jANUARY 6TH, 2025

Happy Jan. 6th everyone! My wife and I are gonna do what we do every year to celebrate: She dresses up like Ashli Babbit, I dress up like a Capitol police officer, I see her trying to climb through a window, I fire off a quick round, and then it’s over. It’s quickly becoming my favorite insurrection-based role-play scenario, and I think it’s obvious why.

Greetings, all, and welcome to 2025. I know that sounds all futuristic and shit, but remember that we’ve got an old, extremely right-wing entertainer about to be sworn in as U.S. President; Georgia, Notre Dame, and Penn State are among the best college football teams in the country; the Celtics are the reigning NBA Champions; and various countries in the Middle East are turning the region into a shitshow of a goatfuck of a Dumpster fire. If the Raiders were any good at football right now, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was January 1981.

I guess what I’m saying is that time is a flat circle. We’ve done this before, and we’ll do this again. The same is true here at Arm Side Fun, as Year #2 for my little sliver of the internet will be exactly like Year #1. That means several weeks of furious posting, to be immediately followed by several weeks of less than jackshit to the point a few people ask me, “Dude, are you not updating your site anymore?” That means bucket loads of shitty puns and forced word play. That means more bitching about how Jerry Jones and his kids, both legitimate and otherwise (so many of them otherwise) have ruined my favorite sports’ team. And that definitely means a ton of the following topics: bush talk, driving while masturbating (“Why are there seven socks in the backseat of your truck?”), 9/11, fatherhood, DFW sports teams, music, the complete and total pointlessness of existence, and how Passion HD FFM threesome clips might have (allegedly) saved a marriage.

So buckle up, kids. Tightly. VERY tightly, please. Like, so tight that near-permanent belt marks get left on my throat. ‘Cause at this point you know how I get down, right? If the trachea is workin’, you know I ain’t jerkin’.

CFB Royalty

It’s not perfect, but the first 12-team FBS College Football Playoff has been a rousing success. Some tweaks are necessary (just make it 16 teams and eliminate the byes, says this guy), but as a huge CFB fan, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. The last four teams standing are Texas, Ohio State, Penn State, and Notre Dame, and the upper crust of college football programs is well-represented with that quartet. I suppose you could sub in Oklahoma or Nebraska for Penn State if you wanted the elite of the elite in terms of college football monarchies, but still…the blood of each of these institutions is bluer than Papa Smurf’s asshole. And with Texas/Ohio State in the Cotton Bowl and ND/PSU in the Orange Bowl, there’s plenty to mull. Let’s preview them shits.

Cotton Bowl: Ohio State Buckeyes vs. Texas Longhorns

Biggest X-Factor: Will we see Good Quinn or Bad Quinn?

I’ve done little to hide that I’m a huge UT fan and have been for decades. Much like the Cowboys, I’ve tried to quit this team several times (especially during the Tom Herman era) but just can’t. If the ‘Horns are playing, I’m tuned in and living and dying with each play. Which, when Quinn Ewers is your QB1…holy shit, every weekend is Easter weekend.

His talent is undeniable, and it’s obvious why he was a 5-star recruit coming out of high school. Stuff like leadership, the ability to command a huddle, and his toughness are apparent, and his teammates clearly love him. But…there’s something about watching Quinn Ewers play quarterback that makes me squirm. Most folks tell me I feel that way because the backup is Arch Manning, quite literally the most-hyped high school QB prospect of all-time, but I don’t think that’s it. Or at least that’s not all of it. I am very excited for the Arch Era on the 40 Acres, but there’s more to it. Here’s the best way I can describe it: the sense of impending doom I feel when Mr. Ewers is quarterbacking is very similar to what I felt watching Tony Romo all those years. Yeah, he’ll definitely pull some wild shit out of his ass when his team needs it (namely a 4th-and-13 dime for a TD in overtime of a CFP quarterfinal game), but HE’S often the reason that wild shit needs an ass-pull in the first place.

To his credit, though, he’s found a way to get it done way more often than not, but river dancing on the knife’s edge like he does is a tough way to make a living at the highest level of college football. You factor in the Ohio State angle with Quinn (where he spent a semester as a true freshman in 2021), the fact this game is being played about 25 minutes from where he went to high school, and the stakes of this one, and it’s impossible to predict his stat line; the range of potential outcomes is almost limitless. Would you be shocked if he went 25-for-27 for 417 yards and five touchdowns? Would you be shocked if he threw four picks in the first half? No, you wouldn’t.

History: Texas and Ohio State have only met three times ever, but all three games helped propel the winner to an appearance in a National Championship game.

The first meeting was in 2005 in Columbus, where Vince Young threw a 24-yard touchdown pass to Limas Sweed with less than three minutes left in the ballgame to help his team to a 25-22 win. The ‘Horns went on to beat USC in the Rose Bowl later that season in the Greatest Football Game Ever Played. Something I forgot about this game until I looked at the box score this morning: There were eight field goals in this contest.

The next meeting was the very next season in Austin. Ohio State, behind quarterback Troy Smith and receivers Ted Ginn, Jr., and Anthony Gonzalez, trounced Texas 24-7 on its way to an appearance in the National Championship game (where they got rolled by Florida, but still). Something I forgot about that game until I looked at the box score this morning: How fucking loaded Texas’ defense was in ‘06. Michael Griffin, Aaron Ross, Frank Okam, Brian Robison, Tim Crowder…holy shit that was a unit.

The next tilt was in the 2009 Fiesta Bowl, a 24-21 Texas win. The Horns pissed away an 11-point lead in the fourth quarter of this one, but Mart Panther legend and former 6th round MLB Draft pick Quan Cosby hauled in 14 receptions for 171 yards and two touchdowns, including the game-winner from Colt McCoy with 16 seconds left in the game. The ‘Horns wouldn’t lose a game until a little more than a year later, in the National Championship game against Alabama, where Mr. McCoy’s first quarter injury was a huge factor in the outcome of that one. Something I forgot about that game until I looked at the box score this morning: Colt McCoy threw the ball 58 times in this game and also finished with the unusual line of -15 yards rushing and a touchdown on eight carries. Something something else I forgot about that game until just now: Ohio State’s band wore uniforms that night that were clearly inspired by M. Bison, the final boss from the Street Fighter games (see above photo).

Biggest Ass Hat: Ryan Day

The answer to the question, “Who is the biggest ass hat in this game?” is always Ryan Day, regardless of what sport it is that's being played and which teams are participating. This dude’s monthly budget for Winstrol, jet black Just for Men, self-funded Strippergrams, and velcroed snapback OSU hats has to be six figs. What a fucking clown.

The Pick: ‘Horns 31, Buckeyes 27

In Sark I will trust. Let’s go get one, fellas. Hook ‘em.

Orange Bowl: Penn State Nittany Lions vs. Notre Dame Fighting Irish

What’s at stake: A trip to the Natty; Rust Belt* supremacy; the “Blue Collar/Old School/Lunch Pail/Other Terms That Make Old White Men Horny” football championship of the universe; the first ever black coach to reach an FBS Championship Game; yeah, all that’s important. But there’s something bigger at play here: Who takes the pedo crown?

[45 minutes later] Okay, so I really tried to write a paragraph about the Catholic priest/Jerry Sandusky stuff surrounding this game. Like REALLY tried. Several times. But each effort was either too sad, too revolting, or too hilarious at the expense of kids that have been hurt, so I shut it down after four tries. I did make an honest effort, though, I really did. But writing about this topic with humor, empathy, and nuance is harder than a disgraced Cardinal at a middle school wrestling meet.

Biggest Ass Hat: Don't ask stupid questions.

The Pick: Penn State 23, Notre Dame 20

Penn State is REALLY good, and I think they have the better quarterback here. Plus, I saw a video of Irish head coach Marcus Freeman kissing his kids on the lips after the Sugar Bowl win, and that shit is super weird to me; no way I can pick his team after that.

*Note to self: research whether rust belts are actual products you can buy. ‘Cause if the windpipe is open, ain’t no way I’m ropin’.

New Year’s Resolutions

You want a peak behind the curtain? Of course you do, you horny fuck. I now present to you my 2025 goals for Arm Side Fun, unedited (“How’s that any different than all the other shit you post, numbnuts?” is what an asshole might ask at this point).

A triple-digit day: The most visitors to the site I’ve had in one day so far is 67. Most posts get around 40 views, and I’m hoping to have at least one triple-digit day by the end of ’25. Seems a bit lofty, sure, but I’ve got a plan if we get to December and it hasn’t happened yet: the long-awaited release of “Stocking Stuffer,” my hardcore yet tasteful foray into Santa-themed pornography.

Branch out to other platforms: I am on Twitter but rarely post anything ‘cause Twitter sucks now. However, I do need to spread my cheeks and fly a bit, so I’m going to be trying a few things. Thing #1: An ASF YouTube channel, going live next week. For now, all that will be on there is the Story Time stuff and other audio only clips that are already on the site, but I’m hoping to do some video stuff and/or live streaming soon. How long until this channel devolves into playing round-the-clock bukkake vids? Tune in to find out!

At least a post a week: Ambitious, yes, but remember that a post can be anything. Pictures of my feet (they look exactly like a buzzard’s talons), Tecmo Bowl Haiku, (“I’ll pick Bo’s Raiders/I’ll tell you which play I run/I’ll still fucking score”), excerpts from some of the many stabs I’ve made at writing romance novels based on characters now in the public domain (“His red t-shirt, the only thing he was wearing apart from a devilish grin, served Pooh well as a makeshift bib. For he was quite the hungry bear, lapping up the nectar from her glistening honeypot.”), recordings of actual exchanges I have with my wife (“JESUS CHRIST, HOW MANY SEASONS OF ‘SISTER WIVES’ COULD THERE BE?”), or videos of my six-year-old daughter once again saying the words, “Arrrrrrr, titties!” like she’s a goddamn pirate (which is 100% a real thing at our house)...it all counts.

Belt jerk humor galore: You gotta know your strengths, right? I’m not sure how it happened, or why I was bestowed with this gift, but being talented at creating auto erotic asphyxiation jokes is a responsibility I don’t take lightly. Something else I don’t take lightly: the fit of the belt over my Adam’s Apple. ‘Cause if there’s any respiration, forget ejaculation.

jANUARY 6TH, 2025

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