(NOTE: We're bringing back this post from when Norm retired two years ago. Seems even more fitting today. -- PV)
Tuesday at the Iowa football office
Actually, that's what I've been trying to avoid. Mike Stoops has called me everyday for the last two weeks and he never stops yelling: "HI KIRK! STILL LOOKING FOR A DEFENSIVE COORDINATOR KIRK? I'D LIKE A MEDIUM HAND-TOSSED CANADIAN BACON AND MUSHROOM PIZZA" That last one was a wrong number, but I'm worried about going deaf and quite frankly, I'm not sure how I am going to let him know that he didn't earn the job.
Kirk opens it up
And boy did it work. Those bumblebees haven't been the same since. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I went to Georgia in the 1960s? I was celebrating Sherman's March to the Sea by visiting every bar in the state, downing a battle of Jack and peeing on the bathroom floor. Three weeks in, they already had a nickname for me - Stoneballs Jackson... I've been blacklisted by the SEC ever since.
Oh yeah, the NCAA was way more lax back in those days. Nothing makes a player give 100 percent more than having a crossbow fixed on them. I used to wear these fake glasses during the season and then when I would aim, I'd take ‘em off and all the players started scattering because they thought I was blind. It was hilarious.
Hell yes I did. Tony Dungy played three games his senior season with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Made him a tougher player and it scared the hell out of opposing players. Damn NCAA, we could have used the ol' Predator a bunch of times this season.
Yeah, I'm not too sure of that. Anyway, me and the Missus were in Paris on a holiday in the early 70s and one of the places we make sure to visit is Morrison's grave. After all, he always stated that "Touch Me" was written about me and my courting of Mrs. Parker. Now the big rumor is that Morrison is still alive and of course there is only one way to make sure. So we're at the gravesite late at night and what do we forget to bring? Shovels! So I'm on my haunches digging through the dirt and finally I hit a coffin. I grab the door, give it a big shove and what do I see?
Nothing. The damn thing was empty. A week later, I get a package in the mail. There's a skull inside and a note saying "This is Jim Morrison's skull." It was the best Christmas gift my wife ever gave me.