vividly remember another time when Mr. Buckingham came in
from work on acid after a graveyard shift and rounded Shane
Cook and I up to drive to Houston for an Astros game. Drinking
beer and popping pills the entire way down there, Lindsay
was a gracious enough host to take us on a tour of the little
town he was working in, pointing out all of the landmarks
and places of interest as we passed. Upon arriving at the
Astrodome, Lindsay notices an unmanned concession station.
He pulls his badge out and puts it on his shirt pocket like
a fucking sheriff, climbs up over the counter, breaks open
the freezer, and just starts stealing 32 OZ Miller Lights.
During the game, he does a psychic prediction of a Jeff Bagwell
homerun, pointing within 5 feet of the exact spot where the
ball ended up landing. I like to think this was a side effect
of the acid.
To wrap things up, on our way out of the parking lot after
the game, we were stuck in the usual traffic jam that follows
a sporting event. Mr. Buckingham gets a bit impatient, and
lays on his horn, even though everyone is grid locked. Lindsay’s
horn is just blaring down on this guy parked in front of us.
The guy had at least four kids with him, and he throws his
hands up in the air like; what do you want me to do? Somehow,
this pisses Lindsay off, and out comes the badge again. Lindsay
gets out of the car and I swear to God tries to arrest this
guy. Shane and I were watching from the truck, horrified.
I mean, what the hell was Lindsay going to do with the man,
take him home with us? What about his kids? Everyone can take
solace in the fact that Mr. Buckingham is no longer practicing
law enforcement, at least not in an official capacity. He
is in Moscow, Russia as we speak, picking out an Internet
I’d like to talk to you about Vincent Young, the backup
quarterback for the Texas Longhorns. First, I want to make
it clear that I’m the last person on earth who would
use a handful of snaps during junk time at the end of a blowout
to evaluate a quarterbacks’ talent and potential. Secondly,
I will admit to you that I was mistakenly overeager to see
Chris Simms replace Major Applewhite during Major’s
senior season, so I’m hesitant make that mistake again.
This all being said, my feelings on Vincent Young are as follows:
always knew that Jesus would come back someday; I just didn’t
think he would be black. Again. Vincent Young is The Messiah.
He is The Son of God, sent here to lead us all to salvation.
Any student of the scriptures knows that it has been foretold
that there would be a False Messiah (The Beast, Chris Simms)
on Earth preceding the return of The One True King. The same
holds true for Longhorn Football. Allow me to explain further.
Major Applewhite was The Lamb of God, Christ, in his original,
human form. He suffered, died and was buried for our sins.
He was crucified under Mack Brown and Greg Davis. We were
fooled by The Beast, and have been damned ever since. The
Reign of The Beast has come to an end, and Christ has returned
to judge the living and the dead.
Be the warned, Longhorn Fan, that the ways of The Beast are
very deceptive. Having been fooled by the anti-Christ once,
Mack Brown and Greg Davis will be overly hesitant to accept
the New Messiah. They are saddled with the troublesome burden
of having to bench Chance Mock, who patiently awaited his
Day of Glory while Good and Evil battled for possession of
the Longhorns over the last five years.
Translation: Chris Simms is still fucking The Longhorns, even
after he graduated and went to The NFL. Yes, I enjoyed Simms’
performances against weaker opponents, and the gaudy career
numbers impress me, but whenever shit really mattered, Chris
Simms’ promises were shown to be empty, like all of
Satan’s lies. I am currently working on a biography
focusing on Chris Simms’ performances in “Big
Games” entitled Tits Up: The Chris Simms Story.
Ok, I’m being too hard on Chris Simms. I think he will
be good in the pros and could have been better here. I’m
sorry; I was not being a very supportive fan. Allow me to
shift my blame and second-guessing over onto the coaches.
Greg Davis, The Longhorn’s Offensive Coordinator, is
a Eunuch. I wouldn’t be surprised to find his shriveled,
severed cock in a saddlebag. I’m going to start to refer
to him as Rasputin, The Mad Monk. Mack Brown has been a wonderful
recruiter, and, despite being ritualistically out coached
by anyone better than him with an even halfway decent team,
he remains in my favor for the time being. At the same time,
he must be held accountable for allowing Greg Davis’
offense to sterilize even the most virile and robust of his
yearly recruiting crops.
To put things in more concrete terms, Vincent Young’s
elusiveness and running ability mixed with the two-back set
(Cedric Benson and Selvin Young) that The Longhorns were planning
to feature this year anyway, would be unstoppable to all but
the staunchest of defenses. Then, oh, by the way, Young will
have the option of throwing to the most talented receiving
corps assembled in College Football in years; far and away
the most talented that Texas has ever fielded. (I must interject
at this point and admit that the two back set may not, after
all, have been specifically designed for S. Young and Benson.
I’m not sure, but that’s how it should be run
on any non-passing down.) Being the eternal pessimist, I fear
that, due to the negative results and controversy caused by
his errant benching of Applewhite in favor of Simms, Mack
Brown will wait a game or two too long (like after a loss
to Kansas State and/or Oklahoma) to start Vincent Young, and
we will be forced to sit back and watch a Chance Mock led
offense that should be great, but due to Greg Davis, won’t
That being said, I had a great time at the UT/NMSU game, which
included such highlights as two interception returns for touchdowns
(D. Johnson/M. Huff ), a kick-off AND punt return for a touchdown
(both by Selvin Young), and a drunk Mark Davis falling down
several flights if stairs prior to being forced to leave the