Now that we are past the first weekend of the NCAA Basketball Tournament, this is the time when I usually lament the fact my brackets are so much smoldering wreckage. But as this year’s upset-palooza unfolds, let’s face it. Using the word “wreckage” to describe my bracket is like saying Michael Moore is “chubby.” If “wreckage” equals “chubby,” escalating a description of Moore past “morbidly obese” to “disgusting tub of cholesto-goo”still wouldn’t cross over to how bad by bracket really is. That would require taking “wreckage” to “airliner full of Cub Scouts crashing into an exploding chemical weapons factory where a Hillary Clinton campaign rally was being held…oh, and the in-flight movie on the crashing plane was the all-female remake of “Ghostbusters.”
That description may have pissed off a few people, but that’s nothing compared to what is about to happen. Get ready for a March tradition here at Dubsism; a big dose of what the original purpose of this blog was: a home for my profanity-filled and completely offensive tirades. So, when you send me your hate-mail because I just took a giant Hormel Chili-fueled shit all over something you hold dear
Clemson:
You’re not fooling anybody, Clemson. Despite your effete-sounding name, we all know what you really are. The name of you school is simply an attempt to make us believe you are some top-buck private school rather than the usual gargantuan state-school awash in cheap beer, backward baseball caps, and date-rape. We all know “Clemson” really means “South Carolina A&M,” and the proof is in the fact you can actually major in Date Rape at South Carolina State Cow College and Tires Plus Outlet Clemson. That ought to be a popular option once Clemson can attract co-eds who aren’t so fat they actually need tires.
Duke:
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; fuck Duke. The Blue Devils really only exist so the entirety of the college basketball world doesn’t hate North Carolina. Writing about Duke here is like when I have to cover the fucking New England Patriots in my “Why You Shouldn’t Cheer For” series about Super Bowl contestants. I’ve scribbled so so much shit about both of them that writing about them again is like putting gas in the tank of a car I’ve already wrecked. The vast majority of Partiots and Blue Devils fans are idiotic front-runners, and almost every conceivable joke about them has been told so many times they are as fresh as listening to the menu on a customer service line.
Please read the following menu options carefully, as they have recently changed….
Florida State:
Putting an institution of higher learning in the Florida panhandle is akin to having a Women’s Rights’ March in Iran. That’s why Florida State is less like a “real” university, and more like those so-called “colleges” you see in strip malls that advertise on daytime television. If you think that’s bad, can you imagine how shitty your life is going to be if you are on a basketball scholarship at a school that still teaches TV/VCR repair?
Gonzaga
I can identify with Gonzaga, because I too went to school in a God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere near the Canadian border. We’re talking about the kind of town where if you’re a college student, the only non-school related things to do are eating, drinking, and fucking. That only works for a while, until everybody becomes a pizza-and-beer bloated gastropod nobody wants to pork, unless even more beer is involved.
Thus starts a drunken-sex “death spiral”…the more beer everyone drinks, the fatter everyone one gets, which means it takes more beer for anybody to want to fuck anybody. Eventually the entire town looks like mating season at SeaWorld. What makes matters worse is Gonzaga is a Catholic school filled with Mormons in the heart of onion-growing country. It almost makes me want to cheer for the Bulldogs because what else could these bunch of morbidly-obese, sexually-repressed, drunk-fucks who reek like the onion grease at a White Castle possibly have?
Almost.
Kansas:
Kansas is another school like Duke, I have to write about them here too damn much. Last year, I discussed a state legislator in the Sunflower State actually proposed controlling the illegal immigrant population in the same manner they use for feral hogs; picking them off with rifles from helicopters. Once you get past the monstrous racism in that comment, you are struck with the realization that even its crushing stupidity, this represents a “man landing on the moon” advance in Kansan-type thinking.
The problem is this year, I realized there probably aren’t any illegal aliens in Kansas because nobody wants to be in fucking Kansas. Just look at a map. There’s a reason why it looks as if most of Kansas City successfully escaped into Missouri. In a city known for it’s barbecue, there’s a reason why the best place in town distances itself by being named “Oklahoma Joe’s.”
Also, while there is no evidence that Bill Self molests farm animals, there’s no evidence that he doesn’t.
Kansas State:
I could have taken the “easy” way out on this one and simply said “read the section on the Kansas Jayhawks, and add “State” after every instance of the word “Kansas.” Not only does that represent the “easy” way out, but it fails to address a couple of important points.
First of all, with very few exceptions, when comparing state schools, the inferior one has the word “State” in it’s title. That’s because usually the “University of _______ ” is the one with the law and medical school, and “________ State University” is the one that used to be a teacher’s college and now dominated by the agriculture extension program. Not only is Kansas State the perfect example of such a “cow college,” it’s location in one of the pre-eminent food-producing areas on earth serves as the ideal example for illustrating the difference between these types of universities.
Kansas is one of the leading producers of durum wheat, which is the best grain for making pasta. If you go to a top-end Italian restaurant which has those noodles which don’t taste like anything you can get anywhere else, there’s a pretty good chance they came from the soils of the Sunflower State. That’s the kind of pasta Kansas doctors and lawyers eat for $75 a plate at places with wandering violinists.
Kansas State “pasta” is drinking a can of Spaghetti-O’s at 3 a.m. after you’ve been liberally over-served at your favorite dive-bar. That’s how you go from the “dream-girl” pasta you would take home to your mother to the closing-time “noodle-in-a-can.” That’s how you go from the epicurean delight of fettuccine hand-rolled on the thighs of virgins in Tuscany to the “whore” end of the pasta spectrum; resplendent in its cheap, yet tantalizing sauce, and waving those firm, round, oh-so-fake “meatballs” in your face.
As annoying as they may be, the Kansas Jayhawks and their hand-made, nun-kissed noodles are toward the top-buck side of the College Basketball Monopoly Board, and K-State so wants the respect Jayhawk-uccine gets. The problem is K-State confused “respect” with “attention,” which is why Spaghetti-O’s or slutty chicks, the Wildcats are only six to eight Natty Ices s away from giving you a hummer in your Ford F-150.
Worse yet, you know you’re going to feel guilty for doing it, but goddammit…you’re still doing it. That’s why Spaghetti-O’s will be the one food that survives the Apocalypse.
Kentucky
I’m torn by Kentucky. On the one hand, I believe Kentucky bourbon is the definition of “manna from heaven.” Single-drinking-handedly, I’m probably 40% of the economy of the Bluegrass State. My doctor gets concerned when he finds too much blood in my bourbon-stream. If you ever see me on one of those “Intervention” shows, dump your stock in Jim Beam. Don’t wait to call your stock broker in the morning, break into his house that night and get your money the fuck out NOW. If I quit drinking, not even Louisville Slugger is safe <shudders>.
But on the other hand, America has a list of states which get looked down upon, but Kentucky just might be the looked-down-upon-iest. There’s so many reason for that, but for purposes of brevity, I’ll keep this to basketball. These people still revere Adolph Rupp, a guy who refused to integrate Kentucky basketball until 1969, and once he did, his “Jackie Robinson” turned out to be a serial rapist
For the best accounting of this, go to the Crime in Sports Podcast and listen to the episode about Tom Payne. You’ll never look at a dish towel the same way again. mention on face book page
Loyola-Chicago
Thanks to two buzzer-beater jumpers, we now know there’s yet another rung on the Catholic school ladder. What can you say about a Catholic school named for Jesuit Saint Ignatius Loyola, and yet falls lower on the Catholic pecking order than Gonzaga? Not to mention, there’s some amazing symmetry in the fact this team’s star player is named Custer. That means just like the 7th Cavalry at Little Big Horn, at some point, they are going to get massacred.
Michigan
Mrs. J-Dub likes to watch things on television that I not-so-lovingly refer to as “really fucked-up shit.” One of those things is a program about a rural veterinarian somewhere in Michigan. Some things can’t be unseen, and this show has inextricably burned into my brain an association with all things Michigan. It’s one thing to to see a guy shoulder-deep into a cow or pulling or pulling a calf with a tool which looks like “Nazi gynecologist meets a frame straightener from an auto collision repair shop.” Now if that weren’t fucked-up enough for you, every once in a while this guy does this stuff topless, which to me crosses a line from “vet show” to “fetish.”
The problem with this is nobody in Michigan seems to be concerned, which means rooting for Michigan basketball means you support some sort of twisted bestiality. I understand a big part of “rivalry” is to always out-do “that” rival, but the other school has a doctor who becomes world-famous because he likes to finger-pop eighth-graders, maybe you should let them have that one.
Nevada:
What can you say about a university which is always mistaken for the one Nevada school which was ever good at anything…and that was a quarter-century ago when they were coached by a guy who thought gym towels were an excellent source of dietary fiber. As it stands, “No, the other Nevada” is really only known for producing a kneeling shit-head quarterback and beating Boise State in football once every ten years or so.
Purdue:
Purdue can be summed in a single sentence. Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, was a Purdue alum. This shows how far people will go to get the fuck out of West Lafayette.
Syracuse:
People try to tell me Syracuse is a good school. There’s no such thing as a “good school” when you fill it with people who willingly moved to the snow-mageddon of upstate New York to become sociology majors who work at the front desk of a Best Western or those sleaze-was lawyers who advertise on daytime television.
Texas A&M:
Look at this school’s logo. Then go to Urban Dictionary , look up the definition of “ATM”and scroll down to entry #4. You people are fucking disgusting.
Texas Tech:
If you aren’t familiar with Texas Tech, it is the crown jewel of the Texas Panhandle. This is a piece of land even the Indians don’t want back; Oklahoma and Texas almost went to war over it; the loser having to take it. The city might as well be called “Lubbock-istan” because the whole area is like God ironed Afghanistan flat and covered it in tumbleweeds.
Villanova:
There are five Division I basketball schools in Philadelphia, and Villanova is easily the most hated. Just mention Villanova to the average Philadelphia basketball fan, and regardless of the year, you will get a predictable litany of cheesesteak-shit about how the Wildcats will get bounced early from the tournament, why they don’t deserve whatever seed they got, how head coach Jay Wright is a douchebag, et cetera, ad nauseum…
Now, when you press these fans on why they believe it generally comes down the usual “working class hero” bilge about a private school full of rich kids. Anybody who went to any school other than the ‘Nova will always eventually take their anti-Wildcat argument to the fact that Villanova students are generally wealthier than the students and alumni from the city’s other schools…except of course Penn, which doesn’t really count.
Right now, everybody in the City of Brotherly love is calling “bullshit” because any anti-rich kid school argument should obviously be leveled at those little trust-fund teat-suckers at Penn. Normally that would be correct, but in this case there’s one small fact which precludes that. Quaker basketball is not now, nor has it ever been relevant. Even this year, when they made their occasional tourney appearance by winning the Ivy (yawn) League, they weren’t around long enough for anybody to care.
That’s the real rub here. Villanova represents that dreaded combination of affluence and success. Think about it. Everybody who loves Philadelphia “Big 5” basketball and isn’t a Villanova fan has a reason to hate that school in Radnor whose name just means “New House” en Italia.
Temple fans hate Villanova because Jay Wright has had more success in less than 15 years than John Chaney had in 24 at Temple. Chaney was a crusty character; somewhat reminiscent of the grandfather we all had who at family gatherings in between telling the most racist jokes you ever heard would tell tell stories about the Depression and Work War II and call you a “pussy” because you weren’t there. Call that what you will, that made him an honorary grandfather for an entire city.
Then there’s St. Joseph’s. Face it, St. Joe’s hasn’t had a #1 seed since that Jameer Nelson team of over a decade ago. Die-hard Hawks fans will point out that team undefeated regular season.
LaSalle has been an “also-ran” with the exception of their National Championship in 1954.
But, Villanova got to play the real-life role of “Rocky” when they beat #1 Georgetown as a#8 underdog in 1985. Not to mention, don’t tell me Rollie Massimino didn’t look a bit like Uncle Pauly from that movie. Having said that, that still doesn’t mean they aren’t a bunch of privileged frat-boys who get loaded on spiked energy drinks and put their thumbs in each other’s butts.
West Virginia:
There’s an old saying about a picture being a thousand words. What’s a missing letter worth?
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It’s times like these when I’m glad my alma mater doesn’t make the Sweet 16.
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