Thursday, November 10, 2011
Testing...Is This Thing On?
For all the three people that have read this blog, I'm testing other waters so to speak. There is a chance that I'll be moving over to wetrevenge.tumblr.com if indeed Tumblr is easier to post to. I'll keep you updated, all of you.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Missouri Accepted Into SEC
Picture a fat, southern gentlemen standing in a dark alley alone. He is wearing a white and blue pin-stripe suit, and his suspenders are the only thing holding in his massive belly. He adjusts his pants, grunts, and taps his cigar on a dumpster to knock off the excess ash. He puffs the giant cigar, and in the glow of the orange light, you can see his red face, goiters, warts. He laughs gutturally, then beckons you over to him with a toad like hand, swollen and red, as he unzips his fly. You know what he wants. He knows you know what he wants, and you know that if you go into that alley you'll come out and your mother will not recognize you, you will have night terrors, and you will never use the restroom the same again.
Would you walk into that alley?
Neither would I, but good ol' Mizzou would!
This post is going to be all about the death of Tiger pride, because the SEC and the good ol' boys that run the South East Cheaters are going to make Mizzou their bitch. I submit three scenarios for your consideration:
Scenario One: A Conference Meeting
Representatives from LSU, Alabama, Auburn, Florida, Tennessee, and Georgia, are all seated at one end of the table. The pecking order is clear from here: running down the table (in order of importance) are the representatives from Mississippi State (bucktoothed), Ole Miss (twice as bucktoothed), Arkansas (inbred and bucktoothed) South Carolina (an actual game cock is sitting at the table...hehe), Kentucky (it's Calipari, now coaching football because he can cheat more), and the guy from Vanderbilt is sipping froofy coffee and straitening the tie beneath his sweater vest.
Enter Mizzou guy (nice looking, respectable, suit and tie, a little young but an over achiever, looks overly excited to be here, like a freshman invited to an upperclassman's party with girls and booze).
The representatives from the six schools that matter start the meeting. The buckteeths, cocks, and Calipari all agree with what's being said, with guffaws from the buckeeths, nods from the cock, Calipari sniggering like Mutley whenever money is mentioned, and Vandy is crying after running probability statistics on his school's chances of ever winning another game in the SEC.
Mizzou guy thinks it's time to pipe in, and that his comments are welcome. He states Mizzou's opinion on what's being discussed, and how he thinks the league should proceed. The buckteeths drool on the table in absolute shock, the cock shrivels in his seat (this is way too much fun) and Calipari is under the table sniffing the crotches and pilfering loose change from the pockets of the big six. Vandy is in the restroom changing his tampon.
From the head of the table, LSU guy looks at Bama guy, who looks at Gator guy, who looks at the neon orange Vol guy, who then looks at Auburn guy, and they all discharge spit into the collective spittoon on the table. They wave a finger towards Mizzou guy, and Georgia complies by dumping the contents of the spittoon onto Mizzou guy's head. The buckteeths go off like chimpanzees in heat, humping walls, chairs, and each other, the cock stiffens at the awkwardness of the situation (I'm not nearly done), Calipari kills a hooker and drinks her blood like it's Kool-Aid, and Vanderbilt has left the meeting to go home and watch Steel Magnolias with his girlfriends.
Mizzou guy dabs a napkin at his spit-covered face. He now understands the mistake they have made in joining ranks with the most inbred conference in college football. He calls the Big 12 and asks for readmission on his way back to his car, only to be laughed at from the other end: "Sorry," says Big 12 guy, "but we're happy having picked up the Mountaineers (though they're a bit rowdy) and the Horned Toads, effectively upping our football strength of schedule, and adding another purple team to our conference. Go to hell you slime-sucking Mizzou sonsofabitches." *Click*.
And that's only scenario one...
Scenario Two: Embellished Power Rankings
Just for kicks and giggles, let's run each of the teams in the SEC against Mizzou to see where Mizzou might wind up! Strap in and bite down on the bit clamp: this is going to get ugly.
For starters, let's just pit the kittens against two real Tiger football teams: LSU and Auburn.
Is there really a chance that Mizzou beats either of these teams with any sort of regularity? Barring the occasional and mathematically unavoidable upset (say once a decade) will Mizzou ever be able to compete with the talent pool that is constantly being pumped into these two schools? I'm serious, Mizzou should have to change their mascot to the Weasels or the Pig-Vaginas, because they're going to get destroyed playing these two teams.
What about Alabama, a national title contender in two of the past three years? Roll Tide rolls right over Mizzou.
Tennessee? Sure they've been down recently, but not down enough to lose to a crappy imitation of a spread offense. And this brings up another interesting point: Mizzou runs the spread as a crutch, to make up for the fact that their fundamentally undersized, undertalented, and outclassed by most opponents. The spread works in the Big 12 because the Big 12 is not known for its incredible speed (with the exception being teams like UT, OU, and OSU). By spreading the field, they have a chance to compete. The problem with this idea in the SEC is that the SEC is built on speed. The teams have fast, big, tough defenses, and on top of all that, they cheat. Mizzou is screwed.
Maybe Mizzou beats Georgia from time to time, but rarely will they beat Florida, possibly the fastest team in the conference.
They'll beat Vandy. There's one win.
Miss State and Ole Miss are a toss up, but they're no slouches either.
They'll beat Kentucky in football relatively regularly, but get pounded in basketball.
Arkansas? Well, maybe that can be their new border war, since they're abandoning history dating back to the Civil War in leaving their rivalry with another puke, KU, but compared to Mizzou, KU is puke that tastes like Captain Crunch; Mizzou is regurgitated dog shit.
All in all, it seems that Mizzou was able to rise to a place of national discussion because of their involvement in the Big 12, a conference that allows the opportunity for big, quality wins, and also a handful of achievable regular season wins that garner a bit of respect as well.
The SEC will not be kind to them, not one bit.
Scenario Three: Basketball
Mizzou consistently competes with the top teams in the conference, stumbling from here to eternity over Florida and Kentucky and eventually Tennessee, and pretty much dominates the rest of the SEC that speaks basketball as fluently as a Bostonian speaks Spanish.
The move to the SEC only makes sense in basketball, though I still think they have a better chance in the Big 12 with consistently quality opponents, top to bottom.
A Fond Farewell:
And so we bid you farewell, Mizzou. The Big 12 will miss its resident teenager, so full of insecurities, identity crises, complaints, zits, and wet dreams of success that just never quite satisfy. We wish you well, but more than that, we wish you decades of misery as we tune in every Saturday to watch you get blown up like an Ozark meth lab.
Go Tigers, Tigers, and Tigers!
Would you walk into that alley?
Neither would I, but good ol' Mizzou would!
This post is going to be all about the death of Tiger pride, because the SEC and the good ol' boys that run the South East Cheaters are going to make Mizzou their bitch. I submit three scenarios for your consideration:
Scenario One: A Conference Meeting
Representatives from LSU, Alabama, Auburn, Florida, Tennessee, and Georgia, are all seated at one end of the table. The pecking order is clear from here: running down the table (in order of importance) are the representatives from Mississippi State (bucktoothed), Ole Miss (twice as bucktoothed), Arkansas (inbred and bucktoothed) South Carolina (an actual game cock is sitting at the table...hehe), Kentucky (it's Calipari, now coaching football because he can cheat more), and the guy from Vanderbilt is sipping froofy coffee and straitening the tie beneath his sweater vest.
Enter Mizzou guy (nice looking, respectable, suit and tie, a little young but an over achiever, looks overly excited to be here, like a freshman invited to an upperclassman's party with girls and booze).
The representatives from the six schools that matter start the meeting. The buckteeths, cocks, and Calipari all agree with what's being said, with guffaws from the buckeeths, nods from the cock, Calipari sniggering like Mutley whenever money is mentioned, and Vandy is crying after running probability statistics on his school's chances of ever winning another game in the SEC.
Mizzou guy thinks it's time to pipe in, and that his comments are welcome. He states Mizzou's opinion on what's being discussed, and how he thinks the league should proceed. The buckteeths drool on the table in absolute shock, the cock shrivels in his seat (this is way too much fun) and Calipari is under the table sniffing the crotches and pilfering loose change from the pockets of the big six. Vandy is in the restroom changing his tampon.
From the head of the table, LSU guy looks at Bama guy, who looks at Gator guy, who looks at the neon orange Vol guy, who then looks at Auburn guy, and they all discharge spit into the collective spittoon on the table. They wave a finger towards Mizzou guy, and Georgia complies by dumping the contents of the spittoon onto Mizzou guy's head. The buckteeths go off like chimpanzees in heat, humping walls, chairs, and each other, the cock stiffens at the awkwardness of the situation (I'm not nearly done), Calipari kills a hooker and drinks her blood like it's Kool-Aid, and Vanderbilt has left the meeting to go home and watch Steel Magnolias with his girlfriends.
Mizzou guy dabs a napkin at his spit-covered face. He now understands the mistake they have made in joining ranks with the most inbred conference in college football. He calls the Big 12 and asks for readmission on his way back to his car, only to be laughed at from the other end: "Sorry," says Big 12 guy, "but we're happy having picked up the Mountaineers (though they're a bit rowdy) and the Horned Toads, effectively upping our football strength of schedule, and adding another purple team to our conference. Go to hell you slime-sucking Mizzou sonsofabitches." *Click*.
And that's only scenario one...
Scenario Two: Embellished Power Rankings
Just for kicks and giggles, let's run each of the teams in the SEC against Mizzou to see where Mizzou might wind up! Strap in and bite down on the bit clamp: this is going to get ugly.
For starters, let's just pit the kittens against two real Tiger football teams: LSU and Auburn.
Is there really a chance that Mizzou beats either of these teams with any sort of regularity? Barring the occasional and mathematically unavoidable upset (say once a decade) will Mizzou ever be able to compete with the talent pool that is constantly being pumped into these two schools? I'm serious, Mizzou should have to change their mascot to the Weasels or the Pig-Vaginas, because they're going to get destroyed playing these two teams.
What about Alabama, a national title contender in two of the past three years? Roll Tide rolls right over Mizzou.
Tennessee? Sure they've been down recently, but not down enough to lose to a crappy imitation of a spread offense. And this brings up another interesting point: Mizzou runs the spread as a crutch, to make up for the fact that their fundamentally undersized, undertalented, and outclassed by most opponents. The spread works in the Big 12 because the Big 12 is not known for its incredible speed (with the exception being teams like UT, OU, and OSU). By spreading the field, they have a chance to compete. The problem with this idea in the SEC is that the SEC is built on speed. The teams have fast, big, tough defenses, and on top of all that, they cheat. Mizzou is screwed.
Maybe Mizzou beats Georgia from time to time, but rarely will they beat Florida, possibly the fastest team in the conference.
They'll beat Vandy. There's one win.
Miss State and Ole Miss are a toss up, but they're no slouches either.
They'll beat Kentucky in football relatively regularly, but get pounded in basketball.
Arkansas? Well, maybe that can be their new border war, since they're abandoning history dating back to the Civil War in leaving their rivalry with another puke, KU, but compared to Mizzou, KU is puke that tastes like Captain Crunch; Mizzou is regurgitated dog shit.
All in all, it seems that Mizzou was able to rise to a place of national discussion because of their involvement in the Big 12, a conference that allows the opportunity for big, quality wins, and also a handful of achievable regular season wins that garner a bit of respect as well.
The SEC will not be kind to them, not one bit.
Scenario Three: Basketball
Mizzou consistently competes with the top teams in the conference, stumbling from here to eternity over Florida and Kentucky and eventually Tennessee, and pretty much dominates the rest of the SEC that speaks basketball as fluently as a Bostonian speaks Spanish.
The move to the SEC only makes sense in basketball, though I still think they have a better chance in the Big 12 with consistently quality opponents, top to bottom.
A Fond Farewell:
And so we bid you farewell, Mizzou. The Big 12 will miss its resident teenager, so full of insecurities, identity crises, complaints, zits, and wet dreams of success that just never quite satisfy. We wish you well, but more than that, we wish you decades of misery as we tune in every Saturday to watch you get blown up like an Ozark meth lab.
Go Tigers, Tigers, and Tigers!
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Fantasy Update: How The Proud Have Fallen
Dear readers,
I need to apologize. All three of you have come to expect greatness from wetrevenge.blogspot.com. Unfortunately, my fantasy team, The Masters of Napalm Karate, failed to deliver greatness in weeks 7 and 8. As such, I will be killing myself tonight. Don't try and stop me; I'm ending it all.
...
...
...
Psych! Suicide-fake-out! Is there anything funnier? How about barely winning a game by four points in week 7, and losing to an 0-7 team in week 8 that had three players on bye? Ha ha!
No seriously, I'm f*#king pissed.
Let's recap my awesome implosion that's landed me at 4-4, on the bubble of the playoffs, and behind my division rival, Team Edward (cringe).
Problem Number One: Matt Forte was on bye.
Problem Number Two: Desean Jackson is an asshole.
Problem Number Three: Roddy White was on bye, and is an asshole.
Problem Number Four: Neither Ryan Torain or DeAngelo Williams could find their testicles. No seriously, this should be an amber alert. They're missing like baby Lisa.
Problem Number Five: Michael Vick won't throw to anyone named Desean, and therefor, is an asshole.
Problem Number Six: Dan Bailey can't kick any field goals while Dallas gets ass pounded.
Problem Number Seven: My tight end didn't play.
Problem Number Eight: Beanie "My Knee Has A Boo-Boo" Wells did play. And scored 15 points, which would have been enough for me to beat my sucky opponent by one point. I hate life.
Here's a running diary of my emotional roller coaster Sunday afternoon, to the tune of NBA 2K12:
2:30 pm: "This is sweet! NBA 2K12 has Larry Legend on the cover!
2:35 pm: "WTF is wrong with this game? I'm losing by twenty in the first quarter to the Hawks! This is not how this game happened."
2:45 pm: "I just ruined Larry Legend's legacy by giving him a shooting percentage of 20 and fouling him out in the third quarter."
3:00 pm: "Wait, I'll check the fantasy scores!"
3:01 pm: "I'm losing. To a team that's 0-7. By twenty."
3:05 pm: "I'll create a player and run him through all the authentic trials of a REAL NBA rookie!"
3:15 pm: "Wait, I have to do interviews? I feel like I'm applying for a job."
3:16 pm: "I don't care anymore. I'm answering all of the questions with the most asshole response available."
3:30 pm: After fifteen minutes of hearing fake David Stern talk during the most boring fake draft filled with fake players: "Yay, I just got drafted by the '76ers. I've always wanted to play for the '76ers. Shit."
3:45 pm: "Why can't I make a shot?"
3:50 pm: (controller thrown to ground) "F&*& you, Xbox!"
4:00 pm: "I'll check the fantasy scores!"
4:01 pm: "I'm winning by one! Big Ben is my baby daddy!"
7:00 pm: "NBA 2k will be better this time around. I don't know why, but I feel optimistic."
7:01 pm: "I'll start a dynasty."
7:02 pm: "I'll turn off fair trades."
7:03 pm: "I'll trade Chumps McAssclown for Blake Griffin. Tee hee."
7:30 pm: "Why can't I make a shot?"
7:35 pm: "Celtics lose first home game; Blake Griffin leads team with five points."
7:40 pm: "I'm shutting this shit off."
7:45 pm: "I'll check the fantasy scores!"
7:50 pm: "I'm winning by one. Still. Shit."
8:45 pm: (Michael Vick is humping the Cowboys into submission): "God I hope Dan Bailey and Desean Jackson can score a combined ten points to beat this crappy 0-7 team!"
8:46 pm: "Wait, if Desean scores, Vick scores. Dammit."
8:47 pm: "Maybe Desean can just run the ball, or maybe Vick can throw an interception that will then be fumbled to Jackson, who will then run the ball back 99 yards for a touchdown. Shit."
9:30 pm: (My wife asleep, me checking my phone for fantasy scores in the dark) "Damn, damn, damn." My wife: "What?" Me: "Nothing."
And scene.
This week, I might actually win, except my opponent has Aaron Rodgers. Here's hoping that Aaron Rodgers gets his third concussion and never plays again.
I hate fantasy football.
I need to apologize. All three of you have come to expect greatness from wetrevenge.blogspot.com. Unfortunately, my fantasy team, The Masters of Napalm Karate, failed to deliver greatness in weeks 7 and 8. As such, I will be killing myself tonight. Don't try and stop me; I'm ending it all.
...
...
...
Psych! Suicide-fake-out! Is there anything funnier? How about barely winning a game by four points in week 7, and losing to an 0-7 team in week 8 that had three players on bye? Ha ha!
No seriously, I'm f*#king pissed.
Let's recap my awesome implosion that's landed me at 4-4, on the bubble of the playoffs, and behind my division rival, Team Edward (cringe).
Problem Number One: Matt Forte was on bye.
Problem Number Two: Desean Jackson is an asshole.
Problem Number Three: Roddy White was on bye, and is an asshole.
Problem Number Four: Neither Ryan Torain or DeAngelo Williams could find their testicles. No seriously, this should be an amber alert. They're missing like baby Lisa.
Problem Number Five: Michael Vick won't throw to anyone named Desean, and therefor, is an asshole.
Problem Number Six: Dan Bailey can't kick any field goals while Dallas gets ass pounded.
Problem Number Seven: My tight end didn't play.
Problem Number Eight: Beanie "My Knee Has A Boo-Boo" Wells did play. And scored 15 points, which would have been enough for me to beat my sucky opponent by one point. I hate life.
Here's a running diary of my emotional roller coaster Sunday afternoon, to the tune of NBA 2K12:
2:30 pm: "This is sweet! NBA 2K12 has Larry Legend on the cover!
2:35 pm: "WTF is wrong with this game? I'm losing by twenty in the first quarter to the Hawks! This is not how this game happened."
2:45 pm: "I just ruined Larry Legend's legacy by giving him a shooting percentage of 20 and fouling him out in the third quarter."
3:00 pm: "Wait, I'll check the fantasy scores!"
3:01 pm: "I'm losing. To a team that's 0-7. By twenty."
3:05 pm: "I'll create a player and run him through all the authentic trials of a REAL NBA rookie!"
3:15 pm: "Wait, I have to do interviews? I feel like I'm applying for a job."
3:16 pm: "I don't care anymore. I'm answering all of the questions with the most asshole response available."
3:30 pm: After fifteen minutes of hearing fake David Stern talk during the most boring fake draft filled with fake players: "Yay, I just got drafted by the '76ers. I've always wanted to play for the '76ers. Shit."
3:45 pm: "Why can't I make a shot?"
3:50 pm: (controller thrown to ground) "F&*& you, Xbox!"
4:00 pm: "I'll check the fantasy scores!"
4:01 pm: "I'm winning by one! Big Ben is my baby daddy!"
7:00 pm: "NBA 2k will be better this time around. I don't know why, but I feel optimistic."
7:01 pm: "I'll start a dynasty."
7:02 pm: "I'll turn off fair trades."
7:03 pm: "I'll trade Chumps McAssclown for Blake Griffin. Tee hee."
7:30 pm: "Why can't I make a shot?"
7:35 pm: "Celtics lose first home game; Blake Griffin leads team with five points."
7:40 pm: "I'm shutting this shit off."
7:45 pm: "I'll check the fantasy scores!"
7:50 pm: "I'm winning by one. Still. Shit."
8:45 pm: (Michael Vick is humping the Cowboys into submission): "God I hope Dan Bailey and Desean Jackson can score a combined ten points to beat this crappy 0-7 team!"
8:46 pm: "Wait, if Desean scores, Vick scores. Dammit."
8:47 pm: "Maybe Desean can just run the ball, or maybe Vick can throw an interception that will then be fumbled to Jackson, who will then run the ball back 99 yards for a touchdown. Shit."
9:30 pm: (My wife asleep, me checking my phone for fantasy scores in the dark) "Damn, damn, damn." My wife: "What?" Me: "Nothing."
And scene.
This week, I might actually win, except my opponent has Aaron Rodgers. Here's hoping that Aaron Rodgers gets his third concussion and never plays again.
I hate fantasy football.
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