Mark Clayton Can Spell Ombudsman
The rumors were true. Ya heard em. Free Darko what? Free Darko Ombudsman? The simple answer: Mark Clayton.
I'm sure you all are asking. Why is Mark Clayton... Mista Soft Hands, Mista TD 4 Marino... spending his time with a bunch of fools writing about their silly coverage of the NBA. Well, my daughter has her own blog and her grades have gone up.
Very proud indeed. For Mark Clayton, the fellas on The Best Damn Sports Show Period said I needed journalistic experience to be a featured guest. How can 5 pro-bowls and 84 TD passes not be construed as credibility?
It's been hard to break into the post-football-media-career-limelight. I don't begrudge Dan the Man or anyone their success. But if Desmond Howard screws up once more, they need to toss his soft ass for some of these here Soft Hands. Charmin soft. True.
ESPN be damned. And that's what this is here all about. The whole motley fool of big media. If Mark Clayton can't break into that game, Mark Clayton decided to purvay the scene from the other side - the progressive side - and FreeDarko feels like just the right fit. 9 wrist bands strong.
But before I begin to turn my hermeneutic lens on FreeDarko's writings - which I guarantee will make for monthly chat shop - I needed to plant the first seeds of my dissention.
It has been a interesting week in the world of Sports Media, from Mark Clayton's vantage point. We've all had time to marinate on Shoal's epic post that skewered Bill Simmons. Funny man writes some funny shit about sports, nicknames himself the Sports Guy, writes for a silly late night show and now he's able to judge like he's all and mighty. I know Bill Simmons didn't hell as hell catch 582 receptions.
That debate has come and gone. But wounds are still fresh. Our soldiers here refuse to openly pick up their axes, but around the corridors of FreeD(om)arko Hall, a sense is in the air that cred must be given where cred is due. And finally, we may have just found the story that will do it.
I'm talking about my boys from the U. Miami Hurricanes now. Let's follow the paper trail.
We got here a silly fat boy who thinks he's a hipster. Says there is more to love. Dude wears argyle has a morning show on college radio. Dude has a blog where he purports to know about all the tidings going on in Miami. Well Kyle Wenvarderhooosen sure as hell didn't have 15.4 Yards Per Reception. And that's besides the point. Cuz he's a self purported indiefuck in the most non-indie town in the United States. And he goes to the U, where sun tans and silicon are the order of the year.. Mark Clayton knows contradictions.
Fat Dude also jocks Miami Football. And he broke the cardinal rule of any geekdom following stardom. Hell, Mark Clayton had fat boy groupies, and they're good for errands and shit but I sure as hell don't keep them around if they get loose lips on my countless sexual exploits.
Those days are over. Family man now, but lets make one thing clear. All levels of sports have egotistical men surrounded by women ready to drop trow for a taste of the spotlight. 582 receptions on the field? Off it Chamberlain ain't got shit on me.
Fat Boy established lets turn to the tape.
Hell, I liked the chorus.
If your ho only knows that she was getting fucked on the 7th floor... If that bitch only knew that she was getting mudded by the hold damn crew. What would she do?Well, right there this needs to be taken like some comic shit. Because I tell you, any woman who experienced the righteous diamond-tipped rod of Mark Clayton damn well knew what she was doing.
The 7th Floor Crew stands large and beats chest, but these are amateurs. Run it down now. I created this nifty here stat table for y'all to follow while you listen.
Marvelous: Holds nuts with 2 hands and a smile.
T-Good: Both Plumba/Big-Dick Bandit, jersey # is also member size (5 x 2).
Big Nick: Slings Dick and Grey Goose. Generous.
Little Noo: Is short and sweet. Likes balls bouncing over partner's face.
Dove-C: Called Thundercat, likes to trick or treat.
T-Buck: Fucks her in the front, in back, and on car (T-Bird) - drinks Gin.
G-Reg: Climaxes on her face, chest, ears and eyes. Has a third leg.
Big Beast: Wants a tag team, lets boys on the crime scene. Good Friend.
Hollaman: From the back while they're touching their toes.
These boys are boys. They are going through their song and dance. If they make it to the league things are gonna hell as hell change. Professionals on the field and in the love den. This is kiddie shit. Talkin' bout bustin on places and shit. Nothing rings true like tubing as God meant it to be.
If that track was rapped on Jimmy Kimmel's, people would be yelling that the Sports Guy was a damn Casanova of Dante like proportions. Anyone who knows anything knows that the sex that goes on at the U isn't any different than that which goes on at VaTech, USC, even the freaky freaks at SMU. These boys were just green enough to make a song about it. Mark Clayton wouldn't be singing about it. He'd be practicing. Rookies.
So Pat Forde takes it and runs. Says it threatens Miami's progress. Word around the program should be 8-1 and BCS bound, not ammo for criticism. That's true. But only because you and yours are at the head of the microphone.
Widget reports a story. He's a columnist... in that grey area where he's not a reporter that can't opine. But as hey-said columnist damnification and judgment may be too strong - so lets craft our family values incipiently into every word.
The track then launches its disrespectful assault. The subject matter: group sex. Multiple men, individual women. Or, as one member of the 7th Floor Crew so delicately put it, "We 'bout to run a seven-man train all up in you."
Sorry for the crudity, but there's really no other way to convey the subject matter. My tally of the profanities laced throughout this song: 29 F-bombs, 15 references to "hos" and 18 references to "bitches." Plus many other words and phrases unfit even for cyberprint.
Lovely. Miami football, which has made significant strides over the years to eradicate the old image of Thug U., needed this like Doc Gooden needs another trip to central booking.
Are we listening to the same song? It doesn't seem to convey group sex in the multiple connotations that you suggest. Forde made it more lurid, more detailed. Yet he didn't dare post the song. FreeDarko brings it to you because we trust readers to judge on their own. You judge for yours.
Clayton is confident you'll see it for what it is. Fat Boy himself said that the coverage was an overreaction, and this kid - thick as he is - finally may be lovable because he doesn't have to bow down to the lure of giving a story legs. Let it run on its own if it can.
Ironically, ESPN embraces that which they damnify. The source for the song was Fat Boy's blog. Blogger was interviewed in Forde's own roll-out. So that independent and free media, which does not cater to bottom lines and does not mass publicize our own programming... simply journalism as it is meant to be... is where you go for your stories.
Just like this here blog got ripped off for Peja shirtless and Tony Parker's rap song. Cowards. Oh damn, even Mark Clayton can't read that last link cuz it's Insider only. Let them keep hating.
Well, Duper and I often talk about who to blame more for our sad sorry state. Government or the media. Lately it seems like the latter is in fear mode. Yet they spin and hack the stories just as much as Government pops their message out of a communications oven.
I thought I'd share with my boys here at FreeDarko that at least Government said y'all were legit. Linky link.
The FEC just placed their hand on this here Good Book and said you exist?
Do it here for the Love of the Game.
A revolution is coming. And it is going to hit the big boys hard in their wallets.
I'll be back - bringing it real to you - again soon.