Bachelorette Recap: Week Three

On this very special Memorial Day, I chose to remember all the fallen suitors over the past couple of seasons.  Just kidding, I went to a baseball game with my wife and we drank beer and ate meat in tube form and sang the national anthem.  That’s how we do it, America.  Then we went home and watched Bachelorette and in a way, the terrorists won.

Hope you enjoyed the long weekend more than the contestants are about to.  Clip’s full, let’s unload some shells.

Lady Veneers was in bed in the beginning of the episode to show us that she is just like the rest of us.  Like all of us, an odd 38 year old doppleganger mother brings us a plate of hummus, meat and vegetables in bed so that we may eat virtually carb-less before we even take off the make-up we pretended to sleep in.  Traditional as Thanksgiving Dinner, right?

I just had to ask, where was the power sander they use to keep those chompers so white?

I hate the trend in this show where the producers make the dudes say something after they read what’s on a date card.  I mean, I laughed at how close to 70s pornography it came when the card read something like “come close to my heart” and I think Filibuster was like “that I can do”.  It’s just that now when they write anything, the dude has to be like “blurrrrhghg”.  I can’t deal with a totally throw away sentence.  I talk a lot, but I feel like there’s a point most of the time.  When someone reads a note that’s like “fly with Angels” and then they say “I’m just happy to fly anywhere with an angel like her” I am pretty sure ten shelter puppies die.

So, the first date went to Spidermehhhh, who still looked like Toby is he was swinging on a web and then went face first into a brick wall.  I got to hear the hot new catch phrase of “I’m so happy to be here” eight times as they walked through Charlotte which I never knew until now looks like Gotham City from the “shitty Batman years”:

They get to a wall and down come the rope climbing apparatuses.  Too perfect, right?  Spidermehhhh has to climb a wall.  They lock into the harnesses and start going up the wall super slow and awkward.  Lady Veneers clearly had to sign a deal where she had to be fun once every 3 weeks which was tough because that meant every three weeks we’d miss the zany antics of Half Damon substitute teaching at a children’s homeless shelter.  YOU ARE ON THE BACHELORETTE DON’T TRY TO SAVE THE WORLD JUST RIDE A HELICOPTER GET WASTED ON OAKY CHARDONNAY AND MAKE A MISTAKE IN A HOT TUB.  kthxbai.

Anyway, they are climbing this building and Spidermehhh sucks at it.  Lady Veneers has the mandatory “I don’t think I can do this” moment and then Spidermehhh is like “I’ll be there in a second to help you, derp” and then he can’t figure it out.  So they just climb up and he doesn’t kiss her.  He even had a lightning storm.  I’d say the no kiss was a nice slow-roll but it was a no-roll since she gave him an in.

Meh.  Some talk about him being young.  I considered making a smoothie out of Drain-O and Comet.  More lightning.  Then they go downstairs for a Luke Bryan concert and this asshole knew the words which in my mind made him an asshole.  I know now from my wife who listens to music besides dubstep remixes of disco songs (I know what the ladies like) that this guy is popular and if you like country you probably know the words.  I’m sorry.  Ladies, good life lesson.  If I guy likes country music first, he will expect you to cook and probably try to box you one night when he finds his old high school football trophy and wonders what his life has become.  Just marry the guy who still tries to go to Coachella into his 40s because at least there’s no surprises.  I think we’re all just trying to feel comfortable with the kind of douches we are.  Don’t be country douche, even if the blonde with fake boobs and chompers likes country.  Believe me, she liked Brad.  If you told her industrial goth rock was what you were into, she’d support it so long as you were vaguely racist and gave her that minivan full of babies (which gets creepier each time I say it).

So Spidermehhh forgot that Spiderman won all the girls over by just kissing Dunst upside down and actually asked Emily if he could kiss her “at the end of this song”.  What’s next?  ”Can we procreate after this re-run of Grey’s Anatomy?”  Kill me now.  Way to NOT look like a 25 year old who has never been with a hot girl before.  You can’t say you are mature and ask for a kiss once a song ends.  Even that asshole last season made out with Hey Bear when they were at the Bellagio fountain in Vegas.  And that guy cried at PS I Love You.

The rest of this date ended with Spidermehhh delusional in believing he was special and that Lady Veneers had an unbreakable bond, the kind only forged in the hot steel of a boring climb up a building in which you couldn’t give her the standard “mid-air reassurance hug” OR the “we just climbed something, let’s suck face”.  See how that works out for you, brah.

Team date.  Sweet!

Chompers came out in a green top that was like “boobs” and then all the dudes showed up in the park and what better place to find love than in a park…

Emily came out and we saw how there is zero correlation between having an athletic body and being an athlete.  The last time I saw people throwing footballs like that was 9th grade powder puff practice.  Also, every dude is bringing back the look (that I don’t think was ever in) of like a shirt way too tight for their shorts, almost like they had Under Armour on, which again might make sense if they threw a football at least at 14 year old girl level.

Shit was like a V-Neck convention in Williamsburg (Brooklyn, not Virginia).

So Emily let’s us know that instead of helicopters (again), we get to bring back her lame ass friends including random Indian lady and beef jerky, who I am now calling Chelsea Manhandler.  I mean this chick was so scary.  I was being nice calling her beef jerky.  It was so much worse than that.  She made the facial moves of an old farmer who has changed the way he moves his mouth to avoid involuntarily spitting tobacco on people coming to buy his crops.  That and when she made Strawberry Lemonade take his shirt off (yes, that’s what I am calling the random blonde guy who gets a really red face) she looked the way women look at coffee shops when you know they have 50 Shades of Grey on their Kindles.

Side note, I’ve read a few excerpts.  Girls, if you can read this crap, stop bothering your boyfriend about his porn.  If porn is string cheese, you guys are making burrata from scratch with that book.  No double standards.

Speaking of double standards, Filibuster had a great episode and by great I mean I think he slips quaaludes to goats and takes them out to dinner.  First of all, what made him decide to shave an evil beard?  Did you guys see that?  It was full on the Seneca Crane.

On top of that bold choice, he continued his awful game (that works on many girls) of just sort of bumrushing her and not letting anyone else talk.  His strategy is noble, like that of the light brigade who charged boldly into the fray with little hope of survival, in that he is simply going to play the odds that he can box out every other man, despite the fact that the show is designed to foil this plan.  I guess how smart do you expect a guy who shaves a Seneca Crane beard to be?

Then, in a move WE ALL KNOW works wonders, he told Lady Veneers that if she got fat he’d still love her but not love ON her, right in front of her miserable friends.  This is so aggressive I thought it might even work.  I don’t think it will long run.  Filibuster is a meat puppet.  His fall will be delicious.

I blacked out most of the other conversations and the part where kids came out to play just because I couldn’t deal with Chelsea Manhandler any more and also, it just seems weird to me that on this show mothers sign release forms to let their kids play with suitors.

The night part of the date was brutal because Dad was basically like “hey, my story is so depressing you will need that ridiculously overfilled goblet of oaky chard to get through it” and while I liked Dad more for his foster home story, Emily’s tears were a sign that he’d gone into the friend zone.  You bought yourself some time, but save the sob story truth until she is into it.  He’s legit a tough dude and seems like a great guy, but just from a strategic place, you want to wait longer.  He’s been all “my kids, my sob story”.  He needs to be like “I want to make babies with you” and then it’s like “how do you know you can handle it” and he’s like “my father was an orc who died in Middle Earth and I raised myself amongst the hobbits and eventually saved the day” and she’d be like, “damn I thought you just lifted weights” and then he’s like “no, Chompers.  I lift nations”.

I just got fired up.

Strawberry Lemonade got the rose, right?  I forgot.

All I know is that Barry Manilow self destructed for no apparent reason.  He said his kid was sad he was gone, but Dad AND Chompers both told him that five year olds don’t remember the dump they just took, so let’s keep it real.  Barry Manilow wanted to go home.  He wore a really awkward sweater and the awkwardness was too much and he had to get home to his kid who didn’t need him at home at all.  Something else was up with this dude (besides the sweater).  I guess we’ll never know and I am pretty sure I’ll forget about it before I finish this… what was I talking about?

Kudos to Lady Veneers though for basically saying “Dude, I’d make you stay but you aren’t winning so yeah, maybe kick it with your kid because I am not intending to adopt him”.  Cold shit, Chompers.  Like novocaine, which you are intimately familiar with.

Final date card went to Speed Racer, who I’ve said from the get-go had an inside track.  He’s a rare blend of extreme sportsman and total puss.  For a girl like Lady Veneers, it could be too much to handle.  His hair gives One Direction a run for its money.

It was easy to tell how Emily felt about Speed Racer because, well, she went with the asset-enhancing sweater/cowboy boots/non existent jean shorts look which typically works on dudes that haven’t dated cowgirls before.

Lady Veneers has effectively replaced the helicopter with the far more boring private plan as they puddle hop around the scenic armpit of the USA.  I mean, didn’t Ricki Bobbi’s dad die in a plane crash?  Like, on Brad’s season being at the racetrack fucked her head up, but now she can date a race car driver and fly tiny planes around the south?  Lost.

And what better place to be lost than DOLLYWOOD!

A celebration of country music, roller coasters and places I will probably never go, Speed Racer and Chompers roll around Dollywood continuing her tour of places this poor bastard will have to hang out at if he wins her heart.  Then, in SHOCKING FORM, Dolly Parton herself came out to surprise Emily.  You never expect the Muppets.

This was actually a great moment.  Besides the fact that Speed Racer can’t dance, Emily was so excited I was actually happy with her and you kind of have to respect Dolly for being 200 years old, a silicon pioneer and faithful to her man.  She also, subsequently, sings awesome and is a delight in most movies she’s in.  I was happy for everyone.

Ironically, Emily (just as she had done to Brad), basically locked up with Arie and this shit is over for now.  Only One Direction has the kind of game required to deal with what Speed Racer did.  She was super into that shit.  It was even more obvious at the cocktail party.

Cinnamon was amazing when he told Emily it would be a compromise to adopt Ricki.  I thought it was language barrier at first, but then was delighted when he smiled like a moron and said “no language barrier, fuck your baggage”.  She kicked him off and got super upset and Speed Racer took the inside lane to a makeout sesh.  Dude is icing the competition and Filibuster hated it.  He was speaking like this shit was Gladiator.  I can’t wait to see where this goes.  Filibuster is a walking Viagra side-effect and Arie is the opposite.  Should be fun for us.

Don’t care about the egg smashing.  Nothing fun to say.

The Talented Mr. Lipstick proved the producers have a say in who says in the bottom half of the rose ceremony because after his wildly douchetastic “I love the sound of your voice but let me finish talking” Emily was out.  Still, this douche got a rose.  Somewhere, Bentley is stoked because at least that asshole might be fun to golf or have a beer with.  Talented Mr. Lipstick is the biggest asshole ever, and I don’t mean he’s a jerk.  I mean asshole like “who the fuck is this clown shoes MFer” kind of asshole.

Party MC got his record scratched.  He seemed fine.  At least it’s a short flight to Jersey.

You know where to find me (add me on these social links below) and I’ll see you next week when maybe there’s a freaking helicopter or hot tub.

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Bachelorette Recap: Week Two

I’d say good morning, but it isn’t.  Last night my worst fears were realized.  The Bachelorette, much to my prediction, finally jumped the shark.  It’s hard to jump the shark when your show typically involves dates where you take a helicopter to a place where you actually jump over sharks, but ABC menage a trois’d to do it.  I warned them that Lady Veneers would be boring.  I warned them she’d make them do all kinds of “I’m a good mom” shit and that half the country would be fooled, but what has two thumbs and is going to call it like it is:  THIS GUY.

Fair warning, some nicknames will change as we get to know these idiots.

Let’s just get right into it.  Ryan, the guy who gives steroids to children and has more jawline than a Luke Wilson convention, gets the first one on one date confirming that despite the fact Lady Veneers keeps saying she wants to move on to a better guy, will still just pick the more athletic-obviously frat rock asshole out there.  Look, I love to hang with frat rock asshole, but I’m a guy and I think it’s funny when people like Lady Veneers say “I need to protect my hand” before shoving it into a wood chipper.

Real quick, he gets a new name and that name is “Filibuster”.  That’s because later in the episode when Barry Manilow tries to steal LV away from him to show her how much he looks like the animated mouse star of An American Tail (or Fievel Goes West, your choice), Filibuster makes her read a 7 page note that was so dumb I was sure it was the collection of all his love notes from middle school.

Anyway, so Filibuster gets the first date and if you couldn’t smell that this dude was a huge dick from a mile away, you are sleeping.  Ladies, a man owes it to you to have unique game.  No man goes to the gym that much, played pro sports, and wears really thin v-neck shirts because he wants to raise you kid. He spent his whole life learning how to do just enough so his coaches wouldn’t ride his ass like your high school jeans that don’t fit anymore.  He is going to say whatever the fuck he needs to say to make you think he’s all good and you will hear what you want to hear, ignoring intonation and better judgment.  Ladies, if you are dating a man like this right now, get out, he’s lying.  If you are that guy, don’t worry.  Keep doing what you are doing because she is going to ignore it and my advice, and that will probably make you enjoy it more (even though you told your friends at the bar last week you were bored).

Prior to the date, Lady Veneers had ABC stage that she actually hangs out with old chicks.  There was a beef jerky tanned mom, a strange Indian lady who didn’t talk (convinced they just brought her over from another family hanging at the park) and then someone else I couldn’t remember because I was so confused that ABC wanted us to believe the biggest celebrity in Charlotte hangs out with old chicks because they are moms of Ricki Bobby’s friends.  Also, she was bringing them there to have them take her to soccer?  That was a “big help”?  Yes, ABC.  We totally believe you.  It was way more convenient to set up a shoot at a park with 3 strangers and then have security escort Ricki Bobby to soccer than to just drop the damn kid off.

Look, I get it.  You want to be promiscuous and respected at the same time.  Unless you date Party MC, it can’t happen.  You can’t have your pie and also have sex with it too.  We all have to choose.  You chose to be the Bachelorette after saying how you hated it.  Stop ruining my Magical Helicopter Tour of the Known Sexual Universe, marry a fat guy who is a doctor and let HIM make your Hummer Limo filled with babies.  You are insulting my superior intelligence.

So, on the most painful date since Hey Bear took assholes to random Asian markets nine weeks in a row, Filibuster gets rescued from the standard homoerotic all-male sunbathing revue at the mansion to get in an Aston Martin and go on some magical date.  Only because Emily is hellbent on showing us she’s a good mom (good moms don’t go on the Bachelorette in the YouTube era), she makes him bring in groceries and bake cookies with her.  He used a fucking whisk to stir the batter.  Seriously meat stick?  I don’t care if you don’t cook or bake, does that make any sense?  Just on a basic viscosity vs tool level?  Yes, I know how to bake and cook, but that’s just because I’m perfect.  I mix drinks that kill people in far off lands without me knowing.

So Filibuster could not have looked more unamused this entire time.  Didn’t bother Chompers even a little bit.  She just kept saying what a good sport he was, even when she made him come to soccer practice and sit in the car and he clearly was giving her the “fuck you” face, which if you date girls, you know works when they are insecure.  Don’t be that girl, readers.  Don’t do it.

Look, just because Filibuster literally said the right things didn’t change that he didn’t try to put any conviction behind it.  When I was young and lied to girls, I did it like One Direction did it.  With a stony, what’s he thinking-slash-what’s he staring at on that fictional horizon in the distance sort of panache.  And it works.

Filibuster was relieved to have a normal Bach date in a douchey restaurant in Charlotte called “Osso”, because no one knows upscale Italian like North Carolina…  Now, please tell me you can picture Beef Jerky and Emily’s other 2 friends hanging out with her at a place like Osso.  TRY HARDER ABC.  Harrison’s divorce is affecting my enjoyment of this show.

So the entire date sounded like farts were coming out of Filibuster’s mouth and Emily being like “hooray!”  Then she kept repeating he was hot and that since Brad was hot, it might not work out.  Right.   I am sure you’d have trouble meeting an ugly guy, Emily.

Finally, they went outside and some band called like “Pomegranate” or “Bananas Foster” played some country girl please kiss me butt jam and Emily showed she has less rhythm than a broken windchime.  Also, we learned that phrases like “journey to find love and what better place to find love than Charlotte” are gone, giving way to both “I’m so happy you’re here” and “there’s no place in the entire world I’d rather be”, which were repeated incessantly by everyone the entire episode, including James Van Der Geek who later shit the bed on his date.  We’ll get there.  If I don’t kill myself.

Date two is theatre related and I am just glad I don’t have to watch Hey Bear dance in a midriff again.  They go to a theatre and ABC jumps the shark on a Disney cross promo that somehow ruined both The Muppets (who are awesome) and the Bachelorette (which sucks but in a really good way like all 90s action films, which also have helicopters).   Anything this show does, you only need one Kevin Bacon to get it.  Disney and ABC are the same company and a Muppets sequel is on the way (that part I endorse).  I mean you had to wonder how a couple of years back Barenaked Ladies were on the show.

I did enjoy when Party MC said “no one expects the Muppets”.  Picture like a violent film and then Fozzy comes out and stabs a terrorist and says “No one expects the Muppets”.  It’ll be hard, but I am keeping that line for a rainy day.

The next 40 minutes were an LSD trip far stranger than the one on Mad Men this season because it came from Chris Harrison’s mind.  You had Half Damon afraid to public speak because of brain injury.  They even pulled out the Creepy Bachelor Theme for his talk about brain injuries.  Really, ABC?  It’s not scary, you’re just dicks.

Side note, see how Filibuster was super cool about that situation?  He’s a good teammate.  Emily, that’s how he acts when he gives a shit.  He will leave Ricki at soccer practice and bang one of your friends.  Don’t be a push over.

You had Kalon, who now is being called either The Talented Mr. Lipstick or Drool Intentions (mid season form, ladies) being all excited for theatre, but then all annoyed he has to be on stage when he sings later.  You had Emily and Kermit in some weird fucking cheating fantasy for Kermit.  You had Harrison kicking it with Waldorf or whoever and I was pretty sure my wife had slipped mescaline in my white Russian.  What the hell was going on?  Then there was a dance routine where Emily looked stiffer than a dead guy planking.  Fellas, she might not be fun when the lights go out.  Just saying.

One Direction had to propose to Miss Piggy (who by at this point I wished was the Bachelorette) and he totally nailed it.  He’s rocking the head fuck that Frank from Ali’s season did and that my homeboy Ben Flajnik rocked Ashley’s season.  It’s showing girls you have the ability to give a shit but not specifically giving a shit about them… Yet.  Dot dot dot.

That was confirmed at the cocktail hour later when he didn’t even look at her and simply played it coy and said “no YOU’RE making me nervous” then there was a ton of “I’m glad you’re here” and shit.  You never expect the Muppets.

Then you had Arie totally nail it and become the front runner, only because he’s nice and confident, has a little Zach Braff in him which is key to winning this show, and he drives racecars and that is what Emily should NOT want, so of course, she’ll want it.

Party MC and the Talented Mr. Lipstick went at it a little bit and even though I agreed with Party MC, it’s hard to watch a dumb poor guy fight verbally with a rich smart guy.  It reminds us of middle school or whenever your awkward stage was (mine is right now, I’m a USC Football blogger and bourbon fanatic who covers the Bachelorette, welcome to my awkward years).  It was literally like watching Zoolander try to talk shit to Hansel.  I got a newsflash for you Walter Cronkite.   Yeesh.

Rose went to One Direction.  Told you.

Next day at round two of “Naked Guys Sunbathing”, Dad got into it with Talented Mr. Lipstick when the luxury brand consultant sort of talked shit about leaving Dad’s kid at home to be on the show.  My friend pointed out how weird it was that Dad talked about tucking his kid in and he’s 12.  I didn’t catch that, but I did notice how this week the kid was made to be extra old and how he gave his Dad the “you gotta get out of the house and find love again” speech.  Your kid isn’t a Hilary Duff movie, Dad.  You don’t tuck him in and he doesn’t give you love speeches.  Just stick to lifting weights and having a kid.  That’s your sweet spot.

By the way, when he got pissed, he totally talked shit like a Dad, which is scarier than a gangster.  He was saying like “back up and apologize” with a smile.  Talented Mr. Lipstick shit his pants which sucked for everyone in the hot tub.  Dad got all True Blood vampire puffed out for the occasion.  He may not know how to make up stories about his son, but pretty sure he could pull the face off of a douchebag from Dallas.

Second date is with Dawson’s Geek.  He came out wearing some shirt that defined “shirt you see at store and immediately know you can’t pull it off even in Las Vegas surrounded by people on blow”.  Didn’t stop Dawson.

Unlike Dawson from the show, this guy had nothing to say.  He just smiled, repeated what she said, nodded, derp herr de durr, and then got on a private plane to go to ONE OF EMILY’S FAVORITE PLACES?!?!  Yes…  Maybe somewhere cool?

West Virginia?  Mehhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Isn’t that where they filmed Deliverance?  Fuck.

So they go to this hotel that only someone from West Virginia could think was cool.  It had a creepy indoor pool, weird wallpaper everywhere and astroturf on a balcony.  I get that people sometimes think shit like that is amazing, but it isn’t.  I am sorry.  Call me new fashioned, but give me the fucking Four Seasons, waiters that love being ignored and no “love clock”.  Fuck that love clock.  But really, considering what was coming, fuck Emily putting something in the love clock.  You could have skipped that part if you were really going to drown Dawson in the creek.  I know when Lady Veneers figured out she didn’t love a dbag in a pink plaid shirt she cried because it would hurt his feelings, but let’s keep it real here, if you cared that much you wouldn’t have made him fill out a card for the love clock two seconds before dumping him BEFORE THE FUCKING FIREWORKS SHOW.

Dawson’s Geek was shocked.  It felt out of left field.  But then again, you never expect the Muppets.

I think it is cold shit to make someone check out the love clock and then note let them see the fireworks.  Whatever.

Rose ceremony was highlighted by Harrison’s shirt/tie combo.  Plaid on plaid?  Insanity.  He definitely picked it out when staring in the mirror during his Muppets “trip”.  Harrison, can we just kick it already.  Stop fronting.  We could run this city.

No one interesting got kicked off.  They kept Party MC just to keep Talented Mr. Lipstick on his twinkle toes.

As I predicted, Emily is a boring ass Bachelorette.  She’s super hot (but Ms. Piggy had better teeth and she doesn’t have teeth) and she seems nice enough, but she’s trying to hard.  Be the southern girl who got preggers way too young and chased race car drivers.  Let the Ricky Bobby out and this season has a chance.  And if I don’t get a helicopter that YOU chose in the next two weeks, it will be hell to pay.  Currently “I’m not glad your here” and there “are lots of places in the world I’d rather be”.

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Bachelorette Recap: Week One

Welcome back readers.  I have been on a long journey since we last spoke.  I’ve taken a helicopter tour of the world and rappeled off of every bridge I could find no matter how small, large or Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.  I’ve been to exotic Asian markets and painted shit on lanterns and kites and made people translate for me.  I’ve pretended to eat dinner while drinking bad Chardonnay.  I’ve gone on a journey to find an answer to a burning question (not that burning question, I’m sure it’s just razor burn).

Why do you guys read this?  How have I become the destroyer of contestants, the scourge of showrunners?  What makes these recaps unique.

Then I saw Party MC in his Inland Empire suit calling the guy who arrived in a helicopter “Helicopter Guy” three hundred times and realized that you need me.  You need a man who is not afraid of calling people awful things for the purpose of entertainment.

Tactically, there was a huge concern with this season.  Emily Maynard is pretty much an impenetrable fortress of boring ass hotness.  She’s all southern belle and besides the fact that she stole Jim Carrey’s dentures from The Mask, she’s pretty much an awful person to make fun of.  Every year I miss Ali, the Muppet, who could not stop making whining noises or frying her extensions or dressing like a highlighter.  This year, we get a hot, boring sort-of-widow with a kid who rarely pops off and comes off dumb.

So what do I do?  What do you think I’ll do.  Let’s tear this asshole apart.

I mean, the resemblance is there.  Don’t get me wrong, Emily is hot and I think we’d all be fine with the fact that 75 percent of her face was installed by a dentist.  I’m not perfect either.  But when picking on someone like her, best to stay superficial.  We wouldn’t want to tap into the fact that she gave birth into the richest family in all of NASCAR or calling her a hypocrite for being so “I would never be the Bachelorette or do anything to mess with Ricki Bobby” and then “being the Bachelorette and sticking Ricki Bobby on a swing set wearing a shirt with her name on it before letting her get rid of a bunch of red balloons to further fuck with the already-fragile-from-NASCAR-fumes ozone above North Carolina”.    Heavens no.

If we pick on Emily, the well-mannered orally armed hot boring girl, we’re going to do it for her teeth.  I thought Lady Veneers would do the trick.   I mean, she is a lady after all.

Okay.  Let’s get our Bach on.

First off, as I say every season, I hate the first couple episodes because it’s like, why do I need to get to know these guys so well?  I mean, let’s be honest, the minute I met the one African-American from LA on the show, as much as I wanted to get to know him (mostly because he kept talking about how attractive being a single mother was and I was gonna call him Mom Fetish and everything), I know that this is the Bachelorette and unless your name is Ro-bear-toe, you are not going to win the Hunger Games.  It’s racist.  Let’s just put that out there.

Also, sorry in advance to Portuguese Cinnamon, the Brazillian guy who kept looking at Lady Veneers boobs even when she said “gracias” confusing Brazilians for Spanish speakers.  Sorry also to Pablo Escobar, the nerdy guy from Medellin via San Francisco who thought this was 1998 and just kept speaking Spanish to impress Lady Veneers.  Newsflash.  You don’t live in North Carolina because you like diversity.  I’d be working the other angle Alejandro.  Say your mother named you after the Lady Gaga song and that you just want to learn to love American football and Thanksgiving and killing terrorists.  The Spanish thing worked when “La Vida Loca” was big.  At this point, we’re just looking for non-douches of any race.

Let’s rewind.

Lady Veneers intro was as boring as she was.  She just kept talking about how hard life is and walking around her ridiculously expensive 8 level house and tucking Ricki into a bed nicer than I could afford until about a year ago.  I mean it looks like all she does is spend Hendricks racing money and drive a white Denali to pilates and back.  Seems rough.  And please stop with the “men don’t crowd around me at the super market”.  That’s because they are too busy tripping from rubbernecking at you.  I have to call it like I see it.  She’s single because she wants to be and she is the Bachelorette because she wants attention.  SHE WAS ENGAGED TO ONE OF THE RICHEST RACING FAMILIES IN THE HISTORY OF PUTTING GAS IN AUTOMOBILES.

Harrison showed up stoked about Alejandro getting on the show, his personal dealer from Medellin.  He also was stoked because nothing is trippier on acid than going to a new Bachelor mansion built in Charlotte that looks exactly like the one in LA.  He was triple stoked because by the end of this season, he will be the one making babies to fill up Lady Veneers minivan.  He touched her a lot.

The weirdest part was when he interviewed her (after she stared blankly into like fifty sunsets) and was trying to get her to be emotional about her dead rich fiance.  He really laid it on, not that she cried or showed human emotion.  He was all “so when he died, calling your name on an exploding plane filled with orphans and humanitarian aid and the codes to deactiviate an Iranian nuclear device, were you sad?”  Harrison, you left your wedding ring on, but you don’t have to pretend it’s the one from Lord of the Rings.  You don’t have to be evil.

Anyway, we met a few nerds before the show.

I know all you girls think Arie was super hot and that Emily is shallow enough just to dig another race car driver and guess what.   You are right about the second part.  It didn’t matter that his Jonas Bros hair cut got effed up and he had the worst Cowlick I have ever seen, Emily was a girl and just was like “I know this is bad, so it makes perfect sense, let’s run with it”.  In fairness, the fucker looks like a dangerous banker character from Gossip Girl.  Cowlick has a good chance to win this thing though and if you are from North Carolina, you don’t look for culture in museums, you just go from dating a NASCAR driver to a Formula One driver.  So Euro.  So hot.

There was Jaws, the dude who played pro football, had a lab-bro-doodle and was stunting the growth of children by feeding them steroids and making them do crossfit.  Totally good for them.

There was a personal favorite, the guy with the brain injury.  I really liked this guy, especially when he scared Lady Veneers into touching his titanium face and then scared her again.  I mean, the guy is totally nice and has had a really hard life.  Being on a collapsing balcony is messed up.  That said, I would be lying if the dude wasn’t only half there most of the time.  He stares off into space a lot, almost like there’s a sunset on the horizon that the producers are point at.  Half there…  I dub thee, Half Damon.

Then there is Chris, who looks like Toby Maguire if he got smashed around by the Hulk like Loki in Avengers (ya’ll saw that right?).  It STARTED as Toby Maguire and ended as a weird claymation experiment.  I mean take a peep:

I kept thinking of names.  Broby Maguire.  Cidar House Rules.  I am going with Spidermehhh.  He bores me more than Emily.  If they get married it should be filled for a sleep therapy DVD.

There was also the singer/songwriter guy (who not surprisingly goes immediately into the subway where he performs) who looked like he was reading lyrics to a song that just consisted of him singing “Emily” over and over.  Look, Maroon 4, you suck.  Quit now.  I am hoping the fact you were a first week elimination gives you the kind of rock bottom you need to get a job and stop spending your time figuring out how many layers you can get between your skin and your “I play music” leather jacket.  If I haven’t heard of you, you aren’t a musician.  You are a waiter.  Play by the rules.  Now fade into nowhere and let us forget you existed.

Then there was Doug, the first impression rose winner who I am just calling Dad.  Not much wrong with this guy, but you don’t go on the Bachelorette because you don’t have a big ego.  When Lady Veneers said she wanted a minivan full of babies, she meant ones that came out of her junk.  Don’t let the fact you are a nice guy and have a cute kid you exploited fool you.  You’re Dad.  Now teach me to play catch and get out while you have time.

Let’s talk about Jef (sweet spelling asshole).  I want to pick on this guy, only he makes it hard.  He doesn’t ride a skateboard well enough to make fun of him for it.  He’s somehow pulling off that asshole hair cut.  He owns a freaking water company that functions like Toms Shoes (girl heroin) and he lives in Salt Lake City and must eat Zanax like Pez because every time I expect him to douche out, he kind of plays it mellow.  He also was like “people don’t like me because of my hair and shit” and basically, he spun me on that.  I am like, you are right.  Whatever, I am calling him One Direction and we’re keeping an eye on him.

James Vandergeek?  Dawson’s Geek?  Either way, way too stoked to be there.  Thought he was going to shit his pants.

Let’s talk about Kalon.  I’m sorry.  This dude isn’t into girls.  Women want to believe Ryan Phillipe from Cruel Intentions exists, but he doesn’t.  A man who wants his intro to be with another dude getting a slimfit suit tailored isn’t into girls.  Telling Emily she is a princess.  Honestly, he’s here for Ames and let’s just make that happen for him.  That’s the thing I LIKE about him.  His fashion sense.  The way he strategically holds his cocktail (vodka, what a joke) like a microphone.  He thinks he’s in a movie.  Let’s get to the BAD part (besides the freakish amount of Carmex he puts on his lips).

I mean, the guy pissed me off showing up on a helicopter.  THE BACHELOR/ETTE DECIDES WHO WILL RIDE IN HELICOPTERS ASSHOLE.

Look, what he did was literally like showing up to Thanksgiving and everyone’s already eaten and is farting in their sleep to the glow of the Cowboys game on television.  You can’t jump the gun.  Now I am all confused.  It’s like I have to sneeze but I can’t sneeze.  I hate this guy.  In honor of all the Carmex, I was going to call hip chapstick, but instead for ruining the helicopter thing, he’s just called Crapstick.  Or Douchebag.

I recently got a hold of his memoirs from a trip to LA via an unnamed source (I am not actually kidding about this).  I have to post it at some point.  He’s the biggest douche of all time from his Urth Caffe visit to his adventures with his guy friend “Cary”, it’s too much.  It’s like two guys that dressed up as Vincent Chase for Halloween.  In WeHo.  It’s painful.  Maybe I’ll post it.

Then there’s Barry Manilow.  Super nice dude from Oregon, kid seemed great, but no matter what happens I just keep waiting for him to break into song or leave to perform in Vegas.  Also, the glass slipper thing, on a personal level, made me want to kill myself.

Let’s get into some intangibles because you can write forever about the first episode (and I don’t want to because it’s better when people are gone).

Emily dressed like a figure skater.  The see through back?  I thought she was going to start ice dancing.  It’s hard to make Lady Veneers not look hot.  I don’t know why they insisted on trying.  She should have come out in the damn sweater from her day at the park with Ricki Bobby.  Nails.  I don’t get it.

Also, what was up with her turn around for everyone getting out of the limo.  It was the same angle, same direction everytime.  Zoolanderish almost.  I thought I was having a seizure or a flashback.  Maybe a sunset kept sneaking up on her?

In fairness, this show suffered from Emily doing a great job of diffusing every situation.  She just sort of rolled with everything and never let the drama in.  Sure Crapstick and Party MC were beefing a little bit, but Party MC seems like the kind of guy who drinks a Four Loko or two and just starts staring at people like a creep anyway, so we can’t blame Veneers for it.

From the preview of the season, I am only sure of one thing, which I am sure will be the theme of the whole journey to find a future divorce.  Emily Maynard ruins guys.  She is so hot and boring and nice that men truly believe they won’t find another one of her.  She’s also set for life financially.  She’s heroin to dude.  She just wants to make babies, look hot, not argue and probably make breakfast.  We didn’t meet her folks on her Brad hometown date, so we can’t be sure of her genetics and if it will hold up, but I feel like it will, anchored by her veneers that would survive a nuclear winter.

You can see how many dudes cry in the preview.  Emily is the destroyer of dudes.  Even Brad was inspired to stop beating women for a period of time in the glow of her perfection.  If there are fireworks, it will be more from watching her pull the light from their eyes.  Men will dive out of helicopters.  They will cut their bungie cords mid-fall.  Emily is the alpha bachelorette.  Men will be broken.

Can’t wait.

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To Those Graduating from USC (or perhaps other schools).

I realize this post may not apply to many of you, but that’s okay.  At one point it will or did.

This post is to USC’s senior class that stands to graduate shortly.  This class is special to me for many reasons, but that is not the point of this post.  The point of this post is to break a bottle of champagne (or bourbon, but who’d waste that?) on the hull of your departing ships.  You assholes are in for a wild ride.  You should probably watch Girls, Lost in Translation and several violent 90s action movies.  Anytime I have a bad day at work I think about how Bruce Willis killed a whole building filled with terrorists in Century City in the 80s.  Or how Arnold was forced to fight for his life in a game show that got ripped off 1000 times until you got stuck with the Hunger Games. But yeah, graduating seniors.

May the odds be every in your favor, and if they aren’t, give the odds the middle finger, kill a terrorist and take his machine gun.

This class is special to me.  The blog started their freshman year (I think).  They were vocal during the sanctions era.  Members of this class have brought me to tailgates and kept me young.  They’ve worn my t-shirts and campaigned for me when ESPN shows up.  They’ve brought me to campus to speak and I’ve helped get them hired as interns.  I’ve spoken at their Order of Omega retreat and they’ve made me look cool in front of my wife lining up to spill bourbon with me.  I’ve hung with them  in Vegas and possibly used illuminated pool floatie noodles to make dubstep-timed photocopies of them and total strangers for no good reason.  They’ve escorted me to the 9-0 even though the 9-0 should be the 10-0 or 11-0 at this point it’s so much cleaner than in my early 2000s days.  Someone I won’t name punched someone I won’t name (I think because of me, I wasn’t all there at the time) and the worst part of it wasn’t a man getting cold cocked by a woman at a bar, the worst part was falling to your knees and getting the sludge on the floor all over you.  You can’t just clean it off you.

The point is, this last year because of these seniors, not only have I experienced incredible personal benefits, I have really been brought into the community in the best possible way, by students.  Arrogant Nation was always for the current students.  My alumni readership understands that.  When we support Arrogant Nation, it’s a connection between past and present, it’s a hope that the current kids (despite the fact that now you need to be smart as hell to get into USC) uphold the old school arrogant ways our forealums set in motion. The minute we simply rely on our big endowment and high admission standards, the sooner we turn into Stanford, which even when I visited it in 8th grade drove me to become more outgoing so I’d always talk to girls and cool dudes so I never ended up like the kids I met there in the cafeteria who looked like they missed the memo that college is supposed to be the best time of your life, and if not, it at least should be the most buckwild.

This senior class has delivered.  They are arrogant, they are loyal and they are smart.  So now what? Sparta, bitches.

As you no doubt have realized, this is the scene in the 300 where they send your ass out into the cold and basically say, “Don’t fucking come back until you kill a huge ass wolf and find killing wolves hilarious”.

Shocking as it may be to those who haven’t heard me speak at SC, I didn’t leave college a bearfighter.  I had to learn these skills in the wild through getting my ass handed to me, questioning everything and then learning what things about me posed significant matchup problems for the opposition.  I’ve used this very blog to make things happen for me in my life.  The best way to learn is just to do.

That’s why Nike says “just do it”.  In fact “just do it” is said before most of the best most epic and worst most epic decisions in your life.  Those are the ones you are going to want to seek out and learn from.

Some of you have plans.  There’s MBA kid or LSAT kid or MCAT kid.  They can tend to freak you out Comm/Film/Liberal Arts/Music/Poli Sci majors.  Don’t worry.  Let me be the first to say, the path isn’t what makes you “make it”.  It’s how hard you run forward and how fast you swing the machete and how fearlessly you commit yourselves to that path. Some of you will have low starting salaries, some of you will have high starting salaries.  Believe me though, your hourly rates will probably be similar.

I remember a lawyer friend of mine blowing my mind.  They were making almost 2.5 times my annual salary, but while I was pre-screening HBO shows and working on top of a motorcycle shop in WeHo, they were dropping 90+ hour weeks, not coming to happy hours and falling off the face of the fucking planet. I am not knocking them, that particular lawyer now is well on their way to being a partner and their hours have downgraded from suicidal to weekend warrior.  The point is, he and I make about the same at this point.  We took vastly different roles.  He worked crazy hard and was rewarded.  I got fired twice, survived cancer for the second time, contemplated switching careers, sold some writing and then ended up a mad man strategizing digital and social ads.  We both probably ran around the same amount.  We both ended up pretty much the same.  That’s because at some point for both of us, we learned to work hard, take responsibility and own our failures as much as our successes.  That said, I’m glad I work in video games (no offense buddy!)

My point is that the kid who tries to intimidate you with their “plan” is super insecure and feels like your self-doubt might fuel them.  Fuck that noise, friends.  Just say “hope that works out for you”.  Your job is to be a bearfighter.  Honestly, the best things I did for myself in business all had to do with making relationships, putting others before myself and having the courage to bite off more than I could chew.

When everyone talks about a bad economy, it’s easy to use it as an excuse.  Sure, it may take you a while to find work.  It took me from May to October to get a job out of college, but now, I have a big network and plenty of places to look if I had to.  Also, regardless of how hard you plan a perfect career, you will lose a job, you will get a promotion, you will fail in the face of success and definitely succeed in the face of failure.  The only thing YOU can control is how hard you work and by the same token, how much shit you can take without turning into a whiner.

I always think back to the only cool Oregon Duck, Steve Prefontaine, who made running a rockstar occupation.  The dude was lazers and glow sticks and pool parties.  Rent the film “Without Limits” and watch it and think about it every damn time you face adversity.  Honestly, I’ve run 2 marathons because of this film because I wanted to know how far I could push it.  Here’s a few quotes from “Pre” that every Trojan should understand (well, quotes from the film at least)

“I’d like to work it out so that in the end, it comes down to a pure guts race. If it is, I’m the only one who can win it.” – Steve Prefontaine

And then this scene, which has been my mantra.  It’s all about bearfighting.

Mary Marckx: You don’t really believe you can do anything. Steve Prefontaine: Absolutely. Mary: Fly a plane? Pre: Well, sure. If I wanted, you read the manual and get the best teaching and… take off. Mary: Steve, not everything can be learned, ya know, I mean, some things take talent. Pre: Whoa. Let me tell you something. Talent is a myth, Mary. There’s a dozen guys on the team with more talent in their little finger. Mary: Then how come you can beat them? Pre: A little secret I learned a long time ago, in Coos Bay, in the woods. Mary: So what’s your little secret? The one you learned a long time ago. Pre: I can endure more pain than anyone you’ve ever met. That’s why I can beat anyone I’ve ever met. 

Being tested is the best feeling in the world.  Not at the time, but to get through it and see you can?  That’s what Fight Club was about (and a lot of other stuff).  It’s about the first time you put on football pads and get absolutely ROCKED and then you get up and see you are still alive.  Like you did something that day.  There’s a nobility about being able to take a punch and throw one back.  Nothing is more demoralizing to the enemy than for them to think they’ve put you down only to find out the opposite.  You are stronger now.

I don’t advocate revenge, but I do advocate proving everyone wrong.  People have stronger times and more vulnerable times.  You need endurance and patience and a little bit of perverse arrogance to be a success.  When you are wronged or kicked in the teeth, get back up and keep going and make a note about who got you.  You are like a tiger.  You will hunt them forever.

Realistically, the world doesn’t like people that need to put other people down to make it.  By the time you have the perfect chance to have your moment of glory with them, most likely the world will have dragged them down and you’ll be doing so much better that the whole thing seems petty.  Most of my enemies I can’t remember at this point, so in a way, they aren’t really enemies anymore.

The way to get ahead in the real world is to bring your friends and co-workers with you.  The number one key to success after how hard you work and how many punches you can take is simply being the kind of person other want to succeed.

Stay late and help with other projects, meet people on other teams or departments.  Go to happy hour when you are young because you will get married, have kids and as foreign as this sounds, you will want to spend all your time with your significant other.  That’s why your Dad isn’t at the 9-0 with you.  He’s at home with his best friend.  (That said I’ve drank at the 9-0 with some Dads and exceptions to the rule are awesome.  Embrace them).

That brings me to the next point.  Dating is about to change and it will factor into your real world life.  In a big way.  You are going to have friends that just start nesting and getting engaged really soon.  The first year or so will be a blur.  It will be like college.  You won’t have crazy work responsibility, you will have some grad school friends, you will meet up at bars and feel kind of poor.  It’s a great time.  I recommend you enjoy this period.  I lived in a magically Never-Neverland Narnia Middle Earth for a year after I graduated and it was amazing.

The thing is, the nesting will start and you need to not hate your friends who have life changes.  People are going to run different races and you need to respect that.  Some will act like assholes and tell you far, far too much about their plans unsolicited.  Don’t worry.  They will get married, you will have fewer chances to see each other and eventually, systematically removing them from your life is as simple as not returning that 2x yearly call to meet up at some awful Italian place that they like but no one else does. Do NOT be sentimental.  Friends will change.  The key for you is to move at the speed of your life and relationships.  Don’t waste energy being a hater, even on people hating on you.  Life will work it out and at some point you will probably feel bad for them about something, if you even think about them at all.  I don’t even remember what I ate yesterday let alone what or who I was mad about five years ago.  If we haven’t talked, you aren’t on my mind, and thus, we’re all good.  If you are, we’re probably drinking soon.  People from the first list need only invite you for a drink to be present of mind again.  It’s a cycle.  Life works it out.  I just don’t want you to miss an opportunity because you are being spiteful about someone you care about’s life moving in a direction that makes no sense.  It only needs to make sense to them.

Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.

Choose your circle based on how their lives work with yours.  I have been in a 3 year period of amazing dinners, trips and bachelor parties leading into weddings.  Your great friends who are just happy for your wins will probably marry people that you like.  My friends’ wives are some of my best friends now and I think they’d say the same about my wife, mostly because I found her and how bad could anyone I spend all day and night with be.  She’s better than finding $100 in every pocket of every piece of clothing you own for six months straight.

So in case you need all of this summed up, here goes:

Work harder than anyone else.  Don’t take it personally when life kicks you in the balls (or female equivalent).  Enjoy the feeling of taking a punch.  Project what you want to happen to your friends and find out what they want.  Help them get what they want and they will do the same.  Don’t be sentimental about relationships.  The best people work hard to be around you and it isn’t hard work.  It’s a reward for hard work (and not being sentimental).  Always forgive but never forget.  Don’t sweat your ex (high school, college, confusing “Girls” style quarterlife dating partners, failed fiance/fiancee, ex-spouse).  They are probably good people and probably important to where you are now, even if it’s just to know what you hate.  If you can root for them to be happy, you probably are great at finding happiness for yourself.  Let life sort itself out.  Don’t borrow trouble.  You will find plenty.  Determine the things you can control and aggressively attack those things.  If you can’t control it, focus on learning to deal with it.  Marry the person you want to allocate the most of your time with.  That doesn’t sound romantic, but when you find it, you will realize it’s the most romantic thing ever.  Time is everything and short of a big ass engagement ring, it’s the most valuable asset you have.  Just watch that bad movie with Timberlake and Amanda Seyeysufired.

You may want to put this in life, Helvetica and turn it into a poster.  It’s the shitty version of the beginning of Trainspotting, which I hope you have seen even though it was before your time.

Pretty soon, you will wake up and for the first time in your life your name won’t be on a list of somewhere you are supposed to be.  No one will be expecting you.  Don’t be scared.  Enjoy the deep breath life is affording you.  When you have collected yourself, stumble, sprint and ramble hard into your life.  Endless possibilities.  In 2001 when I graduated high school, there was no formal social media to speak of and now, I get to direct an entire division of smart, cool people using it to sell video games.  And I went to film school.  My father was a history major and runs a television station.  Life is a trip.

You got not idea what’s coming and you don’t need to.  Just figure out how you want to run the race and worry about the course at each turn.

I ask only one thing of you as you move forward.  Fight hard and enjoy it.  Actually, two things.  Please make sure your younger friends, lil bros and sisters read this blog.  I have no idea how long I will keep doing it.  Like I said, I work hard to not be sentimental.  We may win the Natty next year and I may retire.  I have no idea other than that there is still gas in this tank.

Thanks for being a part of Arrogant Nation and growing it.  Now, at tail gates, we will be fellow alum.

In the words of Hunter S. Thompson, “Buy the ticket.  Take the Ride”.

And you’re off…

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Chris Harrison is Single. Hide Yo Kids, Hide Yo Wife.

I was naturally shocked to hear Chris Harrison, the internationally recognized marriage pimp, was getting divorced.  When you see Chris Harrison headlines, you expect them to be about a killer tie that he found that also conceals drugs when you pass through TSA at LAX.  You expect it to be that he’s finally going to rehab for black tar heroin or red rock opium and only to lessen his tolerance so group dates are more fun again.  You know, like in the Trista days.  When it was a game.

I have been saving myself for the upcoming season, but I felt compelled to drop some hot fire on a Friday to you guys.  I have to analyze what this development means for the Bachelor universe.  A lot.  I mean, it’s mind blowing.

Even a man so comfortable with hallucinogens surely must struggle through the human pain of a divorce.  I mean, the guy managed to mentor scores of attractive, insecure women without getting divorced all these years.  I am sure Bachelor Pad didn’t help his relationship.  Imagine him having to tell his wife about that show.  “Honey, this time we’re skipping the parts between forced sexual experiences where they cliff dive and rappel off buildings and doing this show where we just get everyone drunk, have them speed date and throw paint filled water balloons at their naked bodies”.

Click.

More than anywhere, it is in that show that I see the sadness in Chris Harrison’s eyes.  It’s like an old woman smelling pot in a movie theater parking lot and remembering that dangerous guy in a leather vest she said “why not” to back at Altamont or some other show people in Brooklyn and Silver Lake claim to know a lot about.

Damn, that was deep.

So, the real question is how does this affect Harrison?  I know the new season is probably in the can already, but let’s be honest here.  He was dealing with this the whole time.  How much off screen drug use can we assume?  I’ll be sure to test the limits.

What if Harrison falls for a contestant?  Can you picture him going to the Bachelor and being like, “Something came to my attention.  The girl you are dating is hot and I decided to assassinate your character, get her to try E, take her to see Madeon and Avicii spin back to back and then make sweet robotic love to her all night at the Four Seasons Westlake Village to dubstep remixes of Beatles albums”.

What if Harrison hates a contestant?  He’ll be like, “Listen, I know this situation is hard for you because you are dumber than a coat rack and the only thing you will ever succeed at in life is failing.  Or posing as a coffee table for people to put their drinks down on.  You could drive a garbage truck but you don’t seem like you know how to drive.  Or work your iPod.  Which is actually an iPad, you just don’t know the difference.”

Will he push some asshole out of a helicopter?  Will he put arsenic in a rose?  Will he start dating the contestants?  Will he cockblock the Bachelor because now he knows that love is bullshit?  I am just super curious about it because for years now I have told you that inside this man is another man.  This other man loves things like snuff films, gun shows, Scottish caber tossing, snake venom and any drug that is free.  This other man treats the polished Chris Harrison exterior as a marionette.  It’s Jekyll and Hyde in a big time way and I fear the worst.

I can see Maynard being like “we’re all going to glamorous Monaco” and then Harrison just stumbles in with a nose bleed and says, “WRONG BITCH, we’re going to Ensenada, but first we got to stop at this guy’s place in Van Nuys and if anyone fucking talks the next helicopter you take will be to the fucking Bermuda triangle”.

In all seriousness, I feel bad for CH because I always thought the thing that helped his marriage was the fact that he constantly doomed other peoples’ odds at finding love and that fed him like some kind of superhero villain that feeds on bad feelings.  I mean, those fucking ghost things in Harry Potter.  That try to suck your soul out of your face.

Now, Chris knows he’s mortal and that makes him dangerous.  In a big way.

Basically, I’ve never been more excited for the season.  This is going to be my best work.  I think Chris lives in my hometown and if he reads this, I would love to kick it with him, even if it ends up being Fear and Loathing because in the words of Hunter S. Thompson, buy the ticket, take the ride.

I believe him and I could set the town ablaze and I could do more for his image, nay, I have ALREADY done more for his image than ABC ever could.  Harrison is the cult hero of our time.  He’s doing what Seacrest would do if he wasn’t so busy pretending to not have reproductive organs.   Harrison is cursed by having a winning smile and network television polish.  He’s the best at what he does, whether that is punking girls on their journey to find love or if that is killing rats who puke to the cops about his whereabouts.

Chris, let’s party.  I will accept that rose.

If you’d like a much classier and better written article on this subject, check out the great Natasha Burton who was kind enough to mention me in Huffington Post today.

Now, for my female readers (and admit it, my male readers), here’s a little something to send you into the weekend (subsequently, the song I’d play on piano instead of David Gray if I am the Bachelor):

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STFU and Let Me Fix the BCS

I know there will be naysayers to my suggestions.  There will be so-called football logicians that will give me some hot from the farm bullshit as to why this won’t work or why it simply isn’t feasible.  Let me respond to you first to save you the trouble and be clear.  If you hate this plan, you hate the following seven things:

1. America
2. Americans
3. Football
4. Indiana Jones
5. Bacon Wrapped Hot Dogs
6. Freedom
7. Killing Bears

I am starting to hear a lot of the early reports about the death of the traditional BCS and the new +1 format and all the iterations of it that are being thrown around.  I know we’re in for something that solves nothing because Larry Scott is actually making sense about killing Rose Bowl tradition and SEC’s PR engine skewing who gets in the dance.  Let’s be honest, once they threw out the “having to win you conference clause”, the SEC was planning how they could just get all four teams in.  I mean, I know we’re all stoked to see some more epic LSU and Bama matchups where as good as the defensive personnel is, run offenses that should hang above cribs to help babies go to sleep.

So let’s be clear, the following seven things will need to happen to allow my plan to work:

1. Someone tazes the SEC and negotiates while they are passed out
2. Wait for the SEC to drink to much, drag it to a barn and have it wake up naked in the sheep pen and negotiate while they are putting the pieces back together
3. Have a structure that conceivably allows more than 2 SEC teams in
4. Have a structure that conceivably allows more than 2 teams from any conference in
5. When SEC wakes up, hit them in head with lead pipe and drive them towards the US-MEXICO border in a car filled with narcotics and let them explain it while we finish negotiating
6. Don’t add games to the schedule
7. Make sure everyone gets paid like a motherfucker

The big concern for years was adding games to the schedule.  Let’s fix that a couple ways.  For one, everyone plays 8 conference games now.  Let’s cap it at that (you heard me Larry Scott).  We’re cutting that back.  We’re also cutting down 2 preseason games.  It will hurt USC being able to go to Hawaii, but it will eliminate that weekend or two where you get treated to Ohio State vs Youngstown State or LSU vs Louisiana Tech or Florida vs Florida Inter-fucking-national.  Those games are just about home games and money.  Last week, the University of Florida cut it’s science department and raised the budget for athletics.  A school that takes money away from science for football doesn’t deserve more games.  They should just be rich like USC and pay for everything.  Duh.  Read a manual, South.

What we want from a playoff is killer matchups, a true display of conference vs conference to eliminate (or foster) bias for SEC (if they really are the best, let’s prove it and let them own it, I just never see it when they play USC), a spot for all 6 big conferences, room for more teams who are deserving in the public opinion.

So, here’s my plan.

1. 8 team tournament
2. Winners of each conference plus 2 at-large teams selected by ranking
3. Conference winner must have no more than 2 losses or the spot goes to a new at-large spot.

Now I am not touching the scheduling of games or where they need to be.  I mean, the fact is we can shave the games off the schedule and generate 3 weeks of playoffs.  What’s even better is other bowls can bond together and form other tournaments that would be big for making statements for the next year.

The most important part of extending to 8 teams is simply that all conference champions (assuming they only lost 2 games) will get a shot to defend their conferences honor.  As good as the SEC is, they rarely play elite OOC games.  Not that most schools do, but when you factor that USC has voluntarily scheduled Auburn, Arkansas, Kansas State, Nebraska, Ohio State, Notre Dame and Texas (can’t wait) makes it hard to take the fact the LSU got Oregon at a neutral site that seriously.

It’s not that the SEC wouldn’t win those games, but we’d all like to see.  The south watches a lot of football and thus, they get a lot of special treatment.  So does USC normally because we’re interesting, like a hot girl who wears black rimmed glasses when she studies.  The thing is, when USC gets in trouble, the world tries to drop them.  When the SEC does, they sweep it under the rug because the South prints money for football.  In Florida, they cut science degrees for it.  Computer Science, because we all know that them there internet thang ain’t catchin’ on any them there time soon.

If a champ loses two games, drop them.  If you look at the season ending records, the best teams drop 2 or less.  If they drop 3, then they are subject to the at large process which is polls.  It’s the eyeball test.  This is, as Teague Egan would say, “crucial, brah” because it will still foster the kinds of circular, pointless debates ESPN gets off on (and frankly milks for 24 hours so they have content) by debating who the final 2-3 teams that get in are, but it will not be as passionate a fight as a four team will create.

Let’s get real.  4 teams is just going to be 2 SEC teams every year with the Big Ten, Big 12 and Pac 12 fighting for 2 spots.  Schools like Ohio State play easy schedules in the Big Ten (sorry, it’s an awful conference every year since the spread happened and if you would like to argue, please don’t do so to a USC fan who has seen Iowa, Ohio State, Michigan, Illinois and Penn State all in winning seasons barely compete) and they travel well so they will always get a spot.   Last year, out of nowhere, the Pac 12 was probably the 2nd best conference at the top.  If I give LSU and Alabama their cred, the Pac 12 had 3 teams in the AP top 6 going into the bowls when USC was too handsome to participate.

The point I am making is that when money is involved, 9 of 10 times the final slot is going to Oklahoma, Texas or USC.  That’s just revenue.  We don’t have details yet, but I am of the mind that the polls are rigged and that things work out the way the money goes.  Every time.

Look, I’m not complaining because USC is treated well when they are playing well.  But the POINT of a playoff is to see the fucking teams PLAY OFF.

Four teams will leave us wondering.  Eight would as well, but if you can’t finish in the top 8, how relevant were you really.  What we really want at the core is to see all the shit-talking culminate with some ass-on-the-line competition.  Is a four team playoff going to do that?  This is one of those cases where it’s better than it is now, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.  Eight teams would give you the most mind-blowing matchups over a month.

To finish top 8, you have to be elite.  The regular season still really matters.  2 losses may be too much.  The only way to get in is to not lose, but with polls mattering, maybe we’ll see some good OOC games for a change as teams try to have a better resume going in.  Nothing sucks more than getting excited for the season and being rewarded with highlights of Alabama dropping 70 points on UAB.  ROLL TIDE…

Would love to hear your thoughts.  I expect some awesome hate mail to get me ready for Bachelorette season.  Stay tuned for all that and of course, my arrogant season preview sometime in early August.  It’s all written in my head already.

Lastly, to my USC seniors, good luck squeezing the last drops of college out until you realize you haven’t gone far at the first tailgate come next season.  You’re a Trojan for life, no matter what they throw at you.  You can’t sanction that kind of thing.

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Support Miner on Kickstart

You know the Bearfighter doesn’t back products or services or experiences very often that he hasn’t created himself.  That’s because I am committed to only bringing you the raw thunder you expect from me on our existential romp through time together.  I mean, who else can switch between 3rd and 1st person so effortlessly with such little regard for proper English or even, improper English.

Some of you know I was in a band called Fight From Above from my USC days through the beginning of my ad career.  I eventually left the band to pursue being a full time “mad man” and put more time into this writing project you are reading.  The kept on killing it, but sometime a year later, the band disbanded and everyone went on to do some really great things.  We had experienced a lot of joy from touring, playing the venues in LA I grew up going to, sharing the stage with some great acts (Young the Giant a few times was pretty cool, to name drop one of my favorites) and hearing ourselves on KROQ, which if you grew up in SoCal was a huge thrill.  Hell, we even made it on the Hills before it died.  Mad cred with our sorority friends.

I met Miner at USC in our fraternity.  One night we used a totally legal ID to buy booze on an excursion that totally had nothing to do with pledging our house.  He was the victim of a misplaced racist comment by a homeless man (not sure what race he thought we were) who in some strange kind of flashback chased us down the street unprovoked.  Only a Heineken keg was able to slow him down and at that point I was not far enough removed from high school baseball to lose accuracy.  Pure chaos, loved every second.

Miner was an oddity because unlike everyone else who could play guitar at USC (myself included), he kept it a secret.  I had to get him to drink a lot before he’d jam with the door open.  Eventually, we started a band that later became Fight From Above and the rest was history.  This random Hawaiian kid in Downtown LA making music.

raindrops pt. 2

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To cut to the chase, he started a Kickstarter project to get his new album mixed and mastered and I’ve already backed him.  I am putting this out there because just like Keith (WHO WE DID GET TO THE SUPER BOWL!), he is a part of the Bearfighter’s intimate circle, someone who has terrorized the tailgating scene with me many times, someone who will be mentioned so much more in my future plans here.  Johnny Pineapple, the great Justin Miner.   CLICK HERE TO DONATE A FEW QUID TO THE KID.

My band really supported me when I left, the only truly mutual break-up I have ever even heard of.  In the time since I left, this blog became a seven-digit traffic earner, I’ve gotten to speak on its behalf, it’s been insane.  Just like I was meant to do this and freak out as a social advertising ninja, Miner was born to be a folk singer.  I want to make sure we support him like he (and my other two bandmates) supported me.

So, Trojans and people excited for Emily Maynard coverage, if you have a few bucks, help Miner make this album happen.  It will be the soundtrack to your summer, I have no doubt.  This man metabolizes bourbon with the best of them and bucks the trend of people in Silverlake not loving football.  This guy loves Trojan football as much as he loves music.  Back a fellow bearfighter.  Especially one with the ability to grow a fro like the one displayed in some of the pictures in this post.  Pure follicle fire.

Now.  I’m off to Las Vegas with the ad freaks.  If you are there, tweet at me or something like that.