What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
If you’re a regular reader of Dubsism, you know that one of our time-honored traditions is to talk some shit about the competitors in major sporting events. We do it every year for the Super Bowl, and every spring we let the piss out of the NCAA “Sweet Sixteen.” This March will be no different.
Now that we are past the first and heading head-long into the second weekend of the NCAA Basketball Tournament, some of you may be happy with your bracket, and some are lamenting the fact their brackets are so much smoldering wreckage. No matter which side of the carnage your brackets lie, the bottom line is that the odds are that the team you have your hopes pinned on is going to let you down. The service we here at Dubsism provide is giving you ammunition which which you can load your “curse” gun when that finally happens.
As such, consider yourself warned. If you tend to go all “snowflake” and are easily offended, do us all a favor and read no further. This March tradition harks back to the original purpose of Dubsism; a home for my profanity-filled and completely offensive tirades. So, if you send me your hate-mail because I just took a giant Hormel Chili-fueled shit all over something you hold dear, I’ll know you didn’t take this warning seriously.
Arizona…the state that proves “the South” isn’t based on geography. Technically, Arizona is in the southern half of the U.S., but it was the fact they refused to take a free day off just because it was in honor of a black guy gives them every distinction usually reserved for the “old-fashioned” segregationist American “South.”
The irony comes from the fact the Martin Luther King, Jr. sired enough illegitimate children to fill the roster of any basketball team. If it weren’t for Arizona’s massive population of generally monogamous Mexicans (one of the only benefits of their general adherence to the dark, barbarous nature of Catholicism), most of this state’s citizenry would be feral white children running “free-range” style around the millions of tin-shack mobile homes which dominate this state’s landscape. Am I the only one who saw Raising Arizona?
Thanks to the generous nature of Arkansas’ most famous corporation, every dollar you spend at Wal-Mart helps a kid in the Razorback state get the gun he’ll need to convince his sister the legal difference between “rape” and “incest.”
Nobody should be surprised by this; Arkansas has a serious identity problem. As a member of the Southeastern Conference, the Razorbacks are reminded every day they aren’t the “true Antebellum South.” Their whole state is more like the result of a quasi-consensual cousin-ish encounter between Texas and Tennessee. Honestly, Arkansas can be best described as “more Texas.” Not only that, like Tennessee, Arkansas’ main contribution to the “South” was being largely destroyed during the Civil War.
No matter how this tournament shakes out, our long national nightmare is almost over. We re all watching the last days of that rat-faced fuck Mike Krzyzewski’s regime in Durham.
But to keep memories alive for the idiotic, front-running Duke fan base, since 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….
Gonzaga represents the first of four “God” schools. This is a Catholic school which somehow finds itself year-after-year both in the “Sweet Sixteen” despite the fact it is clavicle-deep in Mormons.
Sadly, I can identify with the Gonzaga kids because I too went to school in a God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere near the Canadian border. Just look at a map and compare the distance to the “great White North” from either Spokane, Washington or Grand Forks, North Dakota. In both cases, we’re talking about the kind of town where if you’re a college student, the only non-school related things to do are the stuff Catholics frowns upon, and Mormons just won’t do…like eating, drinking, and fucking. Despite the excitement level added by institutional repression, that only works for a while because eventually 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. Given enough time, the entire town looks like mating season at SeaWorld. What makes matters worse is Gonzaga is 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?
There was a time when Houston occupied a prestigious spot in the pantheon of college basketball; that was the era of Elvin Hayes through “Phi Slamma Jamma.” All five Final Fours reached by the University of Houston occurred during the Guy Lewis era. The problem is that Guy Lewis is dead, and sadly…Kelvin “The Snail” Sampson is not.
I call Sampson “The Snail” because short of Bruce “Tit Sweat”Pearl, he’s the sleaziest coach in all of the game. As such, he leaves a trail of slime where ever he goes, hence “The Snail.” Fret not Houston fans, like Indiana and Oklahoma before you, the Cougars soon will be under an NCAA investigation.
The fundamental problem is that Kansas fans believe that they should win every single year, and when the Jayhawks don’t, their fans cocoon themselves in this layer of false history. Jayhawk fans think the entire sport is their birthright; that its history is proprietary to Kansas simply because their legendary coach Phog Allen was rumored to be Dr. James Naismith’s homosexual lover.
To understand this fraudulent nature, let’s break down that history they love so damn much. First of all, while Naismith was the inventor of basketball, he didn’t invent it in Kansas. Do you know what did get invented in Kansas? Shooting people over slavery. But that’s not as “feel-good” as believing your basketball team is historically elite.
I used to have nothing good to say about Kansas until I read that one of their state legislators 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 only thing that is funnier is the people who think this guy gives Kansans a bad name; like they didn’t already have one.
Iowans really don’t get enough credit for the vital role they serve. Based on their location, they separate two of the weirdest cultures in the Midwest in Minnesota and Missouri. If it weren’t the barrier provided by Iowa, we could have millions of offspring from the melding of the cultures which brought us “Huck Finn” and “Fargo.” That’s why I give Iowans a pass on the fact they live 80 years behind the rest of America (that includes Kansas…let that sink in for a minute…) and make sex toys out of corn cobs.
Many people don’t know that “Iowa” is actually an acronym which means “Individuals Ooff Whacking Awkwardly.” Watching an Iowa State game is like being that kid who gets sent to “Camp Second Chance” only to find out “juvenile rehabilitation” means watching Twister on a loop, then doing something unnatural with one of those corn-cob toys with Helen Hunt on freeze-frame.
This year, the ACC stands for the “Almost Competitive Conference.” This whole league spent the regular season drying up like dogshit on a summer sidewalk, but then turned it on come March. Somehow, this sorry-ass league got four teams in the “Big Dance.” Three of them made the “Sweet Sixteen,” and Notre Dame wouldn’t be the “fat girl handing out punch” if they knew how to make a jump shot.
Either way, the ACC should be fucking embarrassed that a low-rent school like this represents it, even if they got to the “Sweet Sixteen” After all, beating a Trojan is a course required for any degree granted by “The U, ” which is why most Miami alum have more “strays” wandering around than the guy Arizona didn’t want to honor with a holiday.
Realistically, the best thing you can say about Michigan is that it isn’t Ohio State. Even more realistically, that difference may be in name only. Both schools over-rated academically and supported by bloated, corrupt athletic departments. The difference lies in the fact that nobody really knows what a “Buckeye” actually is; the rumor is that it’s a retarded version of the walnut. On the other hand, it is common knowledge that a wolverine is simply a hyper-aggressive skunk with more robustly developed anal glands.
North Carolina gets away with not being as hated as it should be because it’s in-state rival takes the cake for being despised. If it weren’t for Duke, the Tar Heels would easily the gold medal standard for basketball douche-baggery. One expects this from a blue-blood private dickweed factory like Duke, North Carolina emulates this inflates sense of self-importance to a fucking tee. That’s amazing in and of itself considering Chapel Hill is home to a state school and has to accept anybody with a North Carolina driver’s license and
no criminal record a background we can work with depending on who how rich your parents are. That “background” part is exactly like Duke, so you get the point.
How does one outstrip Duke in terms of being a self-important dickbag? Just check out the definition of “Providence:” God conceived as the power sustaining and guiding human destiny.
Holy fuck…how can you have a more inflated sense of self than to give yourself that name? For basketball purpose, it really fells like “the Almighty returned to thunder-dunk on sixth-graders.”
Purdue lies in the heart of the Hoosier state, which despite its rabid affection for the game of basketball, with scant few exceptions it doesn’t produce anybody who can play it. Even now, arguably the Boilermakers best player is a seven-and-a-half foot-plus Canadian who moonlights in the off-season as a moose. But thanks to the movie Hoosiers and Larry Fucking Bird, any time any school from Indiana gets into this tournament, people over-estimate their ability to play (I’m looking at you too, Notre Dame).
Realistically, Purdue lies in the heart of one of the truly shitty states in all of America. Seriously, you could call Indiana “North Kentucky” and not confuse any of it’s native population of eleven-toed mouth-breathers.
Let’s put it this way. Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, was a Purdue alum. Gene Cernan, the last man to do so and one of only three who flew to the moon twice was also a Boilermaker. This exemplifies the lengths to which people will go to get the fuck out of West Lafayette.
The smallest of the “God” schools in this year’s “Big Dance,” St. Peter’s has no fucking chance to win this thing…unless the find the Ark of the Covenant and melt somebody like the Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Located in the heart of the Texas panhandle, Texas Tech is a school at which they spent millions of dollars building things which fire lumber into other things under the guise of “tornado research.” The pointlessness of this is self-evident, as the vast majority of tornadoes occur in God-forsaken, desolate expanses of geographic nihilism like the Texas panhandle. This is a piece of land so undesirable that even Oklahoma didn’t want it.
Let that sink in for a minute. Oklahoma is a state which believes in urban renewal via domestic terrorists using gigantic piss-fertilizer bombs, and even they had no interest in a piece of land which could easily be described as “West Afghanistan.” This may help to explain while like much of the Middle East, the average resident of Lubbock-istan lives about six centuries behind the rest of the world.
There are two inarguable things about Los Angeles which are completely untrustworthy; mid-westerners who move to southern California thinking it is a panacea, and any of its sports teams. The common problem is the beach…there is no such thing as a town that has both a fierce sporting tradition and a desirable beach. The only exceptions are the Miami Dolphins of the early 70’s and the Los Angeles Lakers of
forever the pre-LeBalding James era, both of whom are/were supported largely by transplants from other locales who are old enough to where beaches just present a source of irritating sand in various artificial joints and/or ostomy ports.
As far as the mid-westerners who make the “fantasy” move, I have far too many examples in my personal life from which to make examples, but all of them sound pretty much the same. The problem is that almost all of them will bitch if they think I’m talking about them, when in reality I don’t give a frog’s watertight ass about them, other than their stories are at the same time predictable and hilarious. These are almost like those “novels” you read as a kid that allowed you to pick your own ending, the trouble the story is fucked up to begin with. For example:
Boy somehow becomes successful and realizes he has an opportunity to trade up from mid-western girlfriend. He does so, and mid-western girlfriend goes back to (insert mid-western state here), gets some job that pays by the hour and eats her way into a subscription from the Lane Bryant catalog.
Girl falls into a pattern that starts with “look at how cool I am because I live in California” and ends with “I will out-spend anybody to maintain my ‘look at how cool I am’ mindset.” Despite what she earns, she out-spends it several-fold, until the boyfriend says “no mas” and pulls the rip-cord. He heads back to (insert mid-western state here), while she now invests in a string of “relationships” all of which are designed to continue the life-style choices she has made.
None of these douche-hammers give a shit about sports, which is why Los Angeles gets no fans for anything.
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.
Now, 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 at trust-fund teat-suckers at Ivy League 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.
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.
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