"Those Sooners Boys Sure Can Play Football"

Watching the Bowl game last night reminded me of a story about my mom. And by watching, I mean having the game on while I dozed in bed and shut it off after Florida was up by 10. There’s so many of these damn Bowl games, I’ve lost track of the name. I think it was the Last of 43 Bowl Games over 3 Weeks Bowl Game Brought to you by Southwest presented by Ford with a grant from The Chubb Institute. Damn, wish I got a grant from the Chubb Institute….

I need to preface this by saying my mom is a total sports noob. She’s a trooper, she just wants to spend time with my old man. She watches sports with my dad. She tries to understand shit like the “infield fly rule” and horse collar tackle, while dad just yells at the TV. You ask her who her favorite Eagle is, and she will reply in the most innocent way “I like the big black one” without a racist tone whatsoever. This story took place about 20 years ago or so. It’s become one of those legendary family stories that we trot out from time to time to bust her chops. And shit, I totally forgot to include this story when I had to give the toast at their 50th wedding anniversary. Instead I went with the time when she took home movies (Super 8) of us opening our Xmas presents and had the camera backwards the whole time. So we get the reel back, and it’s 20 minutes of her nose. The sneeze was a nice touch, though.

All of us were watching some college football game, where the Sooners were playing. For the sake of this story, the front of their jersey looks like this. There are no player names written on the back:

I recall at the time that there were no players’ names on the back of the jersey. I noticed last night that now they do have the players’ names on the back of the jerseys. I suppose if I wasn’t so lazy and a better writer, I could look up all the historical facts of this. But that is too much work, and I ain’t making a dime off any of this stuff (yet), so we will all suffer in my ignorance and lack of investigation. So where was I?

By the way, I am half Irish, and half Polish. After this story, can you guess whose side is whose?

For some reason, we’re all watching this Oklahoma Sooners game. They have the ball, and their QB makes a good throw. My mom pipes up, “Wow, that quarterback sure made a good throw! What’s his name?” We’re all silent, and she’s clearly just trying to sound like she fits in. She continues. “What’s his name? What’s the name on his jersey? Sooners? Well, that Sooners kid sure made a good throw. Actually, that was a good catch, too? What’s the name of the guy who caught the ball?” Again, all us kids are silent, we want to see just where this trainwreck will end up.

“Wow,” she continues, “his name is Sooners, too! Wow, that’s pretty neat. Are they brothers or something? Those Sooners boys sure can play football.” We’re all quiet as the screen now shows the team in a huddle. You can see the wheel in my mom’s brain turning. The next play is a running play, and when the running back gets up, my mom goes, “Wait a minute. He’s Sooners, too! Are there a bunch of Sooners brothers playing for this team or what?” When he returns to the huddle, my mom clearly sees that all the jersey names say Sooners. She is clearly confused now. We all wait to see where the queen of our gene pool will say next.

“Hey! Their jerseys all say Sooners! Is there just one family that plays for this team?”

There is a stilled silence in the room. Possibly the sound of a palm slap to the forehead.

Someone finally says, “No, mom, Sooners is the name of the team.”

“Oh.”

Ok, so maybe you can give her a pass since a lot of college teams don’t have the player names on the back of their jerseys. But my family has never given her a pass. Nuh-uh, that’s not how families work. Just a quick little memory that popped up last night.

And can someone tell me just what dafuck a ‘sooner’ is? Is it similar to a ‘quicker’? Or ‘faster’? Yea, if I didn’t do the research above, I’m not doing it here, either. Anyone got an answer for me?

Actors Who Piss Me Off; Matthew McConaughey

Longtime Missile readers will remember a bit I used to do about Rockstars Who Piss Me Off. It’s been awhile since I did one of these, but I saw something today that just fucking pissed me off. Read on.

First of all, I never had a particular ax to grind with Matt McConaughey. Like most men I know, I can’t say I’ve ever seen any of his movies. I can’t name any of his movies, so I don’t know if that even stands as him not ever having a hit movie. I do ‘fess up to being in the room for a bit while T was watching the one with Boobless Hudson trying to dump a guy. But I immediately left the room as soon as I saw this. I don’t know much about the man himself. A brief search reveals he apparently doesn’t like wearing a shirt, and at least on one occasion, was found naked playing bongos with another man. Infer what you want.

I know this guy is supposedly what many women consider “hot”. I don’t get it. He seems to have eyebrows that extend out over his eyes. He has wiry, balding hair. Personally, I don’t get him at all. I may not know much about Matthew McConaughey, but this I do know.

He is a flaming asshole.

How do I know this? I base this on the following article, which can be sourced at http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/08/08/entertainment/e140304D70.DTL
Just listen to what this pompous airhead is doing. The actor kept the placenta from the July birth of his son and plans to plant it in an orchard, he tells CNN's "House Call with Dr. Sanjay Gupta. It's going to be in the orchards and it's going to bear some wonderful fruit," he says.

Well, geez, let’s tell the world just how really special the placenta from my drunken mistake’s birth is. Hey Dickwad, shut the fuck up, no one wants to hear this horse shit. I originally found this story from a headline on the bottom of TV. There was even a more bombastic boast, something like McConaughey saying his afterbirth tree will provide fruit for generations to come. What a crock of steaming horse shit. Let’s break down this shallow Hollywood logic, shall we?

First of all, just where does one store the placenta? Do you just throw is in some Tupperware and put it in the fridge? Or will a ZipLock bag do the trick? And it’s not only that he saved it, it’s that now he’s going on TV trumping about this, like he his some sort of Superparent, far better than some ham and egger raising his kids. He goes on in the article about how this is a ritual in Australia, and all the placenta tress grew higher than the natural trees.

This is fucking Australia we’re talking about here. The land of Crocodile Dundee, Men at Work and Crowded House. At least he didn’t name his kid Dingo. Now I don’t know if this is all legit, but it sounds like a crock to me.

Next, I don’t like the inference that he is “giving back to nature”. I believe the current, hip term is “going green”. Pul-leeze. I’ve said it before on the old .com message board, and it is true to this day.

You cannot call yourself green or environmentally friendly if you have kids. Period. Case closed.

That is an overtly harsh stance to have, but it is true. Think about it. Just by having even one kid, all the trash and waste it will exponentially create over its life. The biggest danger to this planet is us; people. The last thing we need is more of them to further tax our natural resources. But, no, this McConaughey kid is so damn special and comes from such great genes, that his afterbirth has to be buried in an orchard. Wow, that Matty sure is forward thinking. Sure, it’s Ok his cumdribble can use tons and tons of plastic, oil, oxygen, food etc. It’s Ok, because his placenta will help grow, like one totally bitchin’ peach tree or something. That will more than make up for the resources he will eat up.

And it’s not like Mc Conaughey will be raising this kid himself. Please. He’s a celebra-parent. He’s not gonna raise him, it’s more like his Ecuadorian housekeeper will raise him. Matt has got more guys to play naked bongos with. You can’t raise a kid with that kind of schedule. Listen to this asshole, not only will his kid’s tree be the best, but it will bear “some wonderful fruit”. Huh? Just what is the definition of wonderful fruit? Anderson Cooper? (Zing!)

Mc Conaughey sure must be some spermicidal superman. Not only is the afterbirth he spawned going to grow the strongest tree, it’s going to bear the best fruit. What an ego on this fucktard. Let me guess, this McConaughey fruit will be sold at a premium at some haughty-taughty Hollywood chic store. Gag me.

Ugh, it’s empty headed assholes like this that fire me up.

Bus Stop

Originally written 11/19/7

Sometimes I fear for the youth of this nation. Not just because I got booted outta the music biz. Not just because the President sucks and the government is crooked. Not just because hockey isn’t as revered as football in this country. Not just because they won’t know who Dale Earnhardt was. Not just because we are consuming all the natural resources and they will live in a barren wasteland. Not just because airhead actors carry more weight than doctors and scientists. Kids today aren’t even making it out of the gate. I fear for the kids of today for just one reason.

Their parents.

Yea, I know tough talk coming from someone who doesn’t have kids. But that’s a very conscious choice on our parts. Really, do you want my retarded genes being passed down? Where the hell would a kid who dyes their hair funny colors, wears shorts and flip flops and creates their own holidays (psst, Hallowmas is coming) work in the next 30 years? And I’m doing my part to save the planet. Think about it. What’s the number one most wasteful thing in this world? It’s us. People. And by not having kids, think of the generations of trash, waste and pollution I am saving this planet. Plus, we recycle. Not like all you eco-terrorists I call parents.

Most weekday mornings, I head to the gym about 8:30 or so. It’s not like I have a schedule or anything, it just kinda happens that way. And it’s when I get to the intersection at the top of my street, my blood starts to boil. That’s where the bus stop is.

Every morning, there’s about, I dunno, 20-30 demonspawn running in the intersection. That’s not what pisses me off. What pisses me off is the parents that wait with them, and do nothing to corral precious little Connor or Taylor to get the hell outta the street when there’s a car coming. I will take my time as I roll up to the intersection. There’s no obstructed view, you can see the cross streets from any of the 4 corners. And just about every morning, there’s a group of kids right in the middle of the intersection. Running around, chasing a ball and whatnot, just being kids. Now you would think that the parents would be keeping an eye out, and when a car was approaching, get them to the curb. You would think that….

I’ve literally had kids almost back into my car. I’ve had kids jet across the intersection. I’ve had kids blindly chasing balls like they were in a tire commercial. And I’ve seen the parents, standing there, dumb as fuck, doing nothing. I even had one douchebag shoot me a glare after I stopped to make sure all the lil bastards are clear. If my wife wasn’t a teacher, I’d have half a mind to….

This is not the way to start one’s morning. It’s not my responsibility to make sure the road is free of kids, when their very own fucking parents refuse to lift a muscle to ensure the safety of their children. At least it fires me up to go throw some weight around.

It reminds me of when I used to work in a Sam Goody in a strip center. Right next to us was a Hair Cuttery, and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see parents come in the store, tell their kids to stay there, and go try to look like Jennifer Aniston. Which, by the way, doesn’t work if you are a guy, just sayin’ and all. When I was at Borders, we had an incident where a mother dropped off her precious pumpkin, and when she came back the daughter wasn’t there. Well, it got to be a big scene. I was one of the managers on duty that day, and was of the opinion “we’ll make her comfortable, but this ain’t our problem.” We decided to check the security tapes, and sure enough, there was pumpkin, walking out the store a few minutes after getting dropped off; hand in hand with her boy. Unreal.

And I suppose I should throw in some obligatory Britney Spears jokes, but that would just be too easy.

Now, I know many of you have kids. I am sure they are intelligent, well behaved and future leaders of our country. I’m not talking about your cherubs. It’s everyone else’s. So in conclusion, keep your kids off of my street, off of my damn lawn, and the hell out of the way.