Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Passive Research

Pure Research, you have a face.

Just got done watching a Nova special about a group of researchers, Coastal Carolina Interns and Egyptian carpenters attempting to build and sail a ship based on a 3,800 year old Egyptian design. It was paradigm shifting, but only in the limited realm of Naval-Egyptology.

Actually, halfway through the show the complete flipping amazingness of the whole thing cut through our jaded self-image to the scared hurt little boy at our core. Holy Moses on a surfboard! That's a totally awesome feat of human ingenuity! A triumph of the intellect and a testament to determination! Our miserable little souls are well past the age of 22 and the closest we've come to such a feat is driving to Chattanooga high on shroom's just to get some mother fucking waffles. I swear, every damned Waffle House between North Avenue and the state line was full of cops. Unfriggin' believable.

Lost. We were lost in a Jungian tempest I tell you. It was one of those "this is not my beautiful stapler, this is not my beautiful chair" moments where we look at ourselves and question who we are. Why are we here? Why are we wasting our time making mortgage payments and climbing the corporate ladder? What happened to that idealistic youngster we used to know? The one that was going to dream big and do something that fed the soul and not just the pocket book? We strayed away from an idealistic path of intellectual pursuits and moral integrity into the petit bourgeois cul de sac of fantasy football, Patagonia Fleece jackets and James Cameron films. Ours had become a nasty little land of ass kissing and back stabbing. We were preparing to throw it all out: the car, the house, the swimming pool, the six figure salary and the golden parachute. We were going time share with Jeremiah Johnson, bitches.

But just before we got off the couch to scream our irrational infantile fantasies from the roof of the carport a man came into our life and saved us from a huge mistake. Maybe you know this man; he sure knows you. His name is Lane Kiffin.

Forget about big dreams!
Forget about intellectual pursuits!
Forget about Triumph of the Will!
And most of all, Forget about integrity!

None of that shit matters! Just be the biggest turd in the bucket and sell, sell... sellout!

His teams don't win. He has no understanding of NCAA by-laws. He can barely speak. And now he's head coach of the USC. Bless his heart.


  1. Don't sit there and try to tell me you'd pass up the opportunity to finger-bang half the Song Girls!

  2. This off season just went puerto rican rum sidewise... Oh the humanity! Soilant green is people!!! When was the last time there were this many coaching changes and mass hysteria at the end of a foobaw season???

  3. Ahhh, to be the biggest turd in the turd bucket. That leaves the question: is USC athletic director Mike Garrett the Colonel Sanders of college football? I may disagree with you on who the biggest turd is. Ed Orgeron calling recruits & begging them to leave Tennessee as Kiffin was making his announcement is turdtastic stuff. Evidently he told them to check into hotels instead of staying on campus so they would be eligible to head to USC. Fucking douchebags, the lot of them....