Hillbilly Hawkeyes

We have been watching college football much of this weekend—hardly an unusual activity in Texas—and doing little else.

On Thanksgiving Day, we watched Texas play Texas A&M.

On Friday, we watched Southern Methodist (my brother’s school) defeat Eastern Carolina in overtime. We also watched the Auburn/Alabama thriller and finished things up with the Boise State/Nevada game (which also went into overtime).

This afternoon we watched the Penn State/Michigan State game as well as kept tabs on the Iowa/Minnesota game.

Tonight we are watching Oklahoma versus Oklahoma State, for my family by far the most important game of the weekend. We are also monitoring Wake Forest’s game against Vanderbilt (my sister’s school, even though she is entirely indifferent on the subject of Vanderbilt’s football fortunes).

We telephoned Andrew’s family to hear about the Minnesota/Iowa game, which Minnesota won in a major upset. Andrew’s father and Alec and Alex had attended the game.

They reported that Hillbilly Hawkeye fans that had made the trip north to Minneapolis were complaining, bitterly, about the cold—as well as complaining about the fact that alcohol is not served in Minnesota’s stadium.

Andrew’s father said that he did not understand the latter complaint, since two-thirds of the Hillbilly Hawkeye fans were already soused when they arrived at the stadium and were hardly in need of another drink.

Unlike two years ago, when Iowa last played Minnesota in Minneapolis, no Hillbilly Hawkeye fans were arrested in stadium washrooms and charged with indecency and public lewdness (there having been so many witnesses two years ago, those charged had been forced to plead guilty).

Iowa certainly has the dumbest fans in the world of sports. Andrew and I are monitoring the meltdown over today’s Iowa loss on HawkeyeNation.com, and enjoying the spectacle.

One commenter wrote:

It’s hard not to put a lot of the owness [of the loss] on the players this week.

Andrew and I are laughing ourselves silly.

Even better: another idiot commenter, in an attempt to criticize the intelligence of yet a third idiot commenter that had started a thread entitled, “We Suck”, wrote:

Real Intelligent. [sarcasm intended]

Need to create a filter from ones brain there fingers before they type.

What a waist of space.

Andrew and I are in hysterics, rolling on the floor.

Perhaps it’s time to review the University Of Iowa’s various accreditations?

Thanksgiving

Tomorrow afternoon, Andrew and I shall fly to Dallas, where my family will gather for Thanksgiving Weekend at the home of my aunt and uncle.

We shall be back Sunday night.

Now That You Mention It . . .

Is it me or does [Iowa Men’s Basketball] Coach Fran McCaffery kinda sorta look like a child molestor?

Discuss.

A comment posted at 10:02 p.m. EST on 16 November 2010 in the basketball forum at HawkeyeNation.com by some wag—a grammar-challenged wag that does not know how to spell “molester”—going by the screen name ohnochrishansen.

Andrew and I are falling on the floor laughing.

My mother said the very same thing when she saw a television news-clip of McCaffery several months ago!

Where Were You, Peggy, In 2008?

On Wednesday, the President gave a news conference to share his thoughts.

Viewers would have found it disappointing if there had been any viewers. The president is speaking, in effect, to an empty room.

From my notes five minutes in: "This wet blanket, this occupier of the least interesting corner of the faculty lounge, this joy-free zone, this inert gas." By the end I was certain he will never produce a successful stimulus because he is a human depression.

Actually I thought the worst thing you can say about a president: that he won't even make a good former president.

Peggy Noonan, writing in this morning’s Wall Street Journal

Hamburg 1945

Best Post-Election Joke

You only have to look at the results in the now ineluctably doomed state of California to realize that turkeys are still very much capable of voting for Thanksgiving.

James Delingpole, writing this morning in London’s Telegraph