further adventures in Jed York being unsuited for his position
This is a real book. That is all.
Be forwarned, the following will not be pretty nor useful. (mods, feel free to delete or censor). If you don't want to read a rage filled post, please close this tab and move on with your lives.
ok, we good? Are the kids' eyes safely diverted? Then let the Fuuuuuuuuu machine engage:
Fuck it all.
Brian's not in a swearing mood. I am.
I'm not angry that Hoke is now the coach.
He may someday turn into a decent coach.
I'm pissed off at the state of College Football.
It's clearer than ever that the NCAA is full of a bunch of Cross Eyed Hypocrites.
It's painfully obvious that the newspapers are full of fucktards with their asses so far up their own asses that their noses are covered in their own shit and they can't smell the truth even if they were wearing ski masks without nose holes and they could pull off the ski masks and their noses wouldn't be covered in shit. IT WOULDN'T MATTER, THEY'RE STILL FUCKING ASSCLOWNS.
Cam Newton just showed he was worth the thousands of dollars that Auburn, FUCKING AUBURN, FUCKING CHEATING MOTHER FUCKERS AUBURN WHO HAVE BEEN CAUGHT REDHANDED MORE TIMES IN THE LAST 20 YEARS THAN ANY OTHER FUCKING SCHOOL I CAN THINK OF, got some booster to donate to Cam Newton's dirty motherfucking religious dirty, and probably pedophile supporting, motherfucking father's church.
So the story is that someone from UF tipped off the NCAA to Newton's dealings with MSU (NNTMSU, the MSU that kicked our fucking asses into oblvion because our defensive coaches quit sometime back in november since they didn't get any vote of confidence and knew they were all going to be out of jobs. well good luck assholes, may god have mercy on anyone that hires you). Gee, I wonder how they knew. It's not like anyone with Florida connections is at Mississippi State now. Oh, wait...
But Urban Meyer can't just come out and say that Florida paid for Newton too. No, then he would be a villian, he would be throwing HIS OWN program under the bus. Instead he can go on ESPN and blow sunshine up the WWL's asses while leaking left and right to try to hurt a rival school.
But is it surprising that Florida is shelling out the money? In today's game, that's the only way you can win on a consistent basis. Especially in the S.E.C. We know USC was paying, we now know that OSU is paying, the entire SEC thinks the rulebook is quaint. FUCK THEM ALL.
And I don't blame them. FUCK YOU, NCAA, FUCK YOU. Fuck your fucking hypocrisy. Fuck you making millions off the BCS and EASports and then claiming that football players are "amateurs". Fuck you punishing Michigan for an extra 20 minutes of stretching per week when the corrupt bastards down in Columbus are driving new cars every week. If there's any loyal Michigan fans in Ohio, they should camp outside every car dealership in that god-forsaken town and record every time an OSU player does a "test drive". Not that it would matter, the players could just use the "but I wasn't looking" defense and they'd be allowed to play in any meaningful (profitable) game. Fucking bullshit. Fuck you, OSU AD and your fucking lies.
And fuck you detroit free press. Fuck you for focusing on kids stretching when half of MSU's (YTMSU, the green and white thugs in ski masks) team is on probation, in jail, or randomly putting other students in the hospital. Fuck you. I don't care that Glenn Winston is a two time convict. I care that Dantonio would suit him up tomorrow if he had a chance, and you would still ignore it and write about how Richrod has a stupid accent and a "win at all costs" attitude. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU MICHAEL ROSENBERG. I hope you go to jail and people bugger you till you bleed from the nose. Maybe that will clean your palate and you can smell your own fucking bias. If anyone in the athletic department had any balls they would sue you for libel and slander. HAVE YOU FINALLY LEARNED WHAT A FUCKING COUNTABLE HOUR IS, YOU DUMB BITCH? ARE YOU WILLING TO ADMIT IT, YOU FUCKING COWARD?
FUCK YOU DREW SHARP, BECAUSE FUCK YOU. YOU ARE THE WORST KIND OF FUCKING ASSCLOWN. YOU ARE THE REASON PEOPLE DON'T BUY THE FREEP ANYMORE. I HOPE WHEN YOU GET TO HELL, THAT GOD MAKES YOU SUCK HIS COCK FOR ALL ETERNITY. YOU'VE NEVER HAD ANYTHING NICE NOR CONSTRUCTIVE TO SAY ABOUT ANYTHING OR ANYONE, EVER. EVER! FUCK YOU.
Fuck you ESPN. FUCK YOU AND YOUR CONFLICTS OF INTEREST. Fuck your "Sources". Fuck herbstreit, fuck corso, fuck anyone that had anything to say about the coaching search, because FUCK YOU, YOU ALL DIDN'T KNOW SHIT. FUCK JOE SCHAD, FUCK Andy who da fuck cares how to spell your fucking name. How many times did you all declare that 'XYZ' coach was coming to michigan? FUCK YOU.
And finally, fuck you whiny players and your sense of entitlement. I know you work hard, I know you deserve money. But I hate your fucking attitudes. I hate that you quit and transfer if you don't get your way. I hate that you bring in your jackass sportscasting fathers when you get disciplined. I hate that you think you can lie your way through life. I hate that you usually can. FUCK YOU KENYON RAMBO, FUCK TED GINN, SR AND JR. FUCK YOU TROY SMITH, FUCK YOU TERELLE PRYOR. AND FUCK ALL THE DIRTY BACKROOM DEALING BOOSTERS AND AGENTS WHO GAVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED.
FUCK ALL OF YOU. I was pretty good this season and kept my posting polite. Well it turns out that it was just building up until this release. And so if you have a problem with my post because you didn't heed the warning at the top, well then, fuck you too.
Here's to four more years of mediocrity. It's whiskey time.
Large flurry of relevant diaries lead me to delay this one. Only 2 canto's left after this one…
In the loosely adapted ways of Dante, I present to you the tenth canto of Formerly's Football Inferno. I promise nothing when it comes to grammar, punctuation, logical plots, or anything that normally goes into story writing.
For those of you unfamiliar, Dante walks through each region of hell to learn the sins and punishment by talking to those souls trapped. In this circle of Dante's version, those who would commit violence are punished. The murderers, bandits, those that would commit suicide, blasphemers, and sodomites were all tormented in three separate areas. Murderers were submerged into a boiling river of blood, suicide cases were reincarnated into bleeding trees picked to death by harpies, and the blasphemers and sodomites were destined to wander a desert of flames as fire rained from the sky.
The walk from the 6th to 7th ring of hell was totally agony. The gods were also fans of the USMNT. So while watching a 2009 FIFA Confederations Cup game, they discovered the vuvuzela. That damn horn blared through hell for weeks. I'm still deaf. Michigan must never go bowl-less again. They must never lose to Ohio State ever again. The punishment is overkill, even for those in hell.
As we descended into the 7th ring, we were met by it's guardian, the Penn State Nittany Lion. As we went to pass him, he jumped in front of us and began to mumble and jump around. I turned to Davy and asked, "what's his problem?"
"He's trying to scare you into turning back."
"This is supposed to be scary? He's like a teddy bear with a scarf. Jumping around with arms raised is supposed to be intimidating?" I ask as the Lion hangs in head that he'd yet again failed to put fear in to a Michigan fan, just like his highly rated teams that have failed again and again in Ann Arbor.
"He is a pretty weak mascot. I'll give you that, but he's also going to be our guide through this realm," replied Crockett. "Now you, Cowardly Lion—"
The lion interrupted with a few mumbles. "Oh, right, Nittany Lion. Lead us through this circle, the circle of Violence against the program."
The lion then waved his hands in a "come this way" fashion and the Duke and I followed along the top of a ridge. After a brief walk, we came to point above a valley below us. In the valley were hundreds of Michigan fans wearing maize. On a ridge below us sat centaurs with great bows, firing flaming arrows down on to the fans below. As I stopped and watched, Crockett noticed my interest.
"Those are the fans that have sold their tickets to opposing teams' fans. This sin has lead them to lead their life standing in the crowd they can never escape. On top of that, the one team who never buys tickets, will forever rain arrows down on them."
"What team are the Centaurs?" I ask.
"Indiana are the Hoosiers. Why on earth are there centaurs down there?"
"What did you think a Hoosier was?"
"Good point. But centaurs?"
"Back when Bob Knight was coaching, he had this crazy theory that running horses in basketball might have a more sinister purpose. He, being the most influential person on campus at the time, convinced the medical school to merge his players into half man, half horse creatures that would have the speed and stamina to destroy teams on the court."
The Nittany Lion mumbled and Crockett laughed, "Yeah, never could get those flesh eating corn monsters to work. That Bob Knight was a crazy fella."
"You've got to be kidding me," I respond dryly.
"Nope. The kids didn't last long. As soon as they died, they became the perfect fit to fill this role in hell."
After sitting there a while, the centaurs caught sight of us and began to divert some of their arrows upward. Pulling out his six shooter, Crockett began to fire down on the centaurs to provide cover as the Lion and I moved on.
As we fled, Davy fell out of range as the Lion urged us forward. At a fork in the road, I tried to insist that we wait up for Davy. The Lion mumbled and pulled me along. With Crockett being familiar with hell, I figured he'd catch up, and what harm could come from following the Lion. He's so cute and couldn't possibly do me harm. Right?
As we pushed to the left at the fork, we came upon another valley, this one composed of several barren, black trees. The Lion directed me into the forest, peering ever so suspiciously at the darkness above us. Something was up.
As we reached the trees, it was clear that names were carved into them. While some names had faded out, some were still freshly carved. One of those, a particularly tall tree, the name of Epke UDoh was written. Interested, I went up to touch the engraving. Upon touching the engraving, the whole tree flinched.
"Who goes there? Is it another one you of you damn harpies?" came a voice from within the tree.
"No, it is I, formerlyanonymous, a Michigan fan."
"Oh, good. I thought one of those damn harpies came back to bite at me."
"Who are you?"
"I am Epke Udoh. Like all of the other trees in this area, I'm the soul of a Michigan player who quit a Michigan team or transferred to another school."
"Huh. That sucks."
"You have no idea. What are you doing down here?"
"The Nittany Lion… hey, where'd he go?"
"That treacherous Lion has lead you into a trap. He despises Michigan fans, and he's lead you to the harpy feeding ground," explained Udoh. And with that, the swoop of wings up above began to become audible. A dark creature dove down and Udoh, ever defensive, swatted the harpy down to the ground like a blocked basketball.
The harpy squealed, and arose. This harpy was quite strange. It looked like a crack whore who had grown wings. As it lifted up, it became clear, this was a woman who was once attractive, but as her MSU shirt alluded, she spent 4 years at Michigan State, losing all her beauty. She was now a broken woman, stupid, ugly, and unable to shut her mouth.
The harpy, squawking loudly, made it's advances at me. Retreating under the protective branches of Udoh, I hoped to get the help from his tremendous reach. I was lucky that his longest branches were able to keep the harpy at bay just long enough for Crockett to arrive, guns blazing. The harpy didn't last long with the tree and Crockett firing. After a brief few seconds, it scurried away into the darkness.
"Thank you, Epke. Even if you chose a crappy, Christian school over Michigan, I'll always be a fan of yours."
"I appreciate it formerlyanonymous. As for you Mr. Wayne, would you mind signing my bark? It's a tremendous opportunity to meet an accomplished actor like yourself!"
Bang bang bang. "Take that you filthy animal. It's Davy Crockett."
"Dammit, that hurt!" yelled Udoh.
"Serves you right to call me by some other guy's name!" exclaimed Crockett. "Alright boy, you ready to get back on track. I caught up to that damn Lion on the way back up to the 6th level. Beat the tar outta him, and if it wasn't for me already having this kick ass coon skin hat, I'd be wearing something new by now."
With that, Crockett lead us away from Udoh. As we climbed back up the ridge, we could see from a far that the harpy who fled earlier had returned to Epke with several of her friends. Udoh was no match for the flock. He fought off several, but the final four Spartan harpies ripped him to pieces.
After reaching the fork in the road, this time Crockett lead us down the right path. This ridge lead us to yet another valley. In this one, we found a large desert. In this desert were found only a hand full of men. As they crossed this desert, the sand would burst up in flames with every step they took.
After one of their yells, I asked Davy, "Who are these people?"
"These are the sportswriters that turn against Michigan in order to better themselves. They proverbially bit the hand that feeds. For their Jihad against the program, they were banished to the deserts where they are set ablaze. That one way over there, that's the soul of Rosenberg. He has a special punishment. Not only does he walk this desert, but occasionally dolphins emerge from the sand and punch him with their tails."
"So you're saying, in Soviet hell, dolphin punch you?" I ask.
"This isn't Soviet hell. This is Michigan hell. Where the hell did that come from?"
"You don't get the internet do you?"
"No, we don't take kindly to communist around here."
"Right," I say sarcastically.
Davy went on, "But anyway, as you can see over there, writers from the now defunct Ann Arbor Chronicle lay in the desert over there. Yonder, you'll see the Detroit News writers sitting in that expanse. And lastly, you see the writers from the Detroit Free Press wandering in groups like the sodomites they are."
"I know, funny word, right?" the Duke says as he laughs. "Now let's get moving. We've but just 2 circles of hell left and the gods are definitely in our favor. Michigan has won 4 in a row to start this season. We shall travel quickly with them doing well."
And we were off.
They should make "GREATLY EXAGGERATED, IF NOT FLATLY INCORRECT!" their slogan. Or maybe Brian can put it as the text where 'take it like a man" currently resides.
Michigan has a long history of grassroots organizing, etc. Why not organize as a fan base and go after other schools with FOIA requests and look at the practice schedule, etc of OSU, MSU, Illinois, and these other programs that there are rumors of cheating going on?
This problem is getting out of hand. Most everyone knows what I am talking about: Threads that ask the same tired questions over and over again.
Like: How many wins will we get this year?
Or: Will Devin Gardner start as a true freshman?
It is now only February and the frequency of these threads will only increase the closer we get to September. We need to stop the madness.
We do not need another discussion. We need a poll. A place where every joe-six-pack with an opinion about who will start at quarterback, can make their voice heard without bogging down the best message board in the universe.
I doubt this will put an end to the problem completely. But if it stops even one more thread from being created about how many wins it will take for R.Rodriguez to keep his job, then it will have been worth it.