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Today In T Boone's Office

Gundy, get in here.

Mr Pickens?

Take a knee and put this cardboard beer helmet on your head. You know the drill.

Will do.

Gundy, you look like an Amarillo golf pro that humped an oil slick.

Yes sir.

Gundy, your visor has more hair product than Al Sharpton's doilies.

Well, I don't know if that's...

Gundy, you look like a wop hijacked a Golfsmith truck. If I wrung out your hair, we wouldn't have to drill ANWAR.

Yes sir.

Gundy, how many games are we gonna win in '08?

Well, I think we can be real competitive depending on the progress of...

I need a number, a quantitative assessment, you shitbird.

It's just hard to say. Football is a dynamic game.

I want to straight up murder you right now, Gundy. I want to hit you in the face with this oil derrick paperweight.

Yes sir. Thank you sir.

Do you see Barry Sanders in this office?


You see Hart Lee Dykes? Answer!

No. No sir.

Right. So the boys who made you what you are ain't here. This is 'ol T Boone right here and this is you right there and I'm looking at 185 pounds of screw up and you're looking at 3 billion dollars of badass. Sean Sutton is a sweating slob his Daddy got a job, but at least I know what that's about. I can have him framed for housing an unlicensed alpaca anytime I need to pull that trigger. It's in his contract that he may not shelter Andean camelid ungulates.

Yes sir.

Gundy, what did I tell you last week?

That those three player hostesses you liked should be thoroughly cleaned and delivered to your home dressed as Japanese anime characters.

Before that.

That you wanted to buy the mineral rights under my yard and pump my children's playscape with heated liquid mercury so that I could know the pain you feel when you watch me coach OSU football.

After that.

That I'm the coach of the team and that you'll never interfere.

Bingo. And I meant it. You're doing good work Cale and I support you.

It's Mike, sir.

Don't get fresh Cale.

Yes sir.

Cale, I bet Michael Milken we'd beat Texas by 32. Will you cover?

I think so sir.

Good. Why haven't you run the play I gave you?

The Whopsy Doozy?

Don't make me say it twice.

Sir, The Whopsy Doozy requires the center to direct snap the ball to the TE in the slot. It's very technical.

While the backfield provides frenetic distraction!

Right. Frenetic distraction. You want them to run about doing jazz hands as we direct snap to Pettigrew at an impossible angle while Keith Toston yells real loud,"Whopsy Doozy! Hey, Longhorn shitbirds look at me!".

There she is. I like the way you tell it.

Uh, look for it in the 3rd quarter, sir.

Good boy. Now take the sani-wipes and rub down the area where you kneeled. Wear that beer helmet until Thursday, OK?

Sir, Stoops joshes me about that. It's a sore subject.

Cale, I let you stop wearing the helicopter beanie and the sea horse intertube. Now we're talking beer helmet? I'm a sympathetic fella, but that beats all. Go git wins, shitbird.

Will do sir! Can you validate parking?


h/t to BHGP for the idea.

Also, for more information on Golf Pricks, please see here and dedfischer at The Tortilla Retort.