I don’t even want to talk about football. Last weekend was one of the most care-free and stressless weekends I’ve ever had. It was just so EASY. I was so drunk the whole time. Like ALL weekend. You know what makes me care and makes me stress? Football. Nebraska Cornhusker Football.
I don’t want to talk about the game. Like, I do. But I don’t. Because I just get my hopes up and one of two things happens. I’ll either A) just inflate my ego about being correct, or B) drink myself broke (but jolly) because I was wrong.
And even more, I don’t want to talk about last year. It was one of the more memorable moments from last season, if not the most. I don’t want to talk about it, because it scares me. We let ourselves get in to a hole and had to claw our way back with Big Hefty at quarterback and Little Mustache on the receiving end.
I don’t want to talk about it because of all the failures that needed to happen in order for us to get to that point. Like, we legit had to blow it. I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to jinx us.
Yet, here I am, fucking talking about it.
So here we are, coming off a loss again, going into whatever the fuck stadium Northwestern and Trevor Siemian play in and we have to worry about his dumb “arm” because he’s not “mobile.”
We are “rejuvenated” after our “bye week” and our one-time “Heisman” hopeful candidate “Ameer Abdullah” has more “fire” underneath him after gaining only “47” rushing yards. The “Blackshirts” are looking “good” and have really “tightened” themselves up.
“Bo” has said the “loss” is in the “past” and the “Huskers” are moving forward. “Tommy” was hopefully working on his “fundamentals” and has learned to scan through his “progressions.”
Oh, fuck it all. I thought putting quotes around it meant I wasn’t talking about it. But here I am, still typing the words and rambling and…lets just see how it works out.
So we have jack shit going on this week, but I have the time and the energy, so here comes the post no one knew they needed. Bye weeks are always a bit of a bore, but it seems it’s much needed after Nebraska’s loss last week. Here we go…
Presenting: Our Favorite Huskers As Dogs
Almost as cute at the real thing.
Bo, and whoever done fucked up.
Soft Bo. Warm Bo. Happy Bo.
“I got this, I got this”
“You’re going nowhere.”
Wobble Wobble Wobble
Such an eager n00b!
Full of deception. Fumblerooski works every time. Look at that lane he opened up.
Weavin’ and weavin’.
Pure, muscular terror.
What. An. Athlete.
“Outta my way bitches. I have an endzone to catch.”
I’m not giving up. I’m not ready to yet. I’ve given too much of my heart to this team to walk away, turn my back, or blow them off. One loss does not a season make.
It’s true that Nebraska has a tendency to stumble when the national spotlight shines right on them. However, Saturday’s game will go down in history because not only did the Huskers stumble, it was the time that Jake Cotton took Ke$ha a little too seriously.
Sigh. It’s almost like we were playing a real team.
Nebraska did not deserve to win that game, at least for the first three quarters. The team wasted golden opportunities; Tommy looked terrified in the pocket and didn’t look through his progressions, like, ever; Ameer couldn’t get himself any holes. It was nothing short of a clusterfuck. A Huskerfuck? Whatever you call it, it was bad.
A tiny glimmer? For how often our defense had to be out there, we did well enough to keep the Huskers in the game. For a usually high-powered offense like Big Red’s, 27 points should have been nothing to overcome. But we couldn’t, and if it weren’t for the Blackshirts, we wouldn’t have been set up for a potentially thrilling comeback.
We showed something in the 4th quarter. We showed the heart that we hear about. No one gave up, and no one gave in. The D shored up. Tommy calmed down. Two drives resulted in a touchdown. DeMornay Pierson-El kept up his one-man punt-return show, and came through when it was needed most.
For a team that looked dead for three quarters, we were ALIVE. We were thriving. Sure we needed some luck. But what’s that they say about luck? Sometimes it’s pretty fucking stupid except when it goes your way and then it’s totally radical.
Something like that…
Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good. Sometimes it’s better to be lucky and good. Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. Yadda Yadda blah blah blah.
We weren’t prepared. Not the way we should have been, and certainly not early on. But we got our ducks in a row, our shit together, and we scared MSU, as we should. We were off kilter for 75 percent of a game, with people falling over, and Mark Pelini snapping the ball at will. But for 25% of the game – ONE. FUCKING. QUARTER. – we were on point. It took only one quarter to make it a game. We made it something worthwhile. Maybe MSU is all its are cracked up to be. Maybe we were caught off guard for a bit. One thing is for certain: Nebraska isn’t going to roll over and die. Because god damn, we can keep up with, and surpass this team in the B1G championship when we are firing on all cylinders for four quarters, and of that, I am convinced. If we had gotten just 5 more minutes of productivity in any of the 3 previous quarters, the scoreboard may have told a completely different story.
I still believe, because we’ve got guys like this:
(Side note: Ameer still leads the nation in rushing after only putting up 45 yards on Saturday. So lets all just remember which dog is still top dog, you fucking asshats that have questioned his ability. I’M LOOKING AT YOU EVERY ANALYST EVER.)
Any team that can bounce back, scare the day’s lunch out of your dumb Spartan butthole, and do it without one of its top receivers for half the game?
Spartan (noun): a native or inhabitant of ancient Sparta
Spartan (adjective): marked by simplicity, frugality, or avoidance of luxury and comfort
Spartan (Urban Dictionary): A sexual position where the woman is riding a man during intercourse, and right before the man has an orgasm he yells “This is Spartaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!” and kicks the woman off the bed.
Oh how the definition has changed over the years… Only a Michigan State student would kick a girl out of bed before he has the chance to get his. However, if they all look like this, I don’t know that I can blame a guy.
That’s one hell of an O-face.
These are the people we are supposed to square off with on Saturday, which means you’d think we would have an incredible chance at kicking some ass. But apparently, the Spartans have been on the up and up in the last few years – something the Cornhuskers found out all to well last year.
Of course, we had 5 turnovers, so that benefitted the Spartans last year. No, I’m not talking about Ron Kellogg’s pre-game snack, I’m talking about giving the ball away. Which we are only going to do once this year! ONE TURNOVER. Mark my words.
That’s me trying to be realistic, but if I keep my head in the clouds, it’s none. NONE I TELL YOU!
There’s no denying MSU a good team. But good teams eat shit and die all the time. I’m looking at you Oregon.
Arizona's Scooby Wright III (left) strips the ball from Oregon's Marcus Mariota during the 4th quarter. pic.twitter.com/1ViBpnUeD9
Not even your 7th uniform in five games can save you from that fumble, Mr. Mariota.
If Oregon can stumble to an unranked Arizona team, who is to say that MSU won’t also shit the bed? I mean, they lost last year to a quite shit Notre Dame team. Nebraska isn’t quite shit. We’re barely shit. We only had one bad game! It was an early stumble in our quest for an undefeated season. We’re better now. We’re amazing!
Ameer will take us there, obviously. No team has run over the Spartans as well as the Huskers have over the last three years, and we are running better than ever right now. Third in the nation! We’re running like criminals. And our 6th highest average points per game isn’t too shabby either. We’re scoring like Johnny Manziel on spring break!
There’s no such thing as Sparta this week. There’s just a sad, wet fart.
The U at the N. It’s storied, it’s exciting, it’s classic. It will also rip my beating heart from my chest and poo poo on it. Even if/when we win, I’ll be sitting there with my head in my hands, freaking the fuck out. Unless it’s a total blowout. Then I’ll be drunk.
Whether we win or lose, lets just talk about Fuck Miami. Miami is one of those things that people think is cool if they’ve never been. Miami Vice is what we call the dingleberry at work that keeps his shirt buttoned down to his navel, to show off is cancer-booth tan. He’s never been to Miami. He likes this nickname. The name comes from people who think he’s a waste of flesh, and who have lost some of their time on this world to Miami. The connection is clear. Miami is pretentious enough to love itself without ever really indulging itself in itself. Miami is the inception of being shitty.
Miami is located on the head of America’s limp phallus, which makes sense because Miami is full of a bunch of dickheads, and Florida is full of a bunch of geriatrics that can’t get erect without a popsicle stick and half a roll of duct tape.
Also, Miami is known for their astounding cocaine consumption, and cocaine impotence is a real thing. THE CONNECTIONS ARE JUST TOO REAL.
This week’s game is our first measuring stick this season. McNeese State doesn’t count because that was a metric ruler that turned into a 30-foot measuring tape, and it really should have just been us winning a “Who has a bigger dick contest” by about 16 inches.
We’ll see the true penetrative depth of our defense (Randy Gregory dick joke here) and the efficiency of our offense, which has stumbled a few times – much like the drunken club girls making their way back to the Miami U dorm rooms.
The real issue here: Our O-Line needs to act like they fucking care that we have a Heisman candidate on the god damn field. Gone are the days when we can sit back and relax and rely on the line to open up a hole. You’d swear they’ve never seen a playbook before.
From here on out, every play: AMEER.
Not only is he a killer ballplayer, but he looks fucking sharp. Can’t argue with a man that fashionable.
Well last week’s win was barely a win, but a win is a win, no matter how you get it or who it’s against. Right? The good news is that I predicted long ago that the Huskers would lose only one game this year and it would be to McNeese State.
If I had to put my money on the Huskers losing one game this year, it's to McNeese State
Good news! Since we snuck by McNeese, we can rest easy knowing we will win out. Starting with Fresno State.
Fresno, the glorious, cow-shit odiferous city that gave us Warren Zevon (RIP you beautiful crooning lyrical master) and Richard Kiel (RIP you monstrous terror) went and fucked it all up by giving us Kevin Federline (RIP Britney Spears’ integrity).
Fresno giveth, Fresno taketh it all the fuck away in one fell swoop.
If Fontana is the armpit of California, Fresno is the space between the sweaty ballsack and hairy thigh of California. I won’t even stop there to grab a coffee. I was on a four-day camping trip about two hours north of Fresno. We hadn’t showered, we were covered in dirt, we smelled like we spent four days hiking in 90-degree heat without a shower. But we still didn’t smell as bad as Fresno. So I won’t stop for coffee, and I won’t stop for a shower. I’ll rot in my own filth for another four hours, a half hour of which is spent with zero AC in the dead of summer as we drive over the Grapevine (a big dumb hill for the non-Californians) just to avoid seven minutes in that city.
Speaking of non-Californians, let me apologize on behalf of everyone in CA for anyone who is traveling to the Golden State for the first time and they are stuck going to Fresno. Extend your trip, come to LA, we will have a great time.
Not to mention, their football team is as bad as the city smells…this year. In recent years they’ve posted some pretty nice records. But in two games this year they’ve already managed to rack up as many loses as they did last year (the Bulldogs were 11-2 last year).
What I’m saying is that if my entire family is making the 4-hour turnaround trip to watch the Huskers, we better not lose. Losing is not an option. WE HAVE AMEER ABDULLAH FOR CHRIST’S SAKE.
Fresno is giving up points like K-Fed has given up exercise, and they’re scoring even less than he does. After last week’s near stumble, there is reason to doubt we will come in and roll, but that might also be the motivation for us to flatten the Bulldogs. Steamroll them. EUTHANIZE THE BULLDOGS.
Basically, I can’t fucking wait. I’ll be there, decked out, and in a cob hat. It will have a GoPro on it. It’s a CobCam. If you see me, come make a cameo. Have a drink. I’ll be with my crazy, drunk family, and you can be part of us. We welcome one and all.
We also have an extra ticket. If you’d like it, inquire within. You can hang with my crazy, drunk, fun family.
Because I have somehow manage to not look at the actual date on the calendar in the last couple of weeks, I’m a bit behind on my goals for this post and this blog in general. I had huge plans for this site, all of which never came to fruition. I mean, what can you expect? It was only 8.5 months since the bowl game, I got a new position that requires travel, and I perfected my golf game.
Clearly I had bigger fish to fry.
So this is more of an overview of the season, with some jabs at Florida Atlantic thrown in. Besides taking a Conference USA team to task for an entire 800 words before the opener is akin to a pregame show for a linebacker bullying the school band’s tuba player. Sure, the tuba guy will get in a few hits now and then, but we all know who’s waltzing out of there and who limps out bloody and bruised.
Usually around this time of year, I find myself pretty confident. Only a few weeks ago I wrote:
It never fails: From about February to July I have the lowest expectations. Come August, I’m planning my Nat’l Championship Celebration
But it seems since then I’ve had what you’d call a crisis of faith, which is great because I’ve always wanted one of those. It’s not just with Husker football, but more like everything just seems a little “blah” lately. Without airing my dirty laundry, life has just been lacking pizzaz.
Then I started reading some more articles. (And boy did I lot to catch up on. This new position at work requires me to actually work while I’m in the office – like…who the fuck actually does that? – and I’ve had no time to keep up with my boys in red.)
I started making plans for various weekends. I started combing through my closet for my Husker shirts. I dusted off that old corn cob hat. I watched the Kellogg to Westerkamp hail Mary and holy shitballs you bet all your fine asses I’ve got my faith back in the Huskers this year. I am PUMPED. Lets go all in. Lets make this season worthwhile. I will have faith in this team until they give me reason not to. I will have faith in this team until it runs that faith into a blender and they collectively shit it out all over me with the fury of week-old spicy Indian food erupting from the bowels of a French Bulldog. And then I’ll find a reason to have faith the next week, because I’ll be damned if I really do lose it.
I’m back to where I was before, choreographing my touchdown and national championship dances. I’ve got my moves, and I’m ready to show them off.
The road to me making these dance moves public starts Saturday, against some Florida school. Should I be more pacific? It’s Florida Atlantic University, and thank god they spelled it out for us or else I’d never know who the fuck we are playing.
So FAU comes flying in, and this school is at least vaguely familiar to 95% of Husker fans because it was once home to the Danny DeVito of the Pelini clan. Unfortunately Carl was booted and to elaborate would be plucking low-hanging fruit that’s dangling closer to the ground than the tip of Randy Gregory’s dong. That’s real low.
Now there’s really no hope for FAU to come in and win, since their only insight into the Huskers’ high-powered offense is combing the Missed Connections page on Craigslist. Kenny Bell is going to be flowing and froing his way into the end zone, Imani Cross will be crossing all sorts of boundaries, and Tommy Armstrong will be, well…strong arming his opponents into sucking.
And lets face it. Bringing Ameer Abdullah to this game is like bringing an uzi-wielding 9 year old to a knife fight.
Another regular season in the books, only this time with no visit to a conference championship. Nebraska’s season fizzled out against a potent Iowa team that looked much more prepared…and healthy.
The Hawkeyes scored about as many points as the Huskers have injuries. But that goes with the territory of playing a game where 200-pound sacks of muscle run full-speed at one another. So the injuries are no excuse. But at least Iowa now has their first win against Nebraska since our joining of the Big Ten, and their first win against Nebraska since 1981.
Alright, so the jury is still out on that one. I guess we’ll have to wait a few more years, but by then we’ll be back to playing Wisconsin and that’s where a lot of the drama lies. Though, #WiscHateWeek just doesn’t have the same ring as #IowaHateWeek. Speaking of, I’d say it was a success. The point of #IowaHateWeek is to have some fun, make sweeping generalizations, and, in my case, poke fun at the stupidest laws in the state. There were some unhappy folks, regardless of Iowa’s win.
He’s not particularly fond of me either. And judging by the grammar in the following screenshot, it was either him or a friend of his that complimented my dry humor, then butchered basic sentence structure and the English language while telling me I’m not good at writing.
Look at this fucking little goon @BlackshirtFresh with his own web site and everything
I do some research, slap two correlating facts together, and people STILL think I’m a dumbass. I CAN’T WIN.
I already can’t wait for next year! Even thought it’s not much of a rivalry.
Seeing as Iowa is excited about their 8-4 record and Nebraska is bummed about the same record, I’ve come to the following conclusion: The Huskers and Hawkeyes won’t be rivals until Iowa gets good enough to be as disappointed about an 8-4 season as Nebraska is.
To be fair, I’d probably try to forget about the three previous wins, too (42-7, 42-7, 42-13) considering the Huskers have struggled a bit in recent years.
This year should prove to be no easier, as last year Nebraska won 13-7 over a 4-7 Iowa squad that has improved to 7-4 now. Going all flippy floppy on the record this year! And the 2013 Hawkeyes managed to beat Minnesota, which the Huskers couldn’t quite do.
I’m up for the challenge. I’ve known nothing of distaste for Iowa. My best friend since kindergarten has traveled back every year since I’ve known him. I’ve seen him cry. I’ve seen him yell. I’ve seen his parents and him inches from each other, screaming about why he didn’t want to go, and why they are going to make him. His reason? “THERE’S NOTHING GOOD ABOUT IOWA.”
At least at times, there’s at least one thing: The football team.
I know we don’t have Burkhead anymore, but we have a competent, strong, healthy RB in Ameer Abdullah, and I’m willing to put some money on him hitting 100+ yards again.
AT LEAST you aren’t your cross-state rivals, the other Iowa team.
Poor Sexy Rexy. All he did was score a touchdown, and some pissy jock tried to rip his beautiful head off.
Anyhow. Iowa is weird. Lets looks at some of the reasons why.
Iowa allows blind people to obtain a permit to carry a handgun. I think I speak for the majority here when I say that this is probably a bad idea. If a blind person was riding a bike and hitting people with it, people would be freaking the fuck out! The only problem is that there is a greater likelihood of grievous injury or death when a random person is hit with a bullet rather than a bike. My good friend Jimmy Kimmel will help me out here.
Oh my god. Jimmy is a dick. But really, it’s nothing against anyone who is partially or fully blind. It’s the fact that sight plays a major role in the operation of a device that is designed to kill things. Way to go, Iowa. Way to go.
On second thought, I’d probably prefer you give the gun to the blind guy rather than Ryan Seacrest.
A man with a mustache may never kiss a woman in public. Jordan Westerkamp will NOT be getting any strange next year. Time to revamp next year’s M4W Craigslist ads!
A one-armed pianist must play free of charge. I don’t understand. This is something people would pay for! A lot of money! Help the guy out. The average musician already doesn’t make a huge living, and to take away another source of income is absurd. People with one arm are already limited. They can’t be aircraft marshalls. They are at a significant disadvantage with shadow puppetry or juggling. Cat’s Cradle is near impossible. Just look at this guy.
YOU CAN’T TELL ME HE IS NOT WORTHY OF PAY! I can only think that this was put into place to make sure that one one-armed musician in particular got paid very well. Fuck you, Iowa.
That’s Def Leppard drummer Rick Allen. He only has one arm and he gets to make fistfulls of money!
Doctors who treat a person with gonorrhea must report this to the local board of health and include the disease’s “probable origin.” This is a great idea. Why not put it into public record?! “HEY EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS SCARRED AND DAMAGED HARLOT!”
Lets get this straight. Someone contracted a TREATABLE DISEASE but Iowa still feels it necessary to put some indelible ink on it and speculate the probably origin. IT MIGHT NOT EVEN BE THE CORRECT ORIGIN! There are plenty of reasons someone might contract gonorrhea, but Iowa… Oh, Iowa. NO PRIVACY! Just barely stopping short of forcing them to wear a scarlet A.
THIS IS THE FOUNDATION OF SLUT SHAMING.
Iowa, slut shaming since 1846. However, here comes the curveball.
It’s safe to make love while parked in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Police officers aren’t allowed to walk up and knock on the window. Any suspicious officer who thinks that sex is taking place must drive up from behind, honk his horn three times and wait approximately two minutes before getting out of his car to investigate. No one gives a shit if you’re happily (or unhappily) fuckin’ in a parked car, but if you contract gonorrhea during this particular coital session, errbody gonna know.
This is legal, nevermind the jump ropes. And that’s great that the officer must give you two minutes to finish up your business. This is likely due to the fact that if you’re having sex in a car, you’re likely still in high school, and finishing up in two minutes is no tall order.
Alternatively, this could be to prevent the officer from being tempted into something salacious, as those guys in New Mexico are wont to do. Those handcuffs work in many ways, you know.
This could actually pass as a win. No one wants to be caught with their pants down, and it’s sweet of the state to prevent some sort of humiliation that might end up being associated with sexual acts gone public. OH WAIT GONORRHEA NEVERMIND.
Within Ottumwa city limits, a man may not wink at any woman he does not know. Seriously, this state sends the worst mixed messages. What would happen to poor Avery Moss if he went to school there?
In Fort Madison the fire department is required to practice fire fighting for fifteen minutes before attending a fire. I’m not going to elaborate. This is the fucking dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHIT CAN BURN IN 15 MINUTES?
If there are more than 5 Native Americans on your property you may shoot them. Why is that you may ask?
A group of 5 or more Native Americans are to be considered a raiding party and may be killed on the spot.
“OOOOO SO CLOSE!!”
“Honey, load up the ol’ shotgun. There were five. Didn’t see the tiny one. She might even fit in our cupboard. Heh heh heh.” – Iowan Bluehairs
And here, we thought Washington’s NAME was offensive? How about them set of rules there from Iowa? Thank god that game was in Washington, or else there could have been some REAL carnage on our hands.
That should be enough. But in case you feel like you may need some more…
ENTER: VODKA SAM
Normally, those tweets would be the mating call that ruins me for life as I chase her until she puts a restraining order on me, or finally gives into my begging and pleading. But upon further review… I just can’t. She’s the female version of every guy friend I know. Dream killed. I look at her, I see Will. I hear her, I see Andy. I get a whiff of the vodka coming out of her pores, I see Eric. So instead of crushing, I have lumped her in with #IowaHateWeek.
Besides, she stole Taylor Martinez’s catchphrase, and he’s a wonderful person who can’t even play in the last home game of his career. That’s too far. TOO FAR VODKA SAM.
It almost happened. Karma almost came back to bite us, but it didn’t.
As I mentioned before the game, I was nervous that there’d be some sort of retribution from last year’s goal line fumble. The refs tried SO hard. So so hard. But in the end, it played out alright, I’d say.
It was apparently very cold.
It's snowing like mad, cold as hell, and these Penn State fans don't care.
The refs just can’t make it easy. After my careful and expert review, I determined that the penalty was a bit of BS. Sam Burtch made an insurance block, and that Penn State defender looks like he would have fallen over if there was a hot fart directed at him, let alone a half-assed block. That was a football play. Nothing other. Poor Ameer.
Nebraska, fumbled and Sam Burtch recovered it, keeping the Huskers’ hopes alive and simultaneously redeeming himself for something he didn’t need to redeem. A field goal, and a couple of punts later and we are headed to OVERTIME!!!
I had a feeling that great ficken PAT would cost us…let's see what we have in OT.