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Archive for December, 2009

This photo from the Tulsa world is classic Gundy. He’s shaking hands with Pistol Pete like the mascot is Boone Pickens. There’s absolutely no irony evidenced on his face that he’s shaking hands with a GD mascot, some pimply 19-year-old kid that jerks off to Anime and is flunking Introduction to Music. He looks like Forrest Gump greeting JFK. If Pistol Pete squirted water in Gundy’s face from a fake corsaige on his leather vest, the coach probably wouldn’t even blink.

Now it turns out Zac Robinson’s shoulder injury was much more severe than fans originally thought. Knowing his playing with a gimp arm, why not just see what Brandon Weeden could do during the Bedlam game? It was obvious nothing was happening by halftime. Weeden could have at least provided a spark, roused the smattering of OSU fans at Memorial Stadium, SOMETHING to gain some momentum?

Finally, Tulsa World scribe Bill Haisten blogged that, after speaking with Kendall Hunter, he’s convinced the running back is ready to make plays again. What is, he Doc Moonlight Graham? I’ll believe Hunter is back when I see that burst of speed shown in late 2008. Until then, I’m toastin’ to Tostin.

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Vince Gill after doubling down on chins.

So Mike Leach is suspended from the Alamo Bowl for an undisclosed reason. Perhaps Leach, a noted pirate fan, asking an injured player to swab his poop deck sounded more offensive than intended.

Then Urban Meyer quit, went back to work and now is taking the weekend off.

What’s Mike Gundy going to do to earn headlines before his bowl game? We already read in today’s Tulsa World about how the 42-year-old coach battles stress (building model airplanes). In fact, I’m decidedly nervous about low-key the lead-up to the Cotton Bowl has been. Having been conditioned to rapes, suspensions, rants, black jerseys, concussions and injured shoulders … three weeks of silence from the OSU football complex is a bit jarring.

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If there's a more funny picture on the web, let me know

Here’s hoping Mike G gets enough hair gel and ancillary product under the Christmas Tree to last him through the Cotton Bowl. If you see several Vidal Sassoon trucks booking through Stillwater, follow them to Gundy’s house.

Here’s hoping Donald Booker gets cast in “A-Team 3” after Rampage Jackson passes because of script issues.

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The last time I updated this blog, Brittany Murphy was still snorting booger sugar and gulping pills (too soon?). But I have to give it up to John Klein on his column about Missouri going to the Big 10 (looks like it won’t happen soon) and how it could impact Oklahoma State.

Imagine if Missouri left for the Big 10. Texas Christian slides into the Big 12 and has to head south. So OSU, being the most northern school in the league NOT in the North, gets the benefit of playing Iowa State every year.

OSU could then actually have a chance to win a Big 12 title in football. In a game with OU or Texas at a neutral site, anything can happen (see 2009 Big 12 title game … if Texas’ kicker has slightly smaller testicles, the Huskers are conference champs).

Sure, basketball might be a bit rougher. But only because of Kansas. A move to the Big 12 North could be the best thing to happen to Cowboys sports since Boone Pickens started going Gordon Gecco on mid-range companies in the early 1980s.

On a side note, why did that Missouri Chancellor have to take a shot at OSU’s academics? I didn’t graduate from Oklahoma State (because I can read, Mr. Manley) but it’s not like Missouri is Oxford. I’ve known more than a few dumbasses that proudly sport the black, gold and white … because they work at Foot Locker (zing!)

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Boooring

Even though it breaks my heart, I miss Oklahoma State football. The team is like that emotionally unavailable, blindingly attractive, chain-smoking hot mess that you fall hopeless in love with (against your better judgement) and, though you know the absence is better for you, you pine for the brief hormonal attachment before you get inevitably get your heart ripped out.

Practice reports on Zac Robinson’s ankle won’t do. Neither will public contracts on Travis Ford (I could start a blog on his hairdo, as well).

I need the orange and white to escort me to the top of the skyscraper, show me how beautiful the view can be and then shove me off.

17 more days.

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I want to party with this guy. But I’d probably be depressed about how much TV he watches. And yet, he has a nice TV.

I’d like a stab at writing the synopsis of the Cotton Bowl.

COTTON BOWL: Acquaintances Ole Miss head coach Houston Nutt and Oklahoma State head coach Mike Gundy face off in the 2010 Cotton Bowl to cap a Cowboy season filled with pre-season rapes, Heisman hopeful suspensions, injuries to all key players and an offense that managed four total yards in the second half at Bedlam. The Pokes and Rebs play for all the cotton!

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Houston Nutt is Goose to Gundy's Maverick.


Super sexter (see: 2008 Cotton Bowl) Houston Nutt has quite a history with the Oklahoma State football program.
-Played for the Cowboys 1978-1980; quarterback for Jimmy Johnson
-Earned physical education (he tells TV reporters it was female anatomy. HEY-OOOO!!!) degree from OSU in 1981.
-Coached at OSU under Pat Jones from 1984-1989
-He worked as OSU offensive coordinator in the final year for the blooming legend Mike Freaking Gundy.

I wonder if these two have any kind of friendship now. Gundy seems to hate everyone these days (he talks to his brother once a year? Geez) and you know Houston doesn’t call Gundy for a laugh because the OSU coach hasn’t snickered since getting the head gig. But coaches have all kinds of clandestine relationships the fans and media don’t know about.

During the 2004 Sugar Bowl, no one mined the story line that Nick Saban and Bob Stoops were old buddies. That didn’t really come out until a few years later. That being said, I can’t see Gundy and Nutt hanging out. If Gundy’s private persona is as bland as his public one (not his hair, mind you. That’s exciting), I can’t really see anyone wanting to spend his free time with ol No. 12. After all, you don’t want to bring the guy who gels his hair up, wears the Brut cologne, the gold chain and bomber jacket to the bar. Not since 1988 anyway.

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