I was touring with the Japanese pop combo Pizzicato Five when I first learned to fear SMU.
It was the summer of Eric Dickerson. He was racking up yard after yard in my Tecmo football season.
Dickerson wasn't the only member of "Phi Slamma Jamma" that terrified defenses. I am unconcerned though. They beat us close last time. We will beat them close this time. That's how it works in the World Wrestling Federation.
Larry Brown left the SMU game plan in the cloud. I found it and I gave it to Mick Cronin. Last night. For Valentine's Day. He got me an edible arrangement. It wasn't very good so I gave it to the guys at DPW. Those chowhounds left nothing but the bones. Who knew they liked starfruit so much. I am more of Whataburger kind of guy. That's my jibba jabba. That's a thing I say, ok.
"Do you think J.J. Watt will get his own Whataburger," said Uncle Sam, right in the heart of tax season. Right in the heart of Texas.
I forgot about the Mustangs and starting thinking of what I wanted to spend my tax refund on:
Another Nick Van Exel jersey, a Cincinnati Bearcats commemorative mug, a steak sandwich, and a special order at Burger King, assuming that Mr. T isn't working the grill. Mr. T doesn't have time for that kind of jibba-jabba (that's a thing he says, ok?). Remember what Mr. T did to 2Pac when 2Pac took his cheetos without asking.
