnies were an extra point away from tieing it up. OT, right? Nope, XP missed, Johnnies apparently a one-loss team. But not so fast, with three timeouts, the Johnnies managed to stop Bethel, get the ball back with a little time left, drove to the 32, and setup Russell Gliadon for what turned out to be “The Kick.” Johnnies win, crowd rushes field, pandemonium is in order. Get the paddles. Yell clear. Jump start your heart.
Flash forward to this Saturday and a clash of unbeaten rivals on a sunny Saturday afternoon at Clemens Stadium. In front of a crowd of nearly 13,000 (many who arrived late thanks to a traffic jam on I94 – not something you see everyday in Stearns County), the Johnnies and Tommies were ready to square off in the most important game in this storied rivalry in decades. Like the last time both teams were undefeated this deep in the season, Hitler and his ’stache were hanging out in Berlin.
And what a clash it was. To call it a bruising defensive battle would be an understatement. The first quarter featured 4 punts and less than 70 yards of total offense. University of Minnesota transfer Tommy Becker, all 6′2″, 250 pounds of NFL-sized linebacker, was popping Johnnies all over the field. But the Johnnies bruising running back tandem of Kellen Blaser and Jakob Reding were returning the favor, pounding the Tommies interior.
The Johnnies struck first, putting together an impressive 13 play, 69 yard drive that chewed up more than 6 minutes and put them up 7-0 early in the second quarter. The Tommies fumbled the ensuing kickoff and it looked like the Johnnies may open up the game early. But the Tommies D held strong and turned the Johnnies over on downs. A turnover on fourth down stopped the T-bags’ ensuing drive, but the Johnnies were again unable to muster much of an offense and punted three plays later.
The Tommies then put together their best drive of the game, going nearly 60 yards, before missing a 31 yard FG on the last play of the half. Battered and bruised, both teams went into the lockerroom to regroup.
The Tommies started the third quarter with a bang, as little speedster Fritz Waldvogel scampered down the visitor’s sideline on a 59 yard kickoff return. With momentum on their side, it looked like the Tommies may rally to tie the game. But the Johnnies defense yielded just two yards and the Tommies were stopped on fourth down.
A couple of punts and a stalled drive, and the Tommies were facing another fourth down near their 40. In a move that may be second-guessed all over Tommie-country, the T’s tried a fake that was thwarted by the Johnnies. As usually happens after great special teams plays, the Johnnies capitalized on the momentum swing, driving 39 yards in 11 plays for a score to take a 14-0 lead with about 2 minutes left in the third. Given the Tommies inability to throw the ball, it seemed like an insurmountable lead.
And a couple plays later, when the Tommies rangy sophomore QB Greg Morse threw his second interception of the game to set the Johnnies up inside Tommie territory, it looked like the rout was on. But not so fast – again the Johnnies failed to capitalize and again they were forced to punt. The Tommies couldn’t move the ball and punter AJ Clouthier unloaded a 60 yard punt while running to his right that set the Johnnies back at their 10. They could only muster a single first down and lined up to punt themselves. The usually sure-footed Gliadon got off an ugly 11-yard punt and St. Thomas was deep inside Johnnie territory at the 32. The Tommies reached into their bag of tricks, faking a draw and going deep to WR Tony Margarit, who had the Johnnies defense beat by 5 yards and scored an easy 32-yard TD to cut the lead in half.
Suddenly, a game that seemed sewed up was now a one TD game with nine and a half minutes to play. The tension grew and the crowd quieted. The teams traded punts, and the Johnnies took over at their own 31 with about 6 minutes to play. Time to pound the Tommies into submission and put the game away, right? It certainly looked that way, as the Johnnies Jakob Reding rumbled into the line 5 straight times, netting 16 yards and leaving a manageable third and four with just 2:59 to play. Another first down and the Johnnies could essentially seal the game.
And oh how close they came. Kellen Blaser took the ball to midfield, about 2 feet short of a first down. What to do, what do do? Go for it and seal the win, but possibly give St. Thomas great field possession with plenty of time left? Or play it safe, punt it, and rely on your defense to thwart St. Thomas yet again?
Sadly, St. John’s did neither. After the game, we found out that the Johnnies had called a fake punt that was to be audibled should the Tommies line up to defend it correctly. Well, the Tommies lined up correctly, the fake was called off, only no one told the center, who snapped the ball to an unprepared upback. The ball squirted around, eventually coming to a halt at the Johnnies 21 yard line, where the Tommies were in position to tie it up. Cue crazy Tommie crowd and stunned Johnnie faithful.
I’d love to say the Johnnies defense made a rousing defensive stand to win the game and the student body tumbled onto the field in celebratory flesh pressing. They came close, as the Tommies faced third and goal at the four with less than 10 seconds left. Only, the Tommies snuck a TE out the backside of the defense, Morse lofted a beautiful pass across the field and the Tommies fans and sidelines erupted. There were no extra point shenanigans to save the Johnnies and the game headed to OT tied at 14.
And momentum was surely on the Tommies side. They’d overcome a 14 point deficit. They’d overcome a raucous crowd. They’d overcome an inferiority complex borne from 11 straight defeats at the hands of St. John’s. They’d even overcome the feeling of inadequacy instilled in them when they realized that, once graduated, they’d be working for intellectually superior Johnnies for the rest of their lives. You could almost hear them thinking “Can’t we beat the Johnnies just this once before a life of servitude?”
But fate, lady-luck, Jesus, whatever you want to call it, was on the Johnnies side. They won the toss. They elected to take the ball last. The Tommies smartly decided to go into the endzone opposite the Johnnies rabid student section. The Tommies went to their star running back, Ben Wartman, who finished the day with 80 yards on 24 carries, nearly half the YPC he’d averaged in his previous 6 games, giving him a couple carries on which he picked up 10 yards and moved the ball to the 15. But the Johnnies defense once again stiffened (new team nickname: Ron Jeremy), forcing the Tommies into a 4th and 8 at the 11 and making their only choice a 28 yard FG which split the uprights giving the Tommies a 17-14 lead.
So this was it. The ball at the 25. A TD wins it. A FG forces a second OT. Anything less and you have to scratch and claw and pray for a playoff berth.
And as they have done all season, the Johnnies rose to the occasion. Jakob Reding blasted for 8 on first down, 7 on second, and the Johnnies were first and goal at the 10. Reding again plied the middle for two yards. Second and goal from the 8. The Johnnies then went to the play they use when they need a play – option. Boyle held the defensive end, pitched to Blaser, who went 8 yards for the score, diving for the pylon and scoring to sew up 12 straight over the hated Tommies. The crowd erupted, the students stormed the field and the Johnnies were 7-0 and three wins away from yet another MIAC crown, another playoff berth, and probably another first round game at venerable Clemens Stadium.
So how’d the Johnnies do it? The old fashioned way – three yards and a cloud of dust. Eschewing their smaller backs like Steven Johnson, Harry Awe and Jimmy Loonan, the Johnnies relied almost exclusively on their bruisers, 6′2, 220 pound Kellen Blaser and 6′1, 225 pound Jakob Reding. Reding finished with 34 carries for 122 yards and a score while Blaser went for 74 yards on 15 carries. It was old-school football perhaps inspired by offensive line coach Jim Mader’s work at Albany. Run. Run. Run some more. As the old Albany T-shirts used to say: Smashmouth Football.
But they also did it by stopping the Tommies stars. Fritz Waldvogel, who came into the game with 30+ catches, finished with 4 for just 24 yards. RB Ben Wartman had just 80 yards on 24 carries and the Tommies, who entered the game averaging over 250 yards on the ground per game, netted just 107. In typically Johnnie fashion, they imposed their will on their opponent, forced them out of their element and took home yet another win.
A recent viewing of Marley and Me had me thinking fondly of dogs past and present. My family had a bit of a T fetish when I was growing up – Tawny (#1), Trump, Toby, Tawny (#2) – all dogs that shaped my childhood. And then when I grew up I picked up the P gang – Piper, Petey and Pearl – which soon became the OPP – Oliver, Piper and Pearl. I guess you could say I’ve been living doggystyle my entire life.
With all those dogs, man do I have stories. There was Trump, a jet black labrador with a pair of testicles that would make a blue whale blush. He knew how to use them, too, impregnating our golden retriever a couple times, as well as the neighbor’s black lab. Rumor has it he was Travis Henry’s inspiration. Heck, if there was a dog in heat in Stearns County, no kennel, gate, cage or fence could keep him from gettin’ his freak on. No lie – I saw him climb out of his kennel – which had to be a good 8 feet high, jump to the ground, and make a mad sprint to neighbors, where he pulled another Houdini, climbed the neighbor’s 10-foot-high kennel, lit some candles, threw on some Luther Vandross and got it on.
Rabbits used to kneel before him and call him the chosen one because of his sexual prowess. Even in old age he let his balls do the talking. Don’t believe me? I found him bloody in the middle of the road one day, presuming he bounced off someone’s car. Turns out he was trying to get with some high-class bitch down the road and the owner blasted him with a shotgun. A trip to the vet, some permanent internal bling and a few war scars later and he was up to the same old tricks.
Not only was he literally ballsy, but he figuratively had a set of beach balls. Picture it: My dad had a Harley and the requisite Harley dude friends. One of them stopped on over one day and was festooned with the usual Harley attire – leather everywhere, including the chaps. Trump was intrigued, and walked over to take a closer look. As Harley dude was gabbing away about how he stabbed a dude in a bar, Trump calmly sniffed his leg, gave him the once over, and then proceeded to lift his leg and piss all over his leather chaps. The best part – the guy was so stunned that Trump had finished and calmly sauntered away before said biker could give him a good swift kick.
Yeah, Trump was a man’s man if there ever was one. But I’ve also had the exact opposite – Piper. We picked her up from a breeder when she was about four and it took her weeks to even move in our presence. For a second there I thought we’d picked up a stuffed dog.
We figured it would just take awhile for her to get acclimated to her new surroundings. About three years in she actually slightly moved her tail when we talked to her – it was a moment that brought tears of joy to our eyes. She actually liked us!
She also likes to eat shit. Lots of it. She’s not the biggest fan of regular dog food, but if it’s gone through another dog’s intestine and sat on the ground for a couple days, it suddenly becomes equivalent to an M&M.
What she didn’t like, however, was stuffed animals staring at her. Within a week, she had chewed the eyes out of the toy bunny we gave her for companionship. We figured we’d try another toy, this time a duck, only to come home to find she had given it the old Stevie Wonder.
Shit-eating and leg-pissing aside, I have to admit that I enjoy having a dog around. They don’t judge (probably because they shit-eat and leg-piss and figure they don’t really have the right), they don’t complain and they’re genuinely happy to see me. Happy enough to piss on someone’s leg and have a poop-tart in my honor.
Got a crazy dog story to share? Add it to the comments before I let Trump water your leg.
Last week, as a couple of really rich TV personalities were sniping at each other about journalistic integrity and who’s to blame for the recession, I got to thinking: Blame? Screw that, who should I congratulate for this financial meltdown. Here’s why:
1. Gas is cheaper than a 400 pound hooker. Not that I’ve been in the market for a 400 pound hooker lately, so I can’t confirm that statement with much certainty. But I’m guessing the price of a 400 pound hooker hasn’t changed much since my foray into the flab in the late 90s. Last summer, pre-recession, I was paying between $3.60 and $4.20 for a gallon of gas. For a guy who gets 25 miles a gallon and has a 30 mile commute to work, that was starting to add up. Since the stock market began tanking last fall, a gallon of gas is about 50% of that. For a guy who dumped $40 a week for the privilege of sitting in traffic for a couple hours a day, that’s some nice ching. Probably enough ching to get a 400 pound hooker.
2. I’m neighborless – and loving it! Don’t get me started on my old neighbors. They used to tie their dog up in my backyard, screwed their satellite dish into my fence and spoke very little English. And then along came the recession and – poof! – they disappeared faster than ARod in a big game. Their house was foreclosed, and resold at half the price. But apparently to ghosts, because no one has lived there since, unless you count the rusted 70s era Chevy truck in the driveway. That means me and the golden get to use their backyard for Frisbee retrieving. The recession basically doubled the size of my property – for free!
3. Deflation isn’t just for your enemy’s tires. What I’ve noticed is that during a recession businesses are desperate to sell their goods. If you can manage to keep your job and level of pay, you’re actually in pretty decent shape. For me, that means the staples of my diet – Milk, yogurt, cottage cheese and black jellybeans – have probably dropped in price 20-30%. Sure, that’s caused me to eat 20-30% more and drop 20-30% more green, milky splatters into my toilet bowl, but what’s life without green, milky splatters?
4. Annoying workmates: Here one day, gone the next! We all have those annoying workmates. You know, the ones that talk all day about how wonderful they are at their job. Leaving little time for them to actually do their job. Thankfully, during a recession, the ones getting paid to lick the CEO’s ass start to notice who’s doing their job and who isn’t. And the annoying ones get the old pink sliparoo.
5. Painful gunshot wounds – eliminated! My commuting time has been cut by 33%. Not 34% or 32%, but 33%. With unemployment higher than Gary Busey, that means fewer folks commuting to work. Fewer folks cutting me off. Fewer folks shooting at me when I give them the finger. Fewer bullets in my ulna. And I think fewer bullets in my ulna is something we can all rally around.
For all these reasons, I’d like a give a shout out to everyone the pundits are telling me is to blame for the current economic crisis. What you’ve done for me and my family was a godsend. Thank you!
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