Get the f*** off my porch before I rip off those fake glasses with the transition lenses and shove them where the sun will never see them again.
The NEW Vandy reality
Who is James Franklin? First, let's list the places where he's coached (and I'll pause a moment while you pull out some reference books...): Kutztown Univ., East Stroudsburg (his alma mater), Roskilde Kings of the Danish American Football Federation (no seriously, they have the forward pass, shoulder pads and everything), James Madison, Washington State, Idaho State (not the Vandals), Maryland, Green Bay Packers, Kansas State and back to Maryland.
|An actual image from a Roskilde Kings game. (via)|
First off, don't become too enamored with that Green Bay gig as their wide receivers coach too much. He was there one season before Mike Sherman was fired, presumably for hiring some dipshit from Maryland who complained about how the coffee was too strong and the tone in which the players were talking to him. So truly, Franklin's greatest contribution to a tackle football sideline thus far has either been as Kansas State's offensive coordinator or in his ambassador's role for Denmarkians teaching them how to punt, pass and kick. What an effin' troubadour.
Vandy, you had a legend in Robbie and you kicked him to the curb for this douchesnozzle? You're Vanderfrigginbilt for God's sake. The apex of your coaching echelon is a Steve Martin lookalike. You have a hole in your campus' athletic history where there was no actual athletic department. Franklin has ideas of putting y'all on the college football map. When all you really need is an actual college football stadium.
This is perhaps the best way to sum up the SECs most proficient blowhard...he's the former "head coach in waiting"...at Maryland! Maryland doesn't even play football. They have a bunch of male volleyball players and JV wrestling guys that put on "uniforms" once a year on national television. People don't watch for the tackling and the scoring and the blocking, they tune in to see how ugly the jerseys are going to be. And the rest of the season the students and alumni just go to the football field to buy hotdogs and talk about how much they hope they crush Duke in lacrosse the upcoming season.
If you like kids running around with sticks, go read Lord of the Flies again. But you don't fire your favorite Uncle Bobby to make room for creepy second cousin Jimmy with the over-inflated ego and the bright future selling steaks door to door from the back of his pickup.
There's no easy way to put this Vandy. You once had a coach in Widenhofferererer that no one wanted to face. Then you got Steve Martin's brother and that was at least good for a few famous lookalike shout-outs on Sportscenters and the local news. He stepped down and you could've gotten someone cool to run the ship. Instead you passed on Captain Sully and took Stubing. Captain Phil was passed over for the Skipper, or maybe even Gilligan. You could've easily had Captain Crunch and instead you went with Tennile's bitch keyboard artist. You might have even been able to land an actual pirate to steer the ship, instead you chose a rudderless, sack of fail.
|Walks the walk, not the plank.|
Harvard of the South? Please. Your Mascot is an abandoned rank in the US Navy, thrown in the trash in 1899. EIGHTEEN NINETY-NINE!! You're an after-thought. A historical reference to years gone by, or that were never there in the first place. To say you're the new Vandy is like saying the musket is going to once again be a weapon that revolutionizes modern warfare.
Get over yourselves Vanderbilt. You can't even get Lionel Ritchie to sing the National Anthem...in 2012. TWO THOUSAND TWELVE!!!
Blogging prophetically Last year I recounted to my reader the story of me demanding a Dandy Vandy get down on all fours and bark like a dawg. Let's recap that shall we?
I like Vandy but some of their fans sure can be pompous. I mean, here we were in Athens GA and this kid wants to act like his football team is the best thing since sharpened #2 pencils. I asked him what his SAT score was and he said it was too high for me to count. Yeh, he was a witty sumbitch. Though after two fisting drinks for a couple hours he was probably right. At the urging of Fred and Nama I then insisted he get down on all fours and bark like a Dawg. When he refused, I insisted he meet me at Stegeman that February and sit with me while we watched Hugh Durham's boys dismantle his precious round ball team.Y'all probably just see me as some dipshit with a keyboard connected to wifi, but I believe this proves I have super bloggin' powers. Mere hours before the game that ended with lil Jimmy Franklin becoming a household name across the DawgNation, I introduced his illegitimate brother, the CommieDouche to the Dawgosphere. I think his actual name was Francis however.
Durham and the Hoop Dawgs came through. CommieDouche didn't.
The resemblance is remarkable. Check this out: both have over-inflated impressions of themselves, both stir up confrontations, both lack the manparts to put words to action, in 3rd grade recess both spent more time mouthing off about future accomplishments than playing an actual game, both clip coupons to use each week at their local tanning salon, and both wore diapers long after aging out of Johnson and Johnson's size chart.
So well done, all you Vandy fans. With your SAT scores in your back pocket and your sparkling class attendance record. Congrats on your amazingly exaggerated self-image and the coach who has the talk like swagger but can't fight his way out of a wet paper sack. What a perfect representation of your student body and alumni.
Anchor down? Sure, right into the cellar with KenSucky.
And as the rules of Friday Misery state, let us bow our heads in prayer: Lord, we ask that you one day rid our fair, respectable conference of douchesnozzles like Jimmy Franklin and return him to that Scandinavian nation with the cute uniforms. Bless the Vandy students and their cute little GPAs. And please protect our players from chop blocks. Amen.