The OB is under demolition. From the pics, the ambiance is slightly improved with the addition of wreckage and twisted metal. WELCOME TO THUNDERDOME!!! ONLY ONE SHALL LEAVE!
The Sun-Sentinel has the rest of the pics, but we're onto something with this idea. Imagine the intimidation factor of playing in a stadium that looks like a bowlful of apocalypse, as if Dethklok had just rolled through, and we're talking prime terror time for opponents. Night football...now with torches! That to the tune of the opening thirty seconds of "Killing in the Name Of" would be lethal buck awesome to the power of Bronson, motherfucker.
(BTW, that's birthday wish number one: ditch the current Florida intro of "Thunderstruck" and just play seconds one through fifty three of the song. RATM is just fratty enough to get brahsome hopping while being just loud enough to bring out the blood anger in the rest of the crowd. The only people it offends will be Klansmen, but you can't please everyone, sir.)
Matt Jones always did look a bit sleepy now that we think of it. Except when he was outrunning defenders, which we're pretty sure he could do at the collegiate level most of the time without a bloodstream full of spunk powder.
It's okay, though, to have a drug problem. It happens to the best of us.
Speaking of cocaine......the guys who made our favorite documentary ever, Cocaine Cowboys, will be making one of ESPN's 30th anniversary documentaries on...The Miami Hurricanes of the 1980s. Glee does not describe the potential result of this movie being made, especially if they get Trick Daddy to talk about how Miami football makes the asses of Miami women fatter.
In the Bleachers podcasts are one of the Equatorial Republic of Blogfrica's best-kept secrets: this week a whole slew of Big East blogdom appear on the show, and the whole thing is well worth a listen, especially because it is Friday, you do not want to work, and with the headphones in you can't hear your co-worker across the aisle complaining endlessly about her boyfriend who clearly does not love her and is seeing someone else, but "just isn't that great about communicating his feelings," except with his dick, of course.
The best part about blogging: the whole quote and nothing but the whole quote. Jason Peter, in his new book about how absolutely skillful he was at taking drugs and banging hookers, has this to say about Lou Holtz.
"I still wouldn't turn down the opportunity to spit in Lou Holtz's (bleeping) face," Peter writes in the book, which hit bookshelves on July 8. "Each Saturday in the fall when Holtz makes his jovial, dumb ... remarks on ESPN, I hope he knows that there's at least one family on the other side of the screen, the Peter family, that knows what a -- -- -- he really is."
Whoa, let's put that through blogvision and put the real quotes in there. Just one sec...okay, there:
"I still wouldn't turn down the opportunity to spit in Lou Holtz's wizened, impish, and churlishly charming! face," Peter writes in the book, which hit bookshelves on July 8. "Each Saturday in the fall when Holtz makes his jovial, dumb... remarks on ESPN, I hope he knows that there's at least one family on the other side of the screen, the Peter family, that knows what a skillful pickpocket and recognized authority on the metallurgy of sex toys he really is."
Glad to bring you the whole story. We do what we can. Do not forget: Jason Peter was positively Olympian when it came to banging hookers while eating Oxycodone from a candy dish perched on their back. This is an important, important point.