The Jimmy Clausen Story

Evin "The Locomotive" Murphy finds time to belt out taint-tingling prose for LBMS from his real estate office in Santa Cruz, CA. In this edition, The Loco chainsaws through the curtains of JC's future, and the results unveiled... sound about right.

College washout turned “Surreal Life” cast member, Jimmy “James” Clausen expounds on his oft-questioned, shifting moral philosophy and world view. Sporting heavy, black eye liner, a shaved head, a Scott Spezio-style goatee and some gothic arm tats, young James begins:

“I never wanted to play football anyway. Yeah *tear*. I did it because I thought it would make my dad love me.

I’ll never play again. James Clausen is a grown-ass man and he does as he pleases. So motherfuckers better start to recognize and respect that.

You know, everyone always told me how I was supposed to act. I was the All-American QB with the girls, the cars, the frosty tips. It wasn’t me, nah man. I’m hard. I’m hard as nails. Like Marilyn fucking Manson. That cat digs it. He gets the times man, modern times. Billy Corgan? Another of my idols. Melancholy man, that’s real. That’s feelings.

Yeah, you know, I just don’t care about the pigskin anymore. I’m more into transcendental meditation. I pray to the moon. Touchdown Jesus? Not for me dog, not for me. I don’t believe any man is holier than the next.

Now the moon, the moon controls the tides, the calendar, the nature cycles, all that shit. *shuffles in seat* And you know what? The moon doesn’t have a bitch. Nah, that’s why I gave up women. Does the moon have a lover? No, that’s because the moon loves itself. Self love, that’s what keeps it spinning man, like me. I just want to keep spinning, watching the world turn, dancing with the sun, sleeping with the stars. You know. I’m a star and, like, mad women want to sleep with me but I just say ‘nah, bounce that’ I got bigger things to connect with than a loosey goosey slouteger. Feel that! I’m telling you. Music… my shakra, that’s how I keep that shit regulated. Manson… outside, at night, under the moon, by myself… that’s when I really feel it, you know? The James Clausen vibe, life’s equilibrium.

No more frosted tips for me. Nah, that was Jimmy, this is James. Some people, they think I’ve lost it. They say 'James, what the fuck is wrong with you? You had it all: the arm, the girls, the scholarship, the frosty tips! Why did you throw it all away, man, to listen to some fag with titites? What the fuck is wrong with you?' But, they just don’t get it man. They don’t get young James Clausen.

I saw this Navajo sage… up at the Pikoni Casino. He told me he saw into my heart… saw my identity, the “young ghost dog.” You know and maybe one day I’ll be, like, an older ghost dog, or like the fucking Moon dog, you know? ‘Cause that’s what I really want to be. The Fucking Moon Dog! BOW WOW WOW mother fuckers! But you know, until then I’ll just be spreading my message. Spreading the truth. That’s right America, truth is about to be coming into your living room. Gear up soldiers. Gear up.”

The End

Ladies and Gentlemen, Charlie Weis!

You thought Charlie Weis' pep rally speech before the USC game was laced with sarcasm? That it was Nick Cannon-hilaaaarious? No, Charlie is just a very honest man. Paraphrased:

"We're 1-6 and USC has only one loss. We can't score any points on offense. Our defense is okay, our special teams is okay...I told the team at our hotel last night to take a vote to see if we should even show up Saturday."

Well... next time coach, make sure to count the votes. Recount. Then if it comes out in favor of your boyz taking the field: vote again, this time making it anonymous. That should keep your "squad" from having to go out and embarrass the echo-wakening university.

Really though, you don't need to care. You're signed through eternity. And today, you did have a legitimate excuse for losing. When your team dresses in mustard-stained pants, naturally you're thinking hot dogs down the gullet, not passing down the field.

If you do decide to recondsider this whole head coaching thing, we're sure your career as a stand-up comedian would be man-titillating. You've already proven with your above mentioned pep rally performance that you have the dry observational-humor skills of a Jerry Seinfeld after finding out his Porsche parking garage has burned down.

"Thank you, thank you very much for coming. It was a long flight out here, boy are my arms tired...from eating all that fried chicken on the plane. Say, what's the deal with all those dead people in Darfur?"