Doc Daneeka

I’m pretty sure it was halftime of the 2005 OU game that I’d recorded during which Mark May said Virginia Tech was the best team in the country. He needed a beating.

I don’t purport to be the most informed person regarding college football, but was this a surprising development for them? My general impression is that their OL is going to get Wiegman killed without a single designed QB run, anyway.

For all intensive purposes, I think you’re wrong.

I’m sure he doesn’t. The people here about a year and a half ago implying, or outright stating, Texas should’ve hired him instead of Sarkisian probably aren’t liking it, either.

Beat their asses and leave the trophy on the field.

When Street loses a game, I’ll bump him down. Until then, #3 is fine. And I completely understand that it’s a different game and a different world, but Marty Akins with two good knees wouldn’t be a bad guy to have. Yes, I’m old.

Well, one thing they’ll have going for them is the renowned durability of QB1, so it shouldn’t be an issue. And, if it is, QB2 is better, anyway.

I believe Barry Switzer won one Super Bowl in four years — 25% of his tenure — as Cowboys head coach, but that didn’t prevent many people from seeing he crashed the plane that someone else built and piloted successfully. Hell, “he” won three division titles in four years, I think. If the goal is to evaluate the coach, one must evaluate the circumstances. Imo, anyway.

Oh, I definitely would. And wouldn’t have to go to restaurants to get it.

I wonder if out there in the multiverse somewhere VY won the 2005 Heisman and was about 5% less focused on beating USC’s collective ass.

I’m still laying the points.

I’m not sure favorability of schedule is the ideal way to rank teams, though. Of course, a lot of times voters do seem to rely overly, imo, on record, unless someone is parsing who gets a playoff spot or the like. That said, I really like your view on A&M as a potential 6-6, especially entering the Texas game at 6-5, so I’m going to assume that everything else is aces, as well.

What kind of absolute dumbfuck is surprised to hear that the coach of an elite team wants the backups to be able to get snaps in September? Matias Wodner sounds like the name of a soccer fan, so maybe that’s it.

Maybe they’re keeping him dehydrated so he can’t get hurt in practice? This was my favorite: “Texas offensive lineman DJ Campbell jumped offsides twice and Texas football coach Steve Sarkisian was ticked.” As opposed to “random guy on the sideline Steve Sarkisian”?

Unless you can go through six feet of dirt and a coffin, your length is insufficient.

Lotta short people here. That’s bringing a lot of things into focus, so it’s good info. He’d prefer, even apart from any allegedly ridiculous offers?

What’s to figure out? There are a couple of elite teams, a couple of quite good teams, some teams that flash, and some teams, such as A&M, that have won fuck-all.

It looks like he’s saving all of it.

I wonder who he picked last season, when Texas actually did play Alabama.

750 calories a day is insane even for a petite, sedentary woman.

No idea where those are on the phone, but maybe take a look at iMazing and see if it sounds like it could help. That’s what I used to pull the texts and voicemail from my GF off my iPhone.

Awesome. Thanks. I had a brief consultation yesterday and asked a lot of those questions. I have an actual session scheduled for next week. I’ll make note of any additional ones to ask as part of deciding whether to continue with this therapist My preferred method of “therapy” for the duration of my life has been to swallow shit or vent shit and move on. It’s worked reasonably well. It’s not working now. I’m not thrilled with the prospect of therapy and, frankly, think it’s likely to be futile.I’m of the opinion that nothing other than time is going to make any real difference in this agony and that nothing other than death is going to stop it. Fuck, though, if it can keep me from weaponizing my grief to attack my memories of her or feelings about her as a way of lessening this crushing bullshit, it would be worth it so I have to try. That’s my only real fear in this. If I have to be sad forever in exchange for my time with her, then I’ll be sad forever. I’ll take that hit and I’ll make that trade and I’d do it again, eyes wide open. But I am not willing to diminish who she was and who she was to me as some sad sack, chickenshit way of trying to make tolerable my remaining time on this rock.

For those joining the story mid-season: the absolute love of my life who also felt the same way about me — to the point it stretches the bounds of mere luck and circumstance almost enough to make this atheist believe in something more — died in January. Now, as much as I fight against it, I feel like I’m being pulled into the event horizon of this kind of bullshit. I don’t want that. Holy fuck, I don’t want that. She was the best woman who ever came into my life. There’s only a second place position because I have a couple of kids, otherwise she would basically be the list. It would be disrespectful to get to that point. It would be a chickenshit cop out to get to that point. Yet, here I fucking am. During my increasingly too long a time on this planet, I’ve been described — and not always charitably, I might add — as cold. Inhuman. Callous. Unfeeling. Emotionless. Robotic. Cyborg. Cold-blooded. Too logical. Too analytic. Heartless. Cruel. You get the gist. I’ve shed a combined zero (0) tears for six dead grandparents, an uncle, and a murdered stepmother. And a divorce after 22 years. Losing my GF is taking my soul. I have cried more (literally every fucking day since she died) in these almost four months than the last fifty years combined. At first, the grief outweighed the denial and things were bad. Of course. Then things leveled off for a while. It sucked, but more in a chronic, steady-state mode of hell, with only a few acute episodes, usually spurred by music or coming across something of hers in the house. Now, I think the denial is fading and what’s been going on for the last couple of weeks is just unrelenting waves of fucking misery. High level, hard to get a breath between sobs, “where’s the damned pancreatic cancer when you need it,” “I should’ve just lay down and bled out when I got stabbed” agony. Long story still long, how do I find a counselor/therapist/whatever with whom I can mesh at least a little? It feels like it’s going to be a combination of trial and error combined with geographic convenience (or virtual sessions). Is that all there is to it? Are they all pretty much working from the same manual? Are there any questions beyond “You any good with handling loss of a spouse?” that I should be asking? It also turns out, apparently, that thoughts such as some of the above are passive ideation of suicide and it also turns out that loved ones kind of panic when they hear such things. I don’t consider them as such, or at least not in any way they would transition to active, but I don’t make the definitions. So maybe this will also have the side benefit of getting some people off my ass because I do not need nagging added to this dogpile.

The first time my GF and I ever talked on the phone, one of the things we talked about was underrated movies… stuff we loved but that didn’t get the love we thought it deserved. Her: What movie do you like that doesn’t get enough credit? Me: Well, a few years ago I’d probably have said The Warriors, but it seems to have a cult thing going on now, so I guess mine would be Eddie and the… Her: Cruisers! Yes! Both: Tender Years! So, grinning like an idiot, I play Tender Years and we just listen to it. Me: What about… Her: On the Dark Side? I love it. Me: … On the Dark Side? And then we both just laughed. I felt like maybe I’d found something I didn’t even know was there to look for. Fast forward a few days and I’ve made an MP4 of the drum and sax intro and made it her text tone. For six and a half years, every time she texted me, I heard the intro to Tender Years. Sometimes she’d be in the same room and text me and say, “I just want to hear my text come in.” Fast forward a few years and Tender Years was going to be our first dance at our wedding. Even if we couldn’t ever have an official one. Fast forward to last Saturday and it was raining like a bitch here. She didn’t like driving in the rain. In a fair world, I’d have driven her to her office and to any showings she would’ve had that day. And then we’d have gone to have pho or Tex-Mex. And we”d have been delusionally happy and not even really noticed, because that was our default state. Instead, I was driving back, alone, in the rain from a friend’s house and Tender Years comes on the radio. I had to pull over. It was the worst moment I’ve had since I walked away from her for the last time at her memorial. Tonight, I’m on her iPad looking for any straggling emails or texts from her clients. Like a fuckwit, I open her Apple Music. What’s on under “heavy rotation?” Tender Years. And she had a Wedding playlist. Yeah. It was on there, of course. Fuck me. She’s fucking gone and she took part of me with her and none of that is ever coming back. In a few days, it will be three months since she died. I think its hitting even harder now than then because some of the numbness and disbelief is gone. I feel this image. I am this image. Except I’d add “dogs” to the list.

I’m not a professional. I don’t give advice (unless you’re my daughter, which I suspect none of you are or I’d know you at least lurked here). I’ve been retired for about 15 years but only recently moved out of 100% equities. I didn’t do it for any tangible reason. My portfolio is below its all-time high, but still higher than it was when I retired. All that said, my portfolio target is: 85% VTI 15% BIV About two years of living expenses spread across three HYSA. I try to rebalance by adjusting my withdrawals rather than actually moving anything around. This information may be worth less than what you paid for it.