9 Inspirational quotes from Bobby Knight

Robert Montgomery Knight was born on October 25th 1940 in Orville, Ohio. In his 40+ year career, he won the NCAA Division I National Title three times in basketball which includes an undefeated season in 1976. He was inducted into the Basketball HOF in 1991 and the College Basketball HOF in 2006. He is widely considered one of the greatest basketball coaches of all time.

“The will to succeed is important, but what’s more important is the will to prepare.”

“Mental toughness is to physical as four is to one.

I think that we as a people are always prone to think about, well, tomorrow will be a better day. Well, why will it be a better day? And I think the more that we believe in doing things better, doing the right thing rather than hoping that that’s going to happen, let’s make it happen.”

“I’ve always felt that, you know, the Almighty has a lot of things to do other than help my basketball team.

“I’ve always been a great fan of the state of Pennsylvania. One of the people – one of the people that I admired the most in college athletics was Joe Paterno.

“I don’t think I have ever been out of control.

“I’ll tell you one thing about Donald Trump: There will never be a Benghazi in a Donald Trump administration.

I’m an unemployed teacher right now and I’m looking for a place to teach.”

“I tell you what really fries my ass. When somebody gets on me for the way I look. Fat. Overweight. Well, I may be overweight. But I’m sure not fat. And I guarantee you, I’m a better athlete than any @#%$ body writing. To this day, they don’t want to play tennis with me. The don’t want to play me in golf. They don’t want to @#%$ run with me.”

🙌What an inspiration Bobby Knight has been 🙌

Canadian sci-fi

Sorry (or soar-y, rather) to all of Canada for talking shit about poutine because Andromeda rocks!

Cheap sets, great sci-fi concepts, horrible special effects, corny dialogue, wonderful cast…one of the great gems of science fiction television.

Disappointed to learn that Kevin Sorbo isn’t Canadian tho. Just sounds wrong.

First cuming (part v)

Just to be clear, I hate this story. But you’re making me do this.

I take no responsibility for the things I write.

John laid a dead boar, which he strangled with his hands, next to the fire. Him and Alyssa were lost. Their canoe was destroyed in some rapids and they were camping for the night by the river’s edge.

Their clothes were drying by the fire. While Alyssa was smart enough to pack a change of clothes, John was forced to wear a loincloth while he cut up the boar. Alyssa tried not to stare at his huge ballsack.

“Care for some boar?” he asked.

“No thank you. I’m a vegetarian.”

“That’s Liberal poppycock,” he said. “Man was meant to senselessly kill animals.”

Ignoring the comment, Alyssa noticed a scar near John’s abdomen. “How did you get that?” she asked.

“Vietnam,” he replied, “I got stabbed there behind a whorehouse 10 years ago.”

“What about the scar on your thigh?”

“Botched circumcision.”

John started tearing into the boar’s leg with his teeth. Blood was dripping down his chin, past his neck, and onto his man chest. Alyssa tried to keep her passions at bay. She had never before witnessed such a specimen of manliness.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked him.

“Hmm,” John pondered. “I think so. I was in an arranged marriage while I was in a Satanic cult. But I haven’t had sex…with a woman…since then.”

“Do you ever want to get married?”

John read between the lines and started to smile. “Well,” he began, “I haven’t found a woman that can handle me yet.”

Alyssa chuckled. “I’m glad that I’m lost in the wilderness with you,” she said.

Moments later, the two heard a faint sound of a banjo. Alyssa was slightly unnerved. “Relax,” John said, “nothing out here can hurt us.”

The sound continued to get louder.

Before they could respond, three men with shotguns stood outside of their camp. They were rednecks, hillbillies. They wore no sleeves and their teeth were rotting out of their faces.

“Hey there, that’s a pretty girl you got,” one of them said.

“Don’t touch her,” John said.

“It’s not her we want,” another said as he walked up to John. “We just want a slice of that meat.”

John reached for his Bowie knife, but the first redneck lowered his gun. “Don’t think about it,” the man told him. The second man grabbed Alyssa then he tied her to a tree with a belt around her neck.

The ugliest redneck ordered John to stand up. “Now gimme that meat,” he said.

John’s back was turn towards Alyssa. The ugly man dropped to his knees then ripped away his loincloth. John’s buttcheeks were exposed to everyone. The two other men were cackling uncontrollably with their shotguns aimed at a helpless Alyssa.

She could see the ugly redneck’s face while he was on his knees. He had a look of surprise. But before he could react, John grabbed his head and put his mouth up to his crotch. The man began to gurgle.

“Now wait a minute,” one of the his buddies began to yell.

John turned around, swinging the ugly redneck with him. He was choking the man…with his penis down his throat.

“Let the girl go!” John yelled.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” another replied.

Finally the redneck turned blue and John let him fall to the ground. Before the other rednecks could get off a shot, a buck naked John grabbed the dead man’s shotgun. When he fired, a redneck’s brains were splattered all over Alyssa’s face.

The last surviving redneck began to panic. He missed John completely with his erratic shooting. As he lost sight of the naked man, he dropped to the ground.

“I got your girl man!” the redneck yelled. But John snuck up behind him with his Bowie knife.

“Drop the gun,” John ordered. The man complied and began to uncontrollably piss himself.

“I’m sorry,” the redneck said weeping.

“Only God forgives,” John replied. Then he slit his throat.

Blood once again splattered all over Alyssa’s face.

After untying Alyssa from the tree, John dragged the three bodies into the river. “I swear, my penis wasn’t erect when it was in that man’s mouth,” he told her.

Alyssa was shaking from all the excitement. A still naked, blood soaked John kneeled in front of her and took her hands. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” he said.

“I’ve never seen something like that,” she replied.

“A man’s head get blown clean off?”

“No, your gargantuan p-p…”

“Penis? Yes, it’s 14 inches. Girth of about 5. Or 5.27 inches to be precise. Doctors said that I would never achieve a full erection. It takes too much blood flow. That’s why I don’t have a girlfriend. Oh the burdens I carry with such power.”

John stood up and grabbed a bag of trail mix. “Care for some nuts?” he asked.

Alyssa ran up to John and wrapped her arms around him. “Stay with me tonight,” she said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Alright,” he replied as he munched on some cashews, “but it’s supposed to be cold tonight. To keep warm, we must sleep completely nude under a sleeping bag.”

Alyssa nodded and stripped off her clothes. It was the first time she was ever naked in front of a man. Meanwhile, John continued to shovel cashews into his mouth.

Alyssa climbed into the sleeping bag and John followed after. They laid together cheek to cheek…ass cheek to ass cheek that is…and she enjoyed the warmth emanating from his body.

“John, I got to tell you,” Alyssa said, “I’ve waited my entire life to meet a man like you. I know we’re not married, but I want you to take me. Take me here. Please.”

A loud fart bellowed from underneath the sleeping bag. John was fast asleep. Disappointed, Alyssa continued to lay there, wishing…

…wishing to feel his arms around her.

TO BE CONTINUED….

tapping into the Roddenberry box

We can all agree: Kurtzman era Star Trek has been godawful. There was no reason to think that Strange New Worlds would be any different, but then the first episode became available on YouTube. So I thought: “fuck it, I’ll give it a shot.”

Whoever’s running SNW had the right idea: just tap the ball into the hole. Don’t try to do too much.

It’s common to assume that Trek fans are notoriously hard to please . This is false. In fact, they’re a little too easy to please. Furthermore, I’d say that Star Trek is stupidly easy to write: minimize drama between the main characters, the Federation humanistic…almost utopian…ideals always win out, the “alien of the week” is analogous to current events, and everything can be solved using science…even if the science is totally pulled out of your ass.

This is also called the (Gene) “Roddenberry Box.” TNG writers initially struggled with it until Michael Piller turned staying within it into an art. The Next Generation is now considered one of the best shows in the sci-fi genre. It’s also the benchmark for which all other Trek shows are evaluated.

Hollywood writers, especially ones that aren’t familiar with Star Trek, might think they have to do MORE to make the story interesting. But they really don’t. You can “challenge” the box every now and then, but the optimism and science MUST win out.

So using this criteria, based on the first episode, Strange New Worlds is Star Trek…which is more than I can say for Discovery and Picard. Yes, that’s a low bar to hurdle but I guess third time is a charm. Maybe the rest of it will be shit, but as long as the show runners don’t try to do too much, they might have a pretty good show.

Still not paying for Paramount+ tho.

the first coming (part iv)

For the record, you’re going to hell for reading this.

“Great tits,” Geoff said while glancing through his binoculars.

“Excuse me?” Becky asked.

“There’s a titmouse nest in that tree.”

Being spurned by their original canoeing partners, Becky and Geoff were fuming while floating down river. Geoff was trying to forget that his sister was with a strange man. Becky, meanwhile, wanted to make that same man jealous.

She opened her cooler and dug out a few wine shooters.

“Have you ever drank alcohol, Geoff?” she asked.

“Never. The Bible forbids it.”

“But Jesus was a wino,” she replied.

Becky then stripped off her t-shirt, exposing her bikini top. Noticing this, Geoff shifted in his seat to hide his boner. “I think I’ll try one of those,” he told Becky.

“How old are you Geoff?” she asked.

“Almost 40.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“Once. I met her online. I sent her $10,000 and a picture of my butthole. I never heard from her again..”

“Aww. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Becky said. She stood up and removed her shorts, leaving only her bikini bottom. Geoff tried to disguise his glances as he sipped his wine.

“It’s a little warm out here Geoff,” Becky said. “Why are you wearing khaki pants and a pea green polo?”

“The Lord says that we should be modest at all times. I don’t even look at my penis in the shower.”

“God wouldn’t blame you for taking your shirt off.”

Geoff thought for a moment. Finally, he stood up and removed his polo, exposing his white, pasty body and hairy man boobs for God and everyone to see.

“Now that’s much better, isn’t it?” Becky said. “You can take off your pants too.”

Geoff took a deep breath, stood up again, and dropped his khakis. He sat back down in the canoe, wearing only his mildly urine stained tighty-whities.

Staring at his disgusting body, Becky continued to pound the wine. “Maybe we should stop off at this cove,” Becky said. The two paddled towards the river’s edge.

Geoff pulled the canoe out of the water while Becky laid down a towel in the grass. “Why don’t you come sit by me?” she asked. Geoff poked his glasses up to his face and waddled towards her.

Becky was relaxed while Geoff awkwardly sat up with his arms around his knees. “You have nothing to be worried about, Geoff. I don’t bite,” she said.

“Shucks,” he replied, “this is the closest I’ve ever been to a woman, other than my sister.”

Becky cozied up to Geoff and he began to relax a bit. Then she placed her hand on his thigh, uncomfortably close to his dong. “How do you feel about John being with your sister right now?” she asked him.

“Well,” he started to say while adjusting his glasses, “I don’t like it. Mom and Dad wanted me to look out for her while they’re gone.”

Becky took his hand and placed it on her boob. “And how do you feel about your sister?” she asked.

It took a moment for Geoff to gather his thoughts. “Uhh, well,” he said, “she never let me feel her boobs.”

“What do you think about my boobs?”

“They’re squishy.”

Becky removed her bikini top and Geoff quickly withdrew his glance. “You can look,” she said. Geoff slowly drifted his eyes towards her chest.

“Have you ever been touched down there before?” Becky asked.

“I touched myself once. It didn’t go well.”

“Well let me try”. Becky then removed Geoff’s disgusting, hole-y underwear which exposed his uncut, partially erect penis. The smell was ungodly.

Becky tried to hold back from vomiting as she placed his pathetic excuse for a penis into her mouth. Geoff thought that this was unnatural, but something was happening…something that he never experienced before. Becky stroked him once, maybe twice. Before he could say anything, 40 years of backed-up semen was UNLEASHED all over her boobs.

“Jesus Christ, Geoff!” Becky screamed.

“Wh-wh-what just happened?! Did we make a baby?”

“You did the right thing, Geoff,” Brother Ted said from behind the bushes. Startled, Becky instantly covered herself. “Were you watching us the entire time?!” she exclaimed.

“Sure was!” Ted said as he climbed out from the bushes. “And while I don’t approve of premarital sex, I think you two handled this perfectly.”

Geoff stood up and dusted the dirt off from his flabby butt cheeks. “How so, sir?” he asked.

“You see,” Ted continued, “Onan unleashed his seed all over the ground, which angered God. But you, Geoff, busted ALL over Becky’s boobs. This pleases God. And never mind my erection, it’s a side effect of my ED medication.”

“So premarital sex is okay?” Becky asked.

“Woah woah woah, I didn’t say that!” Ted said. “For the record, God says that a man should always bust in a woman for the purposes of procreation, and you SHOULD be married for procreation. Let’s just get that out of the way. But there’s a loophole: if two…or more…people are having sexual intercourse, if the man can’t bust INSIDE the woman, he must bust ON her. Additionally, if outside of marriage, all sexual activity must be monitored by one’s pastor. Or, in this case, me. This is 100% biblical.”

Geoff exhaled. “I am so relieved,” he said.

“I can tell! That was a lot of sperm!” Ted said. “But we got bigger problems: Alyssa and John are missing. We must find them before John deflowers your sister without my supervision.”

“No!” Geoff said adamantly. “They must not have any sex whatsoever.”

“Or whatever dude,” Ted said. “I’m just here to move the plot along.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

The arbiter of art

So I dreamt that David Spade walked up to me to start some shit. Then I punched him in the stomach and said “you ain’t so tough without Chris Farley.”

Anyways

Director/Screenwriter Paul Schrader, on his infamous Facebook account, reposted an article of Elizabeth Olson defending the Marvel films (I dunno, didn’t read it). This predictably started a shitstorm in the comments.

Listen, I don’t know what “art” is. It’s “expression”, I guess. That’s all I can say. The Marvel movies aren’t my cup of tea. At least not yet. Whether or not they are art is not up to me.

But would I consider Death Wish III, Robocop 2, and loads of other schlock as “art”?

Yes.

So actually, under my criteria, the Marvel films easily hurdle the “art” threshold. But the bigger question is: will people remember and still be discussing these films 20 years from now?

The “disaster craze” of the 1970s… the Towering Inferno, the Airport films, Earthquake, etc, with their big budgets and all-Star casts…were all financially successful but hardly anyone remembers them. Someone compared the Marvel movies to Westerns of way back when, but I think they’re much more similar disaster films of nearly 50 years ago.

Someone once said that the Academy Awards shouldn’t be decided until at least 10 years after a film’s release. This gives it time to resonate with the people instead of simply handing out accolades because it felt good in the moment.

I agree with this.

So are Marvel movies “art”? Yes.

Are they quality “art”? I guess time will tell.

the 1st coming (part iii)

Look, I’m trying to get to the good stuff (all the nasty sex). But I’m trying to get there organically, alright? Give me a break.

At the campfire, Geoff was playing Nearer, My God, To Thee on his acoustic guitar.

“Maybe you should put that away,” Alyssa told him.

Nine church goers were attending the camping trip in total. Brother Ted walked back to the camp after reliving himself in the river. “Woo! That water’s cold!” he declared.

He sat down at the edge of the fire and took out his Bible. “Being in nature reminds me of the awesome power of God,” Ted said. “But 1 John tells us to hate the world and everything in it. All of it will be destroyed in the Second Coming. None of this matters.” He then grabbed a trash bag and dumped its contents on the ground.

Alyssa tried to get close to John, but it appeared that she had competition. Sister Becky was close to Alyssa’s age. She was the touchy-feely type, laughed at every joke…even when a joke wasn’t being told. Most men responded to her flirty nature, but John was different. Alyssa tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“When I returned from Iraq, I successfully underwent conversion therapy,” John told Becky, “I haven’t had those kinds of feelings in nearly 2 years.”

“You’re such a brave man,” Becky responded as she gently touched his arm. Alyssa typically wasn’t the jealous type, but Becky was really trying her.

Everyone began roasting marshmallows and hotdogs but John took out a pork shoulder. He could have easily pulled back the plastic film covering it but used his Bowie knife instead.

“Shouldn’t you cook that before you eat it?” Brother Ted asked. “Nonsense,” John replied as he tore into the meat with his teeth, “God gave our bodies everything we need to digest raw pork.”

***

Alyssa woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. She walked a few yards from the camp and squatted behind a tree. While peeing, she heard painful grunts coming a few feet away.

“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. But All she heard was more grunting.

When she finished, Alyssa stood up and began wondering towards the direction of the sound. Behind another tree was John, pants around his ankles, squatting in agonizing pain.

“Are you okay?!” she asked him.

“I feel like my guts exploded!” John replied. He was blasting out one fart after another.

“I’ll go get help!”

“No!” John exclaimed, “I can’t let them see me like this! You gotta help me!”

“What can I do?”

“Just stay here with me.”

Alyssa knelt down beside John and held his hand. He started expelling an ungodly amount of diarrhea out of his anus. The stench was almost unbearable. When he finished, he looked up to her with his bloodshot, watery eyes.

“Thank you,” John said. Alyssa gave him a smile.

Afterwards, he stood up and washed his fecal-covered buttcrack in the river. When he finished, he walked back to Alyssa. As he took her by the hand, he said to her, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

She nodded in return.

The two went back to their tents. As Alyssa climbed into her sleeping bag, she thought about John and thanked God for giving her such an intimate moment with him.

The next morning, groups were pairing up for the canoe trip. Becky approached John to row down river with her. He paused and scratched his forehead. “Uhh, actually I was planning to go with Alyssa,” he told her.

Becky stood up straight. “Alyssa? Really? But I assure you that I’m a much better rower than her,” she said.

“Good! That’s why you should go with Geoff.”

As Geoff was putting on his life jacket, John grabbed him and paired him with Becky. “Good luck!” he told him, and paddled off with his sister.

“Geoff’s not gonna like that,” Alyssa said, “he’s the jealous type.”

“Sorry, but I figured that I owe you an explanation for last night,” John replied.

“None’s necessary, John. You see, I get the bubble guts too.”

“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I have IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So you understand why I hope we can keep this a secret.”

“But why John? Why?”

“Because…,” he gave a long pause, “I was laughed at as a child. Everyone called me Mr.Poopypants. I couldn’t walk 10 feet without poop running down the back of my legs. I had to tape up the bottom of my jeans to prevent turds from slipping out and everyday my pants would fill up with poopoo.”

Tears began to well up in John’s eyes. “Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of hero,” he continued, “but in my own mind, I’m always gonna be Mr. Poopypants.”

With his back against her, Alyssa wrapped her arms around John’s body and placed her head just below his neck. “You’re not Mr. Poopypants to me, John. Your secret is safe. But maybe you should stop eating raw pork.”

John placed his left hand top of Alyssa’s that was resting on his chest. “I’m glad I’ve finally met someone like you,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…