Hogs beaten by the Oxford Nutt Sacks.

This weekend, my beloved Razorbacks were defeated by the Ole Miss Rebels, a.k.a. the Oxford Mississippi Nutt Sacks in a squeaker that went down to the final seconds. I won’t go into a tangent about the game. But if you want, you can read one of many from the Woo Pig Clan here. What I will say is that this group of mostly freshman played well above Hog Fan’s expectations in what many people believe (myself included) is a rebuilding year after Houston Dale “Colonel Reb” Nutt R-U-N-N-O-F-T across the creek to Mississippi.

Since I’m a season ticket holder who resides in God’s Country (a.k.a. Northwest Arkansas), I was able to catch the first game in what will surely be our new rivalry. The following are some notes from the game:

It’s never too early to go to an SEC football game. My co-workers scoffed at me when I told them I planned on being there at 9 a.m. for a 6 p.m. kickoff. Well, I did get there at 9, and I wasn’t the first to arrive. If I would have gotten there earlier, I could have enjoyed more tailgating time.

Tailgate breakfast is the best. A few years ago my tailgate crew discovered “Deep Fried Honey Buns,” which are just store-bought Little Debbie Honey Buns seared on both sides with butter in a cast iron skillet. This year we made a new discovery – “Pancake Wrapped Bratwursts with Maple Syrup.” It’s exactly what the name says it is, so I don’t have to tell you, it’s delicious. We also enjoyed Jimmy Dean Sausage patties and of course we fried up a batch of Honey Buns, for a little something we like to call “Breakfast Dessert.”

Ole Miss dudes all look like the same white person. I know there is a whole lot of stuff you can make fun of about the fan base of the Arkansas Razorbacks. I mean our team’s mascot is a feral bovine critter. But among the Ole Miss faithful, originality is not a virtue that is held in high regard. They all dress like I did 15 years ago when I was a freshman frat kid in college – even the old bastards. There was a surprising number of OM Nutt Huggers that made the trip, all decked out in the official OM Uniform – khaki pants, Redwing boots, Oxford button down shirt (OM sweater vest or golf pullover optional), brown belt, no facial hair, and Manning Brother Bowl Haircut (OM cap also sold separately).


If you eat enough all through the day, you can drink as much as you want. Fishing, golf and tailgating are the only times when it is socially acceptable to drink before 10 a.m. (at least in the South). Over the course of the last seven years or so our tailgating crew has come to realize that you can drink enough booze to kill a large mammal as long as you have a high carb/high calorie diet. So, in addition to consuming mass quantities of foreign and domestic beer and spirits that day, we also consumed several dozen grilled hot wings, various sausage and bratwurst products, hamburgers, many racks of ribs, a cheesy potato casserole, tub of Panchos cheese dip and multiple bags of corn and potato chips.

Ribs should be of the pork variety. Ours were pork, and they were delicious. Slow cooked/smoked for around 6 hours. Beef ribs are for Texans = not as good.

I don’t have to hate Texas anymore. For years, Hog fans my age and older hated the University of Texass Longwhorns (misspelling completely intentional). Now we don’t have to anymore. We can hate Ole Miss. I don’t think they will be as fun of a nemesis though. I mean. Texas is a national football powerhouse with a huge recruiting base in the largest state in the lower 48. Ole Miss is in Mississippi, a state that most kids just want to get the hell out of. The University of Texas is located in Austin, a city with a vibrant live music scene and world-renowned art and music festivals. Ole Miss is in Oxford, where I think Widespread Panic may have played a couple of times. The University of Texas is the EVIL ORANGE EMPIRE. Ole Miss is more of a Republic of Complacent Preppy People, whose motto for years has been, “We may not win every game but we’ve never lost a party. Hoddy Toddy, ya’ll.”

I wonder if we can re-apply for a new arch-enemy in the SEC. Ole Miss doesn’t seem good enough to be our nemesis. Hey LSU, wanna hate somebody?

That will be the last time a team coached by Nutt beats the Hogs. We won’t have to worry about Ole Miss being our “rival” for very long. Nutt and company will become our whipping boys soon enough and we can focus on more hard-to-beat teams. The team that played the Hogs last Saturday wass the best class Nutt will have at Oxford – one recruited by someone else – it will go downhill in Oxford from here on out. Meanwhile, there’s good times to come with the Razorbacks coached by Bobby Petrino.

Nutt will be the coach at Ole Miss forever. Ole Miss is never going to win at anything, and they don’t really care if they do or not. They’re like the Chicago Cubs of the SEC. All they want is to go to a bowl game, any bowl game, every other year or so. So Houston Nutt is their man. I can see them now, in their nicely pressed Izod shirts at the casinos in Shreveport after the Independence Bowl saying, “Wow! This place has gambling just like Tunica. I hope we come here every year.”

NEW Tim McGraw cologne!

Doing my regular web surfing I came across a banner ad for this stuff and I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Tim McGraw cologne? WTF?

Three celebrities that I know of who have a “scent” named after them = Britney Spears, Debbie Gibson and now … Tim McGraw.

First off, I’m not a fan of Mr. McGraw’s (or so-called “radio-country” in general). I couldn’t name one song of his at gunpoint. All I know is he’s married to Faith Hill. I couldn’t name one song of her songs either; I just know she’s pretty hot and doesn’t like losing at awards shows.

Why do I care then? Well, there’s something about the concept of a cuntry musician (misspelling completely intentional) with a cologne that makes me mad as hell. I guess it’s my appreciation of Johnny Cash, Clint Eastwood movies and my respect for manhood in general.

After my initial reaction, I had a second thought: maybe he did the public a service and created a scent that is an honest representation of what country music should smell like – an equal combination of Skoal spit, Budweiser, Marlboro Reds and horseshit. I mean, he’s pretty good at packaging shit and mass producing it for the public. Have you heard his music?

But, when I looked up the description for the product on the Kohl’s website (Kohl’s = KA – LASS -EEE) I discovered it was your typical run-of-the-mill metrosexual cologne made for douche bags, by douche bags. In the description, the “top notes” (whatever that means) say “bergamot and nutmeg.” The “middle notes” (still I’m clueless) are “lavendar and moss.” The “base notes” (?) are “amber, patchouli, sandalwood and aged whiskey.”

Oooooo! Lavendar and moss, how pretty!! And I just love a good sandalwood! In all seriousness, the aged whiskey isn’t a bad touch – now we’re starting to smell like a cowboy – but he went and put patchouli in it. Patchouli – the sent that hippies have been using in lieu of bathing since 1968.

McGraw, why did you have to go and wuss up Country Music more than Big & Rich were already doing? I would say that Johnny Cash is spinning in his grave right now, but I know JC wouldn’t fraternize with such an “artist” as yourself. If told of this news, he would simply say, “Tim who?”

Just for fun, lets find out what the “scent” of REAL country musicians would be like:

“Honeysuckle Rose” by Willie Nelson – The strong, pungent smell of Bong Water complemented by horse sweat from a freshly squeezed saddle blanket, with a hint of Bio-Diesel

“Highway Man” by Waylon Jennings – Half whiskey, half gunpowder . Shake well and apply with can of WD40.

“BLACK” by Johnny Cash – Just as black is the absence of color, “BLACK” is the absence of smell.

“White Trash” by David Alan Coe – Ingredients within are an ancient redneck secret (Pearl in a can and Jack Daniels’ Black)

I would buy any one of the above products at a premium price. I wouldn’t wear them, but I would buy them. I would make sure the bottle was closed tightly, and I would place it carefully under a velvet, oil painting of John Wayne.

If you want to know what Tim McGraw’s cologne should smell like, just imagine the image above with a different label on it. There’s your Tim McGraw “scent” – a douche bag.

Please Mr. McGraw, take Kenny Chesney, Toby Keith, Brooks & Dunn, Big & Rich and your girl perfume and go somewhere. And never come back.

P.S. Please take NASCAR with you (but that’s another blog post)

METAL DAYS – RE-RE-RE-revisited, Part 3 of 3.

The following is the exciting conclusion to a three-part series about the glory days of METAL! the whole METAL! and nothing but the METAL! So help me God of Thunder. No posers allowed. (If you missed the others check out METAL 1, METAL 2)

By early 1988, I had ditched poser rock for straight up, balls out, thrash METAL! I listened to little else for about a solid year. Those were good times. The experience of switching from lame-ass to kick ass made me learn an awful lot about pre-conceived notions about rock and other things in life. For example, for years I avoided Metallica for fear that they worshiped Satan, or that their lyrics were evil. What I discovered after listening to them was that the subject matter was pretty tame. Metallica’s For Whom the Bell Tolls was obviously inspired by Hemingway, and The Four Horseman was inspired by the Bible. That’s the exact opposite of Satan. Duh!

On a side note, I checked out Slayer too, and yeah they were and are, in fact, evil as shit. But damned if they aren’t METAL!

Although I knew the bands I listened to weren’t Satanic, I considered it kind of a plus that other people thought they were. As a short white kid growing up in eastern Arkansas, it gave me a don’t-you-fool-with-him-he-crazy edge that came in handy sometimes.

Looking back, I probably should have been a little more careful. Just down the road a spell in West Memphis, they put away three other goofy kids for just being METAL! like me. They were listening to the same music I was, and wearing black t-shirts like I did; they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

On a more positive note, I also learned not to limit my listening tastes to one genre of music. The discovery of Thrash METAL! was such a great experience I ventured out to discover new bands and old bands I’d been missing while bangin’ my head to Quit Riot. Bands like the Ramones. Thanks, Thrash METAL!

One night, TBS played a cut up version of Rock n’ Roll High School and I discovered the Ramones. The Ramones led to the Sex Pistols, and other punk bands. That led to post-punk bands like the Talking Heads. By that time I was so musically open-minded, I was digging the Violent Femmes and R.E.M.

Side note: I’m probably the only person alive who credits Metallica for turning him on to R.E.M.

Another side note: There were other bands I was listening to, but to list them would be a lame, pretentious attempt to prove how hip I was/am. I’m sure you were listening to way cooler bands than I was, even before I was listening to them.

By the time grunge kicked in, I was fully ready to embrace it. Bands like Soundgarden and Alice in Chains were every bit as heavy as the METAL! I was listening to. Besides I was already wearing flannel. Hell, I still wear flannel.

Looking back, I realize how funny it is that kids think the genre of music they listen to should dictate how they dress. The above photo is a good example. I look around the mall today and see a bunch of teenaged EMO kids that are going to be embarrassed someday (at least the dudes should be, anyhow, jeez).

My open-mindedness to music didn’t always lead me down good paths either. In college I did a brief stint as a neo-Hippie. But as it turns out I was a huge failure at that. Not because I didn’t dig the music, but because my daddy wasn’t rich enough for me to take an entire summer off to “follow Panic.” Unlike the rest of the trustfundafarians, I had to get a frikin’ job. Here’s a reenactment of a conversation I had with some frisbee chuckin earth cookie in 1995 A.D. (After the Death of Jerry Garcia)

ME: Man, that’s a bummer that Jerry is gone. I’m glad I got to see him in concert in Memphis before he died.
Earth Cookie: How many Dead shows have you seen?
ME: Just the one.
E.C.: Bwaa ha ha! You’re such a newb, Brah! I’ve seen the Dead over 67 times, seen Panic 56, and Phish 230 times, all on acid Brah!
ME: Newb? I’ve got Europe ’72 on vinyl.
E.C.: You’re clueless man, just clueless. Let me get you some tapes, from some real shows, Brah. Some Phish, some Panic, Brah!
ME: Tapes? Like a cassette tape? Who the hell has a tape player anymore?
E.C.: You’re the one with the firkin’ record player?
ME: Touche’

STATE OF METAL TODAY

The other thing I learned the hard way was not to engage in hero worship of these guys. Even my saviors of METAL!, Metallica, turned out to be pretty douchey themselves. And no, I’m not about to go on a tirade about Lars’ battle with Napster. Robbing music for free on the internets may be fun as hell, but taking away those record sales from the recording artists strips them of the ability to achieve the goal of every rock n’ roller – to make enough money to be above the law and have kinky sex with multiple partners. Well, when you say it out loud it doesn’t sound like such a good argument.

But they got douchey in other aspects. First they SOLD THE EFF OUT after the Black Album, and it turns out they were constantly hazing their “new” bass player for years just because he replaced Cliff Burton. If there is a METAL! bone in your body I highly recommend that you avoid the documentary “St. Anger” about the band recording the worst “metal” album ever. It shows them actually having therapy sessions … with a “band therapist.” Is this Metallica or Matchbox 20?

There’s also several minutes devoted to Lars and his dad and the issues they have. Then there’s a terrible scene where Lars and Dave Mustaine talk about their feelings, and how Dave has so much rage bottled up inside for being kicked out of the band. Ugh! Never mind Matchbox 20, the New Kids on the Block were more METAL! than that.

Word of advice to Metallica – DON’T DO ANY MORE DOCUMENTARIES IF YOU ARE GOING TO ACT LIKE VAGINAS!

But the state of the METAL! is not all bad. In fact the thing that made me start reminiscing about my METAL! days in the first place was a show on the Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, Metalocolypse, about a fictional METAL! band, Dethklok. This is the work of creator Brenden Small, who aside from being an excellent cartoon creator, stand-up comedian and actor, is an awesome musician.

The show packs a ton of references to the METAL! days – everything from Scandinavian Death Metal to a “rock n’ roll clown” named Dr. Rockso who is a cross between David Lee Roth and Gene Simmons. If you are/were a fan of any of the METAL! genres, I highly recommend it.

Small, a graduate of the Berklee College of Music, writes and plays all the music performed by the fictional Dethklok on the show. Small, as Dethklok, put an album out in 2007, the Dethalbum. I have this to say about it: I own it. It is all that is METAL!. It may be the best damn METAL! album of all time. Seriously.

He even got some touring musicians and took it on the road. They’re awesome. I’ll shut up about it now.

In Closing

I’m of the opinion that if you ever pumped your fist in the air to a guitar riff, you will always be a member of the fraternity of black-T-shirt-wearing-mullet-sporting punkards that are METAL! kids. You may have strayed away, but as Bob Segar says, “Rock n’ Roll Never Forgets” (Hey! Bob Segar is not METAL!). That’s why I tend to find Tenacious D absolutely hilarious, while others find them funny but don’t get some of their more obscure references. Jack Black and I were probably playing air guitar to the same Dio tape.

Today, certain aspects of METAL! that we listened to in the past are not only tame, but downright mainstream. For example, Ozzy’s whole family is a household name, with the Osbournes having their own TV show and Sharon being a celebrity judge and talk show host. You can’t even listen to an SEC football game without hearing a marching band play a rendition of Ozzy’s Crazy Train. In my day, letting someone know you listen to Ozzy would get you a visit from the local Baptist Church youth director trying to save your soul.

Even the most evil/METAL! band of my time, Slayer, has a song on the very mainstream video game, Guitar Hero. How in the hell did this happen?

It makes me kind of feel sorry for the METAL! kids of today. Nothing is shocking anymore. Since everything has pretty much been done already, the new generation of METAL! has been forced over the edge of ridiculous just trying to be shocking. Just take a look at Slipknot. Really, guys? Ok. We get it, you’re sooo evil (yawn).

I’m kind of looking forward to see what kind of music my son will listen to in the name of rebellion. I mean, how do you shock an old-skool METAL! guy like me? Poor little guy, there’s no music he can listen to that will repulse his old man. Unless … he puts on a pair of cowboy boots and asks for money to go see the Kenny Chesney concert … NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Brian Pohsehn Rules!

This post could very well be called “I have the coolest wife in the world,” but that would just be bragging. Besides if she hears I said something like that, it will go to her head. Lucky for me she never reads this blog.

One afternoon I was checking The Fayetteville Flyer like I always do to get my know about the haps in town. What I read made me so excited I almost shat myself! I’m just kidding; I didn’t almost shit myself. So after I cleaned up, I read that one of my favorite comedians was going to be performing at my college alma mater that very night! How on earth did I not realize that Brian Posehn was going to be in town, and at my old school no less?

There was no time to beat myself up. I had to act fast. As a recently new parent, I just can’t go about making plans for a night out on the same day. Even though I was at work, I had to put that on hold for a while and make some stuff happen. I called my wife at 2 p.m. and we both hastily made calls for babysitters … but to no avail. About 4 o’clock my wife did the coolest thing ever –- she gave me permission to go while she stayed home with the kid. What a gal, huh?

Now she’s not the Posehn nut that I am, but she does enjoy stand up comedy and a good night out so it was a pretty selfless act. I owe her one, big time. So if ya’ll see me at the mall some weekend, holding my wife’s hand with one arm while carrying a bunch of sacks of shoes with the other, or at a movie starring Reese Witherspoon you’ll know why.

No matter what she has in store for me, it’s cool, cause as mentioned earlier, Posehn Rawks! I’d give a full review, but I wouldn’t do him justice. Also in the line up for the show was Hard N’ Phirm. Lotsa laughs, I highly recommend them too.