Men, life is about mistakes. You gotta make ‘em, and you gotta learn from ‘em. You know what you call a man who doesn’t learn from his mistakes? President. Not of the United States, though, but President of an unseen world filled with carnivorous fungi bent on world domination. You don’t wanna be the President of that place, because I’ve been there, and you won’t like it. It’s called South Bend, Indiana, and that’s where I’ll be put in the ground with my friends of the fungi underworld to live forever and help them plot out their plan to take over the daylight kingdom.

Speaking of learning from mistakes, it’s the doctor who won’t admit mistakes who loses the most patients, so it’s time for me to own up and say that what I said this weekend about Rich Rodriguez, in inadvertently comparing him to Hitler, was unfair and inaccurate to an extreme.

Rich Rodriguez clearly has some respect for defense, which Hitler never did. Now, Stalin, that’s a man who understood bend but don’t break.

He’d let ‘em come in, get deep into home territory, sure, but into the endzone? Never. That man didn’t stop the British army by being lucky. Nope! Ol’ Joe did it the same way Woody Hayes beat his opponents, using the best tools both of ‘em had plenty of: rickets and starvation. Still plenty of both in Ohio.

Let’s take a call.

Coach, this is Nick Saban. I really don’t want to do this call, because I’d rather be sitting in the dark watching film and feasting on the entrails of baby animals. In fact, I’m going to go do that right now.

Coach Saban, I really respect what you’ve done at Alabama. In life you take one step at the time, unless you have some kind of physical deformity that made one leg longer than the other, and then it’s more like one and a half steps at a time, with a kind of skip in the middle. That’s precisely what I’d tell my team to keep their head level: that people with disproportionate limbs have to wear special shoes, much like a tap-dancer or Chuck Amato does, and that even then they’ve got to do twice as much work to be even close to being like normal people, just like my friend Chuck Amato does.

God gave ‘em to legs to walk, a stomach for food, an overgrown finger for making babies, and a brain take orders from all four of ‘em. If you just remind them of that, you’ll be just fine, Nick.

In closing: remember, men, you need three things in life at all times to survive: something to eat, something to love, and some kind of sharp instrument. I like to combine all three in one and carry a ham sandwich on a rapier wherever I go. It lets people know you’re serious, but also have a sense of humor at the same time. Goodbye, good luck, and remember: when the mushroom people conquer the Daylight Kingdom, you will be first against the wall, Jimmy Johnson.

I’m serious, Jimmy. I’m going to kill you and there’s not a damn you can do about it. I’m sorry you had to hear that, viewer. There’s no reason for me to use that kind of language, especially when not even the power of dirty words can save that smarmy son-of-a-bitch’s fat, beer-stained hide from the killing power of my bony hands.

Yours,

Dr. Lou.

Ps. Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler.


You gotta have friends in life, men. Lord knows I’ve got mine.