Dr. Stella Handworker:  So Joe…tell me about your relapse.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  I understand it can be difficult, especially so soon afterwards, but Joe…I think it’s important we confront this problem early and make sure it doesn’t take root.  I understand you’ve been having some confidence issues lately…would you like to talk about it?

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Joe, you have to understand that there’s nothing you can do about other people’s opinions of you.  You can’t dwell on negative thoughts and let them take over your life otherwise you’ll never be fulfilled, either professionally or spiritually.  All you can do is go out there and accept what’s happened in the past and do your best on every play.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Joe, you can’t just ignore your problems…[phone rings]…one second Joe, I need to take this.  Hello?

John Harbaugh:  Doc, he did it again.  The motherfucker did again.  Sometimes I wonder what the hell he’s even doing at practice…I mean, he’s physically there, but it’s like he’s dead behind the eyes.  Almost like he’s haunted.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Go on…[makes "one second" hand gesture at Joe Flacco]

John Harbaugh:  I just have no idea what it is, but something’s obviously been bothering him.  Every time you try and talk to the guy…you know, try to help him out, he just snaps and accuses you of not giving him enough credit.  His emotional detachment has hurt the team and it’s bringing the whole lockerroom down…HOLY SHIT, HAVE YOU SEEN THE ACT OF VALOR COMMERCIAL?!?!

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Of course I have, John…it looks amazing.  And sorry to interrupt, but I’m going to have to call you back, I’m with a patient at the moment.  [hangs up]  Sorry Joe, where were we?

Dr. Stella Handworker:   Right, your relapse.  Joe…[phone rings]…sorry again, my secretary is out for the week.  This will only take a minute…hello?

 Cam Cameron:  Why does everyone hate me?  I’m stuck trying to make chicken salad out of chickenshit [sobs]…and I can’t just give it to Rice every play or we’ll get too predictable [sobs]…and even when I do a good job I still feel like I have to run an offense that’ll hold Flacco’s hand [sobs]…and I’m in a no-win situation [sobs]…and sometimes I just feel like going home and taking a bunch of…

Dr. Stella Handworker:  [under her breath] Oh, I do NOT have time for this…Cam?  CAM?!?  YOU MUST BE DRIVING THROUGH A TUNNEL, YOU’RE BREAKING UP.

 Cam Cameron:  But I’m at home…

Dr. Stella Handworker:  [hangs up]…right where were we?

 [phone rings]

Dr. Stella Handworker:  My goodness…apologies again.  Hold that thought, Joe…Yes?

Derrick Mason:  BWAHHAHAHAHAHAHA THAT MOTHERFUCKER DID IT AGAIN!!!  HE AINT EVER GONNA BE SHIT!!!  I WAS THE BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN…

Dr. Stella Handworker:  [hangs up with scared look on face]…Joe, I think we’ve reached a plateau in your therapy.  You keep making the same mistakes over and over again and I think we need to try a new approach.  I’m going to put a series of photos designed to disturb you on the projector and tell me whom you’re going to throw too or if you’re going to hold the ball within a second, ok?

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Lets start with an easy one, your old friend Derrick.

Dr. Stella Handworker: Joe?

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Dumpoff to Rice!  Good job Joe!  Lets do another one…

Dr. Stella Handworker:  What are you going to do, Joe?

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Joe, we talked about this…you can’t just automatically give it to Ray Rice.  Sure, it’s not the worst thing to do in the world, but eventually you’re going to have to take some shots downfield.  I want to get you out of your comfort zone a little bit Joe…what about this one?

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Joe?

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Joe…don’t be scared.  This exercise is designed to force you to make difficult decisions quickly and rely on the instincts you’ve been questioning recently.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Something’s making you nervous, I can tell.  Joe, this is a safe place…nobody’s going to hurt you in this room.  Open up and tell me what’s the matter.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Joe, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you.  Lets try one more, but before I show you, Joe, understand that we’re about to salve an open wound…I want to see how you react and make sure that you’re not still beating yourself up over this.  We’ve made so much progress with putting the immediate past behind you and moving on, we want to make sure you’re still on the right path.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Oh Joe…[sigh]…I want to help you.  There are people who care about you that are concerned.  We love you, Joe.  You can do it this time!  We believe in you!

Dr. Stella Handworker:  There you go!  Cmon Joe!

John Harbaugh:  Yea buddy!  You can do it!

Anquan Boldin:  Holy shit he’s gonna do it!

Ray’s Minor and Major:  HE’S FINALLY GONNA DO IT!!!

Jim Zorn:  Trust your training Joe.  I’ve left an indelible mark on you during our training, young Jedi…you have truly usurped the master.  Use the force, Joe…and may the force be with you.  Never forget our time together.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  Oh no…

John Harbaugh:  NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Cam Cameron:  YOU PROBABLY COST ME MY JOB, YOU ASSHOLE.

Anquan Boldin:  Wonder what Kurt’s up to…

Derrick Mason:  BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jim Harbaugh:  Need a hand, John?

John Harbaugh:  Wha?  How the hell did you get in here?  Not now, Jim…I’m dealing with…

Jim Harbaugh:  jk lol

John Harbaugh:  That guy has to be the world’s biggest asshole.

Terrelle Pryor:  You’ll be throwing to me one day!

Mike Vick:  You wanna know how I still played after getting the shit kicked out of me all year?  Right hyah, lawya.  Hey hey hey, smoke weed every day.

Ray Rice:  [waves while open in the flat]

Watching the entire time, Troy Polamalu flies in at the last minute and intercepts the pass.

Dr. Stella Handworker:  [clears schedule]

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Every time I click on a forbes.com link, I have the same mindset.  ”Maybe THIS is the time where forbes.com got their heads out of their asses and quit this whole slideshow bullshit.”  Every.  Single.  Time.

And, likewise, every single time I click on the link and see that absolutely nothing has changed, I feel like a jackass.  It’s like they’re laughing at me.  ”AHAHAHAH…look who came back.  The retard who thinks that we, FORBES, will change our ways to make our site more navigable and readable.  What a fool.”

If it weren’t forbes.com and say, icanhazcheezburger.com or whatever, it wouldn’t be an issue because they’re not pretentious rich assholes.  But forbes.com?  Oh, they’re pretentious rich assholes.  They’re going to make us click each and every one of those slides if we truly want that information, and God forbid that you want to go back and see a previous one…hope you remembered which slide it was.

And the whole time you get this sense that they’re not changing it for no other reason than to be known as those assholes that make internet navigating as difficult as possible.  Nevermind that the site itself loads slower than shit or that you often have to resize the page just so you can find the ‘next’ button, the simple fact that their core method for delivering information is a fucking SLIDESHOW is the biggest problem.

There’s an adage that goes something like “a politician is someone who, upon seeing light at the end of the tunnel orders more tunnel,” and you can’t help but apply that quote to this awful, bullshit site for a shitty money magazine that’s probably written, published, read and marketed solely to rich, white assholes who fear change like it’s the fucking apocalypse.

Then again, it could just be a brilliant strategy that keeps people from actually reading the content…if the only emotion you feel after visiting forbes.com is pure, unadulterated rage, you probably won’t notice that the only difference between forbes.com and Bleacher Report is a quick run of spell check.

So, to summarize…fuck you forbes.com and the horse you rode in on.

Thank you, but shit, I didn’t miss staring out at you fat ugly fucks while I was gone.

It was a hard decision to come back, one I had to make with my family.  Just kidding…you think I give a shit what my wife and idiot daughters think?  ”Oh no, I’m going to turn down one of the highest profile jobs in the country because my wife doesn’t want to hire movers.”

/high fives Gene Smith

So I sat my family down and told it to them straight.  ”We’re a family that goes hard.  Fastest family in the country.  If you have a 4.6 family, you’re going to have the opportunity to win football games.  And I don’t care what you’ve done before, if you’re not the best mother or daughter for the job, you will be replaced.  This family isn’t in the business of giving a shit about feelings.”

There have been a lot of discussions about my health, and I just want to take this opportunity to tell you I’m healthier than I’ve ever been.  Ever.  In life.  In fact, I wasn’t even unhealthy to begin with…I just made that shit up because my recruits didn’t pan out and it was easier to let Addazio fall on the sword.  Truth be told, I thought the Notre Dame job was mine when Brian Kelly killed that kid, but Ohio State’s money is just as green, amirite?

/high fives Gene Smith

I grew up idolizing Woody Hayes, watching Ohio State football, rooting for Ohio State football every day except for those 60 minutes in Glendale where I went all Sandusky on ‘em.  But I’m not here because of football…I’m here to prove a point to my wife.  Didn’t know Dr. Domestic Dishwasher could diagnose my condition from the kitchen…who’s healthy now bitch?

I’d like to thank Luke Fickell for keeping the seat warm and he’ll be on our staff in a senior role.  He’ll play an important part in making sure that none of our kids open their fucking mouths about the envelopes of cash and free cars.

/high fives Gene Smith

Now, make no mistake, me getting hired isn’t about loyalty or state pride or dream jobs or any of that whimsical fairy tale bullshit…it’s about this God-damned arms race with the SEC.  I wasn’t hired because I was born in the state, I was hired because I’m the best available football coach money can buy, who recruits like a fucking madman by one of the few athletic departments that can afford my salary.

I wasn’t enjoying college football when I left Florida 10 months ago.  I didn’t like the environment.  But now, it’s much better.  How?  Well because Miami and Penn State did shit that was so vile that it made Ohio State look like choir boys in comparison.  Life’s all about striking while the iron’s hot.  Go hard.  4.6 second football team.

I’m excited to get started coaching this football team.  This is a perfect marriage and I know all about perfect marraiges, right honey?

/high fives Gene Smith

New friend, come!  Come!

You are in the luck today, friend, for I have solution to all of your problem.  You need new car, I have new car with all the whistles and the bells.  When you pull up to club, all of the girls will go “this guy, who is he?”  You get in club, they buy you vodka, champagne…you have good time, I promise.  My cousin Sergei is famous DJ at club…he know many ladies and has pill that make you feel like Cosmonaut.

I think you like this.  This car called “The Impression” because it will leave quite the impression on freezing girl standing outside club.  It car built like Stalin build Russia…design and parts stolen from Germany!  That is joke, my friend…relax.

Anyway…you like, da?

What wrong, friend?  You say you like but your face is saying that you do not like…which one is it?

Nyet, nyet…I think I understand.  You are man with refined tastes, like Putin.  This “Impression”…it draw too much attention from the nosy people, da?  Nyet, nyet…say no more, friend.  I am picking up the things you are putting down.  You need car that tell people you are very important person, but car must not crumble like wall in Berlin when RPG hit.

/picks up phone

Sasha! Пойдите в гараж и принесите резервуар!

This windshield?  AK-47 not break through.  It have reinforced chassis with the kevlar and the tires that will not go flat and has the finish where bomb won’t stick to bottom.  But that is not all of it…the champagne bottle holder, it built so it not spill even if car drive over landmine.  The grill is made from depleted unranium and not dent even if your stupid wife drive car, hahaha…oh relax, that is joke again, friend.

This car, you no like, either?

Look, friend…what is problem?  You want car, I show you two good car, no problem but it still not good enough for you.  I show you car, you buy…simple.  I am very important man with things to do.  What things?  Crazy things, my friend…things that you would not believe even if I told you about them.  I show you very good car that impress ladies or car that more like tank and it not good enough.  Now you are making me late for meeting my friend Sergei at club all because you make decision like woman who not know what she want.  It make me think that you are not friend at all.

I’m sorry friend…I made mistake.  Not everyone can buy Zegna suit and Zenith watch like I have…these prices, they are crazy for poor man like you.  But it is ok, you not know what you are missing with the luxury and the opulance.  I have Sasha bring out car that fall in your price range, comrade.

/picks up phone

Sasha! Выведите автомобиль для бедных людей.

Now we are using gas to cook, nyet?  The car found on bank of Volga but donkey come from Caucasus.  Good donkey, no problem.  What, you no like?

Ok, friend, now I am sad.  You no like the nice cars and this car isn’t nice enough for you, it make me think that it is not you who is problem, but is ME who is problem.  I want to make you happy, friend.  Sit!  Sit!  We can solve this problem.  Every great Russian decision was made over vodka, friend, so why is this any different?  Come, drink…we look at one more car and if you no like, you can leave, no problem.

I see that look you give this fine car when you lay your eyes on it for the first time…it like seeing ample Russian woman’s синицы for the first time, I know this look.  This car, you buy it, no problem, da?  Da!  Friend!  You will not be regretting this car, I promise.  It very reliable…have 1,000 kilometer or 90 days powertrain warranty, whichever come first, but lets not worry over detail.  Come, come!  We go to club and celebrate with vodka and pills and dance with beautiful girl…you get good deal, sexy time, no problem.

/car breaks down on the way

So I was trying to write this yesterday, you know start the week off with a bang and all that?  Well, it failed miserably in part because, at the time, I had the intellectual function of Syd Barrett and in part due to the fact that over the past 18 months each and every one of my sports teams has ripped out my heart leaving golf as the only thing that keeps me from putting a gun into my mouth and beating the traffic to hell.

Anywho, instead of recapping a bunch of games and doing something you can find at, literally, a thousand other sites, I figured what better way to kick off the MLJ reunion by just blatantly guessing at what happened?  It’s brilliant if you think about it, but don’t think too hard because that’s how coups start.

So without further adieu…SPENCER’S SUNDAY SPECULATION SPECTACULARRRR!  Here’s how it’s going to work…I’m going to pick a few games that I didn’t watch and guess what happened.  I may have mentioned that already, but redundancy is one of my favorite pasttimes.

Buffalo 24, NY Jets 28:  I’m guessing that the Jets won this handily with a stout running game while Buffalo had a special teams TD and a TD off a Sanchez interception to keep it interesting.  Sanchez probably went like 20-36 for 210 a TD and two INT’s or something and will be hailed for “making progress” and will be on the cover of the next Vanity Fair with a hotdog hanging out of his trousers saying “EAT THIS.”

Settle down, Hef.

Chicago 20, Oakland 25:  I bet Carson Palmer continued his streak of playing well because he was a perfect fit for that team and that offense, like I predicted.  Did I predict that?  Why, yes I did.  I’d also like to remind a certain Mr. of Ron Mexico that I did indeed predict this and was roundly criticized by his beardness.  Whether or not Carson Palmer actually played well in this game is beside the point, because CRM was wrong and I was right.

Washington 23, Seattle 17:  You know, it was looking up this score that made me realize how out of touch with the NFL I’ve become.  It’s not that I don’t care or that I don’t love the sport…it’s that there are 20-some odd teams that are this putrid and I recently discovered Party Down on Netflix and knew I was in deep shit when I started this section off with a Shaun Alexander reference.

Arizona 23, St. Louis 20:  In this game in my imagination, Beanie Wells ran for 200+ yards and a couple touchdowns and it was awesome.

Pittsburgh 13, KC 9:  The Pirates were bolstered by the hot hitting Jay Bell who’s back in action after Operation Shutdown.  George Brett got drunk and shit himself.

Denver 16, SD 13:  Why isn’t Philip Rivers’ zealous Christianity mentioned in the same light as Tebow’s?  I’m guessing Tebow won the game by handing off four of five times to get into field goal range and did something gritty and will be discussed ad nauseum with too many references to his faith and not enough references to the fact that the Broncos are only barely keeping this rig together with duct tape and optimism.

ESPN.com can suck a dick:  Seriously?  As if it weren’t bad enough with the autoplay shit ON EVERY FUCKING PAGE, now you’re AUTOMATICALLY restarting it after it was paused?  Go fuck yourselves.

Minnesota 14, Atlanta 24:  This had to be one of the ugliest uniform matchups in NFL history.  First we have the Vikings, which make the players look like a bunch of meth-ed out Grimaces wearing high tech clothing while playing their games in a dome that has all the ambiance of a dank sewer.  Seriously…recalling watching Vikings games on TV must be like what Sandusky’s victims’ memories look like when they think back to those sudsy evenings at the Lasch complex.  Same thing with the Falcons but replace “Grimace” with “Tiger Woods” and we’re set.

As for the game?  Fuck…Matt Ryan went 87-94 for 213 yards and no TD’s.  Fits in right around his current yards per attempt, right?  HAHAHAH…he’s afraid to throw downfield.

If I didn’t get to your team, it’s because I hate them and hate you.

But seriously, it’s great to be back.

Now, I know you’ve all been sitting there patiently waiting for the next metal band to listen to for 15 minutes until you move onto something else, and I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.  But I’m hopeful we can put our differences aside for a few minutes and enjoy some sweet, sweet metal action.

Today’s band is Canadian tour de force Strapping Young Lad led by singer and guitarist Devin Townsend.  I first became familiar with Townsend in a Guitar World interview with him and Steve Vai promoting Vai’s upcoming album Sex and Religion. When I was going through my Vai phase, I never really liked this album because it had lyrics and I was a pretentious young fuck.  But over the course of time, I eventually got into this album and a lot of it had to do with how fucking awesome Devin Townsend’s voice is.

See, metal is a cacophony in every sense of the word.  It takes a lot for someone to stand out from the teeming maelstrom of blistering guitar riffs and thunderous drums, be it a guitarist with a creative or technically brilliant style or a singer with a voice that’s both clear and distinct.  Townsend’s singing, in my opinion, is just as perfect a fit for the band’s music as King Diamond’s was for Mercyful Fate or Bruce’s was for Iron Maiden.

Strapping Young Lad was born out of Townsend’s disgust with being a mercenary for hire in the musical industry and it’s reflected in the band’s use of sensitive topics in the lyrics and their dissonant, aggressive wall of sound.  The band, at first listen, is a very competent and cohesive death metal unit but it isn’t until you give their music additional listens that you realize how deep these guys really are.  It’s a very complex, layered sound with moving parts and modulating time signatures where the band works as one piece instead of a collection of parts.

They’re one of my favorite new bands and I can’t get enough of Townsend’s singing.  Give em a listen and happy Mursday!

John Harbaugh: All right, Joe.  Big game.  I know it’s been a short week and we’re coming off of a big win, but we really need a good game here to make a statement in the division.

John Harbaugh: God damnit Joe, don’t you start this shit again.  I thought we’ve been through this…you’re supposed to know what the hell is going on by now, and I’ll be fucked if you make me regret trading Troy Smith you asshole.

John Harbaugh: The hell was that Joe?  What the fuck was that?  God damnit, get your head out of your ass Joe…I fucking mean it.

John Harbaugh: Sweet fucking Jesus, I’m at a loss for words here…CAMERON!

Cam Cameron: John, I have no idea what the hell he’s doing out there.  It’s like his brain just shuts down…I can’t explain it.

John Harbaugh: Well what the hell have you been telling him?

Cam Cameron: I’ve been telling you the whole fucking time John, but no.  You thought he’d be a good addition.  I told you time and time again that Jim fucking Zorn would totally fuck this up.  It was smoke and mirrors as it was, and hell, we even got John Clayton to think he’s good, but OH NO!!!  Big Balls Harbaugh had to do it his own way and fuck it all up.

Jim Zorn: You’re on safari, Joe.  You’re stalking the tiger, guns at the ready.  You will kill that tiger.  You will put a bullet in his heart, Joe.  Kill the tiger, Joe.  Aim true, and kill the tiger.

John Harbaugh: Oooohh-leeee shit what the fuck have you done, Zorn?!!?!?!?

John Harbaugh: Fuck.

Derrick Mason: Not this mother fucker again.

Ozzie Newsome: /jumps shark

Anquan Boldin: Kurt?

Putin on the Ritz: Have you seen the well-to-do?

Terrelle Pryor: Oh come on, I’m getting better.

Watching the entire time, Troy Polamalu flies in and intercepts the pass.

Joe Flacco: Heh…hey Troy!  I’m hunting lions!

fín

The Tyler Rose in an 80′s commercial for fucking Skoal.

Honestly, I had no idea Skoal, or any tobacco company, could advertise on TV at all.  I had never seen it.  Sure, I’d seen the Marlboro and Winston advertisements on scoreboards and NASCAR Cups and shit, but I had never seen a real, live television ad for one, let alone for fucking dip.

Welcome to the HOF, Earl.

Aw hell yea…today is the day, my pretties.

Today, the 15th-est of July…I Dr. 096 will be attending the concert to end all concerts.  Dream Theater.  Iron Maiden.

You haven’t seen excited until you’ve felt how wet my panties are.  Actually, that’s really fucking creepy so lets move onto the metal, shall we?

I don’t think either band needs much of an introduction…well, Dream Theater might because they’re not really all that well known outside of the metal/prog rock/music nerd community.  Regardless, both bands kick all sorts of ass, and in honor of today’s impending metal meltdown, I offer you a slight glimpse of what I’ll be experiencing this evening.

Stop making me look like an ass, ok?

Stop acting like little fucking 13 year old girls who just got dumped, it’s fucking pathetic.  Grow a fucking set of nuts and get on with your lives because this is SOOOOOO fucking meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Can I offer a suggestion?  Howabout, instead of putting all this effort into hating LeBron, we collectively put it towards making our city not a cesspool of rust and bad jokes?  Wouldn’t that MAKE A WHOLE LOT OF FUCKING SENSE?

Jesus tapdancing Christ, have some fucking perspective.  This is a guy who’s career, if he’s lucky, will last five to ten more years.  He’ll be lucky to walk without pain when he’s finished.  Point being…he wants his rings and it’s fucking batshit stupid to begrudge him for wanting it now, ok?

This isn’t like Art Modell moving the Browns…Art Modell was knee deep in our city’s legislature, trying to keep city improvements off the table and got a sin tax passed THE DAY BEFORE HE MOVED THE TEAM.  Art Modell is Judas…LeBron?  LeBron’s more like…

And that’s the funny thing.  We shouldn’t be angry at LeBron, we should laugh at him.  What a fucking pussy.  I mean, seriously, who up and decides to join their rivals instead of doing something on your own?  Pussies, that’s who.  But we don’t hate pussies, we just don’t give them the credit of being a true great.  Gone is any chance of LeBron’s legacy being listed along with MJ, Bird and Magic’s*.

*Yes, I know all three played with Hall of Famers, but they were in situations far different than LeBron’s.  MJ, Bird and Magic didn’t crawl on their knees to a rival’s team just for a better shot at a ring…they were the man at their respective stops, LeBron is not.

So just stop this outrage, NE Ohio…it’s not becoming.  So what if the Cavs are in their deathbed?  You all didn’t give a flying fuck about that before LeBron, so why do you care now?  You’re being selfish, immature assholes by being angry and burning jerseys and shit SO FUCKING STOP.  This is a 25 year old dude with the world at his footsteps, and you’re all bitching about him wanting to see what else there is outside of Cleveland fucking Ohio?  Get over yourselves.

Sincerely, Ohio’s own…

spencer096