writes for:
www.fantasy
bully.com
Buy
My Book
NOW!
comments range from: your video was stupid, I would have went with (insert stupid person or fictional
character) as badass, and sometimes, I really like what you wrote about blah blah blah. More times
than not, they usually liked the shit that I did not write. I know I am friends with morons, but did you
idiots think I made up the farteaters writing team. If I post something under Guido the Meathead, Hike
Spencer, Plumper Humper, or John Fever MD (as in this story), then I did not write it, they did. Other
times guest writers like Alex, Ron Shanney or Boobie McNipples will write something as well. I did not
make them up.
American rugby is a magnet for an infinite array of weirdoes, creepazoids,
perverts, and scumbags. Every college rugby team in this country has at least
one or more of the following:
#1- The drifter hippie: went to Australia to find himself, or Argentina to build
toilets, and learned rugby along the way. He saw rugby as a reliable way to
meet people, and possibly get laid, comes back to America and decides to join
the rugby team. Hippies don’t care for physical contact, and they’ve played
soccer their whole life. They always show up to the first practice wearing soccer
cleats, hot-pants, ankle socks, a T-shirt, and a hemp necklace. It’s always been
a mystery to me: every one of these Oscar Meyers learns how to play rugby in a
country that offers the highest possible level of coaching and instruction
compared to America. Our Drifter Hippie learned how to play in Australia; a
country that loves rugby as much as Americans love football and baseball
combined. He was there for six months, and played rugby for four of those
months.
He was the worst player on the team! And it wasn’t like we could attribute how
shitty he was to youth and inexperience either. That fucking hippie was about 26
at the time! He still had 3 years of school left too. It was hopeless. He ran like a
female gymnast runs when she’s about to jump onto the spring board! He ran
like a fucking 4-year-old kid on the kitchen tile wearing those pajamas that have
the feet attached!
Last thing I’ll say about the Drifter Hippie that every team has...
When I was in 5th grade, we had a kid with Down syndrome named Richard. He
wore cowboy boots every day. We played tackle football every day at lunch.
Richard did this thing where he’d run on only the heels of those goddamn
cowboy boots at full speed carrying a football. Fast too! He was almost 200
pounds, running as fast as anyone, but only touching his back heels to the
ground. Those fucking cowboy boot tips would stab you in the face if you tried to
take out his knees, so you had to risk dealing with a vicious stiff-arm to get him
down. And either way, if you did bring him down you were going to come out of
it with a face full of spit, because he would stick out his tongue and make fart
sounds the whole time he carried the ball. If you had Richard on your team, no
one was going to stop the old Slick Rick Toss Play.
That Drifter Hippie could have learned more about rugby hanging out with
Richard for two hours than he picked up in the 4 months playing in Australia!
#2- The Body-Building Roid-Head: we had like 8 of these, and probably won
a lot because of them. They all shave their legs and arms, have at least two
priors, love poetry, know about every supplement, drive Mini Coopers with the
British Flag on top, they’re great with computers, drink Wild Turkey, they have
the singing voice of an angel, and every one of these needle butts has a sweet,
little, timid nerd for a side-kick. The side-kicks never played an organized sport,
and love Japanimation porno. Roiders always get their side-kicks in the dorms
freshman year. They needed help with computers, and in turn the timid nerds
needed protection. A perfect fit. Every Roider holds a special place in their
hearts for their little buddies, and the side-kicks go to every game to cheer for
their giant heroes.
#3- The Foreigner: they’re usually pretty good players. They’re always treated
as an oddity, and it’s a huge spectacle and celebration when they get laid. Guys
that have family from rugby countries like England beg the Foreigners to have
slumber parties with ‘em.
#4- The Red Head: pretty self explanatory.
#5- The Stretch Armstrong: an awkward, baby faced guy that’s 6’6’’ or more.
Always gets talked into playing by some older guy on the team that took Electric
Engineering with him or something. Stretch Armstrong’s don’t say much. They
drink generic Nyquil instead of booze, because they love to hallucinate, and they
secretly can’t hold their booze. Legs huge, arms small. If they drive a car, it’s
purple or yellow. If the car isn’t purple or yellow, they drive an Asian motorcycle.
Like the Foreigner, Stretch Armstrongs also create pandemonium when they
announce a successful attempt at intercourse, and it’s always with a girl that’s
1½ inches away from legally being a midget.
#6- The Party Fag: convinced that he’s the first person to think of combining
beers, women and men as a way for everyone to enjoy themselves, and get into
some trouble. They have crappy friends that bring crappy girls. If you can
imagine a Dr. Seuss Fag in the Hat who has admirers, lackeys and yes-men!
The party dork is hated more for the crappy element he brings than anything
else. Party Fag’s love to talk about Vegas, yet surprisingly don’t really drink or
go out half as much as it seems. They’d rather do shit like take a Saturday night
off, then show up at your house Sunday morning talking about mimosas. Without
fail, these assholes are always involved in a pyramid scheme.
#7- The Born-Agains: always at least two of these on each team. They can be
a valuable asset because they don’t drink, and run laps when they feel the urge
to swear, so they’re in great shape. Even if the terrible players are valuable
because they can take care of administrative responsibilities during road-trips
while everyone else is drunk. They don’t really enjoy the guys on the team, but
that’s not why they play. Christian Crusaders can’t drink or fornicate, so they try
to keep a hip and contemporary edge about them by playing extreme sports, or
singing in a worship rock band. Every new Born-Again recruit is required to pick
an extreme sport to play, or an instrument to use in the worship band. Most
choose ultimate Frisbee, roller-blading, mountain climbing, or street louge. But
a few play rugby.
#8- The Drunk: 85-93% of every team. Every season starts with 15% that aren’
t drunks. 8% of that 15% get ostracized to the point of quitting the team or
developing a case of tissue-dependant alcoholism. The other 7% are Born-
Agains, and you just leave them alone.
#9- The Crazy (insert first name here): every group of friends, and especially
every college rugby team has one of these. Some have a Crazy Luiz, some
have a Crazy George; some teams may even change it up and have a Wild Bill.
We had a Crazy Pat.
Once in a while we played with the name. Maybe a Patrick The Wicked here
and there, or maybe Maniatrick Patrick. But Crazy Pat was easier.
But sometimes, when the stars were aligned right, and the coyotes were mating,
Crazy Pat would unleash a spectacle of insanity, rage, and senselessness that
would compel us to brand him with a different name. A name that referred to the
monsters that took over Crazy Pat’s body every so often.
That name was Patricio Insano.
----------------------------------------Story by John Fever, MD------------------------------------
Patricio Insano - Part 2