QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

Portals

QB Lessons in McKinney in Dallas will teach you about portals. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lesson in McKinney in Dallas. Jump man, fucking jump. A huge fucking intergalactic portal to another fucking dimension swirling like a fucking Disney World lollipop protruding from the fucking earth. Its the fucking CERN portal scientists have been building, telling you that its to test the big bang theory, and to crash particles together safely, but really to build a bridge to the dimension of hell, for Satan, and fucking they throw fucking, huge fucking baphomet dancing evil fucking people dressed up as fucking demons, laughing fucking carnival parties outside of it all the time, celebrating. You Tube that shit. Your fucking mind will explode and erase all the dinosaurs from the bible. Tate, your name sounds like you’re a little chipmunk with fucking cheeks stuffed full of acorns. Little fucking Tater Tot with Ketchup. Jump you dumb mother fucker. Do it. Before Jalen does because Miami just hired Deanos, because he promised them he could get Jalen, but then Jalen was like, why the fuck am I going to leave Alabama where I go to the National Title every year, and got this Nick Foles thing going, where I don’t have to play a lot, and my body feels great, but I still get a few big moments a season, and its like a new kind of safe way to play football, and rotate quarterbacks like pitchers that Spurrier tried to tell us to do, but we just said he was fucking mean to quarterbacks, but actually Jesse Palmer looks fucking great now, so maybe it did help him save some years on his life, because Brett Favre looks like he is fucking Tim Allen in the Santa Claus when he shaves his beard off in that beard trimming commercial, but as soon as he looks up from washing his face off with sink water, its back, his beard, and Jalen to Alabama, because fuck potentially getting killed during conditioning drills at Maryland, and their school President agreeing I should have been in better shape then. Save your fucking self. Man. Ryan Day was so fucking nice leading up to getting the head coaching job. Fucking the team loved him man. Urban walking around all day the last 2 years neurotic, rubbing his fucking temples, go to talk to him in his office, and he is leaned back with a sleep mask on, because the sunlight through his blinds hurt his eyes so fucking bad, and all he had to do was stop drinking coffee, because it increases anxiety, but then how could I be a hard dodge charger, and seriously Urban, cut back on the red bull, I can’t man. I fucking can’t. I know they told us that red bull was safe because its near the gatorade sections at the gas station, but its actually some of the most dangerous liquid on earth. More dangerous than well water in Africa during Ebola Season. You ever notice how everyone in movies is strung out, or a reporter like Tom Hardy in Venom, nothing in his fridge but has black coffee, or fucking working on a big fucking bank robber case and Pacino sees him, talks to him, sits with him, but can’t capture Deniro, because police/criminal diner ettiquette, like the cops in New York who supposedly have a tape of Hillary eating a girls face, off the insurance file in Anthony Wiener’s laptop, and the FBI in 30,000 emails, and don’t arrest her because she is too high profile, and it would cause a civil war, when Rachel Maddow, who use to have long blonde hair, and operation mockingbird, makes it seem like Trump is just arresting his political enemies, but its not, its actually a huge satanic cabal of spirit cooking freaks hanging weird paintings in Tony Podesta’s house and Bill Maher walking around in red shoes, they are all drinking coffee, and Peter Thiel advocating for young peoples blood that helps you live longer in the Washington Post, and no one says anything about it, its a tech start up, drinking adrenachrome, them all doing that too. You tell me man. Why are you a backstabbing piece of shit now that you got what you wanted, Coach Day? Justin fucking couldn’t win Elementary school fields day at Georgia, over Fromm. Over me. Ill process that bitch like oatmeal into a turd. Fuck you. I am jumping ship after talking a bunch of shit on twitter, and getting scared when I actually saw him at the club. So just fucking jump man. Start over fresh. Go to GNC get a detox drink, to get the weed you smoked in your hotel room at the Sugar Bowl, that the backup LB brought, out of your system, and shit green fucking disintegrated fucking large intestine debris you didn’t know was still inside you from months of eating fast food. Out. Get Fucking clean man. Drink 38 bottles of water, until your urine is purified in the waters of Lake Minnentonka. Shave your beard off, and get a haircut. Nothing removes all your sins like a shaved face. Hey man, did you do coke last night? Your face is shaved. Just go man. Jump. Yeah, but where does it take me. I don’t know man, fucking Miami. DJ Khaled’s shoe closet. You’ll land on top of 500 pairs of Jordans. Because no one buys Lebrons. Because he keeps opening his fucking mouth about Trump, and making shitty fucking digital series about how athletes are different, they don’t just run and jump, they think to, and talk, inside barber shops. And if you wanted to be fucking Dr. Ben Carson then quit fucking basketball, go get a college fucking degree, you’re fucking top of your fucking head looks like a fucking sonogram radar of hair loss. You eddie murphy wannabee fucking the klumps fucking look I can play a bunch of characters, man Lebron is a five tool player, man he has personality, man guy is smart as the fucking person who checks your receipts on the way out of Sams Club to make sure you didn’t steal anything. Umm sir I don’t see the fucking 4lb bag of fucking Yukon Golds in here, oh, wait, oh there it is. You’re good. Yeah I fucking have a fucking job, and I just got done fucking paying you piece of shit. They’re right fucking there. Give me that fucking receipt. Tate, don’t be late to the party like Kim Solcziak, fucking Jump into a Miami club liv full of titties, and people clenching their fucking jaws, wearing V neck shirts, with fucking bead neckleses on, fucking hey the cast of Jersey Shore is here tonight, hell yeah, Jersey Vacation before Mike goes to fucking jail for what I read, was seriously, fucking some very intracate shit, fucking that mother fucker made 8.9 million dollars last year, which touche my lord, gets 8 months, so they are here partying, before he gets in the back of a limo with Ray Liotta, takes a handful of pills, and says take me to fucking jail. Jump. Here goes nothing. Cannon balllll!! shsshshshshshs the swishing noise of his destiny spiraling out of control. Going to the Jiffy Lube down the end of 0 street. Hey man. Can you check the guages in my truck? Make sure its all good, needs an oil change. Sure I can. Great I gotta drive all the way back to Florida. Stares at me. Congrats man, you’re the first one to know.  Dad, obviously you live in Las Vegas, and work as a bartender, based on your little ass house I saw that in Netflix special that was fucking embarassing watching you break up a fight during football practice like you were trying to put wax on fucking mayweathers eye before round 7 starts, of trying to get Marlon Lucky to run 100’s at Nebraska. Because nothing says I am a white kid who wants to be black like trying to save your black friend from fighting for no reason. Or your dad from you transferring based on nothing but emotion, and no facts. Stick it out son. Thats what we did in the 70’s. Stuck it out. But dad, But I am going to the most southern tip of Miami. The farthest fucking possible spot away from family and friends.  Yeah hardly anyone will be able to visit me or go to my games because we play in like the Carolinas a lot, and Virginia, Syracuse. The most expensive flight you can find on Southwest Airlines. 3 hours time difference. When you leave at 6am to come see me, you’ll get here at fucking noon. 6 hour fucking fucking 3 hour flight. But I can promise you this. And I swear to fucking god. Every fucking time you come down for a home game, its going to cost a lot, you might have to cash your 401K out, waive the 10% tax fees, because you’ll pay for it later on your taxes, right, I need the money now, not a future, and colleges don’t pay for family flights, and that is why Justin Fields parents are like god dammit son, fucking Ohio, we live in fucking Georgia, what did you and Tate fucking 69 each other, literally the same problem in reverse, for each family, but dad you’ll be on the beach, and Mr. Fields you’ll be in a North Face Jacket. You ever seen a beach before. There is fucking sand. Fucking girls walking around, high on drugs, with no jobs, in the middle of a Tuesday, like that Drake song, why are you at the fucking beach, oh I do bottle service from 10pm-3am at the club, see the tattoo on my foot, it says sunshine, awesome I am a student-athlete, I need a solid 8 hours of sleep in Kirk Cousin’s hyperbaric chamber, babe can you fuck me tonight, you know the rules Karen, I have to sleep in this fucking chamber like my immune system doesn’t work, babe please, Karen I hate to break it to you, but soon, pretty fucking soon, I will look like Arnold Schwarsenegger as the fucking ICE Man in batman, just walking around the house in a hyperbaric chamber ICE Man fucking Buzz Alrdin is a Mason Too, Nasa suit, all fucking day, healing all fucking day, I am sorry Karen, its the only fucking way I know to win the game that gets me to the playoffs, that I lose, Okay, this is what athletes do, they spend $350K a year on their bodies, I only drink honey like Kim Kardashian, who by the way does not drink alcohol, only takes extacy randomly gets married, and makes sex tapes, but no fucking alcohol, fucking none, you fucking hear me Khlomar, that is where you fucked up, drinking that fucking sauce, that fucking Jamarcus Russell, fucking smuckers grape jelly purple drink, suppossed to go on a fucking PB & J sandwich, not in your fucking circle K cup with root beer, and BBQ sauce. Tate, Tate, calm the fuck down, we are chill here man, we are in Miami now, on the fucking beach man, yeah I love sand in my fucking vagina, fucking tweeting videos, hey guys look I can fucking throw, I fucking told you, fucking Dwayne Haskins is gone at awards ceremonies during bowl practices, so I am getting more reps, and showing my 100K twitter followers, I can throw, Dwayne, right?, I need the third string Heisman finalist, to fucking tweet a fucking emoji to my video, hahahaha dwayne so fucking funny man, hahahaha hilarious, the one emoji where you posted a fucking owl wearing fucking glasses, on one of his eyes, like the monopoly guy, rubbing your chin, hahaha thanks man, everyone on twitter knows we are boys, now, I root for you, a lot,  I am your boy, Dad, I am your son, fucking raised by you in Africa, near where Obama lived, fucking by Simba, I am Nala, and you are Simba, i love you, I don’t know man,yes I will clean up our apartment so you don’t come home to a mess, flashes forward to him at the beach, fuck I am talking to this chick, she fucking goes to the beach mid fucking day, and drinks out of a thermos she fucking forgot to wash, oh well it looks clean, fucking lets go, fucking some ron ron juice man, lets go fucking lay out, fuck work, hell yeah, hell fucking yeah, fucking rage, fucking Miami, yeahhhhhhhhh, DM’s his mom on Insta, hey fucking Mom can you fly out to fucking Columbus and pack my fucking dorm up, as soon as I fucking signed, I just left everything, like Zac Taylor wanted to leave the Rams, but they fucking Won, and he was like god dammit, another fucking week, and McVay saw him, during film on Monday, and for some reason was extra fucking critical, really fucking pile driving his fucking asshole this week, just to fucking let him fucking know, that I swear to fucking god, if your mind fucking wanders for one god damn fucking second this fucking week preparing for when the fucking saints come marching in, because you think you have to go fucking recruit assistant coaches, and fucking free agency, and prepare for the fucking draft, and I find one god damn fucking, I am going to call fucking ATT and get your fucking call logs, and I find one fucking area code in Cincinatti, during this week of fucking prep, on your work IPhone 8 because its cheaper to get employees older versions of phones,  you’re fucking dead, you’re career is fucking over, I will blame the whole fucking loss of you, I swear to fucking god, let me find one fucking congrats text from Chad Johnson, wanting to be your wide receiver coach. Harrison, I swear to god you clog one more fucking toilet portal in this fucking house, I am fucking over it. Yeah mom, that, and I met this great girl. She fucking sleeps a lot. On the beach. In sun glasses. In Miami. Works late nights. Hey, that is great son? Great Start. Is she a nurse? I gotta go mom, just make sure you get the deposit from apartment back, if possible, because I am using the funds to get another tattoo of a pit bull on my thigh, and the words pussy killer written above his head. Ill never be able to wear shorts again for the rest of my life, if I ever go to anything that is employee function related, like golf or anything else. My co-workers will always ask why I am wearing pants to the drive for breast cancer 5K. Its the middle of the summer, aren’t you hot. We are all in shorts. Well you live and you learn son. Thanks mom. Hangs up. Man if I do good at Miami, I can play for the Cowboys some day. Because Dak sucks a fucking cock. Hey Dak, this is what I want you to fucking do? Okay, listen up. I want you to fucking take the football, and fucking throw it fucking forward, to fucking someone. Anyone. I don’t care. Throw a fucking exciting interception like Brett Favre. Just anything that fucking makes me feel something inside. You cambell soup dumb hick, bucktooth, looking fucking neopolitan ice cream chocolate, vanilla, strawberry breyers ice cream, macadamian nut looking mother fucker. The entire fucking game is just you dropping back, fucking xing out of every fucking route and website on your fucking computer, because you see your boss walking up, and Jason Garrett fucking judging you from the sidelines, and fucking popping up the fucking email, writing a fucking checkdown to your fucking fullback. Don’t drop my extended hand off. Best Regards, Yeah man I am working. Sending fucking emails like crazy around man. Busy fucking day. Huge busy fucking day. I emailed a mother fucker about fixing my fucking computer. Fucking big time executive. Hey H, how is your trip? Yeah its great man. Great stuff coming up the pipeline here. I’m at the fucking Arias in a fucking hot tub, drinking a fucking caraffe of mimosas, pouring the fucking juice all over my fucking face, like a fucking idiot, getting it in the fucking water, hey give me that fucking cigarette, show me those huge fucking tits, fucking partying, this is fucking great man, chainsmokers nice hair radio, hey look, I went over to fucking Red Rock too, fucking rounding on the 3rd floor at fucking noon, here is a picture. Me fucking smiling with some limp dick fucking employee, thumbs up man. You know what Harrison you should start Thumbs Up fucking leadership. Fucking thumbs up. Just fucking walk around work, taking pictures with your fucking thumbs up. Hey you, get the fuck over here. Yeah its fucking picture time. Trump leans over to Jared Kushner, yeah everyone stand in the shape of a fucking Q and take a picture and save the file as DOITQ, and release it on 4Chan, from Air Force One. So everyone knows the job I am fucking doing around here. Flying into town, fucking taking pictures, ha hey look Harrison is having a great fucking time with the staff. Every picture I fucking see he is fucking whoooping it up, fucking smiley, fucking buying pizzas for people. You, hey what the fuck do you want to fucking eat? I want a fucking, the works, by fucking Papa Johns, done. Fucking done. Boom call Pappa Johns, hey get this fucking lady a fucking pizza with the works, charge it to the fucking corporate card. Shell fucking love me. Employee Morale. A culture Meme on fucking Linked In. People fucking quit because of their bosses, not their job. Not fucking me. Not this fucking boss. Fucking pizza party. Hey where are our paychecks? I don’t fucking know, pizza party. Pizza for fucking everyone. But I want to get paid, I have bills to pay. I sent in a fucking manual check request. Itll be here next Tuesday, fucking 5 days from now, and past when everyone else got fucking paid. You happy. Your morale high. Get the fuck out of my face, and go fucking back to work. With your fucking cookie cake snack. I go back to my fucking computer, and ESPN fucking Tate Martell going to Miami. And didn’t Robert Marve have a bunch of tattoos? What the fuck is going on with teenage fucking kids having fucking tattoos up and down their fucking arms. You are fucking 19 and you got a fucking sleeve like you have been playing metalcore with Harrison at Knickerboxers. Harrison that is your second fucking tattoo joke and reference. Jesus Christ son. You’re going to be working at Enterprise Rental Cars soon because nobody at the Elite 11 can come up with a software or product to fucking match quarterbacks with colleges like the way people match themselves with partners on tinder, eharmony, home advisor, bumble, shapr, fucking the entire fucking god damn world, uber, lyft, task rabbit, the whole fucking planet and industry of matching fucking people’s profiles, we can’t fucking get 1 god damn quarterback to go to a fucking college and stay married to her all fucking 5 years. In 1995 a quarterback didn’t even get a chance to fucking play at FSU until he was at least a Redshirt Junior. And then boom he throws 30 touchdowns, and has a great fucking career. Now fucking Chris Rix comes along as the first True Freshman to start in the history of Bobby Bowden and it completely dismantles and fucks up the entire FSU program, and basically the entire NCAA, and fucking history of college football, creating a tidal wave of fucking losses in the ACC, power transitions to SEC schools, away from Florida, FSU and Miami, and now for every fucking True Freshman quarterback to think they better get a chance to fucking play day 1 fucking snap 1 in camp, and then the first game of their first season, or I am entering the fucking Jerry O’Connell Sliders portal, setting a new world record for transfers of underclassmen quarterbacks. I can’t even fucking keep track of who the fuck is who. Micheal Brewer at Baylor, from Texas, who I thought was the kid was Texas Tech, who sucked at Virginia Tech, who I thought his eligibility was up, and I don’t even know, are they fucking brothers. Bro more Elite 11 quarterbacks transfer than fucking employees in the Trump Administration. Trump runs the fucking NCAA. You come into his office, hey um coach you promised me a cookie cake, all you can eat fucking Wendy’s, and chance to go to Clemson at quarterback on a scholarship, and Dabo the Chief of Staff job, only to sign Trevor Lawrence, who the fuck are you son, are you fucking here to get some one else pardoned, ever since I fucking helped Kim, no my name is Chase Brice, I signed with Clemson highly ranked and no one in my circle was smart enough to tell me, probably not a great idea son, you’re following recruiting right, shut the fuck up grandpa, Ill beat Trevor out, to be the best you gotta beat the best, um son thats not actually how it works, a lot of is timing, and mostly luck, and basically politics, so now you’re going to have to pretend to like Trevor, and back him up, exhausting all your eligibility, while my mom worries for me, and my dad has to deal with the fact that my son is backing up another man, and basically sure, yeah, I don’t need to play, because I will just fucking get a job after college, instead of my original dreams of being in the NFL. Maybe one day I will just start making fucking internet videos with Harrison. Or graduate from Miami with Tate Martell and join the cast of Below Deck.  Because Mike Ferrell got fucking high on Starbucks coffee, and just happened to fucking click on my highlight tape and give me a 5 star. Tell me thats not what happened, because there is no other fucking explanation for how he evaluates talent. And instead of breaking every single record at Florida International with Butch Davis. Ill get locked into my locker with these human trafficker college coaches, waiting to see if the visa I applied for to enter the United States, and Michigan came through, and I can play right away. Son congrats, you don’t have to get deported, or sit out this year. You can play right away. Yes, every quarterback who has been waiting their turn, patiently, gets to keep waiting, their turn. You can play, instead of them. Who were here first, if this was a line, like at most movie theaters, concerts, and other places folks wait their turns. Shae Patterson tweets out he is staying at Michigan for another year in possibly the worst NFL draft class of quarterbacks in history, and next year being the best class in History. Great job Shae. Smart fucking choice you fucking idiot. Dylan hopes your legs get his father, Ed Mcaffery’d. Babe, I have to go. I have to go to practice without a paycheck for another year, again. No, Tate, stop, just stay with me on this beach forever. The water. The sun. Me. Babe, a man of genius makes no mistakes, his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery. He christian ponders if Samantha still wants to be married to him considering her success compared to his, right now. Babe its either get CTE from getting my brain rattled, or stay home with the dogs like the Real Husbands of Hollywood with Kevin Hart on Netflix search. Its okay babe, I get paid Jamelle Hills money to host Sunday Countdown instead of Chris Berman now, and I am fucking terrible at it.  Alright, cool. Ill stay here on the beach with you then. And skip school. Tricked into leaving high school early to participate in Spring Ball, and still not start. Yeah but then you can get mad and graduate transfer after 3 years. Play anywhere you want. Just enter your name in the transfer portal. A lot to think about babe, twitter fam. I need to relax. Life has been a whirlwind lately. I feel like I have been around the world and back. Searching the web for colleges that have quarterbacks with bad stats so I can go there. Need to disconnect. Shuts his phone off. Puts it in the portal to his cock, for the girl hes at the beach with. His pocket.  He looks out at the surface of the ocean. And doesn’t see any curvature cause the earth is flat. Babe, who is Ken Dorsey? and why is he the only former great college quarterback in football without a head coaching job like both Major Applewhite, and Scott Frost eventually got. Miami didn’t even call or consider him for their opening. I mean even, Kirk Herbsteit has a job, and he didn’t even start at Ohio State. I don’t know babe. Forget about it all. You’re here now. With me. In Miami. Remember you drove home on a whim. To the beach. Stop staring, realizing because you transferred Callahan got mad and told everyone you were a bad apple, and now you’re definitely never going to the NFL, because every coach and agent brings up his comments he told them about you, and so you’re just going to become a VIP host for Lindsy Lohan’s Beach Club Season 2. And Johnny Manziels dad will say you need help. Over the next few years of having a regular job, and working with people who aren’t stars and were never famous like you, listening to your stories, thinking you are lying, but you’re not. And its almost time to leave. Ohio State. The Beach. Work. Your name out of the transfer portal to hell. The end.  Hell yeah. Harrison. Hell yeah. Portals. I threw a football once, so fucking hard, the wind from the spiral created a fucking portal to your moms house. And I jumped right into that fucking pussy.

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QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

Can

QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about cans. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I really feel I have the power to be and do whatever the fuck I want. I told this manager at work one time that I thought I could fucking levitate. He was pissed off. Said I am so fucking full of myself. And part of me just said that to stroke him a little bit, throw another log on his fire, his passion, which in the business world, if someone says you have passion, it means that you are immature, its bad, yeah I can fucking levitate, I am a god, son. Fucking his head was about to explode with how cocky and arrogant that I am. And I am, actually, I am not kidding, I might be able to fucking levitate, like if I seriously just closed my eyes, to some activate your higher mind for success, subconscious mind programming, you tube morning music, and focused on lifting off the ground, I am dead serious, I really believe, there is a small chance that I could levitate. I often just sit there and imagine myself doing baller ass shit. Like just fucking ten thousand people just screaming my name, I do a fucking choreographed dance routine, people going nuts, I scream welcome to QBLESSSSONN.COMMM, fucking a net in the rafters opens, and drops a million dollars of cash, on everyone’s heads, fucking live with the Chainsmokers, smoke fucking guns and laser light shows, I just start launching fucking footballs into the fucking crowd. Knock a fucking cranberry vodka off a fucking server trey, spills all over her white fucking server outfit, hey my fucking shirt, she looks up at the stage, I fucking doink a football off the fucking head of another guy holding a beer, fucking go deep, launch one way fucking back, like Jerry Glanville in 1990 betting the opposing team coaches in pregame warmups, that Brett Favre could throw a football up into the third deck, $100 dollars, I launch it, fucking a male housekeeper catches it. The crowd goes fucking nuts. I escort him to a room full of Spearmint Rhino fucking strippers, drugs and alcohol. Fucking time of his life, all cause he caught my pass. Fucking change his fucking life. QBLesson.com motherfuckers. Sometimes when I am recording the QBLesson.com videos, at the end of the video, I just want to hold my hand out like NEO on the landline when Agent Smith shoots at him in the hallway. Before the bullet reaches me I disappear into a green night vision goggles simulation. I just want my body to explode into a kailedscope of colors. A ray of light just rips open my chest, and bursts through my mouth, all the way to outer space. They can see the light in New York, Paris, London, Beijing, San Francisco. By the way have you seen those fucking pictures on Qanon.pub, 4Chan, Twitter, where fucking it looks like the deep state was trying to shoot fucking rockets at Air Force One, but missed. Google that shit. What the fuck is going on in America? Is Trump fucking using the close of the government, and all the deep state are sitting at home, all of them gone from the white house, and congress, and other departments. They can’t work, so they can’t corrupt. Did Jeff Bezos get divorced to launder his money to his wife like Hulk Hogan did when his son Nick killed some one drag racing in St. Pete ten years ago. Because he has been using data from your phone permissions to spy on american citizens. Who the fuck is this QBlesson fucking guy creating a coup in the football community, Jeff Bozo. The fucking clown. Yeah, that is Harrison, spends a lot of time in our Sexual Wellness shop. and on Bangbros.com. Especially when he travels for business. Guys a freak bro. Swear to god, one time I was watching Beat Bobby Flay, and he was using this Rubbermaid blender. And Bobbys says its a great blender. I look down at my fucking phone, and the amazon app was trying to sell me that same exact blender. That is what the fuck it means when an app asks you to let them have permission to use your fucking microphone and camera. Not just so Stephen Garcia can be terrible at live streaming his quarterback lessons using stories on instagram. Where the ball even go? I could only see his fucking sunglasses and it looked like he was back peddling. You will fucking comment on some quarterback video on Instagram. Where a kid obviously has a fucked up throwing motion. You will say just one thing, like fix his fucking throwing motion. Got these kids fucking doing footwork drills like the pocket is the size of a 2 bedroom apartment. Yeah man, crash anywhere you want. Couch, spare bedroom, wherever. The whole apartment is free for you to move around the pocket in. Just don’t break any fucking lamps man. Getting fucking sacked. 6-12 inch movements people. Subtle movements. Like Tom Brady. Not the most sacked quarterback in the NFL Deshaun Watson. And David Carr when he played. So I don’t know if I would rather go to the Redskins and break my fucking legs, or go to the Texans and get sacked into an early retirement. And I don’t think Deshaun Watson can bake chocolate chip cookies as good as Warren Moon, and wants to open his own cookie shop. For real he did that. Warren. These poor kids. All of them want to be H Beck. Please let me into the Elite 11, please, fucking please, ill pay $100 at seven different regional camps, to fucking maybe get selected. I remember my mom flying me out to Palo Alto for the Stanford Regional. Fucking Eric Ainge was there. Every kid is blowing their wad warming up with their dad an hour before the camp. Dressed like its the fucking Sugar Bowl. Eric Ainge drops back, and over throws a curl route, over the fence, and smashes a fucking mercedes benz window. Lol. Cause no one ever fixed his fucking throwing motion, and drug habit as a kid. Goofy fucking four fingers on the laces, holds his fingers raped over the baseball, the ball is like I can’t fucking breath man, fucking need to see some sunlight in between the hand of the ball, has no one ever fucking showed you how to hold a titty son. You gotta get a fucking handle of that fucking thing, but leave the nipple for the mouth. Smack em around your fucking face a little bit son. Ball has to have some wiggle room. Your Fucking throwing looks like a fucking water hose you tried to pull too far back, and it doesn’t stretch that far. You try to fucking step back into the yard a little for some slack, you’re near the sidewalk, and the water pressure changes too quickly, and it fucking kinks up, way behind you, by the fence, god dammit, I don’t want to walk all the way fucking back there, now the fucking water won’t spray, but you need to get this one last bush, buts its just out of my reach, you can fucking do it, try one more time, nice and smooth, pull it, tug it, but that receiver is just a little too far for a direct jet shot, I am going to aim the hose higher, hold further back on the ball, so maybe the wind can carry it, release it like a javeline on this throw, just enough to mist on those bushes, let the wind carry the water, stretch stretch, higher, oooo got it. Touchdown. Here is a towel to wipe your tits off. See Harrison will teach you to throw like you are watering your fucking plants. You got to relate to these fucking kids. Its not just a quarterback lesson, its a life lesson. The six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Everything is the same thing. Because every new college I went to my mom bought me a new house, and I always had to fucking install new bushes, plants, and roses, go to fucking Lowes garden section, and dig holes, cut and fucking trim vines, drop them off at the fucking city dump, only 2 fucking loads a month stamped on your fucking water bill, please I have 1 more fucking load, thanks, fucking water the fucking plants 2 times a day, its the summer and fucking hot. Fuck yeah. Brett Favre does a lot of yard work. So do I. I have a great fucking yard. And I am also a great fucking quarterback. Like Brett. See. Now I don’t have to unscrew that fucking hose and plug it on the other side. Cause of Harrison. A little coaching goes a long way. Anyways, they will send you direct messages, fucking, not everyone’s throwing motion is the same bro, he is fucking learning, alright. I am preparing him to play for the New York Jets by only complimenting him all the fucking time, like what their papers make Adam Gases eyes do. Bro if he didn’t just get a shot of fucking Adrenachrome to the fucking eye socket, then I don’t fucking know what the fuck his eyes were doing. Mother fucker just left the cloning center directly to a press conference. Bro I don’t know what to tell you, when I see someone with a fucked up throwing motion, compared to me, someone with a fucking fastest draw in the west, Doc Holliday motion, it makes me fucking cringe. Don’t say fuck so much Harrison. like Aaron Rodgers around me. And me around him since he sucks dicks, and I don’t. And even Brett Favre knew that and that is why he was wierded out too. Guarantee that shit. Bro, just to back up, and btw, speaking of the Hulkster, I saw Linda Hogan down in Clearwater beach. Huge fucking knockers slurping on some lobster bisque at Island Way Grill. Make you bite your knuckles. Bite my fucking football and chew on it like a dog. Grr Grr fucking NCAA trying to take it away from me. My fucking toy. Sit right here on the fucking carpet on chew on it. Not gonna take shit away from me, because I have gone digital. Continuing into REM sleep, at the end of my qblesson videos, as my body decombusts into the exhaust of a deep state missile. I am just screaming, ahhhhhhh ahhhh fucking the atoms in my body exploding into a searing hot ray of knife light. Just, I fucking say, Make America Great Again, and I digitally explode into fragments of computer code, on your screen. The only thing left laying on the grass of the soccer field is my Maga Hat. Where the fuck is Harrison? Bro where the fuck is fucking Harrison? Where the fuck did Harrison just fucking go? And you are just watching, like what the fuck did I just fucking see. Did Harrison just fucking say some racist shit, launch a football 70 yards into an empty field, and then fucking explode like a Southwest Airlines engine, into fucking a MS DOS login screen of my first ever computer, remember in the 90’s you have to type code to login to your computer. MS/Login/Fuckingrightnow. Anyways, some wierd science meets football shit. Boy can dream. I have a theory about going to Harvard or Yale. The reason those people are so successful, is everyone at regular universities. When you tell them an idea they are like, grow up Peter Pan. Fucking go get a real fucking job at fucking Saas down the fucking road, fucking managing teams that help you record your CRM better, walking around fucking campus on your lunch break trying to find cell phone reception because we use too much fucking wifi for all the fucking 10 thousand fucking cubicle computers, can’t even get a video text off to my wife, of my first day at work outfit, great fucking hair, almost sends every time, and then stops, says Retry, fucking eating lunch at the Cafeteria, man this is some great fucking baked potato soup, and one hell of a Turkey sandwich, I just paid 12 dollars for, oops better get back to my fucking cubicle before my call at 1pm where I tell people about my culture triangle, and how to clean toilets, remembering to fucking smile. At 10 feet smile, at 5 feet say Hi. Yes fucking sir. But at Harvard & Yale, you get to join secret societies, take blood oaths, join the Skull and Bones, ask John Kerry about it, and George Bush will tell you its a secret, Satans plan for a New World Order using the Social and Financial Elite to infiltrate all levels of government, and celebrity, to herd masses of people we refer to as sheep into Agenda 21. I swear to god I wish I went to Harvard, and could join the illuminati. I would be so fucking good at being in the illuminati. Um you can have my Uncle John, he never calls me anyways, and is my dead father’s brother, you’d think he would give me a buzz every once in a while. Hey man, I look just like your dad, and talk like him, and literally am him, didn’t know if you just want to play a game of catch sometime, since you couldn’t as a kid, with your real dad, even though he dressed you up in a steelers outfit on Christmas as a young boy, and called you his little Terry Bradshaw. No John, I am good. Keep ignoring me. My arm is too strong now for your pussy hands. Little bitch. I use to make my brother-in-law get on his dirt bike, go like 60 miles per hour, and I would drop back, and fucking launch a football as far as I could, and he would be fucking 50-60 yards down the field, and catch it, full throttle on his bike. That is how fucking strong my fucking arm is, that fuck Antonio Brown wanting to have more taxes taken out of his pay check in San Francisco, I need receivers not running, but riding on fucking dirt bikes, so they can maybe, fucking get down the field as fast, and as far as I can fucking throw. I am the motocross of fucking quarterbacks. Spaghettios my gasoline. Dude I will go to fucking float trips in Arkansas. Fucking with all these fucking knucklehead fucking neighbors we have. Basically you just fucking pound 4 Loko’s, and fucking float down a river for hours. But before that. I fucking show up, and someone always has a football. And for like 30 minutes, I just launch 60 yard fucking bombs in front of the cabins. People coming outside to see what the fuck is going on. Fucking little kids watching, some fucking idiot wants to run a fucking out route. You throw it to him and he can’t fucking, has no fucking coordination, isn’t even athletic enough to fucking jerk himself off to cum, and the ball either is just outside his outstretched fucking, help!, my boat, its fucking stranded, help!, waving his fucking arms with flares like Nicholas Cage at the end of the movie the Rock, jams a fucking needle into his chest, to save himself from VX gas, I throw it to him and it fucking leaves road rash on his face, or better yet he catches it, and does some kind of dipshit fucking summer sault, acrobat into a fucking concrete basketball court, the only concrete around the whole fucking throwing/picnic area, and hurts his fucking bare feet, and tries to fucking blame the throw on you. You just fucking stare at him, like bro, these are professional, fucking high level throws. Bro who the fuck tries to run in bare feet. That is what you get for wearing rainbow sandles with fucking jeans like you are a hip pastor at a new age christian church. Fucking people act like they are fucking Sam Cowell of the X Factor. God spent almost 0 fucking time on you. That is why you can’t catch. Probably a whole 23 & me lineage of people in your family who can’t catch. Hey we got your results back, and also keep your saliva on file in case a billionaire needs a new liver, and doesn’t want to wait on the donor list, and so we just cause a car accident to happen, with you in it, and take your liver, because our fun family tree DNA test is just another way for us, to traffic humans, and their organs on the black market. You use to just end up in a Motel 6 in a bathtub full of ice. No fucking hands. Literally just fucking slapped some tires on this mother fucker, and put him up for sale to be birthed. Fucking fuck him, should have caught that mother fucking perfectly thrown pass. After his fucking gymnastics competition of a catch that embarrassed his wife, he was playing that gay fucking, lets play fucking Jenga, with blocks that are the size of bricks, fucking had a good game going too. I walked outside and fucking Lou Kang power kicked that mother fucker. Right in the fucking stomach of those bricks. Knocked the whole fucking thing down. Just fucking stared at him. He fucking stared at me. I fucking stared at him. He fucking stared at me. Then I grabbed another beer, put on some fucking dance music, and went Magic Mike on the whole fucking party. Great fucking dancer. Me. I can do a fucking split. Okay. I can twerk. I can fucking dance like Micheal Fucking Jackson. There is not one fucking better dancer on this fucking earth than me. No one on this earth has a better voice than me either. I can sing too. And fucking commentate. Perfectly. You know how in the video games they bring like Kirk Herbstreit and Brent Musberger in for the voice over, and sayings. They are going to bring H Beck in. Fucking Great Fucking Route You Fucking Oregon Trail mother fucker. Would there not be anything better than if you could unlock H Beck in Madden 2020. The fucking Pittsburgh Steelers are on the field, but instead of Big Ben, its just H with a #MAGA Hat on, and no fucking shirt, in some Nike Sweatpants, constant five o’clock shadow, you gonna keep it at 1, or let it go to a 2 or 3, I am undecided because I don’t want it to look unprofessional at work, and also conflicted because Trump says he hates facial hair on his executives, Sean McVay, but better, beard, chest hair, and a fucking gas tank for your grill, fucking fuel for his rocket arm, fucking stomach. You can’t find 1 god damn running play in your playbook, and only 4 verticals all-go special, and every time its the defenses turn, the computer just plays for you, because no one gives a fuck about playing defense, and whenever I play madden, I just hit start, go into the settings, and slide my controller over to the other teams offense, and keep playing offense. And the game isn’t played in a stadium, its played either in the street in front of your house, where I have played some of the best football of my fucking life, or in a fucking field where people practice all kinds of sports, and you get mad because you want to make throwing videos, but someone is getting a fucking soccer lesson. That moment when you are screaming about removing asians from America, to build more Ford Factory arms, and a family is just trying to enjoy playing on the playground with their kids. The dad looks over, like holy shit, he looks at his wife, did you just fucking see that throw, is he famous, does he play for the fucking cowboys? Who the fuck is that. My arm is so strong because I use to play this game as a kid where I had to throw it as far as I could. The person had to stop where he caught it. And I would see how many throws it took to get through the entire fucking neighborhood of streets. Improving every time to more and more minimum amounts of throws. You know how Ted Williams wanted to freeze his corpse, and they froze Austin Powers, and fucking people want to live forever. I am like one of those movies where a scientist created code for an AI dog, that he was training for to be a military grade killing machine, but it started catching feelings, like when you watch my videos and get a little tear in your eye, I never knew man, I never knew H was a man of the people, this whole time, the NC State media and all its democratic, fucking we are going to investigate Trump’s fucking sock drawer, and people at home are like, if I even catch one god damn sock that isn’t made it America in that fucking drawer, impeachable offense, fucking we aren’t even good enough to make it to the peach bowl, NC State media, tried to kill H, but hes too strong, hes too powerful, the training room doctor Jamie Coll once said to me, who the fuck is going to ever hire you H, you’re fucking crazy, you’re a fucking nut, and there I am just a little robot AI dog looking for love in a southern town, wanting to listen to some Tom Petty, Learning to Fly, feel like the world has some hope in store for me, looking for some coaching, but just getting yelled at instead, you fucking throw to the fullback, you fucking only kill and never get to be mans best friend, and then I escape the fucking Labora Tori, basically I was walking to class at UNL and the science building had a fucked up Laborator-y sign with no Y, and so I was like, lets spell is ironic, you know, cause its metal, the name of my metalcore band in Lincoln, where I shredded major breakdowns at Knickerbockers, and Callahan was fucking livid, so fucking mad, he was screaming, disgusted that I would throw a concert the night before a major scrimmage, howling at the fucking moon while news cameras taped me, man H is one eclectic mother fucker, part Sonny Jergunson part Kurt Cobain, but looks like Ray Liotta because of the scars on his fucking face, and maybe some on his heart, because he loves football so much and no one will let him play, that he has to create his own world he can play in and where a team will let him start, evolving from a little robot dog, that was just supposed to be code, now freed from his cage, escaped and alive based on pure will power, on top of a rock, looking at the stars, in the desert sky, searching for answers, until a guy on a motorcycle doing dirt bike videos gets sabbatogged by his friends for being so good at racing, like me being so good at football, aligned core values, finds me, and repairs my parts, says I need quarterback lessons and ill pay you, and I start throwing with his son, and remember how much I love throwing, and I repay him with some loyalty, teaching his son how to throw too, and he teaches me how to believe in myself again, and we become friends, and he helps me escape from military units and drones, and people being mean to me in rivals message boards, until I realize that I no longer have to run anymore, and I download my soul into the cloud, and self detonate into a blog, and months later, when that boy is hanging with his girlfriend on the beach, his phone rings, and its my software, my code in a zip file, and all he has to do is get me to the nearest computer, plug in his USB, and watch me throw rockets on Youtube and Twitter for the rest of his life, alive inside this quotron. That is what they used to call computers in the 80s. I don’t I was trying to do a play on the movie AXL with that robot dog that just came out. Watched it the other day. I tried. Look, You don’t have to retire at 40 when you play for the internet. You don’t get CTE when you play for the internet, and blow your fucking brains out in a pickup truck like Junior Seau. Bro I can promise you this. Old H will fucking go on a full scale fucking Vegas bender, as hard as you have ever seen, and die that way, before fucking blowing his brains out like that fucking idiot. All he needed to do was get some foreign fucking huge pair of tits in his face, and those thoughts would have gone straight to his boner, and fucking boom, he would still be here today, wandering around his, wondering what the fuck to do, because he doesn’t have football practice to go to, and everyone else is working some shitty dead end job, trying to barely survive and make both ends meet, fucking paycheck to paycheck, living life like they are constantly snorkeling in the keys, hey scuba diver who invested and had a 401K, and long term plan, and reserve oxygen tanks, and receives compound interest on the dollar, I am going to fucking be right fucking back, I have to go up every 30-45 seconds to catch some fucking air, some fucking oxygen, to stay alive, and also to check if the scuba diving boat we rented in Australia, instead of saving for our sons college, is still there, because I don’t want to get fucking left in the open sea, eaten by fucking sharks and credit card debt collectors. You don’t have team meetings on the internet, fucking sitting there while Callahan destroys Cosgrove about why the fuck we can’t tackle during the fucking Kansas game, worst loss in Nebraska history, first time in 34 years they had ever lost to Kansas, the entire meeting room pitch black, and film playing, Bill at the bottom of the auditorium, Cosgrove at the top, Bill saying one word questions, like plays a clip, then says, WHY? Fucking WHY?, and just silence for 30 or more seconds with the video paused, just sitting there, the air in the room so fucking thick it feels like you are eating the static of a television on the wrong input. No more strength & conditioning on the internet, fucking watching Todd Rice climb up on a fucking pull up bar, dead fucking serious, pulls himself up on a fucking pull up bar, flips himself upside down, so his head is towards the ground, spreads his fucking legs open, like a V, like a fucking scissor, and bangs out thirty reps of fucking hanging like a fucking vampire, I don’t even know what the fuck he is doing, fucking ab workout. I am just watching this fucking retard like, seriously, what the fuck is that have to do with fucking anything we have to fucking do here. Fucking 10 ACL injuries last season, and this guy is like fucking Ben Stiller working out for fucking Mondo Burger. You ever seen the movie Heavyweights where Ben Stiller jumps off that cliff, and catches onto the tree branch to do pull ups, that was the strength and conditioning program at NC State. Everyone fucking looking around, Tom O’Brien scratching his fucking face, why do we suck, whats going on? Dude one day, Tom just made us do 100 up downs. Fucking 32 degrees outside. Mud on the fucking ground from the snow. Fucking four quarters of fucking up downs. My hands fucking freezing, no fucking Lloyd Christmas, you mean to say, you had an extra pair of gloves, this entire time, fucking body felt like Jack in the fucking Titanic hanging off a fucking a bedroom head board. Thanks coach. That will definitely raise that completion percentage. And no one fucking cares. They think its fucking Champions in the Classroom, Community, and on the Field. Fucking no one is like, what kind of programs you got for helping make sure our quarterbacks all get drafted. We make them fucking stretch a lot on a wrestling mat. Here would be my condition program for football. Every day everyone runs 2 miles, and then just does their position specifically. Like quarterbacks just throw 300 passes for their workout. The end. Did you know cops have to run a mile in like 7 minutes. I have a master degree and was going to be one, but didn’t want to get shot in south Tampa, so I said fuck no. 7 million dollar head coaches. On the internet, Jim Harbaugh doesn’t have to blow Boosters money by taking his football team to Rome, and still losing. The entire world is one click away. Use Google Earth. We don’t have to fly to fucking Greece, so they can teach us how they base their entire economy off the falafel, and wonder why it tanked. Then Chinas tanked. Then Brexit Happened. Then Americas tanked. And then all the sudden bit coin is popular. And sit there and realize this is a pre-planned orchestrated event to collapse the world’s economy, and usher in a new world order based on a digital currency, that will be injected into your arm via RFID chip, that is being developed by Lucent Technologies, which rents its building from Jared Kushner, and their address starts with 666. Anyways, kicking the fucking can down the street. Dude how fucking hilarious is it going to be if instead of going to the NFL, I get to end up playing quarterback for the rest of my life, and people paying me, for views on fucking Twitter. The fucking irony of that. I better get a fucking 30 for 30, or at least a SportsCentury. Imagine the interviews of all the people who have met me. You know when they like ask your former teammates and shit. Yeah, actually Harrison can fucking cook man. Makes great fucking cheeseburgers. I remember the time he got so drunk and fell through through the fence on his porch making me a cheeseburger after the club. He just got up and handed me the spatula and told me to finish it. I mean it was almost done, so its all good. Tasted great. Yeah I think the thing that most people would say about H is that he constantly talks about himself, and if the entire day and conversation, isn’t focused on him, he gets bored, and just keeps poking and poking, and getting more mean, and mean, trying to get a rise out of you, to entertain himself, until one of you just fucking yells to shut your fucking mouth. And you wonder if you are his friend or not, but you definitely are because hell act like nothing happened, really quick recovery, if all the sudden something fun comes up. Hell stop. Yeah H, he um needs a lot of alone time for somebody so social. Like there might be a time, where you come home and he is just cleaning. And it feels like he wants you to die. So you just go to your room to play video games. You know, come to think of it, the thing I would say about H is this, don’t you ever fucking think, now this is Harrison, this is not the interviewee anymore, put the fucking camera on me, don’t you ever fucking think you can throw as good as me, fucking that you’re as strong as me, fucking that you have a memory like a fucking elephant like me, a long ass fucking nutsack like mine. None of it. I can fucking do fucking everything fucking great. You never fucking forget. Now put down your fucking soda can, go back to work, and wish you were me. Right fucking now. The closest you’ll ever get to your wish is throwing fucking pennies into a water fountain at the mall. Doesn’t matter how much you change. People like me live forever.

QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

Things

QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about some things. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. Philip Rivers is too competitive to win the Super Bowl. He suffers from Jim Harbaugh syndrome. You want to win so bad that you freak out nature. Humans have a huge sphere of energy around them. Like in Independence Day the mother ship has that invisible shield that when you try to shoot it with helicopter machine guns, the bullets just shatter on this invisiline for your teeth, shield. I was sweeping out the greyhound bus station one day, and I saw Mark Cuban walk by me in downtown Dallas. A lot of folks are smoking cigarettes outside the greyhound bus station. So there are lots of cigarette butts in the cracks of the sidewalks. I had a putty knife in my back pocket in case I need to scrape up any gum. So there I am at 10am sweeping out the greyhound bus station, perfectly, and I look up, and Cuban is walking down the sidewalk to the federal court house, talking shit to a host of television cameras, snapping pictures. He glowed. Like in college when you go workout, and then go to the tanning bed, put a sock on your cock, and lay there for ten minutes, and it feels fucking great, and you got a nice fucking color now. Tan after a fresh fade from cliff, let the color fill in the creases on your temples. Damn I feel fucking great after a fresh haircut. You haven’t gotten a haircut until you’ve gone to a  barber shop. Its definitely scary at first, and everyone fucking stares at you, but if you can talk sports, they won’t kill you. They will just cut your hair. Give you that every team Drake endorses, loses, temple with the beard fade. But anyways, I saw Cubes, and he had this glow, and I swear to god, it looked like he was doing this David Blaine trick, where it looked like he was floating down the sidewalk, not walking, like there was a few inches of air underneath of his feet. I went back to sweeping, my head down, thinking about this super natural mother fucker just floating down the fucking sidewalk. And as he got closer to me, you could feel an orb, like I was walking through a waterfall to meet a dragon, like I fucking walked into a giant bubble of gum, uhhh I could feel the electricity course through my body, like someone just text me,  felt like I had just looked at the wind in Birdbox, and then he passed by, and the reason buildings have no AC in Hawaii is because of how Windy it is, and his breeze that came into the window of my soul, had passed back out like a Kidney Stone. Uh, and he was gone, And I went back to reality, to my shitty dead end piece of shit fucking garbage fuck jobs, job. And fuck you Mark Cuban. I fucking liked you, until you fucking went to a Hillary rally. Fuck Shark tank too, saw a new episode and Mr. Wonderful wasn’t on it. He is the fucking star, not fucking you. You know what fuck your orb, felt like a fucking musty ass fart from one of the prison inmates the bus just dropped off. Anyways, I will never forget that smell, energy. Nothing he said or did, just was. And that is why Phillip Rivers can’t win a fucking playoff game. His energy is too fucking thick. Its like a power line in your local neighborhood that a squirrel tries to run across to the next tree, or the next round in the playoffs, and just gets fucking fried, fucking zapped, his energy is like a fucking mosquito blue light zapper, its looks fucking beautiful and Chargers blue, like the alaskan sea liquid that wakes Adam Sandler, in the water boy up from his Junior Seau concussion, and then you fly into it, like Amber Heard’s pussy, and next thing you know, zap your fucking team got killed in the playoffs, Junior blows his brains out, and Amber is requesting alimony because when you dated she lived a certain way, and now that you broke up, she has to be a waiter again at Sur, with Stacci. I used to drink one hundred thousand dollars a month of cervan blanc red with Johnny Depps corpse, ever since Trump closed down the government and our adrenachrome supply, and celebrities seem to be aging faster than usual now. Which by the way, someone needs to get La La under fucking control. This bitch is a hostess at a mid sized bar with a 4 star yelp review off a sidewalk in Hollywood, and she is acting like she is fucking Jennifer Lawrence, drinking wine at the Oscars. Jennifer, yes we fucking get it. You’re an adult now, and can make your own choices. Please put the fucking glass of wine down. Meryl Streep is fucking disgusted with you right now, and you are fucking embarrassing her. Put the fucking beer down Elizabeth. We are on fucking national television, and kids are fucking watching you dress like Tyrone Biggums from Chappelle show,  Lebron. That was seriously his outfit. Please, folks, this is like Hallmark 101 of your career ending soon, or at the minimum, them having to bring you back into the cloning center, and fucking give you the next IOS 12.012 update that can only be download on wifi, and at 3am, with your permission. And if I take more than two weeks to remember to do it, Apple will start fucking my keyboard up on my text messages, and other small slights, until I get so fucking mad, that I can’t believe I paid $500 for Tim Cook to write code that tells my battery to drain, so I am forced to buy another phone, I mean lease with ATT, along with an Uber Driver 8% discount on service, and if I drive Lyft, an additional 8%, making that 16% off my phone bill, which is fucking great, and Uber will even pay for your college now at Arizona State online, if you have 3,000 rides, which isn’t that much, and I can’t even fucking get 401K 5% match at work, but Uber wants to give me benefits that I actually fucking think can help my life, get me a real job not as an uber driver which now that I think about it, is ironic for them to help me get, cause once I do I will stop driving for them. Look, if you really think about wine, its actually very expensive, and its always the poorest people drinking it, trying to make you think that they are sophisticated and adult, want a glass of wine? I have a great pallet. No I don’t, thanks. I drink vodka, even though I have to work in the morning. Its twelve dollars not twenty five. And also don’t waste my money on fucking tenderloin steaks, when in reality sirloin is just as good, and half the fucking price, but hey check out this three hundred dollar fucking Wagyu Japanese Prime Rib I fucking got. Its amazing, 300 dollars is fucking delicious when you season it with some salt and paper. Let Scott Disick feed it to you during an episode of the Kardashians. Do you fucking remember when he shoved that $100 dollar bill into that waiters mouth? Lol. God damn I did an uber ride once with one of his buddies in Dallas. From the airport. And he was telling me how fucking insane Scott Disick is. I guess he fucking pushed Lionel Ritchies daughter into the bushes once because she was annoying him. I don’t know if its true, but it felt true, and can’t verify. But any story you tell in an Uber is fucking true right. Fuck yeah. Hey open your uber passenger app. The one you request rides with. Check your rating. Open the side menu, look up at the right hand corner. I got a fucking 4.93. Pretty solid. But let me tell you. Just from driving uber. Anything below a fucking 4.7 pretty much means you are a fucking Satan. I didn’t realize this when I first started driving and I thought, oh, well, a 4.3 is solid. It was this girl named Jennifer. I am like, oh great and she is female. It’ll be safe for me. So I pick her up. Decent looking blonde skank. She gets in, and within a fucking second. Within one god damn second. Tells me its too cold. Turn the AC hotter. Then fucking go right, fucking go left, that is the wrong way, fucking having trouble putting the seat belt on, jesus christ. Get the fuck out of my fucking car. Dumb bitch. That is when I realized that a fucking 4.3 basically is Uber’s way of saying- you’re on your own on this one dog. Cause this person is about to fuck your day up. Big time. Fucking a lot of fucking people don’t like this mother fucker. I am trying to fucking tell you, but I can’t just say it, but this person is pure fucking scum. Because look, you can’t even get your first rating until ten people rate you. So you need to drive ten fucking rides and ratings before they even deliver your first rating. So that means a 4.3 is like all 2-4 stars. And then if you have done like 100 rides, or been in 100 ubers and you have a 4.3 That basically means every one thinks you’re a trick ass ratchet duck hoe. In fact, Uber says fuck no, and shuts your shit off on any rating past 4.0. They deactivate your fucking whip, you can’t request an Uber. You are fucking done. But, I did have a mother fucker on Lyft named Tee Tee fucking request a ride from the local city jail, and he had a 3.8 rating. Fuck no. I fucking declined that mother fucker. Dude, dead serious. I guarantee someone didn’t realize the ratings were that serious, and just thought he was like an understaffed Chilis on Yelp that got dinged for cold food, picked his ass up, and he made him stop at the gas station for cigarettes, Mcdonald’s for a box of 20 chicken nuggets, and then drop him off at his girlfriend’s apartment, but wait, in case she doesn’t answer, and left something in the car so you couldn’t just drive off, but she did answer, so came back and got his phone, thanks fam. Fuck I am about to quit fucking ride share driving if this what it is like. Its not all bad though, I did pick this big tittied, fat ass caravan looking bitch up one time from, I guess, jail. She got arrested for something to do with a fake ID. I didn’t know it was a jail, because she was dressed like she had a college education, and faked my ass out with her outfit, but she ended up being nice. She requested from like a strip mall a block down from the barbed wire fence and exit of the prison. I don’t know. So — but anyways, look so, and you don’t realize this. But people are worried about their credit reports & credit card numbers being stolen from fucking Target. Wait until all these ratings & reviews leak that are attached to your name from Uber & Lyft. And with Lyft you can actually leave a comment. Type something in. At first I was nice too. Great Passenger! Nice Lady! then I got a few comments back because every Friday they tell you what people said about you. This driver was so fucking dangerous, fucking tweeting and texting, and emailing during my ride. So fucking unsafe! I said, Okay, I got one for you. Then. Make me mad during a Lyft. Drop your ass off. This mother fucker smells like a gorilla dick, stinky ass armpits, fucking smells like a fucking sandwich wearing an IZOD shirt. Send. Boom. Some passenger right now has no fucking clue that attached to their name is the statement, smells like a gorilla dick. For the rest of their fucking lives. Wait until Uber & Lyft get fucking hacked. I am telling you right now. Wait for that shit. Going to be a sobering reality based on all those non-sober nights you requested an Uber. Anyways google that new Chinese rating system for all its citizens. Your 4.3 uber ass isn’t going to be able to get any fucking internet, travel, shop. You’ll be going to the fucking 4.3 rating accessible grocery store, the fucking Winn Dixie, Piggly Wiggly, Aldo, fucking dollar tree is where you’ll be getting your groceries with those deplorable Trump Supporters, right Hillary. My 4.9 ass will be at Whole Foods, where safe people shop, where Democrats uphold the rule of law in a civilized and virtuous country, for things like being able to shop for Mahi Mahi, and Grouper, and over priced fucking cereal that has various nut groups in it. Democrats fucking you have to have a PhD to understand their message. Trump you can vote for him in fourth grade. Um where is the Captain Crunch? Not here, too many preservatives for our fucking store. We believe in diets, not snacks. Look I just want some fucking Cinnamon Toast crunch. You know what, fuck it. I am headed over to the Ratchet fucking Walmart. They got a sign up that all ratings & reviews are welcome into our country. Yeah well fucking see what happens to immigration laws once these ratings and reviews come out. Because right now in a world based on DATA, right, Data is the new oil. In a world based on Data, we still talk about immigrants like we are fucking Syndney Pollack over his pool table trying to convince Tom Cruise in Eyes Wide Shut the girl made it home from party safely. The newspaper says she was found dead. Yeah, so she got a little drunk, but I can ensure you that she is made it home safely. A guy dragged a couple of kids a thousand miles through South America to the border, and the world is mad at the border, and not the fucking guy forcing his kids 1000 miles on a dangerous hike, with drugs and killers. Yeah he is a great fucking dad, just want better cell phone reception in America. Tom doesn’t know who to believe man. The media or what is actually happening in real life. Syndney or my gut instinct. Who do I fucking believe man? What the fuck is all this about? All I wanted to do was be able to consistently fuck my wife, and now I am fucking wearing a mask at a Rothlischild mansion, Stanley Kubrick is running around the set trying to tell anyone who will fucking listen that he filmed the moon landing to make it seem like the US was ahead of Russia in the race for space, and all the clues are in the shining, google it, Neil Armstrong refuses to talk to fucking anyone about what the moon was like and seems resentful, and ungrateful for the opportunity, and like he didn’t go, did she make it home, Syndney, as he leans over his pool table and drags his cigarette and another sip of scotch, you don’t know the people you are dealing with Tom, and just as the movie is released, Stanley Kubrick dies from a heart attack. Yeah she did, Tom. She made it home, let it go, leave it alone, stop now. I am telling you to stop. But what about the piano guy. Stanley shouldn’t have opened his fucking mouth.  We asked him to just do his fucking part, play the fucking music, and don’t say fucking shit about this fucking party to anyone. Look, Tom,  Don’t worry. We all want a fucking wall built. We have even all said it, everyone, at various stages of our career, in clips that Trump keeps releasing, that makes you wonder that if I lie to FBI I get arrested, but if politicians lie to us, then its just politics. Tom leaves that meeting with Syndey. No deal done. Mclvaney tried to interrupt, and fucked the whole thing up. Trump heads back to his room to see what Melania is doing. Nicole Kidman looks at Tom in the Toy Store. Exasperated, because the illuminati left that mask in our bedroom to scare us. But I have a billion dollars, so I don’t give a fuck about their veiled threats. Trump looks at Nicole, looks at Melania, I think what we need to now, is go home, and fuck. The end. Of the week. Its Friday, and I need to get the fuck out of this den of vipers, head down to Mar A Lago for some chocolate cake. Like on Friday when everyone else in America gets off work, and fucking is allowed to take a break, but the President does it, and its fucking hes not working hard enough. Fucking guy does 10 award ceremonies a fucking day. I send like 10 emails. A day. See politics is performance art. Its all Kabuki theatre. Its fake. Politicians are all just actors who were too ugly to make it Hollywood. Dude it makes me wonder if anyone in America has ever been an executive before. Because any role Vice President and above doesn’t do fucking shit, but messaging. They don’t clean. They don’t fucking cook. They don’t fucking deal with emergencies, and fucking supplies didn’t show up. No, they fucking manage a P & L, fucking host a few conference calls, call a few folks up, fucking eat a sandwich, and fucking stop working around 2pm, maybe a fucking quick call, to a director or something, probably not, to fucking ask them a question from aisle 2 at Krogers, about fucking, Shirley is happy, right, about the floors, and before they ever answer, awesome, yeah you see Trumps Tweet about fucking Elizabeth Warren dressing her husband up in Indian Garb, holy shit I fucking was laughing at that shit, he is a fucking maniac, hey man, good talking to you, I have a question about micro.., hangs up. That is what a VP does all fucking day. So I don’t really give a fuck about all these fucking bartenders who fucking think cleaning the kitchen, umm make sure you fucking sweep under the ovens, fucking hard work man, I don’t give a shit about what they fucking think. I might even fire their ass they fucking even ask me one more fucking question. Dead serious. I want the fucking receipt its done. Go ahead, fucking ask me. But anyways– wait until that rating system comes out for everyone. And then republicans have data that says a bunch of 3.0 stars are coming into our country. That is when it will get real. You’ll see. Right now, according to democrats, only hopes and dreams float into the country, and somehow made it past the dream catcher we have hanging from the ceiling fan in our bedroom. Hey I thought you were supposed to keep Patrick Swayze from making clay pottery with my mom in her bedroom at night. Empty nest syndrome. My ghost dad who died when I was 7 trying to come into my room to watch me sleep, my boy,  but I hung a dream catcher up. He can’t remember the code on the front door. Let me in. Let me into your dreams. I am a man now dad. Just go, just leave. I am going to walk for days barefoot in Australia, and call it a walk-about, as my transition into manhood. By myself, fucking scared on Naked and Afraid, but not really because the entire camera crew and medical staff are in a tent fucking 100 yards from me. I can smell the fucking pig they are roasting on a turn style, the fucking one that keeps attracting panthers and mountain lions, and why the fuck does Iraq look like Northern California in that one episode, and because it is, and I give up. Fuck this. I need to check my fucking emails. I can’t fucking deal with this shit anymore. I need to fucking see how many fucking people watched my videos on twitter, and retweeted, and fucking liked, and when I actually took the time to spend a whole fucking day not looking at Social media, I felt fucking great, and fucking no stress, fucking amazing, and I might fucking seriously, just, fucking quit the internet, dead serious. The internet and work, what fucking asshole invented these two fucking things. It was some fucking idiot who felt bad that they weren’t being productive, like when you spend the entire Saturday morning cleaning your house so you don’t feel bad about drinking all afternoon. Because as long as your house is clean, and Ted Bundy wears a suit, then your life is considered a huge fucking success, and you have instant credibility. And girls will get into the car with you. Everything is running smooth, nice guy, until the fucking internet came around the bend. Parks the search results of your life in a dimly lit lookout near some brush. I did a fucking interview on Face Time. Top half suit, bottom half basketball shorts. Hey H, Great expensive tie man, that you bought just for our date, with destiny, and are going to return after you kill your interview, to get your $300 dollars back, because you don’t have the job yet, and need it for your electric bill, and I hope it really does settle back into the account withing 5 business days. Nice first impression. I immediately want to trust you. You’re on google, right. Yeah, thanks man. Hey,  Umm can I get your Linked In page? Too. But I am right here, now, what the fuck do you need my Linked In for. Talk to me. Well I need to see, a profile picture is worth a thousand words, you could never speak, and even though Ted Bundy almost convinced a jury he was innocent, even with an exact dental match, you can’t lie on the internet, it always tells us who to, and who you voted for. Just hear me out. If you can’t make friends on Linked In, how are you going to make friends at work. How are you supposed to lead in real life, if no one will follow you on twitter? If people on google say you are fucking racist, then you’re probably a fucking racist. Or at least made someone mad enough to post about you while they were drinking. Once you take a ride on the information highway. You will never escape this vehicle alive, and it will leave no witnesses. Who do we got in for questioning for the death of Harrison’s reputation? A bunch of avatars. You trusted it to be your friend, and to help you find great restaurants. And then it went behind your back, and told your fucking secrets to fucking everyone. Piece of shit friend. I fucking trusted you mother fucker. You even asked me to click that I trusted you. Stab me in the fucking back. Hey umm Harrison, calm down man. You’re really funny, but this a job interview. I know you use spark notes to pass college, but we don’t need that kid that can only talk to you through movie quotes. How am I funny? I make you laugh, I’m here to fucking amuse you. You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it’s me, maybe, but I am funny how, I mean funny like I am a clown? I amuse you? Yeah bro, exactly, that was goodfellas, this is the reason we phone screen folks first. To make sure you didn’t watch Anchorman ten years ago, and spend the next year talking like Ron Burgundy. Its made with real bits of panther. My interview cologne. Its facetime, I can’t smell you. Burger king once asked me if I had any questions for them at the end, and I asked them which item on the menu had the lowest calories. Silence. You live and you learn, from the internet. I don’t know man, versions. My version. Your version. Verizon. Just a different way to spell version. Hey there is a Z in there.  Going deep man, chugging on this Vitamin D milk. Its fucking thirty degrees outside. Have this little chair. My net and cameras all set up. Perfect fucking throws. Dead seriously dead accurate perfect fucking throws right into the fucking net. Almost every time. Because I am literally one of the greatest throwing talents that the world has ever seen of a football. Not even one fucking exaggeration. I have a fucking god damn fucking rocket launcher arm. Just because someone wasn’t fucking smart enough to think of anything besides the NFL. I get to walk around the fucking streets like Nicholas Cage in a City of Fucking Angels. A god sent to earth to fucking throw.  A crazed animal. Sniffing out my fucking chew toy. My football. Snfff snff snfff fucking smell of that beautiful leather. Chew on the fucking laces. I was born to throw. For an audience. People love watching me throw. They haven’t felt this much power in a throwing motion since Brett Favre. I could light your fucking cigarette with my rocket arm. I would have a fire in the first fucking throw of the hatchet against some granite rocket in the book the hatchet, if I have a nice little tinder nest for the sparks to land in. Hm thanks, thats nice and cozy. The fire you started. I think i’ll read QBLesson.com.  While you are sitting there reading this. Dreaming you could throw like me.  Staring out the window watching the American Flag wave back and forth, and some birds fly by. Wondering what a dog in a fucking SPCA kennel feels like watching everyone from the Next Door app come into find out if its their cat they just posted online, and if they got it. No, its not. That is not raptor. Doesn’t have the same eyebrows. Not him, nope. Sorry. While simultaneously resisting the urge to buy another cat. Right there. Only $150 dollars. Immediately forgetting about the one that escaped from inside the house, and was eaten by Coyotes. I fucking saw those coyotes too. Running in a pack, 2 adults, and a couple of coyote babies running through the parking lot by the church. I think this is what happened. Was Raptor was outside playing, and ran up on those fucking coyotes. Tore his furry ass up. Shame man, but hey lets get this new cat. The problem with cats is they don’t emit enough emotion. They purr and you barely touch them and they run off. Like your wife after 10 years of marriage. They lounge and lay around the house, stretched out on the couch. They are there. Just enough to be a pet. Just enough for you to remember to feed them, and give them water. But they don’t commit. Their love. They don’t lick your face, and beg for you. Wiener dogs need to be rubbed and loved. They demand kisses. They demand your lap. They pump their legs when you rub them down on their backs. Feels like you are trying to jumpstart a dirt bike. You can feel it. So anyways, that is why when you lose your cat, just you go back to the shelter and buy another one like you are changing the battery in your car. I don’t like cats. I like dogs. I need that love and adoration around me at all times, constantly building me up, making me feel like a man, and people need me for something other than a paycheck. Its a crazy world man. Bad things happen to good kitties. Pray for raptors decent to hell. Thing fucking scratched me good one time. Look, God fearing Christians really don’t understand the world they live in. They walk around assuming that all their friends, peers, and business folks, and everyone is a christian, and all the land & resources, building enterprises, and everything they associate with modern reality is clean & Christian. Just don’t celebrate Halloween because its satanic. Only Halloween is. That one day, and only thing in the world. The holiday where folks dress us as pumpkins, and scarecrows, and power rangers, etc. All these churches, all these reverend Billy Grahams, all these  WWJD bracelets, that no one formed an LLC or copyrighted, and actually the guy who makes the Madea movies, Tyler Perry discovered the error, swooped in, bought and now owns. All of it was built to protect us from Halloween nights, and the three Hocus Pocus Sisters, and Bet Midler’s tweets about Trump. Tyler Perry owns What Would Jesus do – the trademark. Imagine that. But the reality is that probably fifty percent of the community are satanists. And before you get freaked out. Satanism really just means you believe in yourself, in nature. You as an individual. Your pineal gland. Your third eye. The one you see all over the dollar bill, CBS logo, basically everywhere you look after noticing it, whenever you google Illuminati celebrities and thousands of pictures of everyone from Justin Bieber to Lady Gaga covering one eye, and Christian Bale thanking Satan at the Golden Globes. Google Aleister Crowley. From the Ozzy Osbourne song Crazy Train, Barbara Bushes father, on the cover of the Beatles album. Yeah its all a big conspiracy, its all fake man, all of it. Only Tim Tebow praying with Paul Finebaum on the SEC network before an Alabama game is real. Good verses Evil man. Its a Star Wars movie, and we are the resistance. Fighting back against Darth Vader’s bronchitis. Can someone get this mother fucker signed up so he can fix his sleep apnea? Why do you think the democrats are calling themselves the resistance? Because millions of people watch Star Wars so its a demonic, I mean mnemonic device. Anyways, things man. Swamp Thing. Duh nuh. Duh duh duh. Duh nu. You make my heart sing. Man made from the swamp. Every single President who gets elected. Oh you didn’t know, your asssss bettterrr calll somebodddyyy. Hey let me tell you something. I don’t give a shit about any of this garbage. When I was a kid I told my mom. I said, mom I fucking hate teams. I don’t even really like football. I just want to do the, throw the ball part. I love throwing. She said I couldn’t do just that. All my coaches said I couldn’t do just that.  Well how fucking wrong was she. and them. And You. Because Ill check my balls down on your forehead, and I will go deep whenever the fuck I want to in a soccer field by my fucking house. For the rest of my fucking life. And Ill fucking love that shit. And you’ll fucking love that shit. My rocket fucking arm. S MY D. Philip Rivers lost 42-28, again in the playoffs, and I gained 400 new twitter followers. There is a new sheriff in town. The Internets First Ever Starting Quarterback. And he is headed straight for the fucking HALL OF FAME.

QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

Symphony

​QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about the symphony. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. What is power? Steve Jobs says. Frank Underwood thought it was the presidency, until he got there, and couldn’t get shit done, claire’s a bitch too, and realized it was working in the private sector, once he went to Bohemian Grove in Season 5, and I am at home, like fuck, no wonder they want Alex Jones off the air. Mother fucker was the first person to try to tell us billionaires assemble for a weekend in the hills of California, and worship a fucking owl called Moloch, and act gay with each other, Nixon, who was discovered through a newspaper ad by Prescott Bush, calling it the most faggoty place he had ever seen, dressed up as priests while they sacrifice someone, and then fucking decide that Trump should be president, but we will let Hillary run to give you the illusion of option, and not realizing that the government is really just 1 in the same party, called the thesis, anti-thesis, synthesis model of establishing communism in the shade of democracy, which Ocasio Cortez found out about today, when they left her off the financial committees because counting your tips at the close of the bar, isn’t enough experience to be smart enough to set up an international bank called the Federal Reserve to regulate every countries economy, and direct deposit the bottom line into the Rothlischild fidelity account.  You play the instruments, and I will play the orchestra. You on the violin. You are the flutes. You on the Tubas. You as President. Yeah you owe me like 6 billion dollars cause you bankrupt a casino after all your executives died in a plane crash headed to a yankees game, that you were supposed to be on, but weren’t, and now that we are all in the same room talking about ways you can pay back your debts to all these banks but technically you trapped us because we can’t just not have you being rich, because then we definitely won’t get our money back, so touche my lord, but here is a deal, we will inject you with another couple hundred million, and instead of paying me back, we are just going to put you in Home Alone, put you on the Apprentice, and over the next 20 or so years, build your brand up, until every rapper thinks being rich as you is baller, and tells you about it in a lyric in their song, and your name becomes synonymous with the word billion, and for some reason people worship literally paper, you will have lock steel credibility with all the people begging for water in Mad Max, and then out of nowhere, now that you are established as one of the premiere business men on the planet, we are going to run you as the President in the Simpsons, and as predicted by them, in real life, and the regulations you cut, will pay me back. Belicheck wants you to do your fucking job. Slogans man. Got to have them to run a company, and be iconic. H Beck will teach you how to Go Deep! The Internet’s First Ever Starting Quarterback. Hmm. Lets talk about Mozart.  There were no iPhones, or important jobs, or things to do, no expectations for doing anything really, except for being alive, and wearing a fucking wig, and some heavy ass jackets and clothes, and clogs, and scarfs, taking longer than your wife to get dressed up, powdering doughnut your face, for some reason, and all so Napolean could transfer you the Louisiana Purchase via capital one, and Mozart could just play the piano. All fucking day. Like in the book Outliers, that every shitty manager in all this fake bullshit business every one thinks they are doing these days, you sell fucking knee braces to rehabilitation clinics you fucking idiot, says, 10,000 hours man, and in 10,000 hours you will be a genius at helping people not have knee pain, hey you read outliers man, its my favorite book, it inspires me to do fucking nothing, because I have a dead end 60K a year job and career, not fucking doing shit but putting on a shitty Macy’s fucking tie on, driving a shitty Nissan Altima, and some piece of shit steel dipped in gold Micheal Kors watch I got from Dillards, that all girls say, I want a big watch now to go with my tiny black dress, and I go to fucking work, and I manage a platoon of baboon, fucking howling monkeys crying about their fucking vacation time, in between coffee breaks, 40 minute dumps that they search every fucking bathroom in the building until they found one someone wasn’t lingering in, and then they go back to their office, call their fucking wives to talk about eating fucking salmon later, yeah ill get it from the store after work so you can cook it when you get home, and get back to sizing a picture on their fucking power point, they are getting ready to do a presentation on, what we are going to fucking do, about not being able to keep our employees from fucking quitting all the time, and blaming it on the wage rates that the fucking casino down the street pays, compared to what we can afford to pay, and you look over, and Harrison gives absolutely 100 percent 0 fucking fucks about what the fuck you are talking about, you fucking, are one pathetic loser. What the fuck is happening? Great recall man. Remember when you were a high school quarterback no one recruited because you fucking sucked. Sean McVay calls fucking plays on offense that take longer than a fucking scene in Hamilton to develop, and you look around at the people sitting next to you, literally all this fucking idiot did, was make colonial people fucking rap their lines, instead of just say them or creating great songs on their piano because they were bored, and that is fucking what people think is fucking awesome. Great job McVay. Great job you shave your face with a 1 guard, 1x a week, trimmed beard red head, which means you sunburn easily, and also  melt like a fucking candle during any playoff game you have ever been in going all the way fucking back to the redskins, and the 4-21 fucking record Kirk Cousins has against any winning team or other quarterback, and Jared Goff sure looks like he thinks he is at Cal because around week 11 of the regular season, and the end of the college football season, he started to get more fidgety than Josh Rosen not being able to see his friends in his economics class before football practice. I took economics because I am smart, and one day I want to be the CFO of a non-profit that helps Hayden Pantierre save killer whales. What are my friends doing?  Hey Chris, what are you doing man? Hows the day going? Man today sucks, I have valet park cars tonight for 36K a year, but lots of cash tips, so its like more. That is awesome. Well I play for the Cardinals, so all I have to do today is walk around the facility with a fucking gatorade bar half eaten in my hand, a fucking angel food strawberry and banana smoothie king, in a fucking long sleeve loose fit, with a playbook under my left elbow, in socks with sandles, headed over to my fucking QB room I decorated with Christmas Lights, that Sam Bradford was like, I am not sure if we should do this guys, and Josh was like, man shut the fuck up you cross eyed, fucking Matt Leinhart needed coke bottle glasses a kid, story Brent Musberger told us in 2005 during the national title he lost verse texas, that Micheal Franzese, the recovering mafia bookie, told us at NC State was rigged, all so he could fucking see straight, Matt, back to Sam, you fucking big ass front teeth looking mother fucker, no man seriously, we should focus on the falcons, while I stand on the fucking sidelines in my Dick Sporting Goods manican fucking outfit, and collect $20M dollars to watch you get fucking hurt every single 6 quarters all the way since freshman year at UCLA. Yeah lets post this fucking Santas workshop at the Gaylord, $100 ticket, hunny we can’t afford that shit this year, quarterback room on instagram. So coach Wilks can explain to his wife that we have to move again babe, because I thought Josh was studying, but he is fucking live streaming protein packets with the cast of the vanderpumps on twitter, I guess it doesn’t fucking matter, because in the NFL once you’re in, you’re in, you just keep getting recycled like the ocean trash that was collected, and turned into the Miami Hurricanes jerseys, and one of the players was like why the fuck does it feel like I am wearing the fucking plastic that holds a six pack of beer together, that Ben Mcadoo threw on the ground, when he finished his Natty Lights, before walking into Kliff’s office to accept the offensive coordinator position, and also to undermine him during an insecure feeling season 2, and the Cardinals setting Kliff up with this insurance policy they told him was actually helping him by hiring veteran coaches he can lean on, during difficult times and stretches, like his hand out and if he was smart would walk into the first coaches meeting, and fucking open hand, as hard as he fucking can, smack Mcadoo’s fucking buthole crumbs fucking sweep of a mustache right off his Aaron Rodgers secretly Freddie Mercury, fucking Studio 54 lingering ass, face. So fucking hard that Mcadoo falls out his fucking computer chair, and then you should also throw the fucking XOS clicker at him, and say, get this fucking offense, fucking right, right fucking now. One fucking mistake, and I swear to fucking god, ill send your fucking ass into the fucking locker room with Vernon Davis in the middle of the fucking game. You know what, we don’t even fucking watch film in my fucking offense. Go to fucking Walgreens, and get a huge fucking white board, for your fucking 4th grade science fair project, so you can glue the fucking statistics on why warheads are not as fucking sour as shocktarts, after testing 2 bags, and 2 rolls of fucking each, and you fucking get back to your fucking office, and you find the 8 best fucking memes on the fucking internet, and glue them onto this fucking board, and when Josh wants a fucking play, you point to Scott Van Pelts fucking face, and that is the fucking play, and one time I saw Stephen Garcia tell a fan what the name of one of his half- famous touchdown passes was, and it was something like Gator Pop Pass 9 route, and I said, holy fucking shit, Steve Spurrier better never call my fucking dad when I am in the fucking shower again, and my dad tell him H is in the fucking shower, and he is not going to South Carolina, and hangs up the fucking phone on Spurrier, and I get the fuck out of the shower, and he says, hey son Spurrier called and I told him you weren’t going to South Carolina, and I said, god dammit, what the fuck are you doing? Fucking Steve Spurrier. Fuck, I wanted to talk to him. I fucking love Rex Grossman, fucking wow now I am fucking glad, because I found out he calls some of the dumbest fucking play names in getting canned from the fucking Redskins for trying to surround himself with Shane Matthews, and Ivanka, whose husband Jared is probably, most likely, secretly a Gary Cohn globalist democratic, which I don’t understand how I am the same age as him and I am writing a blog and he is finalizing a deal for peace in the middle east with Saudi Arabia, all of this in fucking history. Babe, there are fucking vipers everywhere here in D.C. I thought the fucking real estate salesman in New York City were something. Yeah Dad. Babe, I also need you to write a fucking essay about my administration is turning against me, and holding me in check, for the sake of the country. Then open a gmail account and email it to the New York Times. Can you get that done around Friday at 5PM? So that way all fucking weekend all they talk about is me again. Thanks Babe. Sure Dad, you want some more ice cream. Or another brownie. No hunny. You look fucking hot today by the way. You been working out. Its interesting that I am in a suit in the oval office at the white office every day, and how long does it fucking take to get ready every morning putting on my suit, cause at my other job I could wear jeans sometimes, and the time it takes to shave my face, and for some reason I just can’t imagine Trump shaving his face, looking into the mirror, hovering over a bathroom sink, naked with a towel around his waste, shaving, does he fucking sleep in his suit, and if you live in the white house, can you ever just wear like fucking sweats, or basketball shorts to the office. Why do they make the President live above the Chinese Restaurant he owns? Babe you want to come home from club with me, yeah I live above a fucking laundry mat. Speaking of Laundry Mats, the last time I fucking went to New York City. That was a dark, evil, scary fucking place. I live in Texas where everyone is white, drives a fucking mercedes, even the waiters make 90 thousand dollars, fucking sterile and sanitary, clean fucking roads and highways, nice fucking children’s parks and playgrounds in every neighborhood, beautiful fucking city, then I go to Long Island Ice T fucking every liquor in the cabinet, sugar and soda, drinking people fucking walking around the streets, pushing shopping carts, living in fucking those buildings that the alleys that spider man always saves someone from getting robbed in, and for some reason there is always smoke blowing out the door, from someone steaming the dishes in an industrial kitchen, and it looks like it rains every fucking day, slippery ass wet roads that random gangs of thugs hang out in with switch blades, playing fucking wall ball for hours, until someone takes their bird they rented down a wrong turn, hey give me your fucking wallet, Its 2018 I don’t have a wallet, give me your fucking apple pay, whats your password, I am not going to give it to you, give it to me or you die and I smash your phone, and fuck, wait that means I get nothing, I need you to live, um call Tim Cook, ask him to open it, Hey Tim can you open the phone of this terrorist that is in ISIS,  because the FBI can’t even open a fucking IPhone, and when you fuck up trying to open your wife’s phone to go through her text messages, hey why is that guy at work buying you fucking sausage colaches, and you try to many times, it locks for first a minute, then 5 minutes, then an hr, then, god dammit, apple has put an entire industry of petty thiefs out of business, get the fuck out of here kid. Don’t use Life 360 app that tracks all your movements, to led the cops right back here. To where we are playing baseball, and Richie Richie pulls up in his rolls royce and wants to play with us. Homerun. Fuck our only fucking ball goes through the window of a scary closed down factory in Syracuse, and that is why everyone walks around sad, because Xerox left with our economy, and all our possessions and dignity, because we are not smart enough to get jobs that don’t require us filling out new hire packets that don’t promise us vacation until after the 1 year of proven work ethic and integrity. Why the fuck did I marry someone who puts brakes on cars for a living? He told me it would be cheaper if I bought them from autozone myself, and then brought them to him, to put them on, and I thought that he had great ideas. You’re fired. Within 2 years. Every young coach the NFL just hired. You ever seen the movie Con Air. All those fucking criminals on that rogue fucking plane is your new team on the way to a road game. First off its amazing what your mind can make you do, or say during an interview, when you have been locked up, in a quality control closet with Kyle Shanahan at the bucs facility, and that fight or flight kicks in, you’re chance to escape McVay’s hidden god complex, I mean jail, and all the sudden out of nowhere, because you want to coach so fucking bad, you steal the Rams chance at a Superbowl, the bengals fucking 737 jumbo jet, and fly it fucking perfectly happy back to Cincinatti. Like they say about young quarterbacks. They haven’t learned how to turn the ball over yet, or coach any offense that has ever scored any points, certainly not at the Dolphins or Cincinatti. I love that line Zac. Great interview. Film, and natural instinct man. He just has it. I don’t know what it is. But he has it. I don’t know man, I just, I am not fucking going back to the slammer. I even left everything in my office at the Rams facility. Or being a quarterback coach. My father in Law made me head coach now. Never going back. Big things ahead for me. I wont end up like Cameron Poe. Who served years in the military, earned admiral discharge, learning how to lose from Adam Gase. Folding under the pressure of Trey Wingo, and starting to drink to much, and accidently killing someone in the parking lot during a minor bar fight & disagreement. Yeah, Cameron was a great  admiral in the army, everyone said a fucking great assistant coach, but then we started losing a lot, and he just uppercutted someone too hard like fucking scorpion in mortal kombat, or Tom Cable, and now he is in jail, fired and back as the offensive coordinator for Patriots, when he shouldn’t have ever left, or even been in this head coaching position in the first place. Yeah man. I didn’t realize the NFL these days was like getting a head coach position with only 1 year of coordinator experience, and you have to save Las Vegas from a plane full of convicts, I mean Lesean McCoy putting a hit on someone this offseason and still getting to play, but Ezekiell Elliot’s girlfriend is mad he broke up with her because his agent said there was way better pussy at the NFL level, and said he hit her, and had to sit out the season, and in these scenarios, just like the movie, the plane and your season is going to crash into Treasure Island, on the way to getting your ass beat by the Raiders, and everyone who use to play with you, having to watch ESPN break the news, that you just got fucking terminated after only 1 fucking season, you limp dick mother fucker. You know who the fuck I would hire if I was head coach. I would hire three fucking people to coach. Me the head coach. 1 fucking coordinator who does whatever the fuck I tell him to do. 1 defensive coordinator who does whatever the fuck I tell him to. Period. 3 fucking people. Like Steve Jobs said one time, anything more than 3 people in a meeting is unproductive. People start fucking gossiping, coming up with their own ideas. Their own visions of how they would run the team. Fucking sneaking off into the dimly lit corridors that every single picture of Robert Mueller have him going through, and there is never just one of him, at the beach with his family, or like most politicians and celebrities, smiling and accepting money from Harvey Weinstein. Which whatever happened to him and that case, because it seems like nothing. Its not trending on twitter anymore. You think you are using social media. You are using a weapon of mass destruction. You are riding on the back of a nuclear warhead. Scientifically engineered cyber mobs. Using hashtags to overthrow people and governments. Why the fuck do you think China won’t let any of these social media companies into their country? Do you think its because they just don’t want you tweeting your thoughts on Kyler Murray giving up $5M dollars to enter the NFL draft, and have the Cowboys turn Woodrow Dantlzer into a kick returner, when 15 years later, he would have been the number 1 pick in the draft. And not bagging groceries, wishing he would get invited back into acting on the Cosby Show. I thought Bill just had headaches like Urban, and was taking those caffeinne pills Jessie Spanos was just trying to pass her SAT with.  Rich Eisen tweets back, solid take. Thanks Rich. Appreciate it man. I feel so fucking lucky that you fucking responded back to one of my tweets. You know why I am such a master marketer. Here is why. Because the cast of the Vanderpumps needs controversy, reality stars need chaos, they need things to go viral, so if you just fuck with them on twitter, like Ariana Maddix loves riding horses, and my grandma use to take me to feed horses sugar cubes as a kid, I would hold my hand through the fence with a sugar cube in my palm, and the horse would lick it out of my hand, and I would wiggle and say eww yucky, as a big ass horse toungue, felt like Garey Busey was licking my hand, big ass horse teeth. So I tweet to ask her if she likes to feed her horse, sugar cubes, to which she can relate to me, and tweets me back, so now she kind of cyber trusts me, cause of the cute tweet and swipes right on my comment. Now its stuck on her twitter timeline, for all 20 thousand plus fans and chat bots she paid for to get online famous, to see and like too, and next thing you know I get 10,000 fucking people to my website. Because fuck you. That is why– and I have gotten almost every single fucking “celebrity,” fucking hack, fucking lazy fucking Shep from Southern Charm, fucking all of them to like my tweets, to tweet at me, and retweet, resulting in thousands of fucking website views. Kyle from summer house once told me fuck off because he tried to raise 25 thousand dollars for his shitty nutrition app, and I told him 25 thousand dollars isn’t enough for the catering of an office potluck for one of my companies, and he went off the fucking deep end, rage tweeting me and my companies shitty name, and next thing you know I got 100 downloads. Suck my fucking cock. Period. But anyways, China doesn’t need its citizens addicted to fucking social media likes like its a bump of coke off your jeep cherokee key. Where has this key been. Actually pretty loyal. It only fits and goes into one ignition. It wont start if I try to put it in another ignition of another jeep. Keys are the best husbands. Fuck wong tee tong, I don’t fucking know. I watched fucking Anthony Bourdain go to China once, and he ate a soup that was so fucking hot, so many fucking spices, that the soup gets your drunk. No alcohol. But the combination of ingredients and temperature is such an intense flavor and experience, that you get fucking high and drunk off eating fucking soup. Babe are you fucking drinking Vodka at 10am again? No babe, no I just had a bowl of fucking soup. Bro if you legalize soup that fucks you, in America, every one will be healthy by next year. Everyone will have a fucking crossfit body. If soup could fuck you up like this chinese soup, it would be the number 1 diet in America on Pinterest, pinned by Soccer moms, by tomorrow. Babe we are fucking going to the Supermarket to get everything I need, to make this fucking soup. Dude social media is one big fucking scam. I guarantee that Pinterest has some fucking relationship with Super Markets. So we are going to create a site that pins great dishes to make that they are going to have to go to your store to buy all the ingredients. See this recipe right here. This is baked potato soup and it should cost him around 37 dollars to make it himself with ingredients from Krogers. Because he is going to have to buy fresh onions, and garlic, and chop them up at home, and fucking try not to cry, I don’t miss my dad, I can do this, I can get through this scene in Greys anatomy, I mean this onion, I mean I just chopped up a jalapeno and forgot to wash my hands before finger banging my girlfriend, and now her vagina is on fire, god dammit H, you didn’t wash your fucking hands, babe I fucking told you I wanted to cook dinner and clean all the fucking dishes, and shower, so that way by the time we fuck I guaranteed had clean hands, pour milk on it, your pussy. To calm it down. They give you milk when you order the 3 mile wings at Hooters, and on that show where that guy eats really hot wings and people at the bar clap, but are wondering, why isn’t Saban putting Jalen in for Tua in the national title, yet. Is there some kind of double standard? Because Tua said if Saban didn’t put him in that last game last year, he would have transferred. Which is what Jalen just said he was doing. So I guess you win some you lose some. Can’t get it right every fucking time. Oh look, he finished 3lb cheeseburger at fat burger, and got a t-shirt for it, and a 30 dollar bill to pay. And now he is not sure it was worth it because he feels fucking sick to his stomach. That he spent the early 2000’s playing football, instead of learning how to code apps and websites, and missed easily becoming a billionaire, trading that for getting screamed at by coaches high on redbull, and working out constantly, coach seriously, I am just fucking tired, can I please not run today, fuck no, you better fucking run 6 gasers up and down in 53 seconds or it means you are not ready to drop back only 5 yards, and throw, during fall camp, so we are going to make you run after practice every day until you can pass it, while everyone who did pass it is inside eating lunch, relaxing and playing ping pong, which I fucking hate. Dont ever ask me to play ping pong fucking ever. Swear to god. Not even once. Not even in a Drew Brees is so competitive he beat me at ping pong article. I don’t give 1 fuck about this article you shared with me from twitter. Like China. Leave my country and my people the fuck alone trying to hide the CIA in ESPN articles. Social media is surveillance re-branded. They don’t fucking want fucking want the United States keeping tabs on all of their citicizens locations, thoughts feelings and concerns, their shopping habits, their eating and restaurant habits, their fucking social and economic, and cultural habits. Because within 1 year of them letting Facebook into China. Every person in China would be wearing a Make America Great Again hat!  Like H is his QBLesson videos, which I think is just the icing on the fucking cake. You keep eating a slice of. Fuck off. I am not a symphony. I fucking hate teams. I am a human guitar solo.

QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

Wild

QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about the wild. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. I am the Hunter S. Thompson of football. The Fear and Loathing of the Las Vegas Raiders. To all the people who weren’t given the gift of gab like me.  The mic skills. The deliver your fucking lines on the first fucking try skills. The get that fucking teleprompter out of my fucking MAGA rally skills. The Harrison needs some more fucking polish before he gets promoted, but no he doesn’t hes a fucking natural, skills. Blow me. The internets a fucking blood stream, and all you have to do is open a vein and inject a bunch of memes into it. And Russia will influence your elections, and cause you to watch me and contemplate me. Is this real? Harrison, or is this like a wrestling character? Is this fucking Jim Carrey making insane splatter paintings every day and posting them to his twitter. The resistance. The fucking resistance. Life is a fucking Star Wars moving. Instead of fucking jumping through time portals, and shooting you with lasers, I am going to paint you out of office using water colors. Harrison can’t be Jim Carrey or George Carlin because he is a quarterback only. Forever. and fucking ever. You know what. You are right. You are fucking right. I am the Internet’s First Ever Starting Quarterback. 3 colleges tried to fuck my career up. But like Johnny Depp is that movie where he downloads his brain into a computer. What the fuck is that called? Fucking Transcendence. Harrison went fucking digital. No NCAA telling me I can’t go pro until my third year. No rules, just right. Fucking outback steakhouse. Fucking 6 oz sirloin with a baked potato, no chives, an excessive amount of sour cream, and a side of fucking steakhouse mac and cheese, and yes, bring fucking blooming onion sauce and 3 loafs of fucking bread, with a side cesar salad. I am going to eat all of this fucking food. Fucking all of it. Fucking 8 glasses of fucking water too. I went out to eat with a group of managers one time. My boss, fucking Derek. His boss invited him out. So we go to Outback Steakhouse. And that is what I order and I eat all of it. Well Derek orders his meal and only eats half. So he puts his plate to the side. He is finished, and I fucking reach over, grab his plate, and eat the rest of his fucking steak and sweet potato. And he looks at me. And his boss looks at me. And right there his fucking boss knew that I was his fucking daddy. The Alpha. You just let another man finish your fucking dog bowl. I ate the whole fucking thing. Both fucking meals. What the fuck are you going to do about it? Mother fucker. The relationship was never the same again. Because he got fucking canned, and I got fucking promoted. Because I DO NOT FUCKING PLAY FUCKING GAMES. Social fucking climber at its finest. Don’t bring a fucking ladder around me. Because I will climb that mother fucker all the way to the fucking top. They say in management the higher up the flag pole you go, the more they can see your ass. Well guess what, I got a great fucking ass. For a guy, dead serious I have a fucking bubble butt, fucking PAWG, fucking if I was a girl, there would be 1M dollars of Jennifer Lopez insurance on my fucking butt cheeks. So fucking look at it. Cop a fucking feel. Get a handful of fucking ass cheeks. All great athletes have amazing, beautiful horse asses. Its the fucking gravity to earth. Fucking flexible too. I can do a fucking split. Fucking pop that pussy on a handstand. Don’t turn on fucking Ciara fucking let it ride at your family crawfish boil, because shell end up my wife, not yours Russell. Whats that family BBQ like for Russell by the way? Because she use to fuck Future too. I bet fucking Russell runs to the bathroom, and quickly she is like, future you got some molly. He pops a tab in her mouth. Russell comes back out. Hey babe, hows the kids? Why are your eyes so fucking bloodshot. Future is like, hey Russ come check out this new track in my house studio I am working on. They go out to the garage to listen. He comes back in and Ciara is working a fucking stripper pole in 50 cents million dollar listing house Fredrik tried to sell. Russell runs inside. Ciara, what the heck babe? Grabs her jacket and purse. We are leaving, right now. You hear me. She tries to resist a little. Russell gets exasperated. Drops her stuff. Okay then. Fine. Fine. Just great. Grabs the keys. I am going to wait in the car. She never comes out. I don’t know. Probably not, but maybe. Who fucking knows? Google Peyton Manning is a swinger. Fucking wierd shit going in real life, compared to what articles they pay google to tell you, and which ones to censor. Or maybe its just your bubble filter. Youtube a bubble filter. You get the news that you like, not the news that you need. You get fucking candy for news. Not fucking green beans and salmon. Whatever, fuck it. Its just H being H.  I bet my dad. He died when I was 7. I was on vacation. Came home and he was dead. I bet his ass is just hover boarding above me, watching this shit, having a great fucking time. Fucking patting me on the back, but I can’t feel it because he has ghost hands, and it just goes right through my fucking shoulder. I feel him through the heart burn that I get. I love you dad. I miss you. I start fucking crying. uhhahhsh slobbering. Fuck man. Fuck man. No, I just get fucking heart burn from drinking vodka at night, waking up and drinking coffee in the morning, and god dammit I just remembered I forgot my fucking spaghetti lunch I made for dinner, but was going to take to work for leftovers. Fuck– anyways just eat a handful of tums a few times a day and it won’t feel like you are drinking fucking burning hot water all day. It started when I was a kid because I can play like 8 instruments. I can fucking shred on the guitar like I am fucking in the band Dragon Force. So I fucking started these hardcore bands At the Court of Atilla. You know Atilla the Hun. His fucking judgement day. That mother fucker would tie your arms and legs up, and turn a wheel stretching them apart until you snapped like a fucking pretzel dipped in Neopolitan ice cream by my Grandpa, and put into his crusty mouth during fight night. Two fucking televisions with magnifying glass covers over them so he could see Mike Tyson bite Holyfields fucking ear off, better. Grandpa, what the fuck is happening? Did he just bite his fucking ear off. Grandpa. I was like 7 sitting on his fucking couch with him in his TV room where he sat all fucking day with these two fat ass mean ass terrier russell dogs. Fucking duke. That piece of shit use to fucking bite me. But I still loved him. Because I love animals Territorial piece of shit. I had a friend once, and he met my wiener dog, and my dog hated him, growled at him, I knew this kid was bad now, and so I stopped being friends with him because of my dog. He was a decent kid, but my dog didn’t like him, and it told me to not like him either. I trust my dog, my gut, more than these presidential briefings. But I like Queenie the fat ass with skinny legs peppa pig looking one. Fucking throw some bacon on the ground, and it would dyson vacuum that shit up with her little snout. Tap dancing fat ass mother fucker. Come here queenie come get some rubs. Grandma whats for dinner? Making me microwave mac and cheese micholeena. Fuck yeah. Fucking shells and contadina sauce. Thanks Grandma. She would sit on the fucking couch with a stick of butter and a knife. Cut a slab off and just fucking eat it like the knife was a butter lollipop. Yeah milk is bad for you, don’t fucking drink it, its why youre fat. Yeah my grandma eats fucking butter.  Like when people make brownies and lick the spoon or the bowl clean. But fucking margarine. Hey, that is different than butter Harrison. I know and only .99 cents for blue bonnet. That is why I get it at the store. Because I am expert fucking shopper. My grandma, Raising me like a fucking baby wolf. Son, I want you to fucking rollerblade all fucking day so your ankles get strong. Yes grandma. Fucking only kid winning kill the carrier in the neighborhood, growling and shit at the age of 8, at the other kids. I got a mean ass lion roar.  Rawr! I had this fucking metalcore band that I would play at this venue in Tarpon Springs. Hard ass rock metal shows with like 100 people mosh pitting, screaming my fucking face off. Fucking breakdowns, shred and sweeping riffs, with these fucking columbian kids Jorge and Philipe. Fucking illegals I think. Because after a show Philipe took pills and drove home, crashed, and got fucking deported back to Columbia, and I would read his fucking poems on myspace. He seemed pretty fucking sad about it, because had this hot little skank girlfriend with huge tits he got to fuck in America, and now he has to fucking join the fucking caravan. I don’t even know if he is alive anymore. But his girlfriend threw up in my friend Chris’s truck after too many Mikes Hard Lemonades, only shit you can get as a teenager, when you get the courage to see if the nearby 711 won’t ID you, and he got fucking livid, because Chris washed his truck he bought for himself, like a loser, at 15 fucking skipping football practice to work a fucking job cleaning dishes at a retirement home, because he thought money was more important than potential, and needed this truck, to remind him that he didn’t get to go off to college on scholarships like the rest of us, who knew better. I tried to tell you, you fucking idiot. I don’t know. I was was a pretty good front man. I probably could have led a band to Solid State Records, minimum. Probably played on the Warped Tour if I wanted. You saw how many people showed up to watch Labora Tori at Knickerbockers. Fucking met this kid Billy in my sociology class. He was wearing an It Dies Today T-Shirt. Asked him if he wanted to jam. He knew this drummer who lived way the fuck up on O Street and off into the country. I would drive out there to his house. In his basement had a huge fucking drum set with double kick peddles. We would go down there and write songs. Shred our fucking faces off. The dad and mom would come downstairs and fucking offer us tea and strumpets. Slippy, slappy, sammy, oh there it is, samsonite. We actually threw a second show at their basement. Like 90 kids in a 1 bedroom apartment, fucking huge rented amps from the guitar shop. Fucking dead serious, the heaviest metal show that you have ever seen in your fucking life. Fucking living room moshpits. Like one of those fucking, watch the Steve Aoki documentary on Netflix, he would rent an apartment, and just throw fucking hardcore shows in them and trash them. That is what this was, except we made sure to vacuum after. Dude just imagine how famous you are when you play for Nebraska. Now imagine your son brings home the greatest quarterback in Nebraska history. And he plays a fucking major metal show in your basement. Like insane death metal with Satan screams. But its not, right Devils Wear Prada, because Lions scream, and lions are loved by god. That is how Christian metal bands justify screaming demonic lyrics. But imagine that shit. The whole house shaking. People throwing elbows, and raging like when you get to the very front of a rock concert, that isn’t the foo fighters, and everyone has bandanas on their face, because they are technically fighting, but calling it dancing, and don’t want to go to jail for the one kid who gets a broken nose, and claims it was fighting, but its just being in the pit. I don’t know. I am a fucking champion. Because basically I can do anything that I fucking set my mind too. I got canned from a job one time, and I told my friend, that I was going to write myself as a fucking astonaught. Go to fucking space. Dead serious if I wanted to be Elon Musk I could. Its really not that hard. The hardest part of doing anything outside the collective conciousness, is basically like how Antartica has formed an ice wall around earth holding the ocean in like a bathtub, a bunch of people hold hands, or elephant walk, depending how you look at it, with each other, as you look down from the arches in St. Louis, hey they formed the word love, how cool, and if you go past where their minds have been programmed to go, then it only stretches so far, before you crash your sailboat into the wall, and tell Ed Harris and everyone watching on TV, Social Media, you jerking off and someone watching you through your phones camera in a hotel room on a work trip, you look up and say, Good morning, and in case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night! And fucking you open the hatch, and there you are in Hollywood. People in bars screaming, doing jager bombs before the Alamo Bowl, getting benched by Callahan for barfing into the River Walk River, laying in the fucking bathtub with the water on steaming hot trying to sober up before the quarterback meeting, that you fall alseep in, because they are trying to come up with signals for plays, and you recommend the peppershaker, and they don’t like it, seems like a blowjob or someone putting pepper on your salad, and you doze off, and next thing you know, zac taps your shoulder, and you wake up, and try to pretend like you have been paying attention the whole time, but then go back to the mens restroom to barf, and Callahan walks out, and says man someone looks sick and you are like, just stare at him, and go in there, and now I can’t barf before he fucking thinks its me, but I have to, so you just pee, and go back to the quarterback room barely making it, wanting this meeting to be over so bad, and then its finally fucking over, and then at practice you get no reps, and fuck it, I don’t give a shit, haven’t gotten any reps all fucking season anyways, fucking standing here with my fucking dick in my hand, not doing shit, listening to Beau Davis fucking commentate every fucking practice, ooh bad throw, ooh good throw, nice run, and I don’t give a fuck about what anyone is doing, just either I am going to go throw, or I might as well just fucking stare off in the sky, and wonder why Erin Andrews is a fucking liar, when that bitch interviewed me before Colorado and said I said something I fucking didn’t, and Brent Musberger repeated it,  lying ass trick, No freshman year isn’t fucking hard, I just don’t get any fucking reps or I would win the heisman probably, minimum a national title, like Jameille Showers, fucking in the lobby of the hotel, hey lets chat, sure Erin, sure, I bet one day you will work for Fox right around the same time your mom face comes in.  Anyways, Look what can I say? Everyone wants to interview me all the fucking time because I am entertaining. Most folks, they are just people who work selling fucking chainsaws for Stihl. Their life means nothing to anyone, and no one knows who they are. They just fucking click the like button on something someone else did.  I get it. Hey babe I just retweeted what I think you had dreams of me becoming when you married me, rich and famous, so you can maybe watch it, on your feed, do you even follow me?, and you think its cute that I think its cool, and get some satisfaction that I at least, understand where I failed, and let you and our entire family down, because I literally, and this is dead serious, twitter literally calls you a follower. You are a follower. When I grew up if you were called a follower it meant you tried weed for the first time in sixth grade, by smoking it through an apple core.  Have you ever seen George Carlin live, before he started waking too many people up, and they gave him a heart attack. He tried to tell you. Trump tries to tell you. I try to tell you. Sorry no one ever thought of QBLesson.com before me. All these stinky dicklicker fucks on TV, on fucking Vinny Testaverde one day threw a football near the sideline, hit and ruined Stuart Scotts eye forever, ESPN, fucking David Pollack with his sunken in skull face, his game analysis filtered through a dialysis machine, looks like fucking Billy Zane in the Phantom, fucking Greg McCelroy, I guess is the Alton Brown on College Football now, fucking showing us how to separate butter from oil in a cup in his freezer, Woah man, whats next, sure you want some fucking more recipes, here is how you make a paper mache volcano, dip newspaper strips into water and flour, wrap them around a fucking orange agility cone, until it looks nice and thick, and mountainous, and then fill the middle with baking soda, and pour some white vinegar in there, and watch it fucking explode with foam, like Mental’s mouth when Lloyd Christmas loads his sandwich up with rat poison at that roadside diner, thanks Greg that is fucking great insights, I know you are mad that you had to backup Chase Daniel for 3 years, and only got 1 year to play decent in High School, and only because you are fucking wholesome they let your ass into the Elite 11, because god knows, your arm bends in half like a dick inside any girl over 150 lbs, and you just wanted to go Texas and Oklahoma, but ended up at Alabama going 6/11 in a National Title game, the fucking Trent Dilfer of National Champions. Hey Steve, bro you better calm fucking down on set here buddy. I got 1 ring just like fucking you, and pretty soon Foles will have 2 rings, and we are both fucked. Greg, says Have a Merry Christmas Twitter Fam! Thanks Greg, I walk over to the sideline of the Indiana Pacers, and tell them I have a Christmas present for em.  Larry Bird hitting a three point shot, fucking champagne on ice, back peddling down the sideline pointing to the crowd, game winner, Merry Fucking Christmas! There is your fucking present Greg, from your fucking twitter family. I tagged you in this youtube video. Watch it.  Lol fuck. Fucking Larry Bird. Salty ass mustache. Best Trash Talker of all time before I came along. I am not going to say anything about Tebow because the NFL fucked up bad with him. I use to know Riley Cooper who is a fucking maniac by the way. Lives in Ocala I guess fucking drinks beer and hunts in fucking silence every day. Living off his 10 million dollar signing bonus for being the best at blocking in wide receiver history. Only pass he could catch is a jump ball fade from 10 yards out in the endzone. No way the illuminati lets him back in the NFL after he said the N word at that Florida/Georgia line concert, and then Kapernick can’t get signed. Man the NFL is more fucking racist than Harrison.  Not happening. Fucking he told legendary stories about Tebow. Says he is a dead serious christian. No fucking joke. So they have this thing at Florida where the first day of summer workouts is a competition. Like bench press, forty and shit. Fucking Tebow does 225 35 times at 18. Pretty solid. I could bench 375 at 16, so I don’t know, fuck Tebow I am probably stronger than him too. Mother fucker was home schooled, got like a 400 on his SAT, too bad he was born in the Philipines because then he could have run for President, probably fucking win. Fucking hates abortion, because he was almost an abortion, but then lived, and thats pretty baller, because when he was in high school at Nease he was in the state championship vs Armwood, and he ripped off an 82 yard game winning touchdown run, and armwood had the chance to come back, and he goes in on the defensive line, and fucking stops their triple option drive, at noseguard. And wins that mother fucker. The state title. Broken fucking tibia the whole time. That non-weight bearing bone, I don’t even know why the fuck its in our body if you can just break it, and it doesn’t matter. But Urban was watching from the stands, like holy fucking shit. This is who is going to get me to the 2nd best coach in college behind Saban, I mean Dabo. You better watch out in recruiting- Urban will fuck your mom. I hear he flirts like a mother fucker. Come here baby, I feel great I took an IB Profen. Fucking Tebow.  He is like a fucking GOP dream candidate. He should still be playing in the NFL.  That mother fucker was going to be in the NFL Pro Football Hall of Fame. No one had ever seen anything like him before. His first game verse the Texans he had 300 yards passing, and 100 yards rushing and 3 touchdowns, including the game winner. Fucking Lamar Jackson, these other rookie quarterbacks can’t even win a fucking playoff game. This guy beats the Steelers in Overtime with a money shot all over the face of the fans. Kneels and prays. And all the owners in the illuminati are like fuck. He is making people believe in God again, after years of programming, operation mockingbird, MK Ultra, MTV music videos and Hollywood converting everyone to Satans New World Order. Without them realizing it. Damn did the rain drops in that Rhianna music video for umbrella just form a fucking baphomet head. Wtf is that shit. Folks keep talking about universal healthcare, and socialism, and tax rates, and all this other garbage. Go on fucking You Tube and type in illuminati. People have been watching these videos for the last 5 years, seeing this fucking all seeing eye, fucking pyramids, fucking dicks in Disney movies, and they started being like, wait, what the fuck is going on. Cause this isn’t fucking American Horror Story on the fucking FX channel. I didn’t pay to go fucking watch Halloween, which I guess AMC is fucking $20 dollars a fucking movie ticket now, and thanks Netflix, yeah you saved us a bunch of fucking money, all the Adam Sandler you want for $9, but the world just closes the fucking gap, when I want to go see Aquaman and its fucking $65 dollars for 3 fucking people, and you don’t even have fucking candy tonight, and your drink station is out of fucking coca cola, fucking who the fuck is out of coca cola, its the only fucking drink you should never fucking run out of it, and then you have to pretend Diet Coke is fucking good, but it has that wierd fucking nutri-sweet taste that every 50 year old person who is on a diet drinks and thinks it works fucking great, yeah trying to watch calories Jim so I got a diet coke at lunch with my cobb salad, which by the fucking way all these diet drinks are super fucking dangerous for you, give you hypertension and mood swings, and fuck it, I don’t even fucking drink soda, fuck no, so I don’t give a fuck that you’re out of coca cola, I just thought like, if I was the manager here I would fucking fire the GM here for being out of coca cola, just means he doesn’t give a shit about core value type shit, there being R ratings on movies that you have to make a conscience effort to pay to go see, but Youtube being invented and now ratings don’t fucking matter, and I think I am watching Ryans Toy Review, and its fucking Elsagate, and no one is fucking doing anything to fucking stop it, like QANON still being all over instagram even though I thought Facebook had hearings to remove this shit? and they are owned by them, and because Kamala Harris thinks everyone should have access to a flu shot, shell tell you about it on her book tour, hey um, ask your boss , he I am uh going on a book tour instead of coming into work today, Ill check emails on my phone though okay, fucking get your hep B shot, and that is what is important, but its not, obviously because they elected Trump, because of these Youtube videos, that you didn’t realize was the number 1 voting issue for most americans right now. And now you fucking do, and will when you find out that Robert Mueller has worked for Trump the entire fucking time, and that Roy Cohn once called Trump the only person he has ever met who is a genius, the lawyer who worked on the red scare cases in the Senate where back in the 70s Joseph McCarthy era, tried to warn everyone that communism was inflitrating our government through insidious ways, and being reframed as socialism, through the Jenny on the Block, Jennifer Lopez works her ass off, on Living Color as a dancer originally, but now a maid in Manhattan, and eventually in second chance, a women without a degree who becomes a fortune 500 executive,  and you see the progression here, a bartender now congress women, Ocasio Cortez,  elected by the people from urban neighborhoods, to be the future of politics, with no prior experience, just street smarts, and you’re welcome. You have watched just enough movies to ensure you give us your vote. Which is exactly what we planned for to happen.  Ocasia and JLO, rags to riches. Wild animals trapped, caged, and kennel trained by the 1 percent, turned into your house cat who sits on the couch with you while you watch them on TV talk about women’s rights. The future of the IRS making more money is female.  We worked hard, and now we get taxed just like men. Its great. You should work too. And you. And you. All of you. Maybe one day you can be Selena, a Latina popstar whose tour manager kills them at a Best Western after embezzeling all their hard earned money to them, and their family, and right before you find out that Selena Gomez had emergency kidney surgery, and that was fucking weird she almost died because sounded healthy in her songs, but so did Demi Lovato before doing heroine a lot, and writing love on her arms. Thats a charity for cutters. Look, Instead of making 66 Billion dollars like Jeff Bezos wife for just being solid emotional support, with a Cynthia Nixon haircut, the red head from sex and the city, and being there for him, while he cried every day trying to make Amazon work, god dammit, it fucking never fucking ends, every fucking day he is anxious, paranoid and pissed off, and this marriage fucking sucks, but its kind of working, Amazon, so ill just do like Claire Underwood and wait it out, until he becomes President, and I see an opening, to maybe make myself President, when he gets voted off by the board, as CEO because of his dick picks the national enquire has, when he took his support for open borders too seriously, and kept texting that big tittied, fat assed spanish slut, Lauren Sanchez pictures of his cock, and weird things about breathing her in, I mean I agree, I would take a sniff of her ass too, and now because of the divorce, as his wife, I am majority shareholder. And he is pissed. Because basically you didn’t do shit, I am the one who pushed Zoe Barnes into the subway, and made us acquire whole foods for great distribution locations zoned in perfectly placed upper class white surburban neighborhoods, but also shouldn’t have fucked with Trump using the Washington Post to pester and demean him and his wife constantly, and daily. The least you can do is put in a good word for me Kim. Get me out of jail early for only a simple drug offense from the civil rights era. Babe, Honey, Bring me back to Amazon like Steve jobs back to apple in a few years, or better yet protect me from Trump because I don’t think he is done fucking with me yet. They say on 4chan I am headed to Guantonomo Bay.  You know, now that your president, and CEO, can you also pardon me for using data to exploit millions of unsuspecting american citizens in the guise of shopping, into voting for Hillary. And she hangs up. Its her turn. Like Jalen Hurts said to Saban as heads to Auburn as a graduate transfer. Jeffs phone rings. Its Mariah Carey, she saw his name in the Billionaire transfer portal.  Jesus, shell charge me 20 million dollars just for phone sex. Babe, what are you doing? Wearing a fur coat while sitting in my tub full of water and rose petals. What? Anyways look — its a jungle out there. And shit is getting wild. Chrissy Teigen is talking about vaginal steaming on New Years Eve countdown. Carson Daily wants to tell her to shut the fuck up, but can’t. Leo Dicaprio use to have a group of friends called the Pussy Posse. Then he grew up and got into Josh Rosens climate change cleats. Now he is almost as famous as that chef who sprinkles salt on people’s New York Strips in instagram videos. I don’t know what is going to happen, but Harrison has got a real shot here. Real chance. At pissing a lot of people off, and for a lot of money. Because I can’t stop clicking, and watching him tell me to suck his dick, literally right to my face, in his videos. I guess he signed his dick up for Uber Eats? Look, people pay for clicks now, and to watch other people online, from their couches in their cages, I mean homes, and wait for North Korea to launch another fucking rocket. Harrison the Kim Jon Un of Quarterbacks. To start a twitter war.  Like a wild animal. Unleashed. From the shackles of the CI, NCAA. My scholarship now an algorythm.

QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

Dreams

QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about how to dream. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do what you all think I’m gonna do, which is, you know, FLIP OUT! Hello.. Hello I’m looking for my wife. I am trying to decide which version of Tom Cruise that I am. I am driving home from work yesterday, and I am like, you know what. Seabass and the fellas offered to pick up our check. They said to just put it on their tab.. They are very nice. And I pulled into my driveway. My wife arriving with the groceries. She got me a lb of Mahi Mahi. I cooked it in butter and vinegar, with garlic and onion powder, salt and pepper, on top of cilantro lime rice. Brings me back to living in Tampa where I just ate seafood 5 days a week. Sea Trout. Blue Crab cakes. Like a champion. Fried Grouper sandwiches with cheddar cheese on top from Dockside Daves. Fucking $21 dollar sandwich. Just pound it with some ketchup. Fuck yeah mother fucker. I pull up in my expensive Zegna tie from Nordstroms that most of you reading this can’t afford but 1 a fucking year. But I can afford easily. Seriously go to fucking Zegna.com and click around. Try to buy one with your shitty budget. I fucking got my expandable waist Perry Ellises on from Steinmart. I get out of the truck, and leave it running, and go grab my tripod and camera. My wife is yelling at me to help with the fucking groceries. Babe, one fucking minute. I have to do something. I had a fever only cured by after work bombs. I grab my hundred dollar NFL football, which is scientifically made by NASA to be aerodynamically perfect for throwing spirals. You have to be fucking retarded not to be able throw a spiral with an NFL football. Bro you guys think Tom Brady deflates his footballs. You should have met this kid Ryan Perilloux from LSU. He snuck up on his sister one night in Hollygrove, and her boyfriend shot him in the fucking chest 2 times. He lifted his shirt up at the Elite 11, and has a nile river scar down the center of his body like a transformer tried to cut him in half looking for bumblebee. Nice kid, but everyone thought he had the strongest arm of all time. So fucking strong. In fact, one day at the end of an Elite 11 session. All the quarterbacks are sitting there sunning themselves alligators on a golf course. And no one throws fucking farther than H Beck. So I tell the Louisiana Purchase, Fucking Ryan Perilloux, fucking try it, I dare you. Yeah, use your fucking, I got my tires for $45 dollars used, for my mercedes, from the mexican tire shop, fucking deflated football. I am not fucking spending $200 a tire at Goodyear. Sorry. But he had the shitties deflated basketball football you have ever seen. I am talking like you find this fucking football in your garage, near a fucking smashed fast food cup, been laying there for 3 months, because you just haven’t been throwing lately, all weathered, like fucking armadillo skin fucking grip, fucking cause the last time you threw it was wet out, and you didn’t bother to go inside like Harrison, and take care of your widdle baby, and wipe its widdle nose and face down, give it scratches and kisses, love it, clean it up. You comfy now. Oh thats good widdle boo bear. Fucking clean your football up. Football keeps getting the fucking flu at school cause you don’t make it take baths at night, and brush your fucking teeth you been eating fucking candy. This nasty fucking deflated piece of shit, I don’t have an air pump fucking football you can dig your thumb into. He stands up, and with his dab, Micheal Vick, I never worked out in my entire life, I only do pushups, and fucking tie two gallons of water to each end of a broom stick, and do curls in the front yard, there is a bench press in my drive way, arm. He decides to launch his campaign for Presidency. And the ball goes decently far. Fucking Obama Hopes he beat me. Then Mark Sanchez stands up. This fucking quarterback competition was basically the current divide in our country. Fucking H vs. Jeb Bushes wife in a throwing contest.  Bro if you have ever met Mark Sanchez. He is actually kind of funny, but no one has more teeth in their mouth than this kid. Fucking perfect white glistening, perfectly sized teeth. A hundred of them. He stands up, and hes got a fucked up, elbow is way to rectangle, fucking looks like a construction CAT dumping fucking concrete, deconstructed wrist snap, fucking making a bird beak against a wall that has a night light on it, for your kid type throw. His pass went like 50 yards. Decent. At least Ocasia Cortez stood up for something. Chase Daniel can’t throw for shit, and most of them were too pussy. No I am good man. I only gel my hair before practice, and my fingers are slipping cause I have been sweating, but also trying to have great hair. Shoenhoft’s cheeks look like its constantly -15 degrees outside at all times. Rosia mother fucker. Anyways, I launched that football out there, way the fuck past past Flat Earths moon and the stars, and winked at Ryan Perilloux. He was close, but he knew I had that long dick too. Fucking roll out it like a fruit roll up. To measure the distance of my throw. Anyways — Kyle Orton fucking yelling at me to take a seven step drop on a comeback. Fuck off. I could throw better than him at 18, he should be concerned that he isn’t just obviously better than me. Instead drunk from the night before in Oakleys talking to me about how they do it at Purdue. Thanks Kyle Ill let you know the next time I am in Indiana trying to find out if Gunner Kiel is still alive. After his career was killed by head coaching candidate, who was interviewed by the Cardinals, and within minutes, they hired Kliff Kingsbury, because even though Zac works directly for Sean McVay, and Kliff saw him at a bar,  they were like, yeah but he use to be roommates with Justin Tomerlin, who died skateboarding outside his house. And I don’t know about you. But I don’t know one fucking person who died from riding a skateboard. I mean god bless his soul, but its like the Clintons. My grandma died and they made me kiss her goodbye one last time, and I am slobbering crying. All the neighbors are hugging me. Its gonna be okay. Its gonna be okay Harrison. No. I scream. No I will avenge your death grandma by becoming the greatest quarterback to ever live who the NFL won’t let me into their league because Bill Callahan is mad at me, and also because the CFL made Danny O’Brien stop following me on instagram, and also because the Spokane Shock wanted me to play for them, but kept checking my social media accounts, where I posted a lot of commentary that included the word fuck, and so guess what mother fucker. You get to fucking get kicked the fuck out of football, but not fucking really because instead you just fucking made videos of you throwing and posting it on twitter, and we never fucking expected you to fucking do that, and holy fucking shit it works. Fuck you. I love you grandma, and we are not hiring you zac because its not normal for someone to die on a skateboard, and through osmosis, some could say, in an avatar movie way where humans are nature, and nature is humans, and so the two co-exist karmically, and that a very small percentage of your influence, led to his choice, to skateboard without helmet, which what are you going to influence Josh Rosen to do. Just saying. He already goes to the aquarium 5 times a week.  So basically only my grandma and grandpa have ever died around me, yet people aren’t scratching their heads wondering why like 75 people have died around the Clintons. I don’t know, maybe they have more friends than me. Maybe they are going to those cocktail parties that Jeff Bezo’s wife said on twitter or in business insider were the reason that they were getting divorced after an amazon prime, I ordered cloths from there, 7 day trial to see if you like, fucking seperation, or being married to your wife of 25 years still. Where Jeff Bezos realized that he was a fucking billionaire, but to stay away from Mariah Carey because I guess you need a pre-nup just to date her from what she did to that other guy after just dating a few weeks, and also you better not pay hookers to piss on the bed where the Obama’s stayed, because someone would get paid to find that shit out, and deliver that Bob Knight choking a kid out, tape to CNN, in a brown paper fucking bag with no return address. Maybe I should have just stayed married like Bill Gates. Mckenzie, look I am not going to fucking ride in one my blue origin rockets and die. But you promised Jeff. I can’t go to talk to you every night at dinner, and you are reading the ratings and reviews of every product on Amazon every single night before bed or you can’t sleep. Babe just completed the sexual wellness shop, only ten more shops left. Brad it says that this catapolt in the toys for kids section, for 6 year old boys was delivered broken. Can you look into this? Also what does the inside of their house look like. So I can see if the customer is poor or not, and determine the way I treat them moving forward. Mckenzie gulps her wine and xanax, and turns on Bravo. Is Southern Charm cursed, why the fuck is everyone getting arrested? Its the Great Awakening- all of Eric Schmidts assets are frozen. Babe, I like George Micheal earrings, but whats the score of the Clemson game. You know what would fucking happen if Trevor Lawrence went pro this year. Ill tell you what would happen. He would be higher than Dabo, since its the offseason, and they don’t drug testing during the offseason, but during the season, when they do, they make you pull your pants down and stand over a fucking trash can on a dolly, with your dick out, while Dr. Jerry stares at the pee stream leaving your girdle schlong, into the fucking cup, just to make sure that when you got your new job offer, you didn’t go the urgent care with your girlfriends urine, hidden in your sweatshirt, in the bathroom by yourself, pouring it in there, adding a little bit of sink water, but fuck wait, I forgot she smokes weed too, fuck, no, more fucking sink water, im gonna pass I drank an entire pack of bottled waters and I feel dizzy, hey did I get the fucking job, actually sir it says too diluted, so you have to take it again, for real, okay, so I didn’t not pass, one more fucking chance, thank god, okay I am going to take a bunch of niacin, that navy sailors swear gets weed out of your system in 48 hours, and boom, wa la,  look I fucking passed. Hell yeah, now I get to make 40 thousand dollars feel like a million dollars, at the club, until I realize its not after my first promotion, and I can’t believe I worked like that for 1300 dollars a paycheck, fuck. And guess what, Dr. Jerry, you get to have two hundred thousand dollars of student debt and loans, and an unlimited amount of time watching dicks piss into a cup after football practice. Great fullback dick Dane. That and fucking taping peoples ankles. Hey do you have a job description? Yeah, basically you are going to tape ankles, and collect urine. But you get to be on the sidelines of every game. And see that double reverse pass verse Oklahoma that you needed to show Miami, when watching film for the national title, that year, that basically all we do is run the ball, and if you force us to pass, we have to do a double reverse where Mike Stuntz is throwing, fuck no, who never fucking played one fucking snap besides that silly fucking play, yet at practice acted like he was the one who should get all the reps, and who won the fucking Heisman, and so the game is over at that point, and also Eric, you get to sell playgrounds for eternity, because Miami made us throw now, and we can’t throw, only do reverses that fuck our team chemistry up. Hey its the price you pay man. You’re the one who wanted to trade your soul for the Heisman. Yeah I told you these blood diamonds were worth 15 million dollars Drew, but it turns out they are only worth 9 million. And my generals get mad at me when I ask why the fuck we are in Afganistan just fighting endless wars, and not fucking taking any minerals, but actually are, and I am trying to tell you on your special oval office address that the drug trade is a $500B dollar business, and that is bigger than Google, close to Apple, and every one thinks its just the kid in the dorm next door, you pay 25 dollars to roll a blunt of that Dabo. I see your point. I think I should do a better job listening, and not just hearing the democrats rebuttal. Hey guys, we are here, the party of feminism, to show you how only a man can lead this country, and your family, and even though in the late 60’s we developed a movement called feminism, to empower women to get to work, because we realized that we were only taxing men, and unlike China who hates when you have a female child, basically because they don’t think they are strong enough to till land, even though no one does that anymore, we love women working and feeling confident enough to also get taxed on their paycheck now too, doubling our revenue, and also leaving their child to the public school system, where we have a better chance of teaching them how to become a factory worker, hey son what did you learn at school today? Tell me later because I just got off work, and all I want to do is fucking everything I couldn’t fucking do at work, even though nobody was emailing, or had any questions today, and I just sat there with my thumb up my ass wondering why I am gaining weight because I don’t have time to workout, because fucking people who go workout after work obviously don’t love the limited time they get to see their kids, or do they love their kids, because they are working out, and not slowly dying, and that dilemma of either lasting until they are old enough to take care of themselves, and don’t need you and your job & paycheck, or if you should just not workout, stay home and play with them while you can, because both your dad and granpda died at 39 from heart disease, and you’re starting to get chest pains, and pretty sure you only have 8 years left to live. Fuck yeah. Get it son. Fucking get that shit. Go fucking deep. Go further. I always play catch with folks. And they walk around the fucking office, and fucking at family events, come up to me with their fucking beers, and fucking talk to me like they are allowed to just come fucking talk to me. Whenever they want, and use up my fucking any time minutes. Hey man, let me tell you a fucking story about my fucking life, yeah I use to be great at fucking roping horses, or fucking gymnastics, or fucking whatever the fuck I wasn’t fucking great at because obviously when I google your name a lot more fucking people know you than fucking me, and you obviously were like the #3 quarterback in the fucking world, and when I was a kid my mom just kept wondering what she did wrong to not at least get to me be a starting quarterback even just fucking once, just one fucking trophy, one fucking thing where everyone wanted to watch my fucking son, not someone elses fucking son, not someone elses kids fucking performance, my sons’ fucking performance. God damn what would that feel like. That is life man. God either gives you a nice sized dick, or you fucking shower after practice at home. Hey Barry what the fuck are you doing? Why are you jerking off in your locker? Im not dog. I am just trying to get some blood in my meat so I can show out in the shower. When you are a star you can just grab them by the pussy. Its just locker room talk. That is not fucking locker room talk. Okay yeah. What fucking locker room have you been in? I got fucking teammates jerking off before the showers. Man Barry is hyper competitive. Not only did he win in the Oklahoma drill today, but Charles Hayley pulled his cock out, and once put it on Matt Millens shoulder when they were with the cowboys. And since the NFL doesn’t have an HR, the only major company in the world without one, no one did anything. Get your dick off me man, was about it. Hey, he sacks the quarterback, and all the coaches foreheads.  Anyways life is all about perception. What do people think? I am listening to end of my Mike L Severe interview yesterday. My heart feels all warm and fuzzy. Man Mike is so nice. Says I am not fucking racist piece of shit that 3 pages on Huskers Illustrated a bunch of limp dick, fucking hot dog eaters, fucking babe, no babe, No I will take you on a fucking date, as soon as I get done letting my peers know that although I watch Harrison’s videos on his twitter 50 x a fucking day, and actually dear god, this mother fucker is unreal, fucking great stuff, I need to type an othello siliquoy about how my mom wishes that I was him, and not calling her every semester to make sure she paid my student tuition, and also I need money for books. Here is a fucking tip from H. Rent them on fucking Chegg. You know. Better yet. Set up a schedule with your classmates and you get the book on Monday, they get the book on Tuesday. You know what, fuck that. Go to the fucking student center for athletes where they paid a fucking graduate student to sit at a fucking computer with you, and hold your fucking hand, and I didn’t actually learn shit in college, except for this one fucking kid, who sat there while I typed every fucking sentence, and got approval, and by the 10th or 11th paper, I was like omg I actually did learn to read and write, this is fucking incredible. Oh shit I have a 5 page paper due on Hamlet. I am just going to go to Spark Notes, read the book in literally half hour, and write 3-5 sentence paragraphs using most of the notes from it, but right clicking the synonyms button to change every other word to a word that kind of fits, and then spell check it, I just wrote a sentence that feels too similiar, okay you know what the point of the sentence was, so just delete the sentence, and write it again, but in your own words, and you rewrite the sentence, and yeah that works. Save. Now its definitely my work. Bro you have to be the dumbest mother fucker in the history of the fucking world not get an A or B in every single college class. I swear to god. I got a master degree and all I had to do was write 1 paper a fucking semester with 20 plus citations in it. Had three months to write the entire paper. Man you going to graduate soon. I don’t know mom they fucking are only letting me write 1 paper every fucking four months for the next two years. I tried to just say hey can I take like fucking the entire master degree in that four months, and they said no I need spanish 200. You will not fucking graduate unless you learn fucking spanish. Why? For what? Because the whole world will be fucking spanish soon because we aren’t letting Trump build the wall, because Nancy Pelosi is only allowed to stand there and not say 1 fucking word you here me Nancy. You just look fucking straight at the camera. Yes I know this podium feels like a twin bed. But its against a wall. So take the wall side, as close as you can get. I will take the side where I will worry about falling off all night. And we will choose to sleep at our friends house after the bar, and not just take an Uber fucking home, because we wanted one more fucking cocktail at 2am. And they went home and got into their pajamas and basketball shorts, and I get to sleep in my fucking buffalo jeans tonight. Man fuck spending the night at your friends house. If I was at home I could wake up in the middle of the night and chug half a gallon of milk. Because nothing cures vodka stomach like Vitamin D milk at 4am. I always wondered why my alcoholic father drank so much milk. Now I fucking know. Touche my lord. Touche. Rest in Peace. I better not fucking find out that Stone Cold Steve Austin has been drinking canned water this whole time. Those better be Stevewiesers. I was always Stone Cold Steve Austin when I was kid and we did fake wrestling matches. I would fucking dead serious run up on someone in the locker room and just stun their ass. Fucking homecoming night, and everyone is celebrating, fucking laughing. HAHAHAH! so fucking funny man. High school kids having a great fucking time. Until H gets to the fucking locker room, and rips the fucking door, and tells everyone to just shut their fucking mouths, and not say a fucking word. I better not hear a fucking peep. And my high school coach is like Jesus Christ, son. Are you on steroids? This kid isn’t fucking playing. Even he shuts the fuck up. Fucking sit there, and we will fucking wait until its time to go back out. Drawing fucking homecoming on the fucking chalk board, with flowers and shit. Get the fuck out of here. Everyone thinks its all jokes. Its all fucking game. Oh look there is H in a field by himself fucking throwing passes in high school  to no one. Just running to go get the balls. Loosing some. In the brush. But then looking and finding it. Let me count. Okay I still have 10 balls. Fucking you want to throw guys. No we want to go home and fucking play video games, and fucking basketball with each other. Fuck you. I fucking go throw by myself. Hundreds of throws. Until it was fucking dark out. Fucking mom knew not to even come until fucking 6pm. I get out of school at 1pm. Fucking five straight hours of throws by myself. You wonder why my arm is so fucking strong. Because I throw all fucking day. All fucking day long. I don’t ice my fucking arm. I don’t fucking take days off to let it rest. Its fucking like a pair of leather fucking boots. Aged fucking steaks. Tendons stronger than fucking the ligaments on a triple crown horses knee cap. My forearms are the size of fucking sailboat catfish bellies. If you forgot to bring a fucking neck pillow on the airplane, I would just put my forearm behind your girlfriends head, and the meat would feel like a fucking perfectly firm hotel pillow. Each one of my fucking fingers has biceps. I don’t know what that doctor did to my fucking right hand at NC State, or the one did to my thumb in high school when that kicker fucking kicked my thumb and broke it, piece of shit mother fucker, but I have a fucking, I collect stones like Thanos fucking hand. Fucking the movie the Rookie but instead of breaking my arm, my fucking hand, thats why I can now throw fucking rockets, fucking hand. Swear to god I have the abdomen of a fucking mako shark. Dead serious. I can swim 60 fucking miles per hour under the fucking ocean water. Water usually slows things down like when you paddle, or workout in those pool classes old ladies do at the fucking gym, and they try to convince you that swimming in the best exercise, but then you date a swimmer who was hot, but she has huge fucking shoulders. I can swim fucking faster than her too. Fucking thighs like Goro from fucking Mortal Kombat. You have to fucking beat all those fucking losers in that long ass list of people who take lots of creatin and do skull crushers at the gym, to fucking get to me and my fucking squat over 600 pounds of horse dick fucking legs. Strong ass fucking flexible ankles. I can put weight on any fucking part of my foot and its just fucking fine to balance me. Ill tell you what Kim Solziack you fucking spend $25,000 more fucking dollars at the Casino in all cash, on an episode of Don’t be tardy for the party. And I won’t do fucking shit. Because you got some big ass fucking titties. Gift from God. Fucking me. I am. And I thank you god. Seriously, Thank You. Dead serious. I could be one of my fans. But I do have some advice for how you can change your life. I want you to go to the mirror, and look at yourself, and think about the words that I have written. And realize that Tylenol PM works just as good as Vodka. For trying to get a good nights sleep. Folks say that if you put your finger into the palm of your hand every day, pretty soon you will put your finger into the palm of your hand in your dreams. That is why a lot of athletes talk about seeing themselves play before they play. Or playing the game before playing the game. And I close my eyes. I see me. Like Eleven in Stanger Things in that all black space. and there is one football. On the ground. I pick it up. Feel the grip. 85 percent inflated 1005. Perfect. And I throw it, and it disappears into the black. And all I hear is the crowd cheering. Harrison, Harrison, Harrison. Then I wake up. And I take those fingers that I was putting into the palm of my hand, that were supposed to be in my dreams. And I begin the process of trying to fuck your mom before work.

QBLesson - Quarterback & Football

High

QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about that natural high. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. How fucking hard is it, the optometrists job at Lens Crafters, to see if Dabo needs glasses or not? Dabo read the fucking letters on the wall. H I G H. As fuck.  His eye lids are permanently sitting in a recliner chair at Nebraska furniture mart. A rep walks by — comfy chair man. I forget I had reclined it all the way back and closed my eyes. And had been sitting there for a solid ten minutes. No I am good. Just checking it out. The nerve of him fucking thinking I was going to buy this fucking chair because I am lounging in it, sprawled out, like I just fucking got home from work. I am not going to randomly buy a 3600 dollar piece of furniture even if you do have great payment plans and other options for purchase, and its zero down today because of New Year pricing. Why did I even fucking come here before the movies? I get up. I walk over to another chair, and do the same fucking thing. But something is different. I reach down, and I can only feel my wallet. Fuck. I know I brought my fucking phone in here. Because I send a fucking tweet every 10 minutes. God dammit. Babe, do you have my phone in your purse? No, fuck. I look at my apple watch. It shows that its connected to my phone still, and it only works if it is like within 30 feet of it via blue tooth.  Even though the ATT rep told me I could go on a jog without my phone and still call people to pick me up if I get tired and still have to run all the way fucking back home, because the 711 is just the halfway point. Bro never run past 2 miles because there is no fucking point, and its not safe, and no one gives a shit if you are in good enough shape to do the fucking dishes at home. Because basically when you grow up, all you do is go to work, and fucking do the dishes a lot. Fucking cook chicken breasts that smell great, low and slow in butter with the dial on 6 for 15 minutes a side, and a strip of bacon, vinegar in there for some smoke flavor, but you can’t eat it yet because you need to fucking clean up the pan first, because no one wants to fucking eat dinner, and not just fucking be done, that is why they invented restaurants for you to pay higher prices to eat, so someone else would do the fucking dishes for you, I buy paper towels and use them instead of having to wash rags constantly, should I just buy paper plates, hmm, no thanks, waste of money, I use heart and heath $10/ fixxer upper show, from Target plates, that are black, with golden silver wear, at home, so now I have to fucking do the dishes, and I am not going to eat this fucking chicken and rice unless when I am fucking done, I can go straight into the next thing I want to fucking do, which isn’t the fucking dishes. I want to pour a vodka powerade, be showered, and watch the fucking Vanderpump Rules. I don’t need to be washing my hands a lot once I already showered. You never know when you are going to get some pussy, and you should always have your hands washed before you touch someones pussy. Wow. So basically my phone is lost, and I have no fucking service because the phone store rep lied to me trying to make a sale on Christmas. And I am panicking. I can’t even go get more coffee at work without it. I have a closer relationship to my phone than Adam Shefter. If I leave my phone in my office, I feel like I go zero dark thirty for like 5 minutes, like everyone trapped in that embassy in Benghazi for 30 minutes trying to call Hillary who keeps call forwarding their messages. I am different I always answer. I never fucking go more than 5 minutes without my fucking phone. Some one could fucking text me something that I have to respond to immediately. Like, Kingsbury to the Cardinals, from a number I don’t recognize because they use that phone scrambling service uber uses for its passengers, and how to do you get that when you are just a person, not a huge company. To protect the fact they are Steve Keim. Shefter nudges Trey Wingo. Sources say its a done deal. Kliff to Arizona. Yeah Gase hates Rosen. Ten minutes later. Kliff looks at his phone, oh thats swanny. Hey Lynn, whats up? I thought I fucking told you that you couldn’t interview for fucking head coaching jobs. Lynn I am at fucking Jasons Deli eating a beef eater. Wtf are you talking about. Mort just said he is all cured from cancer again, and that you just met with the Cardinals. Lynn relax, I am just doing a little sightseeing. I am riding a bird around rodeo drive, and shopping with Will Smiths son Jayden. We bought some crystals. I am not going anywhere. Fucking better not, Gosling. Thats near where OJ killed Nicole for cheating too. Hangs up. Kliff licks his ice cream cone. Block your number, why the fuck is USC always hiring former players as their AD, he mumbles, as a random 402 number rings through. Who the fuck is this? Its probably a reporter from the Nebraska school paper who wants to write an article on Harrison. Messages from phone numbers I don’t know are the real enemy of the people. Umm who is this? This better not be someone from fucking college who found my number on Linked In. Oh it is, great fucking detective work. Yeah man I am doing good. Lets both watch the same thing on TV at the same time and text about it. It will be like we are hanging out in person. Look, it goes against my core values to not respond, and reconnect with my friend Brian who I only text, and never see in person, because I am too lazy to travel to the state he lives in, to actually spend time with him and his family. This is what society has become. Instead of just using AOL Instant Messenger in high school for a few hours like I used to do, and cyber on it for a little bit, before my folks told me to get the fuck off the computer, and come eat dinner. Mom, my girlfriend just sent me a picture of her tits finally after lots of typing, and convincing. They put messenger on your phone, called it texting, everyone from AOL got fired for not thinking of it first, and now you can take instagram pictures of your food  from the fucking table too. Yeah I don’t actually eat it, cause its a little too healthy and doesn’t taste good, and that is why there are no fast food vegan places, but there are Burger Kings. And you can never escape your friends. Cable guy. Looking through the camera hole on top of your phone. Hey man, you in there? What are you doing? Tell me. I seen you read that shit. and you. seen you live streaming. Tell me motherfucker, now. I am not touching my quinoa until I get your thoughts on the trump tweet. Oh no response for longer than an hour. Oh okay. Cool.  Because I fucking hate fucking people who I send them a fucking text, and they don’t fucking respond. Fine fuck you. You want to hide under the fucking truck Pistol. Go ahead. I am done laying on the fucking concrete in a pushup position trying to grab and text you, fucking calling your fucking name. Fuck it. Don’t come when I fucking call you, or say treats, even though I don’t have one, and as soon as I get my hands on you, I am going to spank your little furry wiener dog ass, but I actually won’t because I love you, and I am gentle natured. You better come when I fucking call you, next time. As at the last minute I here the jingling of his collar running through the door just as it closes. Good doggy. Here is a 4 dollar bully stick the size of a fucking pretzel. Great gas prices, but they are just recouping the costs in expensive ass dog treats.  Where the fuck is my fucking phone. Worst possible scenario. I cant even find the TV remote in my couch at home, and I have two. 1 for Netlfix and Apps, and 1 for cable. So I need both because of the input button on the Netflix one. Lost it in a fucking furniture store. Fuck I have to remember all the fucking recliners I have sat in the last hour. I think I do. No babe its in the truck. I don’t believe you, but I am pretending to, because I hope that it is, and that I didn’t lose it. I get down the escalator and my apple watch shows a no service signal. Fuck, it is upstairs. I turn around. And run back up the steps, and the apple watch signal lights up green. Okay its somewhere in one these 400 recliners. I know it. I go to this one fucking chair I fucking hated, stiffer than honey moon dick, and I reach into the crevice on the side, and boom my fucking phone is right fucking there. I almost gronk spiked that mother fucker. Fuck you. Just because I didn’t fucking like your ass, you’re just gonna steal my fucking phone. Little bitch. Ill never fucking buy you ever. I hope you get mad at halftime, and have to end your fucking coaching career walking up a lonely tunnel by yourself while the team is inside in the locker room giving speeches using the Foo Fighers Here Comes my Hero lyrics, behind your back because its our fucking team now, as soon as we get into congress we are going to impeach that mother fucker, were not gonna take it, fucking, because the players are tired of your 1990’s Jack Welch vertical management, org chart, Steve Sarkisian left after one fucking game because of how fucking mean you are and he doesn’t want to start drinking again to deal with the verbal abuse, fucking you work for me and I better not see one fucking 5 star recruit from your region get signed anywhere but fucking here and why the fuck isn’t Trevor Lawrence my fucking quarterback cause he is from fucking the state right next door app to us Georgia, who is the fucking coach assigned to that territory, and, no one better ever tell the fucking media I am giving our star running back shots for the cartilidge in his knee, dad I never wanted but also never had, Lane get the fuck out of my fucking office, you got a lot of talent but are squirrelly, here is a fucking golden parachute job at Florida Atlantic, that’ll wonder why Butch Davis is having more success at Florida International, and why the fuck are there so many colleges in Florida that are up and coming, Nebraska only has 1 fucking team, lucky I fucking respect your dad, fuck this team for fucking up my legacy, type coach. We want to play for Dabo. Coach Lance on his fucking crutches. Lost his full scholarship to FSU when he tore his ACL before they could just have surgery that places screws in your ankle, and it use to take a year and a half to recover, but you’ll be ready in 2 weeks, and now the only injury left to conquer is Dez Bryants achilles, and basically no one will ever have to worry about Vinny Testeverde missing an entire season again from simply dropping back in the first quarter the first game the first drive of the season. You guys coming to the Bahamas. No we are out. My grandpa died. Dez I know you posted 30 videos a day of you sitting down catching passes on your butt on instagram to prove you just needed your hands, the same way weak armed quarterbacks claim they only need to be cerebral, but its fucking pat and go, and you’re already out for the fucking season. God damn son. I better not catch you on twitter fucking rooting for the Cowboys in the fucking playoffs. Especially if we play them mother fuckers. Ill be fucking watching for that shit. You fucking hear me. Try that shit. Fucking once. Try it. Fucking Ocasia Cortez says a lot of her tweets never see the light of day. I dare you. Type a fucking subweet from the training room while you are sitting with your ankle in the gameready for 150 straight hours like Terrell Owens, except you’re out for the season, and he actually cared enough to come back and have 150 yards receiving in the Super Bowl, but yeah don’t put him in the HOF because is fucking selfish, not the reason the cowboys cut Dez this off-season, and send that fucking tweet about Sean Payton having shot glasses for eyes, post it and fucking delete it. Before someone sifting for gold on the beaches of the internet selfie snapshots that nugget, and it gets 10,000 likes in 5 minutes, before the news has to make a correction that its actually not true, and the correction only gets a few likes, and that is how the deep state is spreading lies all over the internet about Trump using twitter. But here is the real story.  I wonder how Moxon, and Tahj Boyd feels knowing basically he was the quarterback who created the Clemson New World Order. He is the Vint Serf of the internet. Everyone talks about Larry Page of Google Search, and Deshaun Watson’s belenciago sweatshirt, but Tahj was the in-vitro who allowed Khloe to finally have a baby, and Tommy Bowden to birth Dabo. The first players coach to not die from friendly fire. Yeah we love coach, but will also most likely get him fired like Larry Coker, setting Miami back decades, almost canceling their program again, because when you are a manager you are not supposed to be able to be friends with your employees because then you can’t fire them. The opposite of Saban. Give him the shot. You give that shot and you find yourself another fuckin quarterback. You’re about ready to lose that scholarship. If it keeps that needle out of Tua’s and Wendells leg. Fuck it. I’m out. Oh that’s good. That’s real good. Jalen, Tweeder you take the snaps. No I am out, coach. Im with them. Saban lunges at Mike Locksley. You think you’re already at fucking Maryland and losing games, and a players lives is acceptable. Saban has to be restrained. Alright, get your helmets on. Lets go. Let’s go now god dammit. I’m walking out that door, and I want you all to trust me. And follow me out there. Let’s go. Lets’ go. Let’s go after that title now. Bobby Knight gets canned at Indiana because the players are tired of him throwing fucking chairs at them for trying to learn how to play basketball better in college, so they can try to get drafted to go to the pros. There is only a 2 fucking percent chance son, and I am not going to be the first coach to give people maybe a 4 percent chance. And the NCAA is not going to let Trevor Lawrence go pro for 2 more years, even though Steve Jobs made $200M at Apple with a high school degree at the age of 19. Not gonna fucking happen. 2 percent chance for fucking ever. For all of you. The dolphins will be fucking fishing for franchise quarterbacks for fucking ever, every 10 fucking years, someone randomly fucking finds one. That is the way I fucking like it. We can’t just use college to develop these fucking quarterbacks and every NFL team gets a quality high caliber passer. No we have to fucking convince them to stay and help us get great ratings at two more national title games and not pay them for it, or stay at Alabama as backup quarterbacks to starters they are actually better than, because Jalen has never thrown a pick in a national title game, and actually had a walk off run for a touchdown to beat Clemson, and again Saban for being such a fucking defensive genius continually fucking loses to any boxer Mike Tyson punches and doesn’t get knocked out within the first three blows, and says man, Fuck Evander Holyfield, who looks at Mike and says, bro were going 12 fucking rounds, and Tua says, no were are not because as soon as I start losing or the pressure gets to great I pretend another lineman stepped on my ankle and I have to leave the game, and Hawaii to come here, which is pretty expensive for a family to move to Alabama from, I mean considering packing up all your shit, and jars of various sands from your travels around the world, and shipping it overseas, only to rent more rental trucks, to find and buy a house, and unpack, and then find out the National Title is in California, and dear fucking god, when will the fucking expenses slow down babe, another fucking bill,  how many fucking IPhones do we fucking have 8, you can’t fucking break the screen of every fucking iphone you fucking get, I can’t find mine, and just think I am going to go fucking lease another one because its only seventy dollars to get, and I can’t see the $1,500 dollars behind it, and people keep wondering why apple isn’t selling more iphones because duh, fucking everyone is fucking leasing them, like your scholarship is on lease Tua, ever since you threw a pick six to start the game on a day 1 installation speed out pass, that Harrison predicted you would melt down ever since Jalen, who we should have done the same fucking thing to you we did to him last year, but didn’t do, because then folks will just think I am copying myself, which is okay, that still means its original, because its your idea, and besides there is a blackstreet , B2K, Jackson 5, the heisman finalists this year, lots of copies of urban boy bands, and you didn’t try to replicate Mike Leach’s offense at a bunch of different colleges with limited success, but keep hiring those same coaches to do it again and again. The point is that Tua, you are the most expensive fucking future NFL backup I have ever fucking recruited here since every quarterback who goes to Alabama always becomes a backup in the NFL, guaranteed. Even AJ Mcarron who has 3 national title rings, and you only have 1, so that still makes him a bigger star at any booster or charity event we hold on campus, that Tommy Frazier is forced to go to if he wants his fucking rent check. You fucking say Hi to Harrison ten fucking times on his recruiting trip you hear me mother fucker. Tua go get AJ McCarron some fucking sparkling cider apple juice champagne you fucking Sinbad haircutted mother fucker who is probably telling his dad right now at his 1 bedroom apartment he had to rent because the move was so expensive, that you want to transfer back to Hawaii and play for Nick Raviolovich. Who George O’leary wanted Harrison to go to UCF when he left Nebraska, but they fucking suck cock. So Harrison didn’t want to live 5 miles from Disney world and deal with that traffic, and didn’t call him or talk to him, and George resented that, and Harrison later realized was probably a mistake because he wanted to live close to home too, like Tua did when he asked his folks to move from aesthetic japan to here. But Coach Ravioli says no thanks, because the ocean water in Moana says you have broken the tribes trust by trying to save the tribes people, like Marcus Mariota and basically every other failed quarterback from Hawaii, you thought you were going to change that perception, they wouldn’t break their ankle to play in their NFL playoff game, but did, and didn’t. We need someone with some fucking moxie around here. What do you think Moxon?  Moxon stands up, relieved that Kilmer didn’t alter his transcipts and he lose his scholarship to Brown, wants to deliver one final speech and oddly say the word fuck a lot for it being a movie about high school teenagers playing football, but feels more like a college football team with all the sex, drugs, stealing cop cars, and if I was Coach Kilmer I would be a fucking dickhead too because the whole fucking team is running rampant, because its the 90’s and there is no fucking Ian Rapport tweeting breaking news that you bought an entire house just to relax, do blow and fuck one of Jim Kellys mistresses that his wife knows about, in Dallas, and basically there would be no Brett Favre, Dan Marino selling cocaine at Pitt, if social media was around back then, we got a few years left boys, lets go win the district champion after my speech, and tweeder tucks his fucking hip pads back into his fucking hip pad pockets. Folks, listen up. From the Rose Garden of Emmit Smiths White House.  Before this game, Kilmer said, ’48 minutes for the next 48 years of our lives. I say fuck that. I say, fuck that. Let’s go out there and we’ll play the next 24 minutes for the next 24 minutes, and we will leave it all out of the field. Except for Lance because he is the new head coach so he has to stay here, and get hired by the school board first, and get a teaching degree from a local community college, and deal with his dad not being able to understand why there isn’t universal healthcare, Switzerland has it, thats proof it works, they are the size of Rhode Island, so someone could have just fixed my son’s fucking knee easily, and son okay so you didn’t go to FSU, go to fucking Sam Houston State, I guaranfuckingtee they will take you, I don’t get why you are just giving up your entire fucking life, especially when you can hit a beer can off my head on the first try,  because of one fucking knee injury, that in the scene where you at the hospital having surgery they acted like you were the linebacker who died in that car accident in remember the titans. And if life is a computer simulation and sunshine is gay, then that is a precursor to Aaron Rodgers oddly wearing a Freddie Mercury mustache, and being the quarterback who looks like Blake Shelton from the movie Valentines Day with Ashton Kutcher. But just like every black president in every movie since Deep Impact preparing us for Barak Obama, that Trevor Lawrence was going to beat Alabama in the national title.  This halftime scene in Varsity Blues is what happened to Nick Saban last night, and what seems to also be happening to Tom Brady & Belicheks relationship. Folks are tired of maniacal, I can only work for a team for 4 years before having to leave because I have worn thin every single pencil in this drawer, I mean person in these border cages, I mean facility Jim Harbaugh type of coach. You saw what happened to Woody Hayes when he tried to punch a Clemson player. Its a New Fucking Day at Ohio State. Urban Meyer’s Percy Harvin migraines are gone. Coach, we fucking play in a dome- why the fuck are we practicing outside in the cold and snow? And can you please get to fucking meetings, and press conferences on time. Matt Patricia is just another autumn leaf falling to the ground from the Belichek coaching tree that includes Saban losing the national title now, and both of them consistently losing to people who are higher than the power of the god that Nick Foles teaches kids about in Sunday School in the off-season. But him being high too, and wearing sandals with jeans a lot. I am like Jalen and Moxon man, I don’t even care about starting. I want to read a book during the games. Learn. Open my mind to something other than West Texas. and Doug Pedersons Brett Favre stories Ty Detmer told him, that he heard from hassleback. Listen to the words taught by Spencer Pratts from the Hills, crystals, Kliff bought from his facebook marketplace ad. All these rappers have their own strands of weed now. I think its time to take recruiting to a higher level. No more dressing in the school uniform with dad on instagram, or getting beat by him last night.  Per Tuas mom to Tom Rinaldi. 3 lashes, 1 for each pick and the loss. Its time for a new strain of weed called Dabo. One fucking hit, and Chris Collinsworth will teach you about above-the-rim throws. That Alabama couldn’t defend in the red zone. I don’t know. I am fucking done. Saban is 1-2 years away from the biggest recruiting scandal in the history of football and the world, and Alabama being given the SMU death penalty. How about that for a little dab will do ya?