We've been caught up in a neverending preview piece and other bullshit today. Apologies--you all get refunds! And this Fanpost from Run Home Jack, which is brilliant.

(Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" begins to play)

Hello.  I'm pop star and former Rick Fox-fucker Vanessa Williams.  I'm here with my little pal Jim-Tater. to t - what the hell?  Can we put on MY MUSIC PLEASE?


("Colors Of The Wind" begins to play.)

Damn right.

As I was saying, I'm here today asking you to donate to the ASPCA: the American Society for the Prevention of Coach Abandonment.  Before I took him in, Jim-Tater was wandering the streets of Tampa - dirty, confused, living mostly off of medical waste.  He used to have a home at USF, but his family left him out on the street after Jim-Tater got a little too rowdy with one of the kids.  When I saw him at the pound that day (which doubles as Tampa's Chamber of Commerce), I knew I couldn't just leave him to die.


But not all coaches are so lucky.  This is Tressy - a wonderful, if overly tame, little fella who was taken from his home for protecting his family!  How can we call this a first-world country when we treat coaches with so little dignity?  People will tell you Tressy just wasn't honest, but you look at that face and tell me there's anything but love in that heart.


And then there's Ol' Capitan.  The mean streets of Lubbock are no place for a wonder-coach like this.  Capitan can still remember those days of catching frisbee after frisbee.  Each time, he'd tell his quarterback, "Again!  Longer!  85 yard out route!"  (Capitan does not run with a ball, however.) 

Capitan found a good home in Key West, where he oversees a small rum-running operation.  Life is good again for Capitan, but only because people just like you help the ASPCA do such valuable work.


Other coaches - like Butch - need your help, though.  Without the love and adoration of a college program, Butch's hair will soon fall out entirely, and his claws will become brittle.  People think coaches can just survive in the wild, like their genetic ancestors did.  But Butch is no Paterno.  Left on his own, Butch will wander from town to town, desperate to find a booster to feed him, until he dies.


Won't you take in a coach like Thunderpaunch?  (NOTE: MUZZLE NOT INCLUDED)


Or Stewbones?


Donate to the ASPCA and give abandoned coaches the care and support they need today.  Ricardo here still runs and hides under the couch for hours at the mere mention of a "Michigan Man," but perhaps these scars will heal with time.


Give today.  Jim-Tater's friends need you!


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