Seven Signs You Need for USC GameDay

As the Bearfighter has mentioned for years now, College GameDay would come to USC once a year if we were 0-12. We’re the story when we’re good. We’re the story when we’re bad. We’re the story when we’re in trouble. We’re the story when we are compliant (see Teague Egan’s Johnny Drama go-kart). We’re the story when we’re not the story.

And because mighty Stanford is playing lil ole USC this weekend, even though we are not the story, we’re the story again. And that means Arrogant Nation and the rest of all you Trojan fans new to this game have an amazing platform to let America and the NCAA know how you feel. We’ve done it before and it helped me immensely:

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This year, they know that they can’t sanction the endzone. Not even switching coaches midseason and having a team that’s half injured (thxNCAA!) and half walk-ons (thxNCAA!) could stop us from getting into a bowl. We don’t have losing seasons, even if you drop a nuke on us and lightly urinate on the feet of worse offenders and then pretend it was for more than just curing their athletes’ foot.

Well, now you are setting up your TV show in our hometown, on our wet campus where I once flipped a triple burner BBQ I was trying to ride like a long board from 28th Street to campus. Sorry for anyone I inconveniced when trying to lift it back up totally sober at the intersection of Jefferson and Hoover. It was worth it. Sparks flew.

So, my goal for all of you is to ditch the traditional Stanford sucks signs and definitely ignore anything Nerd related because they are owning it:

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Don’t give them the pleasure of acting like they matter. They AGAIN rushed the field at home for beating Oregon, even though they are both top ten teams. Stanford, to their credit, does not give two shits about how bad they are as fans, in fact, they may even embrace it and since most of us use electronics, pharmaceuticals or legal counsel that came from the minds at this school, why don’t we do what Arrogant Nation would do and make this day about us, our problems and our message.

Basically, let’s be that annoying girl who calls her friend to a hungover brunch to talk for the 20th time about a relationship that’s never going to work. Let’s be that girl. Only better looking.

So, here are seven signs I want to see this weekend at the Coliseum:

CLICK ON THE IMAGE TO READ FULL MESSAGE

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And if all else fails, just print this QR code (so 2008 of me) and send them right to me. I’ll let them know.

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I want you to SEND ME EVERY SIGN YOU MAKE and I’ll put them up after the game. Regardless of the sanctions, which we’ve already basically endured, there’s on thing I want and I am dedicating the rest of the season to getting it.

I want the NCAA to finally give us a statement as to how Paul Dee leading our investigation was in any way ethical.

That’s it. I just want to hear the scumbags say it. Or not say it. I just want an answer and I will take it from there.

You job as Arrogant Nation is two-fold. The first is our original goal, which is to use the platform to say the things that USC won’t say. It’s clear by now that Pat Haden thinks it’s best to keep politely asking instead of suing. Fine, but you don’t have to act that way. You can demand some answers. I don’t even want the scholarships back. I just want an answer. Clearly, the sanctions most pundits and reasonable fans know were totally inflated to the point of a Ponzi are bullshit haven’t even given us a losing season. They are just delaying another Rose Bowl or fake-ass NCAA “natty.”

So what. Let them know this weekend.

The other job you all have? HAVE SOME FUCKING FUN AND BRING HOME A WIN.

Your Bearfighter continues to train on the wild bears of the great Pacific Northwest. You’re welcome for the OSU win. I won’t explain.

Share this post with everyone you know at USC and let’s have some fun with the platform. College sports are supposed to be fun. Coach O knows that. We should remember that to. Even it it’s at the NCAA’s expense.

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Sack Up Cards Fans, Boston Just Owned You.

You are going to call this sour grapes because I am about as hardcore of a Dodger fan as there is.  Sour grapes because the Dodgers lost to the Cards so naturally I must be grasping for straws.  I’m not.  I’m sad we lost, but I am quite content with the rapid stocking of our farm system, the signing of Alex Guerrero and the possibility of pairing Tanaka with Kershaw, Greinke, Ryu for years to come. I fully accept the Cards winning, they deserved it and while I am upset about it, I am trying hard to make you understand that what I am about to write is for your own good.

Boston fans are myopic and assume the world cares about Boston sport more than the world does. St. Louis fans feel like they are the gatekeepers of some ancient form of old timey baseball code, the knights templar of the only reasonable activity in St. Louis beyond getting drunk and eating toasted ravioli until you pass out.

So when these two fan bases got together for a wildly entertaining, poorly played at times, roller coaster of a series that got pretty good ratings, you knew there’d be some love fest about, well, the old timey nature of this series.

And then the Red Sox put out this ad in a St. Louis newspaper:

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I’ve seen this popping up via social from Cards fans predictably calling this a classy move. I need to educate you that this is in no way a classy move. This is a giant FUCK YOU, SCOREBOARD disguised in very east coast faux-humble hat tip that the Red Sox organization is correctly betting the St. Louis Knights Templar of Old Timey Conduct will let sail over their head.

The big wigs even signed it.

This is a man sleeping with your wife and then telling you “don’t worry, she told me she appreciates the sex you guys used to have.”

This is referring to your “midwestern” hospitality the way racist ass explorers used to chronicle friendly, inferior civilizations they ran across.

St. Louis, they are drinking your milkshake and you and thanking them.

I get it if a Red Sox fan has this conversation at a bar with a Cardinals fan and there’s an exchange of handshakes and a round of bourbon. I get how that is old timey. I’m not saying as fans you need to be dicks and shove olive branches back up the offerers ass (but we’d do that in Los Angeles).  I’m saying you should take a note from the outfield bleacher fans at Wrigley and throw this gentle FUCK YOU ad back into the outfield grass.

Like I said, I fully appreciate the Cards and their NLCS win. I was impressed with Wacha to no end. We definitely lost and there’s no ifs, ands or buts about it.  Sure, I’m consoling myself with our 6 billion (it looks better like this: 6,000,000,000) TV deal, league leading home and road attendance and already-established pre-season odds to win the World Series (bound to happen sometime). I’m doing what I can to get ready for next year.

What I am not doing is letting the Cards put a full-page ad in the LA Times that psychologically states “we had fun playing with you before we ate you.”

In fact, there’s a lesson to be learned from the Dodgers about old timey baseball, frankly the current Dodgers could learn from this to. When the Dodgers lost, it was ten seconds before our drunk ass bum mascot was in an ad saying WAIT TIL NEXT YEAR.

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And 1952 wasn’t our year either.  Old Timey is never saying die and it’s definitely saying that after the handshakes are done, we go back to our training camps and get ready to win it next year.

Really, St. Louis? You like this giant FUCK YOU in your newspaper from 3 rich guys that just took the thing you wanted most? Really? How much InBevweiser are you drinking?

Cards fans, I respect that you know the game. A part of me dies when our crowd does the wave at Chavez Ravine. I hate when people cheer at fly balls without looking to see the outfielder’s clear reaction that this is a routine pop up. I hate the DH. Look, I totally appreciate what the Cardinal Way is.

There was a Dodger Way too and Kasten is trying to get back there, home grown talent, best scouting in the league. Hell, you got a Dodger’s number retired in your stadium and that happened because we integrated baseball. We invented the box score. We invented night games. We invented most of the international scouting practices that exist (Dominican and Japan). We altered our uniforms (the red numbers) for visibility on black and white television.

We know  thing or two about Old Timey, but we know a thing or two about adapting to the future.  At no time is this Red Sox humble brag acceptable.  Your grandpa, who was old timey as fuck, would never have stood for this and he probably killed Nazis.

I don’t have a dog in the fight. My dog is cashing checks and buying more talent for the farm and for the field and we’ll line ‘em back up and see who falls next season.

But humble advice from a fan of a team with it’s own legacy of WS titles, ROYs, Cy Youngs and pennants… The first step towards “wait til next year” is calling Boston’s bluff. If this was reversed, they’d have burnt every copy of the paper in Boston and possibly tore down the arch.

Don’t let the sugar coating fool your tastebuds. This was tasteless.

And since they rubbed your nose in it, how did it smell?

St. Louis fans that agree with me (and I know you are out there), let me know in the comments so I can stand proud with my national league brothers, even if I will spend the next five months dreaming of beating you.

Don’t let Boston win off the field too. They called you quaint. They hid it behind a picture of kids. They pointed out the Midwest (and news flash, when people from the East do that, it’s like calling you “salt of the earth”). They put Stan the Man in the same sentence as Dustin fucking Pedroia. They thanked you for helping them win. They said they hope to see you in October again and that’s because lately, they beat you in October. They love you because you got picked off at first base and because like Kershaw, Wacha became human.

Politely, fuck those guys. You’re better than that. And I hate saying that to you because I hate you, but I hate you for being good which is why I am never going to thank you, but I am never going to argue your greatness. Except when you let Boston take a dump on your fans. Just because they dressed this turd up for Halloween, doesn’t change what it was.

Up to you guys. Have a short winter. See you on the diamond.

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Miami Ruling Ended My Love Affair With College Football.

I have to say I’ve seen this coming. I’ve seen it coming, but it’s just hard to believe it could actually happen. It’s like the feeling you get growing up and moving into the “adult world” and realizing there’s no set of oracles to consult. Adults, companies, doctors and lawyers make idiotic decisions, just like they did when they were still kids.

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I was the loudest voice when USC was sanctioned by the NCAA. It was too harsh, but at the time, public sentiment was in favor of it because, frankly, most people hate USC. I get why. We historically win a lot of bowls and we do it with a lot of bravado. We have beautiful Song Girls and they look a lot like the rest of the beautiful girls on campus. We’re by the mountains, we’re by the beach and as students, when people claim it’s in the hood, you laugh. You can spend $3000 buying a bottle at Hakkasan in Las Vegas and you won’t meet a better looking girl than you will on 2-for-1 night at the 9-0. To make it worse, we ended up becoming a top 25 school, which really pissed off every Big Ten and SEC school that hated us because with the exception of Michigan and Notre Dame, it’s hard to get consistently good football at a top tier school.

Basically, I get the schadenfreude that went on when we got pinched. Fuck that guy in the Beemer with a hot girl in the front seat eating Wagyu Ribeye with his steak and eggs. Fuck that guy because most of us won’t be that guy. I’m that guy. You are that guy. But most aren’t.

And I blame no one for that.

I blame the NCAA for pinning a baseless case on USC that’s lead to everything from injuries to coaching changes, just not to a losing record. We took our lumps and then we waited.

The more the NCAA was questioned for having less policy than a middle school slumber party attended by girls that hate each other, for having less ethics than, say, Nevin Shapiro and his billion dollar Ponzi scheme and the only less impartial stance than your own mother, the more I realized that until they are eradicated as an organization, there is zero hope for College Football.

Zero.

We watched them get bought, extorted, strong-armed by every school that got caught for something, anything. Nothing would happen.

Cam Newton shopping his services? Play in that bowl. Students can’t be blamed for their parents unless they are Reggie Bush’s parents.

Buckeyes selling team memorabilia? Play in that bowl. It’d totally ruin our ratings to neuter a team of that stature so close to a game. Suspend them early next year when they play cash cow games at home against Ohio and Youngstown State. When you do give them scholarship reductions, make it a player a year. Let Urban Meyer talk about how hard it is.

When Oregon pays a recruiting service that’s only service is influence over athletes from a small area of Texas and then cannot provide any of the recruiting documents that never existed in the first place, the NCAA tells them the Ducks’ proposed self-sanctions aren’t enough. Then they wait a year and slap their wrists barely.

The NCAA decided to harshly penalize Penn State for covering up a decades long sex scandal performed by one of their coaches in their own player locker rooms because it was covered up to protect football. Once the school started to fight back, the NCAA caved. Rape is better than a player’s parents taking money from an agent unrelated to USC operating out of a city some 120 miles south of campus.

All of this, and I still waited for Miami.

For those living under a rock, Miami had dozens and dozens of documented counts of improper benefits coming from Nevin Shapiro, a man now in jail for running a billion dollar ponzi scheme. These benefits weren’t the famous Ohio State hundred dollar handshakes. He was taking players out on yachts, feeding them booze and cocaine, buying them prostitutes and if necessary, paying for their abortions. How close was this man’s booster ties to the school? Well, not many of us get to do this:

I mean, I do, but I never paid players. I was a booster by actually BOOSTING MORALE.

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This case took four years to investigate. It took for years to investigate this man’s connection to the program and the events in question. It took me 30 seconds to Google Image search:

It goes on forever.  And what did Shapiro say when he laid this case on a table for the NCAA?

“I became a booster in late 2001, and by early 2002, I was giving kids gifts. From the start, I wasn’t really challenged. And once I got going, it just got bigger and bigger. I just did what I wanted and didn’t pay much mind toward the potential repercussions.”

…and later…

“I did it because I could,” he said. “And because nobody stepped in to stop me.”

That is lack of institutional control. Yet, it was the Athletic Director who oversaw Miami during the Nevin Shapiro years who was chosen to literally lead the committee on infractions against USC. Through a vendetta of USC becoming the premier power in college football, he dropped the hammer without concrete evidence. A lack of evidence that has Todd McNair’s suit against the NCAA looking like a slam dunk, currently in appeal in an effort to delay the inevitable unsealing of emails that state clearly the NCAA had “malicious intent” to pin something on USC. That already happened, the cadence just isn’t working out fast enough to protect our players who have to play with a team half the size as their opponents because the NCAA doesn’t have the guts to admit they overstepped. Overleaped. They killed a fly with a flamethrower, only the fly didn’t die. It hasn’t had a losing record yet.

Miami got off with no bowl ban, some random probations and the loss of 9 total scholarships over three years because of their “unprecedented” self sanctioning.

So there’s your answer, America. No matter how badly you fuck up, no matter how much an agent of the football team provides sex, drugs and diamonds to players, as long as you admit you were wrong and sit out a bowl game or two, you are good.

USC’s crime was telling the NCAA to fuck off. Now their crime is not suing.

The NCAA has never offered a statement on how Paul Dee, may he fester in peace, was allowed to influence, lead and ultimately coordinate the assault on USC as head of a committee the NCAA put together. There’s never been an inquiry into it. There’s been no look at their decision because the case is closed.

We can’t play with a full team. We have no built in process to force them to answer questions about Paul Dee and about how now a decade later, USC’s case is the extreme outlier thanks to the NCAA’s tail-between-the-legs approach to peeling back their sanctions on Penn State.

The NCAA is on the run. They can’t sell their “student athletes” jerseys on their site anymore. They aren’t licensing their name out. They are boarding up the doors, but for me it might be too late. Until they are gone, I can’t go beyond hoping my college beats the other college on a particular Saturday (or Thursday or Friday so they can make more money in media sales).

I can’t tell anyone in good faith that being an NCAA champion means a damn thing. Not at all. That’s because it doesn’t. It’s like being employee of the month at a bank that played the sub-prime mortgage game and almost tanked our economic system. It’s like being executive chef at a D rated restaurant.

I love USC far, far too much to root for that. So let me be clear. I’m done with college football, but not with watching USC play it. I’ll get excited to see them play their opponent and hope they win, so our team beats their team. That’s pure. Even purer when we actually can field a full team.

But I am done even caring about Rose Bowls. If we play in a Rose Bowl, great. I’ll be excited about playing whoever they trot out against us. But until the NCAA apologizes, gives a real answer about Paul Dee or is nailed for everything they are, I just don’t care what awards we win.

Not a huge deviation from what I’ve always said, but I am furious. It’s confirmation of your worst fears. There’s no one running the ship. And we need to sue for something. I don’t even know what, but if you can sue someone for handing you hot coffee and you spill it on yourself, we can sue the NCAA for what they’ve spilled on us without a hint of wanting to toss us a towel to dry off. O’Bannon is going to win and be the coolest Bruin ever, what Prefontaine is to Oregon, and we’ll get a victory. Somehow. But I want a fucking answer from them about Paul Dee. I want an answer about their process. And since I likely won’t get it, I’m watching the bare minimum of football on television. My Trojans.  Stop telling me this is an amateur sport. The only amateurs are the NCAA.

I am interested in football.

I am interested in USC football.

I am not interested in NCAA football.

And that’s because if there was ever a chance for them to make sense, it was with Miami. Game, set, don’t-give-a-fuck.

Fight on.

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ASU HATE LETTER IS ON YAHOO SPORTS TODAY INSTEAD

First of all, happy birthday to Keith, who my readers got to the Super Bowl last year.  That’s important as hell.  Click that first and learn about Keith then read more below.

Second, this week I let Yahoo Sports have my post because I can think of nothing more arrogant than letting the people who prosecuted Reggie solicit me for content.  Also, it’s fucking ASU and their audience deserves to hear my jokes about pictures like the above picture, which is easier to find via Google images than pics of the Grand Canyon.  ASU is famous for blacked out girls taking football drunk to World War Z levels.  They are the undead partiers of the desert.

I am pitted against the ASU student press and while it had it’s moments, my thesis is that ASU football doesn’t matter and this game is irrelevant regardless of outcome.  I would just be mildly amused if we won in a funny way.

First CLICK HERE and read their attempt.

Then CLICK HERE and maybe drop some comments letting the world know where you stand.

For those of you that didn’t see, it was a good week for the Bearfighter, who got a drink named for him at Ground Zero where I once saw Zion I rap and make everyone take their shoes off because it was the Temple of Hip Hop.  I later played shows there with my band back in the day.  And now, I am a strawberry cream soda drink.

Big win like the one we’re getting tomorrow.  Enjoy the Yahoo post and see you for some LIVE TWEETING during the game, the best part of the season.  Follow me at the links below and join in.

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PENN STATE SANCTION REDUCTIONS AND WHY THEY ARE ACTUALLY GOOD FOR THE WORLD.

The NCAA is a house of cards.  If you ever, ever questioned that, stop doing so and stop doing so yesterday. We’re finding out the NCAA is going to start returning scholarships back to Penn State, the school that covered up mass child raping that went on in their own locker rooms.

There’s been plenty of discussion of whether this should have been a sanctionable offense and if all the bourbon left me some memory cells, I recall my opinion is that when the severe “crimes” cited by the NCAA in most sanctions-worthy cases are “failure to monitor” and “lack of institutional control”, they apply in some way to Penn State.

I mean, they failed to monitor a horrific amount of child rape going on in their own locker room by their own coaches and pretty much covered it up for the sake of playing football, which for me, is lack of institutional control.

Since this case, and more appropriately the swinging death axe that is the Ed O’Bannon lawsuit (Go Bruins! just this once) and with the APU (all players unite) movement starting, the NCAA has largely been a paper tiger.  The Johnny Manziel suspension of “one-half” was ridiculous, both in that a player can’t sell his own autograph, but also in that it totally violates the NCAA’s bullshit rules, yet it barely was prosecuted.

How did the Cam Newton case go away in the time it took to prep for the bowl game. Same with the Terrelle Pryor situation.  Wrapped up fast, just in time for everyone to cash in on the bowl.

The NCAA is the dude from Office Space who gets fired and makes a Jump to Conclusions mat.  They are claiming they are “a people person” protecting amateurs, but in reality they only protect themselves.

With the noose tightening, with EA going at their college football game alone now, free to make deals with each school, you have to wonder about the NCAA and how fucking terrified they are.

They’ve pulled out of their big video game.  They’ve stopped selling players’ jerseys on their website (which is amazing that an organization built in the support of amateurism sells amateurs memorabilia while making it illegal for amateurs to sell their own memorabilia).  Basically, these guys are pulling out of ANYTHING that makes them look like what they are:  people persons that are hated by most people.

I don’t care if USC gets any scholarships back.  Really, at this point, we’re the heroes.  When you look at this, when you look at how it is shaking out, you realize that whenever it is we win our next national title, the stories will be ready.  “USC, who got the worst deal, the deal that first called into question at a massive level if the NCAA had any due process of sanctioning schools, has won a national title despite the best efforts of their governing body to murder them”.

Fuck their charity, refuse their shitty offer assuming one ever came, which it won’t.

To admit the obvious, that USC’s potential wrist slap ended up being a drone strike while we were asleep, would be to admit that the NCAA acted out of malice.  It would be to admit they put the now-deceased Paul Dee in charge of our witch hunt even though he was the AD of a Miami school that is still waiting for rulings on a decade’s worth of cocaine yachts, booster sponsored abortions and gifts, all caught on photo and sponsored by a man who got to run out of the tunnel with the team.

It’s about money, guys.  Shame on you reporters who claim the USC sanctions and Penn State sanctions are apples and oranges.  They are rotten fruit distributed by the same supermarket.

USC “should have known” that Reggie Bush was taking money from someone not based in Los Angeles or affiliated with USC in any way and despite total lack of evidence (see the Todd McNair anti-defamation lawsuit that he won in appellate court and now the NCAA has appealed to delay the inevitable).  The judge found the pursuit of McNair to be “malicious” and basically confirm why the process took so long to sanction us.  They had nothing, they acted maliciously to create proof they did and then when they felt like they’d get away with it, they punished us for being arrogant about calling their bluff.

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We got the worst sanctions of the era and I made money creating Arrogant Nation.  Thanks for my BMW, NCAA!

Meanwhile, Oregon pays for a “recruiting service” that has no service beyond influence with Texas players like Lache Seastrunk and LaMichael James.  The NCAA rejects Oregon’s “settlement” basically saying you did way worse than what you are proposing self-sanctions for…  Then…  A year later…

A wrist slap and a “failure to monitor” charge, even though it seems impossible to fail to monitor someone you actively pay to help with recruiting.  Failure to monitor sounds like what USC should have gotten. We failed to monitor the actions between an ex-con in San Diego with no USC ties and a player’s family.  Fine.

You can’t go apples to apples on any of this because it’s all rotten fruit and the NCAA couldn’t define what an apple was if you dropped it in Washington State with a map and a drawing of a Red Delicious.

They are trying to take the heat off and I am certainly not trying to turn the heat up.  I think they are a braindead ponzi scheme and they are incapable of saving themselves.  All we have to do is wait.  It was unfortunate that our success as a football program delayed the time it took for the world to embrace the reality that we were over-penalized.  I live in fucking Oregon.  Most of the fans I meet here agree.  They now know that USC got a raw deal, even if they were glad we did.

The NCAA lost the war, but there are still battles going on and hypocrite zombies to behead.  Instead of the Bearfighter suggesting outrage over Penn State getting reduced sanctions, I humbly suggest you enjoy the show.

What you are seeing is an organization so afraid of another lawsuit that they are reducing their penalties on a school that literally harbored a decade of child rape by a coach and then former coach in their own player locker room, in the showers the team still showers in.

When you apologize to a school that got in trouble for that, you get a clear picture of where the NCAA is at.  They can’t be sued again and it’s not just about the money.  It’s about unsealing documents.  It’s about the world pulling back the curtain and seeing that these people have no process.  They have no continuity.  There aren’t standards despite what they may tell you.

I am happy for Penn State today because they have joined the battle with USC.  Any time the NCAA overextends itself, it leaves itself exposed and they are not smart enough or just enough to protect themselves from a vicious counter.

Light a cigar, pour a bourbon and revel in the sounds of the breaking wood as the tree begins to fall.

If you agree, share this post.  I don’t care what they do.  I’m just enjoying watching them struggle and expose themselves further.  They spilled the gasoline on themselves trying to protect their assets.  They are about to light their asses on fire.

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RANTING ON USC, NCAA, KIFFIN, THIS SEASON AND THE FUTURE OF THE UNIVERSE.

As you can see, this year I am bucking my normal format and spending more time live tweeting during games, the response has been insane.  Those of you that are tweeting with me, it’s been a blast.

For those asking why the new format?  Mainly, I feel like I’ve said as much as I want to say about Tempe, Arizona and Seattle after all the years covering the game.

Now, I am more interested in what is going on with the team, where is the program going and any games that are coming up where we have something to say.

Truthfully, the strangest part of this season is figuring out what goal we’re looking to achieve.  We’re the Kings of the Sanction Era officially.  The NCAA is bracing for the O’Bannon floodgate to open and has decided that all penalties will be wristslaps.  The NFL just quietly handed out 3/4 of a BILLION dollars to about 4500 former players and future law suits so they wouldn’t put the concussion issue on display any more.  EA is not doing NCAA Football anymore.  Well, they are.  But they won’t use the NCAA name.  And the SEC is out too.

Why?  Well, because they are guilty.  Anything they put their name on is just creating more people that are going to sue.  I kind of have a hard time celebrating the game in general.  I am still happy to see USC play.

Fact is, I think we fought the battle and we’ve launched the final missile.  We’re just waiting for it to explode.

We’re the martyr.  Congrats, America.  With two free hands, USC is the best boxer in the land.  With one free hand, we’re still managed to have a winning record.  Every other school has pretty much, at worse, gotten a couple fingers taped together.

I’ve had a hard time with the media story about Texas and USC falling so far.  Texas aside, because, well, let’s not talk about barbecue land because they haven’t been sanctioned.

They listed our post 2006 falling off.  A falling off that includes 3 Rose Bowl wins…  Let me stop you there.  Every school in the Pac 12 except maybe Oregon would have killed to have 3 Rose Bowl wins since 2006.

Then they go into post 2009, but no mention of the most unjust, crippling sanctions of all time.  And I know it’s all about fuck Kiffin right now, but even during these sanctioned seasons, we still won the Pac 12 South once, beat Oregon that year and probably were going to a 4th post 2006 Rose Bowl.  WSU would chop down their apple trees for that resume.  Oregon State would skin all their beavers for that resume.  Arizona State would give up all the breast implants in Tempe for that.

I’m sorry, America, but USC won the National Title for not going down after getting shot in the stomach with a howitzer.  There’s been no losing seasons.  Just disappointment at sanctions, at not being excellent every time.

I’ve taken a step back and I’m saying that even though Kiffin is probably not the guy to take us forward, he deserves a lot of love for taking a job none of our more illustrious NFL alumni would take because of sanctions (Fisher, Del Rio) and he’s kept us from falling that far, gave us some great years with Matt Barkley and Robert Woods and Marqise Lee, and basically taught the world how to dress in all white after Labor Day.

Sorry if the medicine tastes bad, but when Kiffin leaves, and likely soon, you should tip your hat.  Our team dropped off for OUR standard, not college football in general’s.  You’ve seen all the sanctions and no one, not anyone, has had anything near us despite the fact it’s hard to discern how Oregon’s “crime” was less severe than ours.  They’d agree, the rational ones that I live amongst in Oregon.  Once they realize that I wasn’t rooting for their sanctions, they realize that it’s all absurd.  All of it.

All that said, Kiffin is on the thinnest of ice with the Bearfighter.  It comes down to one thing.  It comes down to not picking a quarterback.  Kessler will probably be fine now that he’s the quarterback.  You need the growing pains.  Leinart looked like garbage in his first game, we were just so damn good we beat Auburn on the road.  His numbers were fine, but it’s easy to forget when he grew into a legend that he wasn’t 4th and 9 at Notre Dame from day one.

Not picking a quarterback is losing control of your offense.  I don’t want Jack Del Rio.  I don’t want to pretend Chris Peterson is coming.  Fuck all that noise.  The Bearfighter endorses Clancy Pendergast and his defense which will win us some big games.  This is the steely glance of you’re not ever getting in my fucking endzone.

It worked with Pete.  Defense first and then bring in some offensive coordinator who can manage to draw up valuable plays that lead to touchdowns with superior talent.  We won a lot of Rose Bowls under a lot of OCs. The reason we scored so much back then was we ALWAYS HAD THE BALL.

So chill out Arrogant Nation.  Let’s win as much as we can and stay behind the team.  It’s fun to commiserate on Twitter when our offensive game plan is bubble screening like this girl:

That said, it’s more fun to enjoy the ride because we’re going to win more Rose Bowls.  That’s a fact.  It’s history.  It’s future and not one team on earth would question it and if they did, they wouldn’t bet pink slips on it.  And they shouldn’t.  We haven’t fallen, we’ve slipped and landed on a hot girl and now we’re going to grab drinks.

Who is Utah State?  I DON’T KNOW AND I DON’T CARE.  I just want to see how our defense plays against their offense and I want Clancy to prove he’s as good as I know he is.  You can’t sanction the endzone, but we can sanction yours again.

I’ll see you on twitter RIGHT HERE tomorrow and we’ll get down.  Embrace the new format.  Embrace our new defensive set up.  Embrace Kessler and enjoy the fucking ride Trojans.  Don’t trip out.  That’s what they’d want you to do, whoever they are.  I don’t know, I don’t pay attention.

Our greatest strength is always that rooting for an 0-12 USC team is better than rooting for anyone else ever under any circumstances.  I feel like a winner every time I hear the fight song and that goes with me to work everyday.

FOR MY ON CAMPUS READERS:  My best friends, the dudes that were in my band when I was at USC are blowing up right now and they are playing at Tommy’s Place on Tuesday.  See them now before they are charging you 80 dollars to see them open for Mumford.    Here’s a video:

Here’s the details:

Relevant Details:
Date: Tuesday, 9/24
At: Tommy’s Place
Cost: FREE
Time: Show starts at 8pm – we’re on around 10pm.
Other Stuff: ALL AGES, OPEN TO PUBLIC
Address for student who are too drunk to remember where Traddy’s is: USC Ronald Tutor Campus Center, 3607 Trousdale Pkwy, TCC 330, Los Angeles, CA, 90089-3102
Just go to the thing, I may delay my return travel to Portland to come that’s how much I enjoy it.  So go, tweet/instagram me that you did.  I’ll post it here next time I decide to tear the system an new one and celebrate Clancy.

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THE ONE WHERE I TALK ABOUT WASHINGTON STATE

Thursday is the new Friday again, Arrogant Nation.  That’s a big win for the agency because we’re going to talk last week and this week today.  As in right now.

Tonight is the Fall Sports Rally at Galen and for the first time in 3 years I am not hosting it.  I want to believe this is because I am in Portland, but maybe it’s my documentary or my newfound “keeping it realositiy” that went on during the game on Twitter.

I decided that live tweeting is more fun that a traditional recap (although if there’s an epic game, you know I’ll weigh in like the Bearfighter I am).  I mean, having fun at Kiffin’s expense was so fruitful, I was trending in Los Angeles.  From Portland.  Because two quarterbacks.  Arrogant.

Truth is, we all evolve.  I don’t want to stay the same.  I want to talk football and continue to bleed so much Trojan blood that I use it for bitters in my Old Fashioneds.  That said, you can expect me to be LIVE TWEETING every game I can, so if you don’t follow me yet, maybe FOLLOW ME.  To the death.

THE PART WHERE I SUM UP THE HAWAII GAME…

I dunno.  I’m torn.

Let’s start with some positives.  Kiffin came out in all white like some ghostly necromancer committed to not committing on anything.  Larry Scott already ruined our college football opening day by scheduling us on Thursday so “more people would watch it” which I am sure they didn’t.  At least Kiffin’s white knight visor costume was there to remind us of days passed.

NCAA Football: Southern California at Hawaii

Let’s talk about Clancy’s Ghost Recon 5-2.  I loved it.  As much as Hawaii sucks at everything but vacation, they commit hard to testing DBs.  We took the ball four times from a team that often drops 24 points on their opponent even when getting blown out.

It was all about swarming the QB and beating his ass as much as possible.  This year, the way to slow down the up-tempo spread is going to be to hit the QB in the backfield when he playfakes or does anything deceptive.  When the Oregons of the world have a running back and a wide out converge in the backfield, the game plan is “kill the QB” because he “might” have the ball.  I think this team is suited to execute that.

Defense will keep us in some games.  I’m hopeful.

Also, Tre Madden and Justin Davis showed a lot of moxie, burst, wheels, [insert word] in that second half when our O Line started to get it together.

Albarado’s pink punting boot and George Uko’s belly also are candidates for player of the game.

On the bad side, our O Line didn’t block in that first half (which largely fucked Kessler) and Marqise Lee forgot how to catch the ball and turned a 300 yard game into a 100 yard game (which fucked Wittek).

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These factors led us to have NO STARTING FUCKING QB AND NOW IT IS WEEK TWO.  At least we are 1-0…

THE PART WHERE I TALK ABOUT THE COUGARS.

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We get to play Washington State again, which is amazing because they have the worst logo on the planet. It’s like a 4th grade design contest to redesign their logo actually yielded their official logo.  What the hell is going on here?  I’ll show you in a new feature I call YOUR LOGO SHOULD DIE ALONE.

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Refute that.  I dare you, Palloose-folk.  Look, I’ve been out into the deep woods on Washington now that I live in the northwest and I still can’t find a human that knows where the hell you are hiding your school. I feel like you just give the opposing teams coordinates instead of street directions.

It wasn’t even at this awesome lake I went in to cool my stomach down from bourbon and campfires…

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It’s also a team named after the least original cat ever.  In fact, it’s a name more associated with mothers that have sex with younger men than cats.  I mean, you name your team the Cougars because you just don’t give a shit what you name your team.

How will WSU deal with us not having a quarterback?  They’ll have to prepare hard for one QB who throws the ball into the line and one that throws it a mile past everyone.  GOOD LUCK GAMEPLANNING THAT.

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If there’s one thing to fear this week, it’s the WSU fans who may make the trek.  They have an INCREDIBLE booze-drinking reputation.  They hit bars and empty kegs.  They fucking drank an airplane dry (not sure if that means they drank the blue toilet water and the jet fuel too).

I mean, hide your kegs, hide your wines.

Mike Leach gets his first shot against USC in a series the Trojans own to the tune of 57-8-4.  USC are 15 point favorites and assuming Leach doesn’t lock Marqise Lee in a shed before the game (too soon?), we ought to win this one at home.

Ought thought presumes we kick field goals when they are presented, we catch passes and we block people trying to tackle our people.

Kiffin hopefully spent the week flexing, doing uppers and imparting the philosophy that losing the Pac 12 South is one thing, but losing it because you lose at home to the Cougars is another.

QB Connor Halliday went off against Auburn last week, but threw 3 picks.  The 5-2 will have to hit him a lot, but when you look like Napoleon Dynamite, there’s no telling how he’ll react.

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In fairness, this guy slings the ball, our secondary is a little banged up and if we leave them in the game, the reality that the kid who played banjo in Deliverance might beat us will add unnecessary pressure to the situation.

Need to get it right and get it tight.

THE PART WHERE I PREDICT THE SCORE…

KESSLER USC – 14
WITTEK USC – 17
STIFFLERS MOMS – 17

THE PART WHERE I PLUG SOMETHING COOL…

There’s a dude at my office who loves CFB and he also is hell on a piano.  He wanted to commemorate the beginning of football season.  Well, read this:

Ansel Wallenfang, a writer, director, classical pianist, and football fanatic currently in Wieden+Kennedy’s W+K 12, made a short film and composition called Fantasy Football and Fugue. As a tribute to the upcoming NFL season, Ansel mashes-up the NFL theme songs of CBS, ESPN, FOX, and NBC through classical counterpoint, stunning photography,  and a great sense of humor.

If you don’t want to watch a video like this made by a man named Ansel Wallenfang, you have learned NOTHING FROM ME.

Also, one of his cheerleaders (Shea) was a Song Girl, so click because you are a Trojan and stay for the talent.  I got a kick out of it.

CLICK HERE and watch.

FTFO until you PTFO.

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THE ONE WHERE I TALK ABOUT HAWAII RAINBOWS

It’s a new year.  I’m in a new city surrounded by ducks and beavers.  The grey flannel blanket has yet to be pulled over Portland, so it’s hard to picture football returning, not now, not so far from home and in the middle of a historic Dodgers playoff push.

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But my legion of readers have been tweeting and messaging and emailing me en masse.  From up in the woods, the Bearfighter must answer the call.  There is football tomorrow.  And that is good.

While I have no idea how I will see any of the games up here, I will find ways.  Missing a game has never really stopped me in the past.  That said, I want you to know I plan to experiment with posting this year.  I don’t know if I’ll keep with the AGP/AGR model.  I might, I just don’t know.  It’s my kitchen, you eating what I’m cooking?

We’ll see.  Since Hawaii is not a real game and we’re all bored of Norm Chow jokes, this AGP will be more of a season preview as I’ve had a long offseason to ponder what the hell it all means.

This is about as bad as it’s ever going to get.  Sanctions are over(ish), but our cabinet is as bare as it will be.

We’ve overhauled a coaching staff.  We’ve got a new 5-2 defense being installed.  We haven’t picked a quarterback, which is pretty arrogant, except that it usually helps in winning to pick players to play specific positions.  In interpretive dance, fuck it, you go over there, you spin around in a circle over there.

In football, someone has to put his hands under the center’s junk and lead the offense.

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Kiffin is at his final stand.  I was not invited to host the pep rally this year, like the Lakers, I couldn’t three-peat.  There’s just a ton of uncertainty about what to expect from this season.  Frankly, it reminds me of when I first started writing about football.

What are we to expect from this season?  Well, let’s get into some of that.

The perennial powerhouse gets to be an underdog.  Not an underdog for a national championship (which who fucking wants anyway, the BCS dies with a death gurgle this year).  We’re being called underdogs to win the Pac 12 South.

I’m sorry, there’s never a time on earth USC is not the favorite to win the South.  The South was designed to give USC an opportunity every year to play in the Rose Bowl and make everyone lots of money.

But meanwhile, people are picking UCLA and sometimes Arizona State to win the South.  I understand the ALL UNIVERSE TROJANS last year underachieved, and the UPSTART CAGEY BRUINS won some games.  I understand the blue moon happened and they even beat us.  I am sure they will make a fucking t-shirt to commemorate it.  That’s what Bruins do.

I made shirts to commemorate sanctions.

On that note…  Way to go NCAA.  While they are finally handing out the penalties that make sense for the crimes, they still haven’t apologized to me personally or Pat Haden or Pete Carroll.  Johnny Manziel is sitting out ONE HALF OF FOOTBALL for what Terrelle Pryor sat out a few games (of his choosing) for.  Oregon got a phantom back rub as a punishment for using a recruiting service whose only service was being friends with athletes that they wanted to sing (or buying influence as the rest of the world would say).

We’re still eating shit tacos, but hey.  The BCS is dead.  NCAA Football is no longer a video game and the O’Bannon class action lawsuit is coming.  They are right to limit the people they piss off right now.  Too bad they pissed me off first…  COUGH COUGH

This is just a weird year for college football.  It’s hard to know what to make of any of it at all.  I do know this, I hated seeing all the tweets of people flying to Hawaii today.  I mean, I am glad their going but seeing people flying to Hawaii to watch football and stare at Song Girls while you are walking to the office with your gym bag is like your boss telling you about the vacation he took with your wife.

Anyway, we might as well talk football because Kiffin won’t.

THE PART WHERE WE TALK ABOUT THE GAME

Hawaii returns (insert number of players) from a team that will 100% compete with Arizona for most haka dances done before losing football games.  The only time I really appreciate a haka dance is when I am in the serenity pool at the Four Seasons Wailea waiting for them to come light the torches as I decide if I should drink more or go eat a tuna cone from Spago.  It was also pretty good when Riggins (older, drunker one) had the team do it in Friday Night Lights.

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Norm Chow will unleash his throw short to the wide receiver offense which only worked at USC, because Mike Williams.

Let’s all just stay super honest that this is a practice game for USC.  It always has been.  Not even when Colt Brennen was throwing the ball five hundred times a game did they beat us.  They never will.  If they do, I won’t believe it.  I’ll think I’m dead, like it’s the Sixth Sense and it’s all made up.  Basically, even if it happens, it didn’t.

This is a vacation day.  The NCAA won’t let you pay players?  Well, you get a trip to Hawaii if you play on our team.  But really, go to LSU and enjoy the sights on campus playing Northeastern Louisiana Tech Polyphonic Spree University.

WE’LL TAKE YOU TO HAWAII.  Your parents who love you didn’t even do that for you.  Play football for us, get on a plane with our drunken band and our nails hot Song Girls and play a practice game in Hawaii and you will even see the same haka dance you would see back at the Four Seasons.

Sign on the line, son.

This game is so practice game we’re not even naming starters.  Kiffin said he spent five minutes thinking about the depth chart.  Everyone check your inboxes tomorrow.  You might be starting.  Kiffin doesn’t know or care.  You know why he doesn’t think he’s on the hot seat?  When it’s always 300 degrees on your ass, eventually you feel nothing.

In my mind, Kessler probably won the job and we don’t want to piss off our Mater Dei pipeline by sitting Wittek, who also seems more likely to transfer.  But either way, they will both be pissed off when Max Browne is starting next year so let’s rip the damn band-aid off already.

I don’t see us as National Championship contenders this year and I don’t care because it’s still the BCS and it doesn’t mean much anyway.  I do, however, want us to play in a bowl that I have heard of.  The Rose Bowl, specifically.  That can happen a multitude of ways and us having an easy schedule is one of them.

While the prognosticators are picking UCLA to win the South, Bovada still keeps it real.  USC is favored to win at 9/4.  While UCLA is a close second, let’s keep it extra real.  If after their previous season you were so convinced they are fixed that even switching Oregon and Washington in for OSU and WSU still has you stoked on their win total, you watch a lot less football than I do.

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Based on schedule (home v away) alone, USC and it’s two quarterbacks, it’s cupcake schedule, it’s hot seated coach and it’s new defense are still the favorites.  Our two QB slug line still leads on the ESPN ticker.  WE ARE ALWAYS THE FUCKING STORY END OF STORY.

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Even our sanctions were the biggest and best.  We had the noisiest mediocre year of all time.  Even when Matt Barkley slipped in the draft, our enemy’s coach moved up to pick him.

And that has been my thesis all along.  It doesn’t matter.  The sun never sets on the Trojan Empire.  Even when we underperform, we over perform in underperformance.

And that’s what makes the world go round.

For this game in the absence of caring about special teams since Kyle Negrete left, here is my score prediction:

HAWAII – 17

KESSLER’S TROJANS – 24

WITTEK’S TROJANS – 17

MARQISE LEE – Looks good in aviators, loves Mai Tais.

New season, new look Bearfighter.  Roll with the punches, stay hydrated with bourbon. If you come to the OSU game, get at me.  I’ll see you at the Coliseum at Game To Be Named Later.

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Movie Review: Lovelace (2013)

In 2005, I graduated without honors from the greatest film school ever conceived by man.  Less than 1% of applicants are accepted and entry t0 my program is statistically more inaccessible than Harvard Law School. However, since graduating I have failed to truly utilize the incredibly important skills I mastered at the USC School for Cinematic Arts for the purpose of bettering the world through knowing film the way a British aristocrat knows a woman who likely is a chambermaid in his estate.  I know film in this way.  We’ve made love.  Now, I need to let you into my bedroom. 

The following film review is intended not for your enjoyment, but for your betterment.  I am finally willing to offer my resources to you so that finally you too may have an educated opinion on “cinema”, something few people in the world would be willing to spend half a million dollars earning an intense four year Bachelor of the Fine Arts degree to achieve.  

This review will make you better at the hardest skill in the world:  Watching movies and knowing how you feel about them.  You’re welcome, obviously.  It was no trouble.  I’m highly educated.

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LOVELACE (2013)

Directed by two people whose work does not include explosions and does not make you want to eat popcorn.

Written by a guy who’s other credit is a movie directed by Ross from Friends

Starring Amanda Seyfried with freckles, a coked up Peter Sarsgaard and what’s left of Sharon Stone.

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Lovelace is a movie about proving Amanda Seyfried is willing to show her boobs for less money than Anne Hathaway.  The subplot is a true story based on real life porn star and domestic abuse victim Linda Lovelace, who starred in Deep Throat.  Deep Throat is most often associated with the name of the Watergate informant which is awesome because the moment American politics truly got ugly for the public was lightened up by naming the event after a movie famous for blow jobs.  That thought works hard in proving what Dazed and Confused already did so eloquently, which is that the 1970s were pretty fucking awesome.

dazed-and-confused

Lovelace was made famous for starring a pornographic film about a woman who’s clitoris is tragically in her throat, thus requiring her to “Deep Throat” in order to achieve sexual satisfaction.  This film grossed 600 million making it the Avatar of films about blow jobs.  It was Blow Javatar.  It’s not that it made the money that provides cultural commentary.  It’s that in the 70s, the world made it possible to say to your significant other, “The world is just messed up and you know, government, man.  I need a break.  Let’s go sit in a room with strangers and watch pornography” and have that experience be totally the societal norm.  Oh, and cocaine.

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Lovelace transports us to an “outta sight” world where women must obey men because Sharon Stone (who underwent eight rounds of beef jerky dehydration to play the role of Lovelace’s mother) reminds us that God gives women husbands because science.  And with T-1000 playing the part of her husband, it’s easy to see why she believes in divine matrimonial intervention.  Or nuptials by intelligent design.  Either way, if my husband was a time traveling robot assassin that could turn into liquid metal, morph into anyone he touched and turn his body parts into weapons, I’d probably think God wanted me to obey him too.  I’d also make sure the acid I was on was safe, which Sharon Stone did in researching this part.  [Source: that time I saw her at the Golden Globes and she was dancing alone while chairs were still being set up for the InStyle party where I smoked cigarettes with Nia Vardalos and Stiffler’s mom (true), talked shit about Diane Lane with them (true) and then totally didn’t smoke Halfling’s Leaf with the non Frodo and Sam hobbits.]

 

Lovelace starts out as a girl from Yonkers who now lives in Florida because she had a baby and gave it away for adoption, which is the worst thing ever if your mother is made of beef jerky.  She spends her time sneaking cigarettes, hanging with her kind-of slutty friend, tanning with those metal reflector things and getting called a slut by her beef jerky mother who also slaps her sometimes because Jesus.  T-1000 is kind of nicer, but given he’s a liquid metal robot, it’s hard to know if it’s for the right reasons.  We’ll have to see where the writers take his character in the sequel.

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Lovelace meets Cocaine Peter Sarsgaard at a roller rink and he proceeds to spend a montage or two convincing her to smoke weed, do coke, learn porn star style oral sex, marry him and bail him out of jail.  A classic American love story that draws upon both early British romantic fiction and also Rockwellian family dynamics.  There are 8mm and 16mm shots used to show them falling in love, which was super French New Wave of them, which is also the name for another kind of oral sex that didn’t have a famous movie about it.

Eventually, they run out of money for coke and people trying to kill Oscar-sure-shot Cocaine Peter Sarsgaard, so he decides he is going to make Lovelace be in an actual porno directed by Agador from The Birdcage and the guy that hung out with Tyrion Lannister in New Jersey in The Station Agent way before he got to move to Westeros and be on HBO.

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Adam Brody arrives and plays the part of Dick Long, who acts in the porno with Lovelace.  I never realized Brody’s natural acting environment was portraying an actor so bad he acts in porn, but now I realize his entire career of being on bad television shows and movies was to prepare him for a sequence of riveting scenes where he gets a blow job and recites lines from a famous porno.  He excels as a man who cannot act or last long enough during oral sex to be an effective porn star.  He clearly has been method acting for years.

Sarsgaard delivers the funniest line of the film while doing blow at a nightclub and claiming he is a part time gynecologist.  A man asks if the blow “is what he thinks it is” to which he responds “it is if you think it’s coke”.  I laughed, which made me feel bad because then Sarsgaard sold his wife for sex.  I truly felt like I learned more about Sarsgaard than the real Linda Lovelace or Sarsgaard’s character.  Basically, I know Sarsgaard is equally effective as a creeper sniper who wants to explode some heads in Jarhead as he is playing a creepy pseudo-pimp who makes sex dolls based on his wife in Lovelace.  Versatility is an actor’s greatest tool and he is making strong choices in this tour-de-force at every turn.

Amanda Seyfriend said in Mean Girls that her boobs could tell if it was raining, but throughout the weather changes in this film, it was unclear if she had lost that power.  Meteorology played less of a role in this film than I expected, especially since when they are earning big money they were “making it rain”.  Maybe in Lovelace 2 we can hope for more weather related content.

SPOILER ALERT:  apparently all the real people this film were based on died because of porn and heart attacks and car crashes, so Lovelace 2:  Adventure on Throat Island is being delayed until the team that greenlit The Lone Ranger redux figures out how to get around the realities of the story.  Since Johnny Depp is auto-attached to play a part, Helena Bonham Carter will also be played the part of Beef Jerky Mom’s Ghost or something equally creepy.  Tim Burton will be masturbating in the corner and making points on the backend.

Mr. Big showed up because he was tired of working with old women on HBO and movies based on HBO shows.  His contract included a no Sharon Stone scenes stipulation, which the producers of Lovelace graciously honored.  He also got to whip Sarsgaard with a belt, which I have no idea was Behind The Scenes footage or scripted.  I mean I’ve seen actors do weirder shit at parties in the Hollywood Hills.  Truthfully.

James Franco played Hugh Hefner for ten minutes and solicited oral sex from Lovelace in a movie theatre while watching Lovelace perform oral sex in Deep Throat.  The whole sequence was brilliantly meta.  It was a blow job in a movie theater during a movie about a blow job in a scene in a bio pic about a woman who got famous for making a movie about a blow job.

Chloe Sevigny, who also performed oral sex in a movie (Vincent Gallo’s possibly rapey Brown Bunny) had a brief cameo, which I took as a high five to oral sex in the cinema, which insiders say might be the theme of the Oscars this year.

Chloe rehabbed from Brown Bunny by doing an HBO show about being one of three wives that ended up being way more about sex than it sounded like.  It sounded like a show about three people constantly telling me to put the toilet seat down.  Either way, I still love you Ginnifer Goodwin, even if you had sex scenes with the older brother from Weird Science who also was the star of Twister and went around the moon with Tom Hanks once in Apollo 13.

In the end, Lovelace teaches us that in the 1970s, doing porn and cocaine were both potentially bourgeoisie professions, but marrying a guy who pushes you into doing both may be dangerous even if he has elaborate facial hair and was so high on blow that he didn’t realize the French Connection wasn’t subtitled.

Another theme of note, if your mother looks like beef jerky, don’t listen to her about marriage.  Beef jerky was a total motif in the film, true grotesque imagery as a foreshadow not scene since Tess of the D’Urbervilles stalked Angel in that magical UK forest with snails crushing beneath her toes warning of a foreboding doom associated with love that could set her free, but likely would dirty her.  (This reference was brought to you by my expensive film education, no pictures please).

The film also taught me that Peter Sarsgaard, minus the domestic violence, would be hilarious to take to 1970s Las Vegas with Johnny Depp as Hunter S. Thompson.  He could turn some Oscar heads, especially if the aforementioned theme for the show is true.

RATING:  I give Lovelace 2.5 Sideburns up out of a possible 4, with 1.5 of them based solely on the fact that Peter Sarsgaard is a total animal and scared me in a good way.  Like riding a shark.

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Final BachCap

Wow.  Did we have one of Bachelor’s finest moments?  Did we waste more of our lives?  Where do we go from here?

I don’t know, but I know tomorrow is all sunshine and college football.  I’ve survived my 6th season (I think?) and we’re going out with a bang.  Unlike the fantasy suites which were more like “high school dance” suites.

This episode was strange.  The live element is always confusing.  Harrison keeps us waiting and continues interviewing women from the Island of Misplaced Singles who ranged from clingers, to people-who-are-glad-Palmolive-moisturizes-hands-while-you-scrub-pots to just lonely ass people who would rather live in someone else’s surreal life than their own existence.  What is the test they give you to be in the studio audience and where can I get a copy?

Sample questions:

1.  Have you ever cried in public because you thought you knew how a bird was feeling?
2.  Pink highlighter is perfect as a substitute for blush.  True or False?
3.  You consider Sean and Des your first breakup.
4.  Favorite Twilight novel?
5.  Have you had sex with your middle age husband in the last 4 years?
6.  Do your group of friends totally think you are the Zooey Deschanel of the group?

Or you could just be that weird ass dude in a blue satin shirt who snuck in possibly as the ass of a two person horse costume.  What the fuck.

On the island, Des looks like a Big Stick popsicle as she cries, alternating between red and yellow as she cannot get over the part of her uterus that makes her love chasing a man who at best doesn’t like girls and at worst doesn’t like her specifically.

She wants to go home.  She can’t go on.  How can life ever be the same now that a man who never claimed to love you admitted he didn’t love you?

Even scarier, somewhere on that island is your brother who is stalking jungle cats and planning to kill them with a switchblade.

Des still has dates to go on thanks to Chris Harrison giving her some MDMA and she makes a duck face in the mirror putting on her big stick makeup and then jumps on a horse, riding it like she is keeping carrots in her ass in case the horse gets hungry.  I’ve seen cowboys that lost their farm look happier on a horse than she did.

She gets to Valerie Kilmer who found a way to wear two pastels and also sported the best sweat stain of the season across his chest.  It was a total Harry Potter Voldemort lightning bolt sweat.  Or just a jagged wound from where Des ripped his heart out.

They rode horses with carrots up their asses down to a beach where Drew didn’t last 15 minutes before getting gutted like a luau pig.  He was all “I don’t know” so many times in a row that it was the total opposite of this classic song by Bill Withers.

He tries so hard to cry, but I feel like he was relieved because, like I said, this really good guy that I’d be proud to get a beer with doesn’t seem to like girls.  He tried to cry so hard.  It was amazing.  He was like cancer, dead puppies, dead puppies dead from cancer, famine, James Gandolfini, being late to a rack sale…  NONE OF IT WORKED and after all of it he was rewarded with a ride in a pastel molester van.

HUNGER GAMES BITCH.

Des was getting dressed and crying and you couldn’t help but notice her abs are in top form confirming the best diet is still being constantly dumped.

You notice right away with Middle School Dancer she’s in a good mood.  Like, she might even eat today.  They go on a “private” catamaran with about thirty other people and then drink Planter’s Punch or something cool and then swim and shit.  No helicopters, but she didn’t seem to want to drink Drain-O so I kept wondering what was next, if Brooks would pop out of the kelp and be like “hey” or if Des would try to rub her face on some coral until it hurt more than her heart.

Truthfully, Chris did great.  He was quite a rock and just hung in there and Des was like you are a loyal friend, which killed boners nationwide.  Still, this episode was about Des possibly breaking the convention girls everywhere never can…  COULD SHE PICK A MAN WHO MIGHT ACTUALLY LOVE HER?

It’s so weird because if a girl with a dickhead boyfriend were to ask her friends, they wouldn’t want to be with that guy themselves (unless they secretly hate their friend, in which case watch the throne, bitches).  Your friends always like the cool dude who makes your friend stable, brings wine to parties and will listen to you when you get kicked in the junk by another dude you were chasing.

I was dying to see if Des was going to make a change that’s so, well, un-Bachelorish.

Chris gets to meet the family and he dresses like he’s going to Toast on 3rd with a hangover.  Oh well.

We get to see Des’ brother again, dressed like he escaped a naval jail and he literally is the inspiration for Sean Penn in every film ever.  He looks like he is goating you to fight him all the time.  It was awful to watch Des unenthusiastically endorse Chris who she loves “today” or “in the moment” which totally sets the kill instincts off in her bro.

I honestly am terrified by him.  I wish he was the next bachelor.  It’d be like.  Everyone gets a knife. Whoever can cut themselves the longest gets to get a rose.  Here are your knives.

Regardless, we were getting close to the real deal happening.  Chris gets permission from Des’ father who seemed genuinely just happy to be on an island and not camping or whatever Des used to say her family did to survive.  It’s also hard to concentrate with his murderous son in the bushes holding a machete in his teeth claiming “I have to do this”.  Whatever that means.  I don’t wanna know.

Des clearly was specific with the cushioned cut diamond instructions because Neil Lane (or the plastic skin grafted plastic surgery frankentstein that runs Neil Lane’s company as Neil Lane) shows up to get his annual ring loan out of the way.  Weeks later, he gets it back.  He brings some bombs.  Chris picks one.  Des probably already picked it.

We get to the morning montage and we’re all wondering what’s going to happen and I have to say I was legit surprised.  I mean, Chris goes up there and he’s pretty chill albeit stop talking in poems dude, she’ll eventually consider how to kill you in her sleep and fuck the first surfer she can find.

Then, right at proposal, she stops him and we have that HERE WE GO moment.  She basically is about to talk about Brooks some more but totally turns it around being the first girl on television (and one of eight girls internationally) to ever get over someone they only liked because there was nothing there to go for a guy who will love them probably forever.

It was the most touching ending of the show I can remember.  Des even seemed happy on the after show, handling Brooks, whining from Valerie Kilmer and all the rest.  The only time I think she cringed was when Chris gave her a bunch of roses he hand framed with ANOTHER POEM JESUS! and I realized he has a lot in common with all my high school girlfriends.  Who keeps roses past prom?

Des is off into the sunset and so am I.  It was a pleasing end…  UNTIL WE WENT DIRECTLY TO PLEASURETOWN…

Juan fucking Pablo is the new bachelor.  My job is so easy.  For 6 seasons I’ve been calling dates Juan on Juans.  He is a walking sex bomb who will using Camila (Cah mee lah) for an aphrodisiac and this man will take every helicopter, rappelling trip, etc he can.

I am totally ready for January, I think it may be my finest work.

To my readers who may leave me now, may I thank you for another fun season.  I love messing with you guys and it’s a real treat in the football offseason.  This winter, I plan to write about some things beyond sports, so please don’t shut me out completely.  You have to accept this rose.

I’ll miss you, but you know where to find me.  I, for Juan, look forward to our next meeting.

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