Kiss the rings
It’s that time of year again. Christmas trees are going up, the Dolphins are mathematically eliminated from the playoffs, and Urban Meyer is retiring. Much like hiring brazilian models to hold up my stockings for the month, mourning Urban’s retirement is swiftly becoming a holiday tradition around the Vato mansion-hold (poor people have households).
Thanks for the memories, Urban. Take it away, Bone
SEC 37, Texas 21: Texas tried to get a little frisky late in the game when Alabama was already focused on eatin’ some Bevo, but this was all SEC. If it wasn’t for a couple inexplicable Alabama brain farts, Texas would have scored 7 tops.
Nick Saban Getting Clocked by the Gatorade Cooler – God this made my whole night. My favorite part is he walks around being pissy like someone just broke his barbie for a good ten minutes, while his team locks down the championship. Only Osama Bin Saban. The good news, Nickie? Urban Meyer still did your wife.
SEC Takes home 4th Consecutive National Championship - Listen I’m no math scientist, but there are 120 teams in NCAA Div 1 FBS. There are 12 teams in the SEC. We have won the BCS title 4 years in a row. I ain’t sayin’, I’m just sayin’.
Urban Meyer Still Actively Involved in Recruiting: Oh, we know what Urban is recruiting. Beeeeyitches. Guarantee you he’s been blowing up Layla Kiffin’s cell phone every day. “Yeah, it’s dat boy Urban. What? I’m a changed man, check out the Range man! I got a whole new game plan”
TSYOTB: Fair and balanced. - From the incomporable LSUFreek, via the equally awesome hub of SEC centric ridiculosity everydayshouldbesaturday.com, are these masterpieces depicting Alabama’s storied coaching history. My favorite:
If you don’t think that Saban wasn’t responsible for Urban Meyer’s failing health, you are straight tripping son. I’m telling you right now: Meyer v. Saban is turning into this generation’s Shillinger v. Beecher. They are both total sociopaths. Urban-bot is better capable of pretending to be affected by these “Human Emotions” he hears tell of, but that’s it.
First, Urban banged Saban’s wife and crushes the entire state of Alabama* in last year’s SEC Championship game bitching. Saban, with intricate plans consisting of wheels within wheels, plots for the next year against Urban. All his plans coming to fruition with a thumping revenge in this years SEC Title game and the destruction of Urban’s health. Next year? Glad you asked.
My guess is Urban Meyer hires a gigolo, Gay Hank, to gradually seduce Nick Saban. Over time, Saban’s reluctance fades, and he abandons his wife to live with his gay lover. And then the day before the SEC Championship, the gigolo reveals he was a plant by Urban Meyer, and doesn’t actually love Saban. Meanwhile, Urban has been having his plant grind a small amount of glass into a fine powder, and pour it into the baby blood that Saban drinks every night before bed (this is a fact**). This slowly shreds Saban’s digestive tract over time. When the stress of Gay Hank playing him and Bama losing to Florida in the SEC Title in the same day hit’s Saban, his failing system finally shuts down, sending him into a 2 month coma, at which point Urban steals all of Alabama’s commits.
*My favorite story: Mark Ingram Sr. was supposed to turn himself in on a money laundering bid, but went on the lamb to watch his son in the SEC Title game. Alabama proceeds to get trounced by Florida, Ingram Sr. is re arrested and has substantial time added to his sentence. Pwned. Actually, this partially explains why Ingram went totally Beast Mode on us in the title game this year. Revenge pwned.
**Not a fact (but still likely)
Via The Examiner comes this interesting little tidbit about a New Jersey high school girls basketball player that is lobbying the US Congress for federal head injury guidelines after suffering 11 concussions. TYSOTB was unable to locate video footage of any of the incidents, but it’s safe to say this is a fair approximation.
New Jersey Girl Suffers Concussion
We do, however, have a video transcript of the testimony, which really gets going around 1:35.
Inspirational. But this story suggests a few obvious questions.
1) What in the hell do you have to do to suffer 11 concussions in high school girls’ basketball by age 16? Does this chick just run around all Corky-ish, bouncing like a pinball off concrete walls? Or did she just Gus Frerotte herself by headbutting the wall every time she made a layup?
2) What precisely would you like the federal government to do about it? What guidelines do you want? Full blast helmets for the basketball teams?
3) While we’re at it, how exactly do you tell when a 16 year old girl has a concussion? Do they suddenly become good drivers and stop saying “like”every 3 words? Maybe they begin thinking rationally, and appreciating the consequences of their actions? I suspect a more accurate description of the diagnosis process is that there’s no fucking way to tell. This is the twitter account for 11-time concussee Niki Popyer. This is the twitter account for a randomly selected teenage girl from a search for “Justin Beiber” tweets. I defy you to examine these objectively and show me some evidence of diminished mental capacity in the multiple concussion victim.
4) This is more a thought than a question, but as VL rightly notes, the smart money is on this chick catching at least 8 of those concussions getting railed dog fashion in the back seat of some dude’s cutlass.
It is looking like Tiger and the lovely Ms. Nordegren are splitsville. That means we have a beautiful swedish bikini model complete with recent emotional trauma and tens of millions of disposable income entering the singles market. She is instantly the most desirable woman in America.
It has also come to the attention of TYSOTB that Elin Nordegren is enrolled as a part time graduate student at Rollins College in Orlando Florida. Could you imagine going to your Rollins buddies christmas party only to have Elin Woods Nordegren blow up the spot? We can, and have. At great length.
The Scenario: We assume you are not devestatingly handsome billionaires, and instead men of average attractiveness. You are at the Christmas party, and Elin shows up with two of her friends. How do you play this?
Vote for who you think has the best shot in the comments. Or if you find us to be hopelessly inept (you fool), comment with the game plan you would go with. LETS ROLL.
My theory is that Elin is too far above any normal target parameters to rely on standard strategy. The only feasible option is to get two standard deviations drunker then she could reasonably expect, and shoot from the hip. The first step is deploying to the kitchen, and drinking all of the host’s finest whiskey.
When I am nice and sauced, I stumble over to the target and pour my glass of whiskey on her chest.
“Oh goodness, your boobs seem to have gotten in the way of my drink. My apologies. Hey, aren’t you the hosts mother?”
An embarrased, and notably flustered Elin responds that she is not. I feign minor sheepishness.
“A thousand pardons. I feel like King Gustav I at the battle of Brannkyrka!”
My quick iphone wiki search of Sweden has intrigued her, and I reluctantly admit that I am indeed descended from Swedish royalty. Meanwhile, my wingmen have engaged her two friends in a game of flip cup that had only two openings left. Elin and I continue to reminisce about her homeland, while I periodically nod and interject my disdain for peasants.
“I weary of this. Would you care to join me for some traditional American dining?” I inquire. We leave for a romantic dining experience at the nearest Waffle House. I impress her with my order of Texas Cheesesteak with Hashbrowns smothered, covered, diced and oh yes, topped with Bert’s Chili. I order an extra side of bacon, and we finish the last slice together, Lady and the Tramp style.
Then we bang.
I see Elin enter from my vantage point next to the liquor table, back to the wall, surrounded by mixed group of company. My left foot rests slightly ahead of the right, with tilted slightly outward. I put my thumbs in my belt loops, and set my chin at 3.5 degrees above level, and 16.76 degrees left of center. Mindful of the 3-second rule, I decide to approach, but don’t want to look eager, so I wait for the first available 3 seconds after my current conversation. Elin’s set approaches the table to get wine, which is obviously a proximity IOI. I walk toward the kitchen, intersecting the tangeant of the set at 53 degrees, and deliver over the shoulder my go-to “my friends ditched me” opener to the potential cock-block, a lowly HB7:
“Hey guys, you won’t believe this. All week, me and my friends have been planning on going out and having a good time, so we made plans to go out tonight. Well, one by one they call me up and say stuff like “I’m too tired.” Some friends huh? But maybe there’s more to this, because last week two of my friends had a fight over some girl they both like, so the situation is all weird. Do you guys have any friends who got split up by someone they both liked?”
Elin is staring at Deutschbag and Vato Loco (naturally), so I immediately shift to A2 and deliver a neg (“whats with your friend? is she always like this?”), followed by a level 2 DHV spike (“you know, at the university where i’m a professor, my gorgeous 18 year old students that i’ve dated always pay attention to me!”). Elin immediately grabs my penis, so I move quickly to A3, playfully push her away, and ask her if she can cook, but not what her favorite novel is, since I don’t want to overqualify. Having achieved a solid HP, i introduce kino, and walk Elin out to the balcony for “fresh air.” I kino escalate, i drop my story about my regret over a lack of emotional attachment to my grandmother. She’s a little tipsy, so i suggest we bounce to a local coffee house for a nightcap. I initiate C3 with a tried and true future projection NLP routine:
“You really have to go with me to my friend’s beach house in Mexico with me! It will be so much fun! Imagine you and me lying on the beach in the warm sun relaxing with a cold tall glass of pina colada listening to the waves of the ocean. Can you feel the warm sand between your toes? I notice you need more sun block on your shoulders and back so I help you put some on like this.”
I demonstrate a sun-block application motion, and kiss close. We cab it back to Vato’s place, but apparently I’ve triggered her ASD and she puts up some pretty serious LMR. I immediately initiate a freeze-out, and walk into the kitchen to make myself a can of hormel chili with beans. Within seconds, Elin follows me and I BJ close her and pass out. In the morning, since I’m pretty sure Vato passed out either on a A) toilet seat somewhere on Church Street, B) behind a dumpster on OBT, or least likely, C) on Deutschbag’s couch, I fuck close Elin on Vato’s bed. naturally, she’s enamored, and hints at wanting a LTR. I inform her that im only in the market for ONSs, with perhaps exceptions for occasional MLTRs (and MLTR^2s and MLTR^3s of course).
Just as Elin’s cab pulls out, Vato gets home, and relates a story of how he almost banged a FUG. He has really bad MPB.
Upon her and her friends entering the room, I make immediate eye contact. I return to my conversation with the three drunk sorority girls surrounding me and simply bide my time. Thirty minutes go by, Elin is drinking a glass of wine and acting as if she is completely bored. Clearly she is playing the game of a chick who wants attention, so I ignore her for another thirty minutes. A few more RBV’s go down, and I decide to go in.
“Hey Elin” I say, “I see you have been working on your golf game lately. You are pretty good with that 9-iron. How’s your putting?”
She buys it. Why? Because every chick, even uber millionaires, like guys who are completely insensitive to their feelings and are willing to “keep it real.”
Plus she is Swedish, so there is no way she speaks good English or even understand the sarcasm in my voice as I deliver the line.
The conversation goes along for a while, mostly I inform her of my awesome gamerscore on Xbox Live and advise her that if she gave more blowjobs she might not have marital problems. Most of my game revolves around belittling her in a humorous manner, and then I mention “you know it’s too bad you aren’t as hot as those Perkins waitresses” which then sets the tipping point.
By now her friends are completely drunk, and I’m getting sick of having to talk to this chick for over 10 minutes. I tell her that I will be right back, and I go over and start hitting on her drunk friends. I look back and notice that she is completely jealous and at a loss for words. I walk back over and say “listen, usually I don’t bang chicks like you, but tonight I will make an exception.” She then proceeds to drag me into the nearest bathroom.
Great success.
Have you heard about this? Apparently theres some golfer named Tiger something, and I think he cheated on his wife. I don’t know, I think its a regional story.
Wait… whats that I hear…
Dear god its the FAUX MORAL OUTRAGE ALARM! Quick hide behind these anti-pretension blankets. This should protect you from hypocritical white people playing up how offended they are about things for attention.
Phew, that was close. Now that we are safe, let me give you the bullet points on the Offical TYSOTB Stance on the Tiger Woods scandal.
i. Tiger is a man. He wants, like any other man with the same evolutionary instincts, to fornicate with as many chicks as possible. Luckily, his position at the very top of the desirability ladder allows him to spread his seed with a great many. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
ii. A family life is probably a neccesity for Tiger. He is a fairly well adjusted dude, and probably wants someone to spend thanksgiving and christmas with, and to bear his children in a stable environment. And lets face it, he is a black man dominating an elitist white mans game. He needs to conform in as many ways as he can. One of those ways is having a beautiful wife with a couple of little rugrats around. He cannot get away with the Derek Jeter nailing every model very publicly thing. It just wouldn’t work in Tiger’s position.
iii. Now is where his only, yet critical, error occurs. He selects his trophy wife as Elin Nordegren. The daughter of a successful journalist and politician, and by all acounts she is as well educated and well adjusted a person as there is. The well adjusted part is the problem. It appears that she entered into this marriage and relationship with the full expectation of fidelity from Tiger.
iv. The most important aspect of the trophy wife is a willingness to understand that fidelity is not guaranteed. When you are at home, you are a family man. But what happens on the road stays on the road. Tiger isn’t going to rub your nose in it, and he won’t have some bastards pop up… just don’t ask questions. That is the athletes code.
v. This agreement was either not reached at the beginning as it should have been, or eventually it grew to be too much for Elin. She flips out, and the rest is history. Let’s not forget that homegirl is a Viking, they ain’t to be messed with.
CONCLUSION: This is an unfortunate turn of events that played out in the age of the internet and the omnipresent public eye. I do not fault Tiger here, and if anything I think he is being victimized by our societies unquenchable thirst for scandal and drama. I have less sympathy for Elin, who was at BEST naive when entering the union, and more likely is being hypocritical now. For god’s sake, she has a MARRIAGE CONTRACT.
Post Script: I have a source that claims during Tiger’s days plowing through Stanford coeds he earned the nickname “Tripod”. Man, typical black guy. Always good at photography.
Editors note: The Speakerboxx(x) adds the below thoughts:
I want to add a short postscript here on the faux moral outrage subject. One thing that drives me fucking crazy are the legions of termites that crawl out of the woodwork after shit like this spouting the tired-ass role model sermon. Let’s get one thing straight. Tiger DON’T OWE YOU SHIT and he DON’T OWE YOUR KIDS SHIT. Anybody that says you are obligated to a higher moral standard because it is a privilege to be a professional athlete is, with no cute analogy or qualification, a fucking idiot. It’s impossible for most people to conceive of how hard this guy worked for how long to get where he is. And yes, I know that you all work hard, but I’m not talking about showing up at your office 10 hours a day, or throwing bricks on a scaffold on a Florida construction site in July, which is hard work indeed. I’m talking about busting your ass every second of every day to find almost non existent flaws in you skill set and then fix them. I’m talking about an unimaginable constant obsession with making yourself the best you can possibly be. It’s not his fault that his skill set happens to be highly valued in the market.
So let’s dispense with this ridiculous notion that being the richest athlete ever was some privilege honorably bestowed upon Tiger in exchange for his promise to abide by a stricter set of rules than the rest of us. Tiger has EARNED the RIGHT to do whatever the fuck he wants within the same rule of law that governs the behavior of the rest of us. Relatedly, he should retain the same rights as the rest of us, including that to privacy which has been detestably violated. This whole thing is a complete non-story, and like VL mentioned, is being driven by us, not by his behavior.
To conclude, if I may invoke the spirit of warrior-poet Chuck Barkley, Tiger’s job is to play golf, not to be a role model. If you don’t like his behavior, you better be there to tell your kids thats not how you want them to behave. The problem of course, is that probably 100% of the people most vociferously condemning Tiger have, or will engage in the exact same behavior they are criticizing.
Rachel Uchitel - Road Beef Zero
