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An open letter to the Iowa football team

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Gentlemen,

It is hardly noteworthy to inform you that there is a growing level of concern about the performance on the team. We're coming off a losing season. We haven't been ranked in God knows how long. Hell, we just watched a lowly, pathetic, sad-sack Iowa State team beat us without ever setting foot in the end zone. We now embody mediocrity.

Obviously, this cannot continue.

I cannot force any of you to change your ways. It was either Shakespeare or Stapp who said, "to thine own self be true," right? So if you're going to fuck up, God damn it, fuck up like you mean it!

Look at Lance Tillison and Bradley Fletcher. Plain old DWI's. Sure, they're bad from a legal and moral sense, but you're never going to put this program back on the map when you get shitfaced and just decide to drive. You couldn't find a single mailbox with which to practice the ancient art of Ramming Speed?

You know what, guys? You really want to get a DWI? Fine. But do it on the 50-yard line. During the second quarter.

As a matter of fact, let's really start amping up our on-field performance. You know the story of Rock Raines, right? Let's create our own legacy. I've taken the liberty to renaming some of the players, so if you fellows could start picking up these drug habits and using them to your advantage, that would be wonderful. Bong Dalton, Five Grams Stross, and Tied-Off Condom Full Of Ecstasy Iwebema, you guys know what to do. Oh, but Kenny--you don't want to hide the E up your butt. Trust me on this one.

No more pussy-footing around. Any idiot can swipe a credit card and use it online. We go big! If you look in your lockers, you'll see enough weapons and ammo to arm half of Israel, so go rob those Badger bastards before the game. I don't care if it says Camp Randall; this is OUR HOUSE!

Or instead, maybe you could start playing football like you fucking mean it. Either way, quit half-assing it. It's embarrassing.