Evening Games Open Thread

Here it is....so good...

"I hate you, Brian Kelly. I hate your fucking lesbian golfer visor. I hate your fucking offense that looks like Oregon’s offense on quaaludes and holds the ball for 2.5 minutes a game. I hate your fucking Dance of the Backup Quarterbacks playcalling system. I hate your fucking Baaaaaahston accent as you blame the players and get high on the smell of your own fucking farts.

I hate you, Notre Dame football players. You’re made of glass, you’re fucking idiots, and you look like flabby turnstiles in those absurd shrink-wrap jerseys. You sit on the bench and cry because your opponents are actually, you know, hitting and trying to win a football game. You fold at the first sign of adversity, you drop balls a third grader would catch, and you spend most of the game chugging gatorade and feeling sorry for yourselves. I’m sure that, somehow, you’ll muster up enough strength to go out and drink 19 Keystone Lights in South Bend tonight, because you fucking deserve it. You’re all fucking losers. Put your fucking helmets back on and at least look like you want to be playing football.

I hate you, Notre Dame fans. You people fucking suck. I hate your pink jerseys, your 2.5 children named Hunter and Dakota and Mackenzie. I hate your fucking Bluetooths and your Blackberries that you dick around with instead of, you know, paying attention to the fucking football game. You want your hot chocolate hot, your seat cushion squishy, and your football stadium absolutely silent so the noise doesn’t hurt little Aiden’s ears. You’re the lamest fucking fanbase in the country, and I’m ashamed to be one of you.

I hate you, Notre Dame football. You’re fucked beyond repair, and the next time you do something impressive will be the first in my lifetime. You’re a bloated, creaking, corpse of a football program that slowly lurches along year after year, taking one step forward and two steps back. Fuck your classiness and your tradition and your “Welcome to Notre Dame Stadium!” and your violent yellow flowers and your assbag announcers who can’t identify the players or pronounce their names and your commercial breaks that last a galactic year and your retarded fucking schedules. All you do is provide schadenfreude for our enemies, and it fucking blows.

Fuck you all, I’m getting drunk."

Hurt Aiden's little ears...hahahaha

Assume he's always drunk.

Have to love the Cyclones victory though.