The political and commercial morals of the United States are not merely food for laughter, they are an entire banquet.  Mark Twain

CLICK HERE FOR THE ENTIRE LIST OF ARTICLES

One World (not three) is Enough for All of Us:  Ode to Super Bowl XLVIII

THUS SPOKE INCOGNITO

Quackery, Buggery, Ridiculousness (QBR):  BSPN's Crack Team Comes Through Again

Don't You Love Her Madly?  The Worst Free Agent Signing in the History of the NFL

Civil War 2.0, Stupor Bowl 47

The Matriculator Earns $100 Million and Offers to Buy the Cowboys for $4.73

Drop Dead, Diva

A Tom Brady Fairy Tail

Everybody Must Get Stoned

Eggdicators, RG3, R2G, G2D and R2D2

Mexicans Don't Make Mercedes: Ode to Super Bowl XLVI

If You Show Me Yours I'll Show You Mine

NFL Cork Soakers Nearly Ruin The Matriculator

Tommy 

WWTD:  What Would Tebow Do? or What? Wow!-TD

Et Tu, Bradshaw?

  Arinem is Slim and Shady

The Matriculator Finds God on Toomer's Corner

Lay a Turd for Griffin the Third

Man What Are You Doin' Here?

Matriculator Obtains Copy of Judge's Order (and Aqua Velva will not be advertising on the NFLN)

 Jerramy Spoke in Class Today 

A Woman Scorned, and Why a Lady Named Peyton May End Up Mining for Gold 

 Newton's Law

 Purple Helmeted Warrior aka Roger Gotohell

Meaty, Beaty, Big and Pouncey

EAGLES-VIKINGS GAME POSTPONED BY NATION OF WUSSIES

 

The Matriculator Earns $100 Million During Lockout and Makes Offer to Purchase Dallas Cowboys

 

            While the owners are trying to figure out how to convince the players (and public) that they negotiated in good faith, we earned $100 million dollars.  If things work out the way we intend, we’ll be using a small portion of that to purchase the Cowboys from Jerry Jones. He’s in shock now that his business is no longer able to violate the nation’s anti-trust laws.  We are swooping in like a buzzard on a rotting rat carcass. Carpe Diem!

          I’ve spent the last two months trying to determine what the NFL’s highly paid front offices do.  I haven’t figured it out.  All I know with any degree of certainty is that NFL front offices earn $100 million per year to make incredibly bad decisions that cost their employers millions of dollars.  This article will correct that for the teams, so I figure I’m entitled to the dough.  It’s only fair and in America we’re nothing if not fair.  Dr. Gonzo is preparing a letter to send to NFL teams demanding that they pay their portion of The Matriculator’s $100 million.   We’ll post the letter on the site in the coming week. 

          We asked fifty people the following question:  “If you could have any pick in the NFL draft hoping to get the best player available, which pick would you want?”  Ninety percent of them said, “Number 1”.  A few smart asses went with 2, 3, or 4.  They were wrong, wrong, wrong, annnd wrong.  We have graded each spot in the draft between 2005-2009. (Grading System).  We understand it’s a little early to grade ’08 and ’09, but you’ll get the point.  The most valuable spot was the 23rd pick which included Pro-Bowlers Dwayne Bowe and Davin Joseph, NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year Runner-up Michael Oher, and Super Bowl winner Rashard Mendenhall.  The next three most valuable picks were #24, #25 and lucky #13. All of those picks outperformed all of the top-10 picks. Other picks that were more highly rated than the #1 pick included #29 and #30 in the first round and picks #34 and #38 IN THE SECOND ROUND.  That’s right.  And you just figured out, with a minimal amount of effort, what those people making $100 million haven’t figured out in decades.  Psst, that’s why the Patriots trade down year after year after year.  And that’s why they are one of the best teams, year after year after year.   We asked one other question of our fifty survey participants and they all got it right.  It was like a question on a University of Georgia basketball team test.   “In order from highest contract to lowest, list the contracts for the following draft picks:  Pick #1, #10, #23, #30, #38.”  Everyone got it right.   100%.  Great job, Johnny!   It’s fun to learn and learning is fun.  You can do it under the North Star, or under the sun.  It’s not that the Patriots consistently draft better players.  Their track record is really not that great.  It’s that they get comparable players much cheaper.  That’s good business 101.   

Here are the point totals for the various draft positions and their value.  Check our Mock Draft for the player grades and send your comments if you disagree.

Picks 1-10                 Picks 11-20              Picks 21-30

  1. 28                   11. 33                                    21. 22
  2. 33                   12. 33                                    22. 24
  3. 32                   13. 34                                    23. 36
  4. 26                   14. 32                                    24. 35
  5. 28                   15. 25                                    25. 34
  6. 18                   16. 15                                    26. 31
  7. 28                   17. 22                                    27. 30
  8. 22                   18. 18                                    28. 24
  9. 25                   19. 32                                    29. 30
  10. 19                   20. 28                                    30. 29

 

          Players in the very good or better range (8-10) are evenly distributed through the three segments with 1-10 having 8 players, 11-20 having 7 players and 21-30 having 9 players.  What do you learn from looking at the numbers?  You don’t ever trade up unless the difference between the player you want and everyone else is so striking that it screams for a trade.  In other words, if out of the next ten players on your draft board, nine of them look like Rosanne Barr and one looks like Jessica Biel, you go ahead and trade Roseanne Barr and Ellen Degeneris for Jessica.  If the difference isn’t that blatant, you go back in the draft.  $100 million please.

          I’ve already earmarked a small portion of my millions.  I’m going to call Jerry Jones and tell him that I’ve done an evaluation of the Dallas Cowboys and I’m willing to offer $4.73 to purchase the team from him.  He’s going to ask to see a copy of my evaluation.  I’m going to tell him to “trust me.”  He’s going to say, “Go screw yourself, Puerto Rican.”   I’m going to tell him he’s not negotiating in good faith and that I'm actually Cuban.  There you have everything you need to know about the lockout in 5 sentences. Hey, I know it's some bizarre reasoning, but if it's good enough for the owners it's good enough for me.

          I had a dream last week that I was in the owner’s suite at Dallas Stadium.  I had the lady from the nail salon giving me a foot massage while Angelina Jolie fed me grapes.  I waved half-heartedly when they put me on the Jumbotron.   The team had been renamed the Dallas Matriculators and the star on the helmet had been replaced by another star.  Me.  My smiling face was not only on the helmets, it was on every banner at the stadium and every billboard within 500 miles of Dallas.  Just when I was getting to the bachelor party with Tony Romo, my wife shook me.  “So who’s Angelina?”  I’ve been carrying bags around Macy’s since then, but the future is clearly bright.

          Many of my closest friends listen to communist sympathizer Rush Limbaugh and they have been brainwashed into making statements like, “Well the owners should get most of the money because they own the teams.”  It’s like welfare.  They think they’re entitled to it. Other than being born, Dan Rooney didn’t do anything to become the owner of the Steelers.  If Rooney had been switched at birth and raised by the middle class Schmo family, the only football team he would own would be his fantasy football team, Schmodo’s Baggins.  And they’d probably be average.   It’s all really horribly un-American and we can only hope that at some point we’ll return to our roots where people earn what they get and aren’t born with the lazy, communist, entitlement mentality. Gordon Gekko summed it up when he said: “The richest one percent of this country owns half of the country’s wealth, five trillion dollars.  One third of that comes from hard work, two thirds comes from inheritance, interest on interest accumulating to widows and idiot sons….”  We actually like Dan Rooney so we wouldn't call him an idiot son, but you get the picture.

          The NFL owner’s “product” is completely and utterly worthless without the world’s top football players.  If every player currently in the NFL quit and they formed the Kiss Our Butt League and the owners ran a team of rejects out on the field as the New York Giants, nobody would watch. “That’s Ryan Leaf handing it off to Jim Brown.  That’s his first carry since 1971.  He looks great doesn’t he Boomer? ” I’m not interested in watching that and I don’t know about you, but I’ve never watched a Redskins game because I wanted to see Dan Snyder smoke a cigar in his luxury box.  Call me crazy.  Without the Peyton Mannings of the world the networks would pay the NFL teams exactly nothing.  Squadoosh.  They probably wouldn’t even give them total consciousness on their death bed.  They’d be broke and bitching about how they can’t afford the Kiss Our Butt League Sunday Ticket to watch Manning square off against Brees. 

          In what is probably a surprise to most people, being a billionaire and being intelligent or a good businesswoman are not related.  In the NFL most of the owners made it by doing one of three things:  1.) Being born (a miracle that they did not participate in on the front end)   2.) counting ceiling tiles  3.) marrying someone whose dad was a billionaire and getting a really cool job.  (See e.g. Robert Kraft).   We’ve actually done something substantive to earn our money.  Yertle the Turtle said, “I know at the top they are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom, we too should have rights.”  The Matriculator said: “Money, money let it flow.  Shut the hell up and give me my dough.”

MARCH 31, 2011 

 

 

NFL Cork-Soakers Nearly Ruin The Matriculator

            The Matriculator recently applied for press credentials to attend the NFL Scouting Combine.   The NFL contemplated dropping Fat Boy on all of his hard work and treating him like some Japanese civilian.  It was a tense and anxious week before Goodell and Co.  finally answered The Matriculator’s request.

            The Combine really is one of the great weekends.  All of the top players in the nation stripped down to their skivvies and walking up to the scales to be weighed.  The sole reason I wanted to be there was because I know what the NFL says off camera and I wanted to hear it myself.  “Now this Carimi kid is of I-talian descent.  He can lift ten bales of cotton twelve times, while running through a creek, and he can drop down and shoot a strip club bouncer from fifty yards.  Let’s start the bidding.”   The entire cattle call is now broadcast in high def.   The players run the forty yard dash in tank tops and skin tight Richard Simmons’ pants.  Left, left, left right, left right, my boots are fallin’, my pants are tight, my yarbles are swingin’ from left to right.  My first wife never seems interested in football during the regular season, but she always moseys into the man cave during the forty yard dash making astute comments like, “He looks fast,”  or “He’s fat,” or “What’s his name?  Is he any good?”  She’s a scout with her own set of qualifications, and I always let her know how much I appreciate her enthusiasm.  She duly noted last year that offensive tackle Andre Smith needed a bra which was woman code for, “Unless this is a sport where they need a human cow to milk, that guy is not going to be any good.”  She was right.

            I received an interesting call from someone in the NFL press office the day after I submitted my request.  He said his name was Juan Valdez, but I knew he was using a pseudonym.  He said he was calling from the basement of NFL headquarters using a pre-paid cell phone and he wanted to let me know that he was a hopeless Matriculator.  He indicated that we were the best NFL football site he had ever seen and he was apoplectic as he told us that the NFL was actually considering granting us a press pass.  “This is ghastly,” I said to the frightened young proletariat.  “You tell those farging cork-soakers that they are trying to violate my farging rights.  Dis somanumbatching country was founded so that the liberties of common patriotic citizens like me could not be taken away by a bunch of farging iceholes…like those cork-soakers!”  He asked me to lower my voice because someone was entering the basement.  I listened carefully as I heard Roger Goodell and Demaurice Smith doing some off the record collective bargaining.  I turned on my recorder and have transcribed what I heard:

            Roger Goodell:  “Big D, what’s the word?”

            Demaurice Smith:  “Johannesburg.”

            Goodell:  “You always get me with that one.”

            Demaurice: “Yes I do.”

            Goodell;  “Listen, I was supposed to go clubbin’ tonight.  You know, get my swag on.”

            Demaurice:  “For crying out loud Goody, again?”

            Goddell:  “You know I got me a little shawty and I like to boogie oogie oogie till I just can’t boogie no more.”

            Demaurice:  “What is a shawty anyway?”

            Goodell:  “Well it’s a very versatile word that can mean a lot of things. Listen, let’s do the, ‘The NFL has called off labor negotiations for tomorrow because…”

            Demaurice:  “you didn’t like the food? The bread was stale?”

            Goodell:  “You are too much Big D.  Hey who’s there?”

            Juan Valdez: “Sorry boss man.  I lost my wallet down here yesterday.”

            Demaurice:  “Mikey P.  We need to talk about this season.”

            Goodell:  “Who did we decide was going to win in 2012 again?”

            Demaurice:  “The Broncos.  We need Tebow on TIVO.”

            Juan Valdez:  “That rhymes man.  That’s some good shit.”

            Demaurice:   “It was just a lucky moment.”

            Goodell:  “Don’t let him kid you, he’s a lyrical poet and a genius.  He writes for Kanye West.”

            When Juan Valdez called me later, he said it was inconceivable that a legitimate journalist might be granted a press pass to a sanctioned NFL event.  He said the only time it had ever happened was when Hunter S. Thompson got credentialed for Super Bowl VI.  Hunter dropped some high powered blotter acid a few minutes before kick-off and when Garo Yepremian threw the ball into the air with the aplomb of a five year old ballerina, Hunter started raving about aliens and fuzzy foreigners and bats.   No journalist has been seen at an NFL event since then, unless they bought a ticket and dressed up like a Fireman or a Cheesehead or a Black Holer.  It is very dangerous for the Matriculator to attempt an appearance, even in disguise, as the NFL now has an army of former CIA agents who follow him around.  One sits outside of my office as I write this.  Please note how I seamlessly move from third person to first person in the great tradition of Keyshawn Johnson, Pacman Jones and Mike Vick.

            Fortunately, Juan Valdez came up with a plan.  He called Belicheat who copied my prior articles and sent them to the appropriate parties.  Daniel Snyder got the one where I called his team, “a bunch of bad asses.” Goody got the one where I said, “Brett Favre told Roger to go to hell.”  Not surprisingly, he didn’t appreciate the pun and we understand, though Roger didn’t.  There is a high level of intelligence required to Matriculate, and our target audience is therefore very small and does not include His Imminency.   He sent the one to Peyton Manning where I said, “Peyton is a woman scorned.  She’s a Diva.  And she’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold too.”  Peyton said if they let me into Lucas Oil Field he would challenge me to a cat fight and that it could get ugly with all the slapping and scratching. 

            In the end, disaster was averted thanks to Juan Valdez and his quick thinking.  For the few and the proud Matriculatees, those blessed with the capacity for abstract thought, fear not.  The Matriculator was not granted his credentials for the NFL Cattle Call and we can now all live happily ever after.

               February 25, 2011