Jason Whitlock Tortures a Couch.
I love my brother dearly, but damn if he doesn’t know how to push my buttons!
He severely pissed me off the other day. He did so by sending me a link to a writer whose work I hate like Fox News hates the truth.
This blight on the holy practice of journalism is a arrogant waste of air named Jason Whitlock. He supposedly is a sportswriter for the Kansas City Star, but since nothing of any particular interest occurs in Kansas City sports, he bloviates online at Fox Sports.com. Which when you consider both Fox and Whitlock are both bad jokes on journalism this is a marriage made in hell.
Just to get something started my brother send me a link to Whitlock’s lastest ravings and droolings. Seems there are only four Black head coaches in the over 100 schools that are part of college football. A lot of people have said that’s not right and something should be done about it.
Whitlock, who is supposedly Black himself, is pretty much o.k. with the way things are. Former NBA star Charles Barkley said his alma mater, Auburn University, should have hired Turner Gill, the head coach of Buffalo who is taking his team to a bowl game instead of the guy they did hire, Gene Chizik. Chizik, a former defensive coordinator went 5-19 during two seasons at Iowa State including a 10-game losing streak.
Gill took Buffalo, a perennial loser, to a 8-5 record this season and won the Mid-American Conference championship.
Just in case you doubt Whitlock is madly in love with himself, he jerks off the following bit of self-stroking in the sixth paragraph of the column.
“We’re going to travel deep into the college football-black coaches maze. It’s an important topic, an issue that should be addressed with a level of sophistication and honesty that a Hall of Fame basketball player and rabble rouser can’t muster.”
Got that Charles Barkley? Whitlock says you lack both “ sophistication and honesty.” Like he knows anything about either virtue.
I’m not going to go as far as Barkley did and suggest this means Gill got screwed over by the good ol’ boys in Alabama. Whitlock may well be right that Gill needs a little more seasoning before he takes on a job he may not be ready for.
But goddamn, I hate to agree with Whitlock about anything.
Which is the point I atempted to get across to my little brother in my response to him:
Do me a favor, willya? As long as your ass is brown and points to the ground NEVER AGAIN send me a link to the venal stupidity that is Jason Whitlock and his bullshit columns.
Seriously. He makes me sick.
Whitlock is a contranian. He says stupid shit just to be saying stupid shit. He is a flaming asshole, a lousy writer and if I ever had the misfortune to meet the fat fuck in person, I’m sure he’d be as a terrible human being in person as he is print.
Anyone that wants to argue against more Black head coaches in college football is a fool. You make me a fool by inflicting his bullshit upon me.
Heretofore, I thought the stupidiest thing I ever read uttered by a Black man was Uncle Thomas Sowell suggesting that slavery wasn’t so bad because at least the Black familiy unit was intact and there was full employment. Whitlock’s brain fart isn’t quite that repugnant, but it’s pretty rank.
Maybe Whitlock doesn’t think it’s any big deal that Turner Gill got screwed by Auburn. He’s not too worried about the lack of Blacks getting opportunities coaching college football. I’d be equally unworried should the Kansas City Star decide to fire his fat ass and there would be one less lawn jockey fucking up sports journalism.
— Jeff
In case I didn’t make it clear: I do not like Jason Whitlock. Not even a little bit.
I dislike Whitlock for the same reason I dislike his Fox colleagues, Bill O’ Reilly and Sean Hannity; They are arrogant big-mouths fools who do not inform and do not further intelligent discussion of important issues. They pontificate and demonize and generate a lot of heat but damn little light.
The same day Fatlock puked up his rationalization for racism, another Black sportswriter, Cedric Golden of the Austin American Statesman was examining the same issue with a lot more sensibility and a lot less hyperbole.
Right now there are four African American head coaches in Division I-A football. Turner Gill (Buffalo), Randy Shannon (Miami), and Kevin Sumlin (Houston) led teams this past season. Add newly hired New Mexico head coach Michael Locksley to the list and you get four. Those men represent 3.3 percent of the 119 head coaches at the highest level of college football.
That’s an unacceptable number in a sport in which millions of dollars are made off the athletic exploits of young black men. Those young men comprise more than 70 percent of the players listed on the rosters of I-A programs. Sadly, there’s no Rooney Rule in college football to help minorities land head coaching jobs.
Want to know when progress will happen? Only when athletic directors and the millionaires who back their football programs accept the reality that the face of this game is changing — and that those changes apply to head coaches as well.
When athletic directors are handing out high-profile coaching jobs to men who cannot win a conference game at their schools, they should be called out.
Former Auburn Tiger Charles Barkley said race was the No. 1 factor in Chizik getting the job instead of Buffalo’s Gill. I don’t agree because Gill, who was 8-5 at Buffalo this season hasn’t proven himself over the long term. While it would have been nice to see Florida defensive coordinator Charlie Strong get a serious look, TCU’s Gary Patterson and Boise State’s Chris Peterson were more deserving of the chance to coach Auburn than a Chizik because they have proven themselves over a period of years.
So while Jacobs grapples with critics who believe he is the new poster boy for the good ol’ boy network, college football is left with a problem that doesn’t appear to be going away any time soon.
At this rate, it will take some time for a black coach to win a national championship in college football. That should not be a prerequisite for more men of color earning head coaching jobs.
See Jason? This is how you do sportswriting without having to be an obnoxious know-it-all jerk and a limp prick. Put down that jelly donut and take notes. You just might learn something.
Why are these women smiling? Don't they know Whitlock is about to swallow them alive?
Whitlock became the World’s Worst Sportswriter around the time of the Don Imus vs. the Rutgers women’s basketball team and his remarks the predominantly Black players were “nappy-headed ho’s.” Whitlock used his April 11, 2007 column to kneecap Rutgers coach C. Vivian Stringer and his other favorite whipping boys, Black leaders he disagrees with and rappers.
Thank you, Don Imus. You’ve given us (black people) an excuse to avoid our real problem.
You’ve given Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson another opportunity to pretend that the old fight, which is now the safe and lucrative fight, is still the most important fight in our push for true economic and social equality.
You’ve given Vivian Stringer and Rutgers the chance to hold a nationally televised recruiting celebration expertly disguised as a news conference to respond to your poor attempt at humor.
Thank you, Don Imus. You extended Black History Month to April, and we can once again wallow in victimhood, protest like it’s 1965 and delude ourselves into believing that fixing your hatred is more necessary than eradicating our self-hatred.
While we’re fixated on a bad joke cracked by an irrelevant, bad shock jock, I’m sure at least one of the marvelous young women on the Rutgers basketball team is somewhere snapping her fingers to the beat of 50 Cent’s or Snoop Dogg’s latest ode glorifying nappy-headed pimps and hos.
I ain’t saying Jesse, Al and Vivian are gold-diggas, but they don’t have the heart to mount a legitimate campaign against the real black-folk killas
What the hell does any of this have to do with sports?
The answer of course is nothing at all. Whitlock hates rap music. He thinks the fall of Black people can be traced to the first kid who decided to rock a mic. Like other Black cultural neo-cons, he finds it easier to name-check some insignificant and trivial rapper while ignoring the anonymous record company executives who pay them well to spread negative stereotypes and phony glorification of ignorance, irresponsibility and failure.
I don’t like 99.9 percent of what passes for rap music these days either, but I don’t think it’s the cause of Black-on-Black crime, a broken family system or kids that graduate from high school with diplomas they can’t read. Whitlock, like most people who rant before they think, knows his symptoms, but is profoundly clueless as to what the disease is.
However, rather than irritate myself by trying to find the few nuggets of good sense Whitlock occasionally stumbles upon as he searches for another Twinkie to stuff in his blowhole, I’d rather not punish myself by reading his drivel.
Jason Whitlock is blissfully unaware of my existence. I am desperately trying to return the favor.
