How not to spend your 15 minutes of fame
Me and Mungowitz are still waiting and hoping for ours, but a cautionary tale was well provided last night by a humanoid named Jim Leavitt, the coach of the South Florida Bulls. Did any of you see the game and his crazed weasel performance? Stomping and screaming, eyes bulging, neck veins pulsing, even when his team had done an ok job. The picture shows him in one of his calmer moments.
Mr. Leavitt, Woody Hayes is dead and gone and your program ain't gonna last with these kinds of shenanigans. You got your 15 minutes and decided to act like you had rabies. Kudos, sir
Labels: The Arts