The Ookie Experience

It’s good to know our 2007 campaign to Free Ookie has finally reached a conclusion. I’m sure the efforts here have had a dramatic impact on this. Thanks to everyone for their hard work. And by hard work I mean, texting me whenever there was anything Ookie related, yelling out, “Free Mike Vick” on Good Morning America, and generally, just putting up with my crap and not reporting me to the authorities. I got the news about his signing with Philly while at a bar and it will probably be one of those “I knew exactly where I was when it happened” moments in my life. Aptly enough, it was a bar called McFadden’s, which was the subject of the next Barney Show ridiculous initiative. I’ve avoided it for 2 years because I think I’m just now over my man crush on Run DMC, Darren McFadden (Hold on? Why did I not use this nickname back in my track days? Run BMC? Honoring the immortal Tim Hardaway, Mitch Richmond and Chris Mullins? Dammit. The lesson here? I was a dumbass in high school). The one downside of being at a bar last night was that I was surrounded by Redskins, Ravens (Including one douchebag in a U of Delaware Joe Flacco jersey. Vegas was giving 4-1 odds of me and him going at it at some point), Steeler, and yes, even one Cardinals fan.
Before we get more into the Ookie situation, let’s go through my night, shall we? Why not? It’s not like you have anything better to do. I promise it’s Ookie related. We were at McFadden’s because a friend of a friend won a happy hour which allowed any of his friends drinks for $2. This sounds like a good deal. I ended up with a $120 tab. Apparently Jaeger and Jack were not on the $2 list. And I ended up by multiple rounds of shots for people. And I decided the $2 drinks were not strong enough to get me drunk. Well fuck me silly. After I was sufficiently sauced, we proceeded to another bar, because hey, it’s on the way home. Why not? As solid reasoning if I’ve ever heard. It was me and this girl, her roommate, and who I was assuming was her roommate’s boyfriend. We were playing darts and drinking beer.

Ok, stage is set. Let’s get to the fun part. Roommate’s boyfriend (we’ll refer to him as Fuckface for the rest of this story) was a Va Tech grad. Being that I have limited social skills to talk to normal people, this provided me a chance to engage in what other people call “casual conversation” being that Vick was in the news that night. (Quick backtrack. The roommate was pretty hot, until I found out she was a lobbyist. Only she wouldn’t say she was a lobbyist, she had some fancy name. I would too if my actual title was the Whoring Myself Out to Cripple Democracy. I’ve tried to avoid these people like the plague. I decided to mix it up a bit with her and asked, “Well how good are you at your job? Could you get me to switch sides on an issue?” She refused to give a straight answer, just kept blurting out something like, “It depends on what my client wanted.” Seriously, go get fucked. Then I found out she was a lobbyist for some bullshit environmental firm. Wow. It took a lot of power not to go find a pool stick and crack it over her head. The point of this is that I had already been provoked. Aren’t you glad I’m back? Where else on the internet can you find someone who so steadfastly refuses to stick to a single plot line? ) We were exchanging some opinions (and you can probably guess how he feels about PETA based on who his girlfriend works for) until I asked, “What do you have against the guy? He was the best football player in your schools history.” This apparently set him off because he got all up in my grill and started telling me that he wasn’t the best because of the horrible things he did. My retort, “What does that have to do with anything he did on the field”, while a clear and logical, did not seem to resonate with Fuckface, who continued to make dumbass comments as you would expect from someone who thinks PETA is awesome about football. While he continued to chase his own tail logically, I had some pretty good lines, if I must say so myself.

“You didn’t go to a real football school. Virginia Tech plays in the fucking ACC.”“Wait, you considered last year a good year? You played Cinci-fucking-natti in a bowl game.”
“In the words of the great Clinton Portis, ‘We’re talking about daws, man. Fightin’ dawgs.’”
“Why are you bringing Marcus into this? What did he ever do to anyone?” (That was my favorite line of the whole thing. Leave it up to me to defend the honor of Marcus Vick)

This went back and forth for about 10 minutes. I was getting closer and closer to just ending it and coming over the top with my beer bottle. I saw where this was going and while shit faced, did realize that spending 2 years in jail was a little too high of a price to pay for my Free Ookie campaign. About this time, I said, “He led your team to the only national championship you’ve ever gone to and almost beat a great Florida State team by himself in the Sugar Bowl. How is that not the most successful player in Va Tech’s history?”

Let’s pause for a second to prepare yourself for the single dumbest comeback I have ever heard. Ready? Ok, here we go. “Well, that’s if you want to measure success by national championships.” Holy. Fucking. Shit. The other defense lawyer from My Cousin Vinny had better arguments than that. Let’s question the measurement of something by asking if the very definition of that measurement is valid. This guy must have been great in physics class. Other lines Fuckface has probably uttered?“Well, that’s if you want to measure distance by feet.”
“Who uses the Dewey Decimal System to classify books?”
“Why would you want to measure my gayness on the Brady Quinn scale?”

Hov wants said, “A wise man once told me, don’t argue with fools. Cause from a distance, people can’t tell who is who.” I followed this philosophy and simply walked out of the bar. Didn’t say anything. Just walked out. Got on my phone and left a voicemail with Brock that started off, “I just passed up pussy in the name of Ookie.” And you wonder why I’m single?

Alright, I promised you some actual thoughts on this, so here we go:

- I just wish I could have seen Desmond McNabb (He’ll always be Desmond McNabb to me. And maybe one person gets that joke. Way to go grab a larger audience you moron) when Andy Reid told him they were signing Vick. I’m starting to think the Eagles exist only as a psychological experiment to see how far they can push McNabb before he just quits.
- I’m glad to see him sign with Philly. It makes my job of making semi-witty comments that much easier. For Monday Morning Hangover’s this year, you’ll see a lot of (insert joke about Philly fans booing here) and then (insert joke about Vick being nothing compared to Andy Reid’s kids here).
- I won’t go into it the sheer volume of hypocrisy too much because it will just get me frustrated, but this morning’s Sunday Conversation featured an NFL player who was actually involved in a person’s death, not dogs. No protests there.
- Any chance he gets worked into a plot of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”? Or is that asking for too much?
- Now that Ookie is signed, who’s the next lost cause to get The Barney Show endorsement? Anyone know when Maurice Clarett gets out?

Since I’ve asked four straight questions, I think it’s time to wrap this up. Just remember kids: Stick to the script. Ookie over bitches.