Saturday, August 18, 2012
Past her prime
A whole lot of handwringing followed the unveiling of the hideous uniforms that Notre Dame will wear for the Oct. 6th football game against Miami (in Chicago, natch).
Quite frankly, my view is unchanged from what it was last year. In short - I don't like this alternate uniform stuff, but whatever. There's a lot of stuff that I don't like about the world in which we live. Nobody seems to give a shit what I think, so I don't lose any sleep over it. (Remind me to write a post about pronouns in a day or two, lest I forget. But in case I do forget - SPOILER ALERT - the conclusion is that nobody gives a shit what I think.)
I haven't seen a credible argument put forth that the players are lying when they say they love this stuff. And they universally say that they love this stuff. So let the youngsters have their fun once in a while and let the old white Midwesterners devote the rest of the season to tradition Who gives a shit, really? If the Irish happen to beat those criminals from Coral Gables, will it be any less sweet? Nope. And if they happen to lose, will it be any less bitter? Hardly. {Here's where I could paint by numbers and insert a cheap shot about Penn State sticking with traditional uniforms, but I won't. See what I did there? I just pulled an Obama on your asses and you didn't even notice.} But back on point - They can play in pink tutus if they want to, as long as they play well. And, if they play poorly, no amount of tradition and goldenness will make a difference.
But, once again...the fucking helmets. I don't care about trying to jazz up the uniform for a one-off game in an NFL stadium, but... seriously?
That's a bleached leprechaun on a blue (nearly black?) background, covering 35% of the helmet. And it's the same weird bedazzled gold pattern from last year, covering 65% of the helmet. It's just odd.
Incidentally, the jerseys look pretty awesome. So I'll give them that.
Anyhow, let's get to the point. Amidst the wailing and gnashing of teeth in the Notre Dame world, many of the alumni have become convinced that their beloved school has jumped the shark. I'm no alumnus - a point of which I'm reminded any time that I fail to get worked up about this stuff - but I have certainly observed a sad downward slide over the years. What is it now? Twenty years or so since the Irish contended for a national title? That's pretty bad.
So the analogies are flowing. Notre Dame is a wannabe Oregon. Notre Dame is this year's Maryland. And so on, and so forth. On one particular forum, a fella observed that men are fond of telling their wives, after a number of years, that they would marry them all over again. He went on to note that 'she' (Notre Dame) is no longer the one that he fell in love with, but he's stuck with her at this point. A follow-up asked about what kind of 'man' she was now trying to attract. Without much thought, and in an effort to be funny, I noted that she was probably on cougarlife.com. Upon reflection, I think I was more right than funny.
You see, she used to be a really hot piece of ass, but she never compromised her virtue. She stayed true to her upbringing and many people admired her for this. But, over the years, she started to age a little. The new hot chicks in the neighborhood were getting all the attention. One married a known philanderer by the name of Nick Saban. Another spent a few years with a known cheater named Pete Carroll. After Carroll dumped her, she picked herself up and moved in with another know cheater named Lane Kiffin.
Then there was the broad right down the street. She was always a little on the sleazy side, but who could blame her? Have you ever been to Ohio? I mean, yeah. Seriously. You'd be a dirty whore too if you were stuck in Columbus. When her latest husband was revealed as a lying cheat, she did what any self-respecting gold digger would do. She took her inheritance and threw it at Urban Meyer, who had bailed on his last fling in Florida not too long before.
And here we had Notre Dame. The fellas weren't coming around the way they used to. She was doing her best to get by, but sometimes she felt lonely. Then she hit a real rough patch. She dated one guy for a few years. He was pretty lousy. Then she dated another guy for a few days, before finding out that he wasn't who he said he was. Then there was another guy for a few years. When she dumped him, she was called a racist. Then another for a few years, after which she settled for the current fella. He's okay. He goes to work every day and brings home a respectable paycheck.
But deep down inside, she suspects that he's really not 'the one.' She may be old, but she hasn't given up the hope that she might regain the glamorous stature that she once held. She's still not a harlot like some of those that I mentioned earlier, but she wants to feel relevant in today's world. So what does she do? She goes to cougarlife.com and creates an account. That's where all the old broads are getting attention these days, after all. She can't bring herself to be the slut that some of her peers are, but she wants to dip a toe in the water and see how it feels.
After a few e-mails back and forth with a few questionable gentlemen, she decides to kick it up a notch. She posts a photo of herself in a garish outfit. The outfit really doesn't suit her. The guys on the site aren't really turned on. And, once her friends and family see the photos, they're awfully disappointed. What was she thinking?
But you know what? Some guys can look past that stupid pink g-string and neon bra. Some of them can see that she just might have something going on underneath. Sure this broad is past her prime, and that prime ain't ever coming back, but there's a chance that you just might want to take her home on a Saturday night at some point in the future. And if not, if she's really just a pathetic old loser, if she never appeals to the guys again, then the nasty lingerie sure as hell didn't make the difference.
I can promise you that much.
Quite frankly, my view is unchanged from what it was last year. In short - I don't like this alternate uniform stuff, but whatever. There's a lot of stuff that I don't like about the world in which we live. Nobody seems to give a shit what I think, so I don't lose any sleep over it. (Remind me to write a post about pronouns in a day or two, lest I forget. But in case I do forget - SPOILER ALERT - the conclusion is that nobody gives a shit what I think.)
I haven't seen a credible argument put forth that the players are lying when they say they love this stuff. And they universally say that they love this stuff. So let the youngsters have their fun once in a while and let the old white Midwesterners devote the rest of the season to tradition Who gives a shit, really? If the Irish happen to beat those criminals from Coral Gables, will it be any less sweet? Nope. And if they happen to lose, will it be any less bitter? Hardly. {Here's where I could paint by numbers and insert a cheap shot about Penn State sticking with traditional uniforms, but I won't. See what I did there? I just pulled an Obama on your asses and you didn't even notice.} But back on point - They can play in pink tutus if they want to, as long as they play well. And, if they play poorly, no amount of tradition and goldenness will make a difference.
But, once again...the fucking helmets. I don't care about trying to jazz up the uniform for a one-off game in an NFL stadium, but... seriously?
That's a bleached leprechaun on a blue (nearly black?) background, covering 35% of the helmet. And it's the same weird bedazzled gold pattern from last year, covering 65% of the helmet. It's just odd.
Incidentally, the jerseys look pretty awesome. So I'll give them that.
Anyhow, let's get to the point. Amidst the wailing and gnashing of teeth in the Notre Dame world, many of the alumni have become convinced that their beloved school has jumped the shark. I'm no alumnus - a point of which I'm reminded any time that I fail to get worked up about this stuff - but I have certainly observed a sad downward slide over the years. What is it now? Twenty years or so since the Irish contended for a national title? That's pretty bad.
So the analogies are flowing. Notre Dame is a wannabe Oregon. Notre Dame is this year's Maryland. And so on, and so forth. On one particular forum, a fella observed that men are fond of telling their wives, after a number of years, that they would marry them all over again. He went on to note that 'she' (Notre Dame) is no longer the one that he fell in love with, but he's stuck with her at this point. A follow-up asked about what kind of 'man' she was now trying to attract. Without much thought, and in an effort to be funny, I noted that she was probably on cougarlife.com. Upon reflection, I think I was more right than funny.
You see, she used to be a really hot piece of ass, but she never compromised her virtue. She stayed true to her upbringing and many people admired her for this. But, over the years, she started to age a little. The new hot chicks in the neighborhood were getting all the attention. One married a known philanderer by the name of Nick Saban. Another spent a few years with a known cheater named Pete Carroll. After Carroll dumped her, she picked herself up and moved in with another know cheater named Lane Kiffin.
Then there was the broad right down the street. She was always a little on the sleazy side, but who could blame her? Have you ever been to Ohio? I mean, yeah. Seriously. You'd be a dirty whore too if you were stuck in Columbus. When her latest husband was revealed as a lying cheat, she did what any self-respecting gold digger would do. She took her inheritance and threw it at Urban Meyer, who had bailed on his last fling in Florida not too long before.
And here we had Notre Dame. The fellas weren't coming around the way they used to. She was doing her best to get by, but sometimes she felt lonely. Then she hit a real rough patch. She dated one guy for a few years. He was pretty lousy. Then she dated another guy for a few days, before finding out that he wasn't who he said he was. Then there was another guy for a few years. When she dumped him, she was called a racist. Then another for a few years, after which she settled for the current fella. He's okay. He goes to work every day and brings home a respectable paycheck.
But deep down inside, she suspects that he's really not 'the one.' She may be old, but she hasn't given up the hope that she might regain the glamorous stature that she once held. She's still not a harlot like some of those that I mentioned earlier, but she wants to feel relevant in today's world. So what does she do? She goes to cougarlife.com and creates an account. That's where all the old broads are getting attention these days, after all. She can't bring herself to be the slut that some of her peers are, but she wants to dip a toe in the water and see how it feels.
After a few e-mails back and forth with a few questionable gentlemen, she decides to kick it up a notch. She posts a photo of herself in a garish outfit. The outfit really doesn't suit her. The guys on the site aren't really turned on. And, once her friends and family see the photos, they're awfully disappointed. What was she thinking?
But you know what? Some guys can look past that stupid pink g-string and neon bra. Some of them can see that she just might have something going on underneath. Sure this broad is past her prime, and that prime ain't ever coming back, but there's a chance that you just might want to take her home on a Saturday night at some point in the future. And if not, if she's really just a pathetic old loser, if she never appeals to the guys again, then the nasty lingerie sure as hell didn't make the difference.
I can promise you that much.
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