Recently shitcanned Arkansas head football coach Bobby Petrino is my newest favorite dude ever. The kind of guy who lists a stripper as his emergency contact.Bobby, 51 and married with four kids, had turned his team into a real winner, only to crash a motorcycle two weeks ago while not wearing a helmet, then tried to cover up that his 25-year-old mistress was on the bike with him only to have it become known that he’d recently given her a job with the football program and also $25,000 in cash because his winning personality wasn’t quite enough to get in her pants. The chick, engaged to a real genius who had no idea what she was up to, was happily blogging about her upcoming wedding. The blog was taken down, but the main pic from it lives on online. (Her fiancé was spared some embarrassment by having his face hidden. I assume there wasn’t enough RAM available to cover her horse face.)
Meanwhile, you already know about Joe Paterno, who looked the other way so his football team could prosper, giving his buddy carte blanche to continue raping boys for a decade or so. Joe was a national treasure.
Hang in there – I’m getting to my point. Royally screwed over and forgotten in all of this is Bobby Petrino’s brother Paul, who was hired in December to be Arkansas’ offensive coordinator. Paul claims he had no idea his brother was a total P-hound. The old, “I’m not my brother’s keeper” defense. Nice try.
Meanwhile, an even better – and by that I mean hilarious – case of nepotism was going on at Penn State, where Joe Paterno’s flunky son Jay was quarterbacks coach.
These two guys caught some undeserved shrapnel and now they need jobs, and I’m going to make that happen, with a new sitcom I’m writing called “Paterno, Petrino.” It’s about two relatives of disgraced coaches who bond over their shared guilt-by-association and new-found unemployment. They move in together and search for menial jobs and clip coupons and get into all sorts of hijinks on their double dates, like trying to have night-vision sex in their hot tub before the chicks find out they have scumbag family DNA in them and flee. But it’s okay – every episode will end with a touching lesson and a man-hug.
And there you have it. No need to thank me, Paul and Jay. I'm just turning banging whores and young boys into lemonade.
