HucktheFuskers

Just make sure that you explain to any new members the group-think environment on this board. Under no circumstance can anyone say anything that isn't 100% in favor of the University of Nebraska. Nobody can say anything that isn't in total agreement with the moderators. If this isn't followed, there will be hell to pay.

My comments about the Huskers. I guess I missed the Disclaimer on the Huskerboard website that said all other schools are fair game, just don't say anything negative about Nebraska. How do you know your Kansas State or Oklahoma comments on this board won't start a "flame war"? I went onto Huskerboard today to see what was being said about Evridge leaving Manhattan. It was all the same trifle BS that I have come to expect. When I saw this post about Jammal Lord, I decided to make a joke about Jammal Lord's TD in the 2003 game against K State that should have been a sack. You could have taken offense to my joke or you could have ignored it. Apparently, you didn't choose to ignore it. I must have hit a nerve. If you look around you will find that you missed my posting about Lawrence Phillips in the section where the other members are trashing Maurice Clarett. Since Clarett played for Ohio State, I'm sure those posts are okay. You'll probably say I'm out of line for my post about your beloved Phillips. While I'm at it. The other day, I posted something in the Husker Football section in a post called "The return: Husker QB Weekly". No, I am not one of the people who questioned Harrison Beck's sexuality. (That's not Woodshed material???) I made a tongue-in-cheek reference about Zac Taylor playing WR so Harrison Beck could play QB, just like Bobby Newcombe did when Eric Crouch ran home. The moderator of that board must either A) Be sleeping B)Have a sense of humor or C)Be thick skinned because nobody said anything. The only thing this tells me is that on www.HuskerBoard.com you can question a former Nebraska QB's sexuality, just don't question a former Nebraska QB's TD/Sack statistics otherwise the moderators will have a problem with it. I'll tell you what; the rantings on this site no longer amuse me. I'll let you guys have your little playground all to yourself where every year is 1995. I won't bother to sign on or even read this board anymore. Better yet, if a dissenting voice makes you that uncomfortable, go ahead and ban me altogether; whatever it takes to help you sleep better at night. Just make sure you warn other people that anti-Nebraska jokes are forbidden on this board.

No where in there are the words talk trash. On this same board there are five pages bashing Rhett Bomar leaving OU and several postings (including some from you) talking trash on Kansas State with Evridge leaving. Yeah, you Cornholers can dish out, but you obviously can't take it.

Lets not start flaming. If you want smack, take it behind the woodshed. Huh? This entire web page is devoted to talking trash on every team outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. I make a post about one of your beloved Nebraska Cornholers and I'm being directed to the Woodshed?

I wonder if he can still throw a TD from his knees.

Somewhere, Lawrence Phillips is shaking his head asking "What's wrong with doing that?"

How about this for a scenario: 1. Harrison Beck runs home after not becoming starting QB. 2. Harrison Beck's mommy calls Coach Callahan to ask him to speak to her son. 3. Zac Taylor switches to wide receiver. 4. Beck becomes starting QB. Is this a possible scenario or does Harrison Beck have to be from Omaha in order for this work?

Don't tell me a bunch of Nebraska Cornholers are complaining about the discipline (or lack thereof) of a student athlete. Do the names Christian Peter and Lawrence Phillips ring a bell? How many women did Peter rape? Wasn't this the same guy who grabbed Miss Nebraska's cooch? How many arrests did he have? Eight (this doesn't count the ones that the alumni swept under the rug)? How many games did he sit out? One (Spring game)? Should I even start with Lawrence Phillips?

Why do all the trees in Kansas lean to the north? Because Nebraska sucks and Oklahoma blows.

I like how you chose to use a General Motors product in your parody. General Motors, hmmmm..... A company that has been a complete powerhouse for generations who, in recent years, has been handily getting its ass kicked by most rivals. Still a company of potentially that chronically underachieves in recent years, mostly due to incompetent management. Yet, may of the old-timers still relish in the "glory years" and refuse to acknowledge the company's failures. Cornholers, sound like any football teams we know?

I'm glad it paid off for him. However, do you think had this guy spent less money on Powerball and more money on his bills, he wouldn't have had to file for bankruptcy?

My sign-on for the board will continue to be HucktheFuskers and I will still continue to call the team the Cornholers. My posting was to congratulate the LOYAL fans who stuck by their team. To call them anything other than what I have called them in the past would be like jumping on the bandwagon. I'm certainly not going to do that. Callahan needs to be on the phone right now with some OL recruits. Hopefully the alumni in Texas got Zac Taylor liquored up enough last night so he wasn't feeling the pain. The boy took some hits last night.

I honestly thought the Cornholers were going to get rolled last night. I was surprised when they pulled it off. An 8-4 season looks impressive when you look past the fact that this was the team that got Ike Turnered by the KU Gayhawks. You gotta take an 8-4 record anyway you can get it. A big, underdog win against a media-loved program like Michigan on national TV is great. Nebraska may not get any blue chips from it, but it does help recruiting. it make Nebraska appear to be overlooked. Although you won't hear any of the media jerk-offs say it. Congratulations on your victory.

Where are you seats for tonight's Bowl game?

I'm reading a lot of posts that say Nebraska is going to do well against Michigan. Some of the posts guarantee victory, other posts sound confident, but fall just short of saying Nebraska will win. So, what are your predictions? How many points you giving? Please note: I'm not talking trash, I'm not saying a bad word. I just want your cut and dry prediction and point spread on this year's Nebraska/Michigan bowl game.

Q: What do Florida State football players drink instead of Gatorade? A: Seminole Fluid

With the Big 12 Championship upon us, I feel that it is necessary to share this inspiring story of what one man can achieve.... Fan on Game Day This is pretty long, but it's HYSTERICAL! If you've ever been drunk at a sporting event, or been with someone ho has, you can relate. This is an e-mail from some guy named J.D. Horne, who, according to the messages that were attached to this, is not a 21 year-old frat boy, but an attorney of indeterminate age. He sent it to his friend Brian Rice and it got forwarded around the country. You have to give the guy some props for being self-deprecating...but I hope I never meet him on game day. A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999: 6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking blast 6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels 7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning) 8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer) 8:53 Crack open second beer 8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea) 10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95 10:35 Headed for San Antonio (Alamodome -Nebraska vs Texas) 10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities 11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam 11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees. 11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. 11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f#*k himself. 12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT. 12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. 1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. 1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants. 1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he's so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-bitches!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom. 2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy. 2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas. 3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking sh#t. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler. 3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety. 3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler. 4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice c**k." He is unamused. 4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pussies. 4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants. 5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith.This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field. 5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable." 5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the f#*k didn't you announce last call over the f'ing PA system??!!" 5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a gargantuan sh#t all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up he empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty. 6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship. 6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the basketball game. 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care. 7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store.I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig. 7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care. 8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to f#*k off and restart "Neon Moon." 8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f'ing tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly. 8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the sh#t out of Arizona. 9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 167th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice c**k." No one is amused but me. 9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center,much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no sh#t): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light. 9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing. 10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to f#*k off. 10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f'ing call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, I'm taking this a bit seriously." 10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops. 10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving. 10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap. 11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid c-sucker." 11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c-sucker." 11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c-sucker." 11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c-sucker." 11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon." 12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle 12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight. 12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's. 1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic laughter,"I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother f'ers than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder. 1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that f'ing' hard. Day don't f'ing' do that at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...f#*k it, that stadium we was at today..." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers. 2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it. 2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately. 2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings. 2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads onthe table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every f'ing bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a f#*k. The tab is $112 with tip. 2:46 I'm sleepy. 9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty. HOOK 'EM HORNS, BABY!!! Out- Jeff

He's going to go coach Oklahoma. Stoops is going to the NFL.

No, give the redshirters a sixth year of scholarship. Non-redshirters five years. They can only play for four.

Didn't the NCAA rule against this a couple of years ago? What they need to do is make athletic scholarships good for 5 years, even if the kid can only play for 4. Does that make any sense? If an athlete plays his freshman, sophomore, junior and senior years (and doesn't get redshirted) he's still under scholarship for another year. Give him/her even another year under scholarship if they do get redshirted.

Another question: Do you think he'll make it state law that the Huskers stick to the option?

When Tom Osborne gets elected as governor of Nebraska, will people be more likely to call him Governor or Coach? Interesting link: http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascity/n...on/13177775.htm