Welcome to the Hardcore Husky Forums. Folks who are well-known in Cyberland and not that dumb.
Buff fan visiting Seattle
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You want to take the gloves off Race? You want to get down in a pissing match? Let's do it. Let's roll.
I'm getting completely fed up with your hate, negativity, and throwing people under the bus.
Quite frankly Race, I'm very, VERY happy that I don't know you. I'm quite happy that I don't lead what appears to be such a pathetic life that is faced with looking for the negativity in every situation. You need to go find something to smile at. Last I checked, it's summertime. The weather in Seattle seems to be pretty damn good right now - why don't you go check that out.
You are pretty damn wrong about things. You may think that the amount of time that you keep spewing your views that that you've now heard it enough times that you are right. Doesn't make you right.
You talk about 12-47 like that happened out of the blue sky. I've never seen you once suggest that the process of the downfall of this program began well before Emmert arrived.
You want facts? You want truth? Here's your truth.
Emmert came to the UW prior to the GLORIOUS 1-10 season under Gilby. The year before that (2003) Gilby managed to do enough to get us to 6-6, but that included the debacle at Cal where we gave up 700 yards (or thereabouts). It was an indifferent team that pretty much was at best mediocre. We lost 5 of our last 8, including the blowout to Cal, the blowout to UCLA, and a home loss to NEVADA. Yep, the program was heading in the right direction.
The 2002 season under Slick was another sterling season example that is most remembered for the "Northwest Championship." That was great. But it hid the fact that going into the "Northwest Championship" we were a 4-5 football team that was pretty much a joke at 1-4 in the conference. In both 2002 and 2003, we finished the season with a 4-4 conference record.
These weren't good football teams. The trend was heading downhill.
Emmert comes on board and immediately gets sadled with the Gilby 1-10 debacle.
Prior to Emmert coming on board, Babs jumps ship after a decade of mis-management, including allowing the stadium to begin the erosion process.
Throughout 2003, we're faced with Slick leaving and the subsequent lawsuit(s), Dr. Feelgood, and a whole mess with the softball program and Teresa Wilson.
Now keep in mind the following: ALL THIS HAPPENED BEFORE EMMERT WAS ANYWHERE NEAR BEING THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON.
Things were not in great shape. I think just about everybody knew that.
A search committee is formed to replace Babs. The BOR, upper campus, and the big donor supporters of the school are sick of the egg showing up on their face. They are sick of the country club that Babs ran and the loose way she ran the department - particularly in light of what went on with Slick. They wanted someone prim, proper, and who they could count on would not sully the University name. ENTER TODD TURNER.
Now, this pretty much gets you up to the point where Emmert was hired. Did he have to sign off on the hiring of Turner? Most likely. But whatever.
At this point, Emmert isn't responsible for the on-field performance of the football program. There is a coach in place. It's not Emmert's job to oversee the football program or any other program in the athletic department. That job belongs to Todd Turner. It's Emmert's job to monitor the job performance of Todd Turner.
So 1-10 happens. Gilby is canned by Turner (rightfully so). Yes, the program went 1-10. But the actions of those charged with overseeing the program were correct. Turner fired the coach for poor performance. If I'm in Emmert's shoes, I can't complain.
Coaching search takes place and Turner has his heart set on Tyrone Willingham. It's Turner's hire. It's not Emmert's hire. Surely Emmert had to sign off on the hire. That's fine. You want to throw some blame on him for not having the foresight to negate the hire. That's fine. But the hire isn't Emmert's responsibility. It's Turner's responsibility. It's Emmert's responsibility to hold Turner accountable for the hire (which he did 3 years later when it was obvious that Tyrone wasn't the answer).
So Tyrone goes 2-9 the first year after a 1-10 year. Not great. Warning signs start going off, particularly with some poor performance to close games. But it's the first year of the regime and really hard to get too critical.
The next year the program goes 5-7 and has 2 significant events. The first significant event is the loss of the QB to injury. I think many could argue that without the loss of Isaiah that year, we go 6-6. The second event that was significant was the "suddenly senior" day and the unexplicable loss to Stanford with the most emotionless football team anybody had ever seen. Again, there's not enough there to fire Tyrone at that point. There are warning signs. There is ground to pretty much tell Tyrone that the following year is an action year where something needs to happen. He's on a short leash at this point in my opinion.
The following year we lose games in ways that are unexplainable. Blow a huge loss to Arizona - a game we should have never lost. The most ridiculous ending to an Apple Cup I've ever seen where a guy was open by 20 yards coming out of a timeout. Blowing a pair of 21 point leads to Hawai'i. It was pretty obvious at this point that things weren't working. Coaching change was in order. Perhaps an AD change was also in order. The coaching change was blocked and complicated. The AD's head fell - and rightfully so due to some other issues that he had and such a terrible hire of a head coach.
Prior to the decision to fire Tyrone after 2007, it's really hard to argue with ANYTHING that Emmert had done with respect to the football program.
I will say that bringing Tyrone back for 2008 was a disasterous mistake. It should have never happened. You want to throw 0-12 on Emmert - I'm all for it. I think if you caught Emmert in a reflective, truthful moment, he would tell you in hindsight that he should have made the move and that it wasn't worth the carnage of 0-12.
Throw Emmert under the bus for 2008. That's his responsibility. 2004-2007? Not so much. By all means, please, please tell me where he has responsibility for 2004 and 2007 other than the fact that he's the University President. Please tell me what specific actions that he did to undermine the program. You aren't going to find them - they aren't there.
Your criticism of Emmert is ridiculous. Your criticism of Woodward is just downright comical.
Where has Woodward screwed this program? He has only been responsible for this program in the summer of 2008 in a full-time role. Are you going to hold him to the fire for being the interim AD for the first half of 2008? How is he responsible for anything from 2004-2007 when he wasn't even involved with the Athletic Department? Talk about conspiracy theories. This may be one of the greatest conspiracy theories I've ever seen.
I don't like losing. I don't like what I've seen the last 5 years. It's made me sick to my stomach many times over. But unlike you, I can at least take a step back and realize that the genesis of this problem began well before Mark Emmert became President of the University of Washington.
If I spent my time being a "mindless Race Bannon minion," then I'd be convinced that the only logical explanation for our failures have been Mark Emmert and Scott Woodward.
Quite frankly, that opinion is one of the most idiotic insanely stupid opinions that I've ever seen in my life.
I don't defend the "wrong targets." There is blame to be thrown Emmert's way. I readily acknowledge that. But it isn't his full blame. Babs deserves blame. Gerberding deserves blame. McCormick deserves some blame. Slick deserves some blame. Gilby deserves some blame. Turner deserves some blame. Tyrone deserves some blame. Of the names I've listed, only 3 of those names have any timeline that extends into any portion of Emmert's tenure. That's less than half of those names.
Quite frankly Race, you are a world class donkey. When I hear people bitch and moan about the people in the State of Washington - you are a crystal example of why people bitch about the State of Washington. When I hear people that bitch about the fans of the University of Washington and what their complaints are, you represent what those complaints are.
In my opinion, you are not good for the University of Washington. You aren't helping the program. You aren't helping the University. You are entirely self-serving and a pompous, egotistical jerk.
You are barking up the wrong tree if you are going after me. I'm not naive enough to shove my head so far up my arse to ignore what I am seeing. I don't think that there is anybody that knows me that would say that I wouldn't call a spade a spade.
All that paying for and attending games longer than I've been alive has done for you is given you a perceived ability to go be a bitter old man. Congrats on that.
Thanks for showing those of us in a younger generation how not to act in 20-30 years when we are in your shoes.
@RuffaloSoldier -
Why dawgman gets paying customers
And why puppy criticizes this joint. Once everyones' bandwagon team wins or loses everyone ditches college football and this place. This is when conversation should be at its apex. Instead zzzzzzzzzzz.
Derek is it a marketing issue? Would you like some tips? Is Marshall Cherrington available for inside info after UW bothell. He has an incredible resume? Is Fetters available for consulting? You need that off season formula. Come on Derek what would Heckman do?Listen, I know your wifies and hubbies need a break from football, and for the others your parents need help with chores, but find some time to better understand the game, the teams, the state of college football, rule changes, recommendations for the playoffs, recruiting, fall camp, handicapping, transfers, nfl picks, spring ball......there's a ton to talk about.
Penny puffing and government administration/clerical jobs only take up to 10 hrs a day. Throw in cocktails and oysters after work and there's still plenty hours left to talk a little football. You can choke on a nut for an hour after and still find time for HH splitzskin . -
The chores of a Roman emperor usually fall into I of V categories: drinking wine, fucking concubines, composing edicts, posing for sculptors and engaging in intrigue. However during the summer of XXIX I had been bogged down dispensing aequitus to enemies of the empire. The last of the lot were some Aegyptians who'd been captured in the revolt of Heroonopolis. Eager to be done with the business and LEAVE the Palatine Hill, I sentenced the togaheads to drown and hastened back to my domus, where I proceeded to polish my javelins while they gurgled out their souls in the Tiber River.
The next day I met my fraters at the Circus Maximus. Marcus Agrippa, my friend Manius "the knave" Naveius and my stepson Nero. We prepared our chariots, yoked our steeds and were off to the hunt, careening down the Via Appia at XV miles per hour while wolfing lotus off the posteriors of whores. Our caravan consisted of LXXXI of Rome's finest concubines, together with an assortment of slaves, scullions, potters, blacksmiths, water boys, oxen, actors, musicians and fable writers. The seventh legion accompanied the caravan as a matter of praxis, in case we encountered any barbarians along the way.
If that asshole Pliny the Elder wanted to dig up any real shit on me he should have attended one of my hunts. This one was in the province of Noricum, bordering Germania. We were there to hunt alpine ibex. But really, lets be honest. Hunting was a sideshow to the main event - debauchery. Our tents were large enough to hold one hundred mastodons. We held reenactments of the battle of Troy in one of them, dining on stuffed dormice and peacock while Hector and Achilles bludgeoned each other in the background.
Another was devoted entirely to intimus. It was a steamy brothel that would have made the dirtiest Vandal blush like a vestal virgin. We fucked any harlot that we liked, day or night, and every one of them had mammae and buttocks that would have gave Venus a run for her denari.
When we tired of fucking and wanted to relax, we lounged in mineral baths and watched orgies. Satyrs danced round the fires with their hooves and horns, playing wicked tunes on lutes and lyres while we smoked hemp and ate lotus. Wine flowed freely like waterfalls from endless casks. One night, high on lotus and hard as marble, I stumbled to the nearest concubine and emptied my phallus inside her voice box before passing out on a heap of smashed grapes and other remnants of a gluttonous feast we had consumed earlier in the day.
The hunt itself was unremarkable save for a single incident. We had slain our quota of ibex for the day and were coming round a bend in the trail when we came face to face with an ursus arctos horribilis. The ursus arctos reared up on its hind legs and bellowed like a minotaur. I dropped the ibex I was carrying and reached for my javelin, cautioning the others to remain tranquil. But Manius fled and the horribilis pursued him. I launched my javelin at the monstrum, impaling it through the discipline hole and pinning it to a tree. It turned out to be a female. After subduing the beast we scoured the surrounding area and captured II little horribillium. I presented the pair of creatures as gifts to my domina after returning to Rome. It served to gloss over some of my indiscretions, and spared me from having to sleep outside in the peristylium again. -
In other verbis find the thread where this belongs. Or just try posting something original instead of plagiarism my shit stupidus. This is precisely why this is the first responsum you've had in VIII months you barbitus cunt ya.PurpleBaze said:The chores of a Roman emperor usually fall into I of V categories: drinking wine, fucking concubines, composing edicts, posing for sculptors and engaging in intrigue. However during the summer of XXIX I had been bogged down dispensing aequitus to enemies of the empire. The last of the lot were some Aegyptians who'd been captured in the revolt of Heroonopolis. Eager to be done with the business and LEAVE the Palatine Hill, I sentenced the togaheads to drown and hastened back to my domus, where I proceeded to polish my javelins while they gurgled out their souls in the Tiber River.
The next day I met my fraters at the Circus Maximus. Marcus Agrippa, my friend Manius "the knave" Naveius and my stepson Nero. We prepared our chariots, yoked our steeds and were off to the hunt, careening down the Via Appia at XV miles per hour while wolfing lotus off the posteriors of whores. Our caravan consisted of LXXXI of Rome's finest concubines, together with an assortment of slaves, scullions, potters, blacksmiths, water boys, oxen, actors, musicians and fable writers. The seventh legion accompanied the caravan as a matter of praxis, in case we encountered any barbarians along the way.
If that asshole Pliny the Elder wanted to dig up any real shit on me he should have attended one of my hunts. This one was in the province of Noricum, bordering Germania. We were there to hunt alpine ibex. But really, lets be honest. Hunting was a sideshow to the main event - debauchery. Our tents were large enough to hold one hundred mastodons. We held reenactments of the battle of Troy in one of them, dining on stuffed dormice and peacock while Hector and Achilles bludgeoned each other in the background.
Another was devoted entirely to intimus. It was a steamy brothel that would have made the dirtiest Vandal blush like a vestal virgin. We fucked any harlot that we liked, day or night, and every one of them had mammae and buttocks that would have gave Venus a run for her denari.
When we tired of fucking and wanted to relax, we lounged in mineral baths and watched orgies. Satyrs danced round the fires with their hooves and horns, playing wicked tunes on lutes and lyres while we smoked hemp and ate lotus. Wine flowed freely like waterfalls from endless casks. One night, high on lotus and hard as marble, I stumbled to the nearest concubine and emptied my phallus inside her voice box before passing out on a heap of smashed grapes and other remnants of a gluttonous feast we had consumed earlier in the day.
The hunt itself was unremarkable save for a single incident. We had slain our quota of ibex for the day and were coming round a bend in the trail when we came face to face with an ursus arctos horribilis. The ursus arctos reared up on its hind legs and bellowed like a minotaur. I dropped the ibex I was carrying and reached for my javelin, cautioning the others to remain tranquil. But Manius fled and the horribilis pursued him. I launched my javelin at the monstrum, impaling it through the discipline hole and pinning it to a tree. It turned out to be a female. After subduing the beast we scoured the surrounding area and captured II little horribillium. I presented the pair of creatures as gifts to my domina after returning to Rome. It served to gloss over some of my indiscretions, and spared me from having to sleep outside in the peristylium again. -
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go to the aurora bridge you can get a great view of the city. Get out of your car...... and jump off the fucking bridge, boof.
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RuffaloSoldier said:
That is a disgusting slur and very offensive to women everywhere. Whoever this Harv is shoudl be ashamed.MisterEm said:Harv must be bored after blocking half of twatter nation.
@RuffaloSoldier -
#BlockedByHarvAgainTierbsHsotBoobs said:RuffaloSoldier said:
That is a disgusting slur and very offensive to women everywhere. Whoever this Harv is shoudl be ashamed.MisterEm said:Harv must be bored after blocking half of twatter nation.
@RuffaloSoldier
