In the pursuit of presenting the human experience in all its scope, we know present a dialogue between Voltaire and Firehorse. The topic: THE FLORIDA GATOR OFFENSE. By coin toss, Voltaire will go first, and FIREHORSE will go second.
It is a fool who would wish the infant prince rule the kingdom, or demand the caterpillar flutter from the treetops with the ease of a butterfly in the wind. This same fellow would have the pupil teach the professor, and insist the piglet suckle the pork chop. Fools' errands are endless. If you prefer the madness of infinity's spaces to the definition of the sane and finite, please engage them at your leisure.
Your correspondent will have no such follies in his grand ideas nor his diversions. Do you rage at the intant Florida offense's inability to steer a carriage properly despite its youth? Do you demand a team of babes perform the work of men in the wastes of the SEC or the lead mines of the Massif Central? Does your first-year starting quarterback, one who has done everything demanded of him to the fullest of his capabilities, receive no wine at the meal with the other youngsters when he fails to exceed your absurd expectations?
Of course he shouldn't, but life is as fair as justice is blind: not at all, and more so on long Mondays and before long weekends. You would have the youth throw themselves into the forge and come out whole steel without the burning process. You would have them ascend the parapet of the Baroness du Crecy's infamous boudoir and leave her a conquered land without first feeling the sting of the Spanish Pox, or the occasional painful slip of her wooden teeth upon your sword.
You would have coq au vin without the chicken's severed head lying upon the table.
What you demand is impossible. It is the fate of all those who rule to accept the debility of their constituents' minds and the capriciousness of their spirits, but let the Italian Duke d'Addazio and his Caesarian pate have its moment. It is less that he cannot right the ship of state, but more a matter of his galley slaves being too small to reach the oars. With time we shall have a proper trireme yet, and buccaneer days ahead will turn our coffers golden once more.
If you will excuse me, my caterpillar metaphor above has apparently angered the authorities, who assume it was a reference to our state religion and its eventual and just secularization and separation from the French state. I must away to Switzerland through the back door again
And now, a word from the second speaker today, FIREHORSE. A warning: FIREHORSE's opinions contain strong language.
SURE VOLTAIRE LET'S TAKE TACTICAL ADVICE FROM THE FRENCH HOW'D THAT WORK OUT FOR YOU THE ONLY GOOD GODDAMN THING THE FRENCH MAKE IS DEAD UN PEACEKEEPERS WHOSE BODIES WE USE AS COVER WHEN WE HAVE TO COME IN AND BAIL YOUR ASS OUT IN THIRD WORLD SHITHOLES AAAAHHHH BUT THE MRES YOU GUYS HAVE ARE REALLY NICE SERIOUSLY I'M NOT KIDDING ABOUT THAT.
STEVE ADDAZIO COULDN'T COACH A DIARRHEAL TODDLER INTO SHITTING. STEVE ADDAZIO COULDN'T COORDINATE A WEDDING WAIT THAT SEEMS PRETTY DIFFICULT AND IN FACT YOU STAND A RISK OF FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE GROOM IF ROMCOMS ARE TO BE BELIEVED AND WHATEVER HAPPENED TO NOAH WYLIE HE WAS REALLY SOMETHING SUCH NICE EYES I'VE SAID TOO MUCH---
THE POINT IS: THIS OFFENSE HAS BEEN COLD SHEEP BALLS IN A SHIT SANDWICH AS PART OF THE PU PU PLATTER EVER SINCE HE TOOK OVER. WE CAN'T THROW THE BALL FURTHER THAN FIVE YARDS DOWN THE FIELD AND WHEN WE DO IT'S ALWAYS A NINE ROUTE HEY THEY'LL NEVER SEE THAT COMING ON PLAY ACTION ESPECIALLY WHEN THE ONLY DEEP ROUTE YOU CALL HAS THE SIDELINE BUILT IN AS A DEFENDER THAT'S LIKE BUILDING A SECURITY SYSTEM THAT HAS FLASHING LIGHTS POINTING TO YOUR FLATSCREEN TELEVISION YEAH FLATSCREENS THEY'RE LIKE WHAT SEVEN DOLLARS ON THE STREET NOW THAT THEY'RE ALL STOLEN
MEMO: CRACKHEADS SUCK DICK AND AT ECONOMICS
OH AND THERE'S ALWAYS FIRST DOWN SWEET SMOKING TURKISH DONKEY COCK FIRST DOWN WHICH IS ALWAYS A RUN WHERE WE SEND OUR TURBO LEPRECHAUN RUNNING BACKS STRAIGHT INTO THE TEETH ON A ZONE READ. GUESS WHAT HAPPENS TO LEPRECHAUNS WHO GET BULLSHIT PLAYCALLS CALLED FOR THEM HUH STEVE?
THEY GET DEAD THAT'S WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS. THREE DOWNS LATER AND WE'RE ALL ABOUT TO SUCK CHAS HENRY'S MANCANNON BECAUSE WITHOUT HIM WE HAVE NO OFFENSE JUST KNEE THREE TIMES IN A ROW IT GOT SO BAD ON SATURDAY NIGHT THAT FIREHORSE HAD A FRIEND BUY HIM A PITCHER OF BEER
A WHOLE GODDAMN PITCHER OF BEER
AND SAY "HEY THAT'S YOUR DRINK" AND FIREHORSE DRANK IT LIKE IT WAS A STEIN WHILE THE FLORIDA OFFENSE FOUND A GUN AND TRIED TO BRUSH ITS TEETH WITH IT THEN SAID HEY CARL MOORE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU LOVE THREE YARD OUTS YOU BIG BEAUTIFUL FUCKER AND HE'S LIKE FUCK YOU MAN AND GOES FIFTY YARDS AND THEN WE DON'T CALL THAT AGAIN BECAUSE STUFF THAT WORKS IS FOR TEAMS THAT WIN AND THE GAYS AND WE CERTAINLY DON'T WANT TO BE EITHER OF THOSE YOU SERGEANT SLAUGHTER LOOKING FUCKBAG AAAAAAAHHHHH WHY AREN'T YOU IN THE BOOTH AT LEAST YOU CAN SUCK AWAY FROM MY SIGHT AS OPPOSED TO JUST BEING SHAMELESS ABOUT IT OUT THERE IN THE OPEN IN YOUR SHITTY KHAKIS YOU MAKE $375K A YEAR BUY SOME REAL PANTS GODDAMMIT--
THEN WE DRANK ANOTHER PITCHER AND SOME SHOTS AND WE LOST AND I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING BUT WE'RE STUCK WITH YOU AND CHRIS LEAK WITH WOODEN LEGS AND EMMANUEL MOODY TRUCKING HIS SLOW ASS AROUND THE CORNER FOR A TWO YARD LOSS AND SCREENS THAT LOOKS LIKE A GAME OF TWISTER GONE WRONG AND THE FUCKING SENSE THAT WE'RE JUST STUCK WITH YOU BECAUSE URBAN LIKES THE WAY YOU MAKE COFFEE AND THE WAY THE LIGHT COMES OFF YOUR FUCKING BALD HEAD ADMITTEDLY IT IS SHINY BUT THE DRINKING IS GOING TO KILL FIREHORSE AND WHEN WE'RE IN HELL WITH ERROL FLYNN HE'LL BE LIKE "WHAT KILLED YOU" AND I'LL SAY "A ZONE READ WITH NO THREAT OF A QB KEEPER AND SPEED OPTIONS RUN TO THE SHORT SIDE OF THE FIELD" AND HE'LL SAY "FUCK THAT LET'S DO SOME BLOW" AND WE WON'T HAVE ANY WHY DID YOU PUT ME IN HELL WITH A COKED-OUT ERROL FLYNN, STEVE ADDAZIO? IT'S NOT AS MUCH FUN AS YOU WOULD THINK!!!!! HE'S DETERMINED AND FORCEFUL AND I CAN'T STAY AWAKE FOREVER!