You can file this one under “and more.” Anyone who knows The Nash knows that he loves him some Michigan football like a fat kid loves Twinkies…oh, sorry fat kid. Too early. Those same people also know that he HATES the BCS, and has since its inception. College football has always been different than every other sport and psuedo-sport (I’m looking at you soccer) because it wasn’t based entirely upon winning a Championship of the World. Instead, it lent itself nicely to regional rivalries and creating a way for cold Midwesterners to see the sun on January 1. Don’t get me wrong; college football has always had a national champion crowned at the end of the year, but that champion sometimes turned out to be multiple champions, based upon which poll one was looking at. And while some people grumbled about whether the most deserving team won the championship (like Michigan in 1997) or whether it was a team that won because the other coaches wanted to give its retiring coach a going-away present (like Nebraska in 1997), no one really seemed to care all that much. Why? Because college football was about drinking, eating grilled meat-products, and laughing at the misfortune of your fellow man.
Unfortunately, the chorus of drunk college students complaining that their team wasn’t getting a fair shake because the national champion was based on polls with built-in biases, and structured so that nothing mattered except the number of losses a team had, began to grow. Everyone, including myself, agreed that the polls were a joke, but who cares? We were drinking, eating, and laughing at others. But major football conferences, and their respective university presidents, agreed with the drunken chorus (and by “agreed,” I mean saw an opportunity to make huge sums of money). Thus was born the Bowl Championship Series.
The entire stated purpose of the BCS was to match Nos. 1 and 2 in a season-ending national championship game. There would also be three other BCS games, all of which paid out ridiculous sums of money to the participating universities and conferences. Contrary to the beliefs of the idiots who gave us the BCS, it wasn’t an improvement over the old system because it still selected the teams for the national championship game with a biased poll with strength of schedule rendered virtually meaningless. This resulted in teams watering down their out of conference schedules even more than before because a loss could “ruin” their season. Soon after the creation of the BCS, teams outside BCS conferences started complaining about how they were being left out of the
money-grab championship picture, so the struture needed to be changed to allow some smaller schools with truly terrible schedules into the mix. At the end of the day, the drunk college students still weren’t happy and began hollering about a playoff. Eventually, the drive for a playoff gained steam, and here we are today.
Because of the money involved, and the additional money that can be made from a playoff, the major college football landscape is shifting to four mega-conferences. From the four mega-conferences will inevitably come a four-team playoff. This is the crappiest idea ever, but whatever. In the most recent expansion, the Big Ten, or B1G, or whatever they’re calling it now, has added two new teams: Maryland and Rutgers. This brings its number to 14, which, like the other four mega-conferences, will eventually grow to 16. There are many who HATE the addition of Maryland and Rutgers. And to every one of those people who also championed the BCS fifteen or so years ago I say this: you got what you deserved.
Let’s face it. Maryland and Rutgers are crappy additions. They’re both generally terrible at football, and usually fail to fill their modest-sized stadiums. They were selected, however, because they’re in the Northeast and will hopefully bring more viewers to the Big Ten Network, the B1G’s crappy television network. I’m allowed to complain because I simply want my January 1 bowl games back, and always have. Those that were all excited about the BCS can suck it though. This is what happens when it’s all about the money. Everyone needs to find a seat before the music stops. And yes, while Maryland and Rutgers are terrible, there’s only so many supermodel programs to go around. At least they don’t threaten to throw off the balance of power in the conference.
So what’s the lesson to take from this? Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. And it will totally suck. Unless it’s Michigan who wins the Championship of the World. Then it will be totally awesome.
If I ran this country, we would have hundreds of special days where we celebrate completely arbitrary and inane differences in our society. So you can only imagine how excited I was when I read that the Pentagon was going to celebrate gay pride month in the military for the first time ever. I’m not sure how they’re going to mark such an occasion, but I certainly hope it doesn’t include painting our tanks in rainbow colors…since that would only work for camouflage in Care Bear Country.
Just kidding. I don’t actually find these sorts of celebrations useful. In fact, I find them to be dumb. Plus, I’m pretty sure gay people already have a holiday, and it lasts an entire week. Obviously I’m talking about Gay Days in Las Vegas, which runs from September 4-10 at the Fabulous Tropicana Hotel. It’s highlighted by “A Taste of Gay Days,” which I’m not interested in learning more about.
Plus, the military already has two of its own holidays: Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Shouldn’t these days cover the gay soldiers too? And if not, why?
Details are still being worked out, but officials say Defense Secretary Leon Panetta wants to honor the contributions of gay service members.
Are these contributions different than those of straight soldiers? Are we supposed to be giving high-fives to the gay soldiers who shot their enemies instead of asking them out for a drink after the battle?
And why don’t I have a day? I contribute to stuff. Where is the “straight, bald, white guy, father of three” day? Why aren’t I celebrated with bikini-clad women bringing me beer while telling me how wonderful I am, as my children conduct races to see how quickly they can clean the house? Oh, that’s the other 11 months of the year you say? Well you obviously haven’t met my children.
Of course, all of these special celebrations are the work of liberals who need to find a way to assuage their irrational guilt over bad things that happen to other people, while simultaneously not having to actually meet any of those other people. Next thing you know, we’re going have a separate Mother’s Day for those addicted to crack. It’ll be a day to acknowledge the contributions of mothers who locked their children in the storm cellar for playing a rousing game of “hot, cold” with her pipe. It’ll be called “Moms Who Steal Money Out of Junior’s Piggy-Bank Pride Day.” I think I’ll start making T-shirts.
This post is what’s known as catharsis. I took part in a loud discussion last night with my extended family. In fact, it was so loud, some of my family members completely wuss’d out and left. We have words for those people in these parts: losers who would be the first to be eaten during a zombie apocalypse. The discussion centered around whether college football players should be “paid.” I’m sure you’ve heard the argument before: these schools make huge dollars off of these poor, sad college athletes, and they can’t even afford to buy a pizza. Oh, and their knees will hurt forever. Of course, when one of these sad athletes breaks the rules, they aren’t caught with free pizzas; they’re caught getting free tattoo’s, or cars, or houses; but I digress…. Now, some argued that there shouldn’t be any athletic scholarships for academic institutions. That’s fine. I can appreciate that argument, and even support it. There is something a bit off when one person needs to score a certain SAT score or have a certain GPA to get into college, while some other guy just has to be able to be 300 pounds and spell his name. But that wasn’t the point of the argument.
The discussion hit its “loudness” apex when someone actually uttered something about slavery. And by “apex” I mean that’s when I started to get truly loud because the comment was so absurd I almost spit out my drink. And this person was one of my more conservative family members! Give me a break. Nobody is forcing the poor kids to play a college sport. They do it voluntarily. And with good reason. They don’t have any problem getting chicks.
I’ve always argued that the “should we pay college athletes” is a non-sensical starting point because we already pay them. And if you ask all of the Occupy-Wall-Streeters, we pay college athletes a lot…since they come out of college with no debt. And don’t forget about room and board, and that stipend they get to, you guessed it, buy pizza with if they’d like. At that point, several people said to me, and I’m paraphrasing here, “who cares if they get a degree? It’s not like they’re going to class or getting a real education.” I’m not sure what is meant by “real education,” but I’m guessing it involves something other than not going to class and graduating with a worthless major. Later, someone else argued that a college degree is only worth the tuition amount, while the school is raking in a disproportionate amount in revenue. It’s at this point that I, admittedly, lost my mind. Not only because it’s a completely ridiculous argument, but because it’s a completely disingenuous argument…and by disingenuous, I mean no one defending the argument actually agrees with the assertion in their own lives.
I asked one of my family members if they would be sending their kid to college. Knowing the answer before they answered the question, I asked “why?” Well, they didn’t answer the question, only offering a sly smile. Others accused me of “brow-beating” or asking irrelevant questions. It wasn’t surprising that my opponents aggressively avoided this point. The answer is obvious. You send your kids to school because a college degree — any degree — vastly improves their chances of living a comfortable life. Does it matter if the kid got an “education” when he was in school, whatever that may mean? Is a football player getting a free degree in exercise science any different than a pot-smoking/alcohol-binging student who barely makes it to class, borderline flunks out, and then takes a fifth-year glory lap to graduate with a 2.0 gpa and a communications degree? While doing it on his/her parents’ dime? There’s no difference. At all. At least the football player gives me something to do on Saturday.
The conversation got so far afield that we talked about non-revenue sports and Title IX. Geez, at one point someone divided the football revenue of the University of Michigan and deemed paying every football player a little over $1 million was reasonable. None of this, of course, matters in relation to the ultimate point. The entire argument that we should pay college athletes is based on one premise: that someone getting a college degree, that they would likely be unable to obtain without an athletic scholarship, is of no value; or that its value is somehow less than what they’re getting in return. While shooting from the hip, I offered an argument that would have garnered immediate agreement on any other day (although by that point my opponents had dug themselves in so deep that they wouldn’t concede anything). What argument you ask? That, regardless of the “education” one receives, simply owning that stupid little piece of paper called a degree matters. A lot.
The report titled “The Big Payoff: Educational Attainment and Synthetic Estimates of Work-Life Earnings” (.pdf) reveals that over an adult’s working life, high school graduates can expect, on average, to earn $1.2 million; those with a bachelor’s degree, $2.1 million; and people with a master’s degree, $2.5 million.
There are plenty of things in life that I don’t understand. But if I think about them long and hard enough, I can begin to wrap my brain around them. For example: light beer. Why? It’s barely beer. And it tastes like crap. But I can comprehend it after thinking about it for a while. It’s low in calories and at least isn’t a Zima. I saw one thing during my drive home from work though, that I simply can’t wrap my brain around. And I tried. I really, really did. You’ve all seen them at one time or another. Hanging there from the bumper of some jacked up truck. You probably took a double-take just to confirm that what you thought you saw you actually saw. That’s right: testicles. Or, as this website calls them, Bumper Nuts.
Why would someone feel the need to hang a set of these from their bumper? Does the giant truck not already compensate for your emotional problems? Did someone actually walk up to their automobile one day and say, “hey, you know what’s missing? A set of steel balls.” And what do these appendages signify? Does it give your truck “balls?” If yes, what exactly does that mean? Is the driver wanting us to believe that the hangers are actual copies of his testicles? Because if they are, you should get yourself checked out by a doctor.
I’ve seen lots of random stuff on cars. Sometimes I cringe to think that my children can read them. Sometimes I laugh though. “My other ride is your mom” for example, is kind of clever. The steel balls though? Not so much.
I saw a pair on an Astro Van today. Yes. An Astro Van. Not on the bumper though. They were actually hanging underneath the car…around the rear axle. And the dude driving was white, around 45 years old, and had his kids in the back. I certainly hope someone was playing a prank on the poor guy, and he just hasn’t noticed. If not, well…
Another possible title of this post could have been: MTV inappropriate for anyone under 21, unless you’re a pedophile. Apparently MTV’s new show “Skins” depicts a 17 year old running down the street naked, and therefore, may have violated child porn laws. A 17 year old running down the street naked? Where I come from, that means you scored “zero” on whatever game you were playing. Just prior to the jog, one may hear the following: “bob’s the big loser; time for a naked run; everyone get your cameras!” So, count me as someone who doesn’t think depicting a 17 year old dude running naked is child porn…it’s just awkward.
The foregoing should in no way be interpreted as me thinking MTV is appropriate for, well, anyone, however. When I was a kid, my parents strictly prohibited the watching of MTV. Of course, I watched it anyway, and then blamed my sisters for it. Times have changed though, and sneaking some MTV no longer amounts to being subjected to songs about stuff that’s “wiggity, wiggity, wiggity, wack.” Now, the kids get to watch shows like “Skins.”
What is “Skins” you ask? Well, I’ve never seen the American version, but I have watched the U.K. version…and if the American version is anything like the U.K. version (which it appears to be from the clips I’ve watched), than it should be reserved for Showtime. The problem: 1.2 million under-18 kids watched the American premiere.
So, what have we learned? Should we blame MTV for pushing teenage sex (either real or fiction)? No. Should we blame kids for being dumb? No. Both are doing what comes naturally. Have our societal values eroded over the last 20 years? Obviously. The important question is: Where were the parents of those 1.2 million? My guess: watching re-runs of Remote Control with Ken Ober.
Sharks fascinate me. Always have, always will. Every year, I wait for some fools to get eaten’ during Shark Week. I watch every episode multiple times (even the one where those jerks at Mythbusters tried to prove that Roy Scheider couldn’t actually blow up the shark by shooting the scuba tank clutched in its jaws). In fact, before I became boring, I was going to be a marine biologist simply so I could play with sharks. I catch all the shark movies…especially the really awesome ones on Sy-Fy (the channel formerly known as the Science Fiction channel). You know what I’m talking about…the ones about scientists discovering prehistoric sharks during Spring Break, or genetically mutated sharks during Spring Break, or mega sharks that battle mega-crocs during Spring Break? You watch them too.
When I was a kid, I often terrified myself with thoughts of the ocean flooding our house and waking up with sharks eating my feet. Of course, these fears were absurd, since I lived in Michigan. Apparently, the thought is not so absurd in Goodna, Australia, where because of the flooding of local rivers, sharks have been spotted swimming down mainstreet!
Two bull sharks, renown for their aggression, were spotted swimming through the flooded streets of a small town in the inundated Australian state of Queensland, the Queensland Times reported Friday.
Rivers you ask? Yes, bull sharks can survive in fresh water for a time and do swim up rivers. So there’s your science lesson for the day. So, while they’re not technically mutated, it’s still pretty cool. I’m sure you find this to be as cool as I do right? Anyone? Well, if you don’t, it’s because you’re a complete loser who drives a 1977 station wagon and has no friends. There, I said it.
Moral of the story: you can now frighten your children with thoughts of them waking up one evening during a heavy rain storm with sharks in their bed, and have some basis for it. Only when they’ve been naughty, of course.
Well, I’m at a loss for words.
The beer is placed inside a pocket of salty, pretzel-like dough and then dunked in oil at 375 degrees for about 20 seconds, a short enough time for the confection to remain alcoholic. When diners take a bite the hot beer mixes with the dough in what is claimed to be a delicious taste sensation.
Holy crap! It’s not just deep fried beer, it’s deep fried beer in a soft pretzel! “Delicious taste sensation?” That’s the best you can do? Only a chef in Texas could figure this out. Stephen Hawking? If you were truly a genius, you would have done this a long time ago. Simply put, there’s only one thing that could top this: Deep fried sex (with your opposite sex spouse of course).