Reasons why this recruiting class means Texas will play for a title in two years

1. Upgrade along the D-line. Best class of defensive linemen in the Mack Brown era, for sure. DEs of both the quick end and power end variety. DTs of the Lamarr Houston and the Roy Miller variety. Look for at least three of these guys to crack the two-deep by the end of the year.

2. Upgrade at linebacker. The loss of Norton hurt Texas this year as it forced Muckelroy to play middle LB with only E. Acho and K. Robinson on the strong and weak side spots. The two deep had Acho and Robinson backing up each other with Earnest backing up Muckelroy--4 players covering 6 spots. With Norton and Earnest back next year the MLB spot is covered, but look for Tariq Allen to make a move backing up Keenan Robinson and one of Hicks, Benson, and Tevin Jackson to back up Emmanuel Acho. Of the 3 Tevin Jackson may have the most potential as MLB someday. In the recent past Texas has tried to cross-train their LBs anyway, so it's not a huge distinction.

3. Upgrade at WR, assuming this group has more Quan Cosby-s (Cosbies?) and fewer Phillip Paynes and George Walkers. Mike Davis and Darius White are likely to get in the rotation immediately, pushing guys like Chiles and Kirkendoll. Eventually Chris Jones might be the best of the group. Harris is gravy and Terrell will have to put on weight to play TE (hopefully more Jermichael Finley and less Dan Buckner).

4. The OL from 2009's class should be matured in two years with the two from this class providing quality depth. The line from this past year was the worst in the last five years and they still got to the title game.

5. Kept the best athlete in Oklahoma out of OU's hands. Who knows where he plays, but it doesn't really matter.

Don't call it a comeback

Mama Said Knock You Out - LL C...

I'm going to open this back up. New format is going to be a series of lists, posted every Wednesday, punctuated by the odd rambling post about college football, music, or my career. Hopefully it will be as fun as the previous format. Even without the defaced Peanuts strips. Ideally some commentors will be moved to leave their own lists on the theme of the week.

Bovine Spongiform Revengcephalopathy

I know where they research the madness of cows
Misshapen proteins
Misshaping the brains
I know who deserves the resulting sponge holes
Yellow car driving
Yellow heart beating
I know how to mix prions with Mickey D's
Savory toxin
Savoring the sin
I know when pores make mind flow retardedly
Delayed my revenge
But it would be fucking sweet.

Haiku revenge

a car so yellow
matched perfectly to your soul
how does my ass taste?

Revenge by Jessiiiiiieeee

I'd make you have sex with Jessie
on her period, extra messy.
Her cats would watch with shock and awe,
strap-on stuffing your exit maw.
The look in her eye is not meek,
how 'bout the tear upon your cheek?
How 'bout the pit inside your soul
as she runs off pinching your pole,
without explanation or note
she's gone with a flick of your scrote.

52 Odes to Vengeance

So, until my car got wrecked I didn't know what I could come up with another 52 posts about. Now I've got it. Every Wednesday for the next year there will be a new bit of vitriolic verse or pissed-off prose comemorating the asshole in the yellow car. Okay, maybe this will burn itself out before a year, but until I decide what I'm really going to do here, this will have to do. Today's is a re-tread just to get things kick-started.

The Things I Would Do

Oh, the things I would do
if I could find you
Oh, if I could find you,
the things I would do.
I would gouge out your eyes
with a grapefruit spoon,
Go for the jugular
but think, "No, too soon."
I would gnaw through fascia
and tear out your spleen,
I would shove up your butt
a hamster named Dean.
I'd make you a trach tube,
insert with my thumb
After prepping the area
with wine from a bum.
Then I'd shit down your throat
in this brand new tube,
And sodomize you well
while using no lube.
I'd tear out your toenails
one by one by one;
But suppose I got bored
and thought "That's no fun."
I might cut out your tongue
but only the tip,
And then mock you like mad
because of your lithp;
As you plead for "Merthy!"
and cry out in pain,
But for you I'd have none
but purest disdain.
For you coward, you fraud,
you purulent cunt,
You just wrecked my new car
and then off you runned.
And so now I owe twice
what my car is worth
All thanks to your trimming
of its front-end girth.
Oh, the things I would do
if I could find you;
Oh, if I could find you,
the things I would do.
Alas, you are long gone
my car's fucked and worse -
I'll get nothing but rage,
and this page of verse.

My hero

When we were small, I was probably 4 or 5, I remember doing this skit with my dad. It's something completely out of character, but a memory I hold dear. My dad was watching Ojo, me, and Snake because my mom was out running errands on a Saturday. We were in my parents' bedroom playing around their bed. This may be the same time that my dad recorded us on a little Radio Shack tape recorder. I said my favorite food was potatoes. And that I must have smoked a lot as a kid because my voice made Redd Foxx's sound smooth as silk.
My dad got out a kleenex or napkin and twisted it so that it was pinched in the middle and fanned out to either side, approximating a bow shape. My dad would put the kleenex on Ojo's upper lip, turning it into a mustache. "You must pay the rent!"
Then he'd put it on Snake's head, like a bow on a little girl. "But I can't pay the rent."
Back to Ojo's lip. "You must pay the rent!" Back to Snake's head. "But I can't pay the rent." Then to my neck, turning it into a bowtie. "I'll pay the rent." Back to Snake's bow. "My hero!"
I don't know where he came up with that. I'm just glad he did. I know at times in this space it seems like I've been dogging him out, and at times I was. Underlying every pixel in this blog, however, is the abiding awe which fathers inspire in their children and which stays with them the duration of their lives. The whole purpose of this blog was to understand some of what makes my dad my dad, to have a little fun doing it, and to realize what sort of impact I'm having on my own kids. I think I've accomplished all three goals. At the end, though, I can't really explain my dad or why he has held such sway over my life (whether he intended to or not), but I can accept that influence as the burden of fatherhood. For all the jokes about temper tantrums, cursing, and fucking cripples, my dad provided an excellent example of fatherhood, one I hope to match and improve on, so that one day when my son's on the holodeck reliving memories of his childhood he'll recognize the same dedication and love I recognize in my own father.