Opinion » Bill Cope

Mr. Cope's Cave: Absolutely Not About Mike Brady

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You're not going to ask me about Mike Brady, are you?

Who?

That football guy. You know... that guy who got caught cheating with his balls.

I think you mean Tom Brady, Mr. Cope. I've never heard of Mike Brady.

No, no. I'm pretty sure it's Mike Brady. You know... that guy who plays for the New England Patriarchs.



It's the New England Patriots, and it's Tom Brady. Not Mike.

You sure?

Pretty sure.

OK then... Mike... Tom... whatever. You're not going to ask me about him, are you?

Uh, actually, I was. But my boss told me to ask you about something else. Which is just as well, considering your level of football consciousness.

"Football consciousness?" Is that really a thing?

You know what I mean. Your immersion depth in the milieu of football... which obviously isn't very deep. Not when you get the name of the most famous quarterback in the sport wrong.

Look here, Junior. I'm not totally convinced I got his name wrong. Isn't it possible you got his name wrong and I'm right. Besides, are you even sure he's a quarterback? I thought he was the guy who throws the ball whenever the quarterback doesn't have the guts to try to run up against that depressive line blockage thingie.

Bu... bu...

Aw, forget that. Now what is it your boss told you to ask me?

Well, it's about your blog this last Monday.

My indulgafart.

Oh, yeah. That's right. I forgot. It's about your indulgafart this last Monday. My boss is from Texas, see? And...

Ah. Tell him I'm so sorry.

You're sorry for calling Texans crazy bastard nuts and dummies and death cult rednecks?

No. I'm so sorry he's from Texas.

Well, he wants me to ask if you're really stupid enough to think all Texans are like that.

That doesn't sound like a question so much as an argument.

That could be. He was pretty mad when he read that blog.

Indulgafart.

Uh, indulgafart. See, he still has lots of family in Texas. And he says none of them would ever fall for that Jade Helm conspiracy business. None of them except for a couple of uncles and a cousin who turned into one of those evangelical ninja survivalists after he got thrown out of Texas A&M. But you made it sound like the whole state is nothing but... but...

Loony doofuses?

Yeah. Loony doofuses.

By the way... "evangelical ninja survivalist?"... is that really a thing?

I don't know, Mr. Cope. I'm just telling you what my boss said.

Well you go back and tell your boss no, I am not stupid enough to believe all Texans are loony doofuses. But I guess I am stupid enough to believe that Texas has way more than its share of loony doofuses.

More than Idaho? In proportion, I mean.

Bad comparison, Skippy. Non-Texans take Texas seriously. Nobody but Idahoans takes Idaho seriously.

Mr. Cope! I can't believe you said that!

It's true. If the word "Idaho" even gets mentioned outside Idaho, It's usually in a punch line. But Texas, now... gobs of electoral votes, gobs of money, gobs of pro-sports teams, gobs of big cities, gobs of self-aggrandizing mythology... people take Texas seriously, even if it is full of loony doofuses. They've even let Texas become the place where most of the school textbooks used across the country are approved, did you know that? And guess what?... through those textbooks, the loony doofuses are trying to revise reality to fit the loony doofus cosmos. No more evolution in the biology books. No more slavery in the history books. No more global warming in the social studies books. Our children get taught the loony doofus way. Americans would be outraged if Idaho's loony doofuses were allowed that kind of power over their children. But noooooo... it must be OK because it's coming from Texas.

Gosh, my boss is going to be madder than ever.

Or NASA! Can you imagine them ever considering putting NASA in Idaho? Nah, we get the nuclear waste. F***ing Texas gets NASA! A state with more religious fundamentalists than cockroaches, and that's where they put our space program! Gack!

Mr. Cope, if my boss gets too mad at you, he might not let me come and interview you anymore.

OK, Beaver? What say you go tell your boss that absolutely not, I do not believe most of the people in Texas are loony doofuses, but it doesn't matter because there are enough loony doofuses to cancel out the regular people.

Gosh darnit! I suppose it's too late to back up and ask you about Tom Brady?

Who?

Tom Brady. You know... that guy who got caught cheating with his balls.

You're totally sure it's not "Mike" Brady?

Pretty sure.

Well I don't want to answer any questions about Tom Brady or Mike Brady. I want to talk about Yik Yak.

Yik Yak?

Yeah. Yik Yak. It's this new social whatchacallit thing on the Internet, and I have something to say about it.

Uh, Mr. Cope, I know what Yik Yak is, but we've already gone pretty long here. You may not know this, but blogs are generally sort of short and to the point.

This isn't a blog, Scooter. This is an indulafart. And since indulgafarts are my invention, they can be as long and pointless as I want them to be.

Yeah... uh... but I'm still doing a blog, see? And my boss wants my blogs short and to the point. How about if we talk about Yik Yak next week?

Yeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwooooooooooooooooooooooh fine! But if I forget what I want to say, it'll be your fault.

Well maybe you could tell me one word or phrase that I can pass back to you next time, and it'll make you remember what you were going to say about it.

Swell idea, Ratso. OK, here it is... "nasty, over-indulged little spoiled pukes who insist on claiming a right that doesn't exist."

Can I borrow your pencil? OK, that's "nasty... over-indulged... little... spoiled... punks... who... 

"Pukes." Not "punks."

... spoiled... pukes... who...

"Who insist on claiming a right that doesn't exist." That's good. When you come next week, you just read that back to me and say "Yik Yak," and I'll remember what it is I want to say.

OK, Mr. Cope. Until next week.

Yep. Next week.