Jonesbots piss you off? Urine luck. Wee got you covered.

With the calendar turning to summer yesterday, we have now reached the half-way point between this season's Blue/White game and the kickoff in Ireland. There is roughly two months and a week on either side of those two games, not too far off, not very soon either. While there is football on television today, it is not real football, it is futbol. The World Cup of boring sports is continuing with the USA taking on Portugal at 6 p.m. I don't care who USA is playing, i'm not Ghana watch. Sorry Bill and the majority of the rest of the world, it just isn't fun to watch for myself and most red-meat eating PSU football fans.

Same goes for horse racing. I understand that a lot of people like to watch that, but no thanks. To me, the most exciting two minutes in sports is when my lady friend is feeling frisky during half time of a good football game.

If this is too long so you don't want to read it now, come back when you are pissed. Pissed is what they call it when you are drunk over in the UK. Field is called pitch. Soccer is football. Up is down.


The 2003 football season was not one to remember in terms of wins and losses on the field. The team was in what would turn out to be year four of a streak where they finished under .500 four out of five years. The season was off to a 2-3 start when the Wisconsin Badgers came to Happy Valley to take on the Lions. For a game in the first weekend of October the weather was unseasonably cold. The day before the game, the PSU golf courses did not open until noon in order to allow the frost to subside and we were barely able to get the round in before it got dark, and very cold. The day of the game was no different.



That Saturday by game-time the temperature was barely over freezing, in the 38 degree range, with a constant drizzle making all things that were exposed wet. Still the fans turned out to the tune of 107,851 officially to support the team. My friend and I waited for the arrival of the team via the Blue Bus that day, standing in the stadium just overhead where the team and coaches would enter the stadium. That day was Michael Robinson's first start at quarterback. When the door opened to the Blue Bus, only Robinson exited and began his walk in to the stadium, to a flurry of cheers and whistles from myself and the others who were gathered. Many PSU faithful had yearned for Robinson to finally get the nod at QB, and this was the public realization. After what seemed like hours, having allowed Robinson to put about 30 feet or so between he and the bus, Joe Paterno stepped off the bus, and the place got even louder.



Initially my friend and I thought that we had gotten bad seats for the game, but when we got to the seats we realized that we had lucked out. We were way back in the lower section, underneath the balcony of the upper deck. Out of 100,000 or so people at the game, we were lucky enough to be a couple of the ten or so thousand who were not subjected to the wet drizzle to add to the already cold weather. Halftime came with Wisconsin handling PSU 17-9, in a season that was looking like it was over before it had begun. Naturally we ran for the urine troughs that can be found in the friendly confines of the bathrooms at Beaver Stadium.

Standing there in the men's bathroom, waiting for our turn at the urinal trough, the tone of the group was upbeat. With roughly 100 PSU fans within the bathroom the fans talked to the person left and right of them. The team had made a few gaffs on special teams, but other than that the game was closer than some had predicted. All of the sudden one of the bathroom occupants said in a loud voice, "Joe Paterno is senile, we need to get him out of here!". The noise in the bathroom was cut in half, but most people continued their conversations and continued to pee at the trough, urinating occasionally on the shins, calves and feet of their nearest trough-mate. The urine trough is one of the few places that you really don't have to worry about the unexpected double-stream, as long as one of the streams isn't pointing down or back at you.



The man spoke again, "We gotta get rid of the old man, he can't get the job done anymore." At that point, the entire bathroom sort of hushed to a low murmur. One of the bathroom's other occupants spoke up, answering the man, "Hey buddy, if you're not having a good time maybe you shouldn't come to the games." The other man did not respond, and there was a polite silence for the remainder of my time in the bathroom that day. It reminded me that there was then and still is now a tangible camaraderie among PSU football fans, and that for the most part we are pretty polite people. Even in the throws of another losing season, Joe Paterno still had the support and respect of the vast majority of PSU football fans. You can't say that about many sports writers of that era, some who were relentless against Joepa. Others were simply careless and lazy, attributing any failures of his to his age. In the coming years after 2003, they never credited Joepa's age for his success.

The term 'Joebot' has been used to describe what is undoubtedly a very, very small portion of the PSU fan base who diefy Joe Paterno and make him something greater than what he was. The way I see Joe Paterno hasn't changed since that day in 2003. If that makes me a Joebot, than so be it. If I found out that Paterno had KNOWN that there was abuse going on and said nothing, than my opinion would be adjusted. Those who have not given Joepa the benefit of the facts and due process, slaying his good name and the people who admire him should carry the moniker 'Jonesbots.' David Jones can wear that one for every time a writer casts shame and doubt on the legacy of Joe Paterno while ignoring the facts. When a writer uses Joepa's name or those who respect Paterno in a defamatory way in order to further their own notoriety, they should be known as Jonesbots. Fair is fair.

"Haters want to hate, lovers want to love, I don't even want none of the above..." Dave Chappelle.





Roughly a year ago Justin Bieber got caught urinating in the mop bucket of a restaurant. One thing that I noticed about the picture is just how close the Biebs is standing to his intended target. In fairness, I am able to stand further away from the urine trough than most people are, all while maintaining good posture in my shoulders. But come on, Biebs, you are basically straddling that puppy. I'd be worried about pissing on my saggy glitter skinny jeans if I were him and employing that type of a stance.



Notice Justin's feet are about heel deep in line with the bucket, and his forward lean is bordering on dangerously close to falling into the bucket o' pee. If the front edge of the mop bucket were the line of scrimmage, the quarterback on the opposing team would get a free play, nothing worse than a five yard penalty for off-side.



I was lucky enough to be a junior, with season tickets, for the PSU football season in 1994.

We would get together on Friday nights before the football games in Penn Tower and party until we passed out. Then the next morning the five to fifteen of us who crashed would then continue to drink and get ready for the game.

One night the entire condo was awoken to the bone-chilling screams of a distraught female voice, "MERG....MERG WAKE UP....OH NO.....NO MERG." In those days hearing a plea like that from the other side of a shut bedroom door gave us the initial feeling that Merg was dead.



Pretty much everyone in the place who was not in a drug and or alcohol induced coma-like sleep woke at that point. We all thought that Merg was dead, and his girlfriend, now wife of almost twenty years, was trying to revive him, unsuccessfully. We gathered at the entrance to their bedroom, knocking on the door simultaneously as we opened it and entered.

What was really happening is that Merg was passed out, in bed, urinating. He was peeing the bed with his girlfriend in bed beside him, and she was trying to wake him up to no avail.

When the same scenario unfolded for a second time a few weeks later, instead of running to the doorway we just laughed our asses off and went back to bed. At the time I remember thinking that Merg's girlfriend was really dedicated to him or something. I was more naive in those days than I am now. Back then I had ruled out the possibility and reality that some women like it when you pee on them.

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