Let Charles E. Kelly Stay Duckless–And Luckless

Alan Lohner Humor

By now, if you’re a regular reader of these half-crazed rants–okay, okay, totally crazed, out-and-out rampages–you are well aware that I’m not an advocate of “Northwest nice.” But that’s only when it comes to things like love and war. And as we all know, football may as well be war, with terminology like “blitz,” “aerial attack,” “defensive line,” “long bomb,” and “Let’s annihilate those depraved and deranged Washington Huskies.”

I can actually be quite nice in other areas, and if I can ever think of an example, I will let you know. Oh wait, I help little old ladies cross the street–unless they’re wearing a purple scarf with a “W” on it, in which case I will escort them halfway and then leave them to fend for themselves against a lumber truck or a Ford Explorer driven by a Karen who’s late for her appointment at the nail salon.

I admit that I am far from saintly when referring to USC, that scourge of humanity, and all the other loathsome opponents of Our Beloved Ducks. I’ve also tended to permanently disassociate myself from exes, whether they were from Toledo, Texas, or Timbuktu, especially if they abandoned me for an unfathomable reason–like running off with a mega-millionaire who owned a private jet and a lagoon-front resort in Bora Bora.

‘Twas the Snub of All Snubs

Right on cue, here comes Coach Charles E. Kelly, the Ducks’ former suitor, who once upon a time treated us to victories of all flavors, a Rose Bowl trophy, and a date to The Natty, but then cruelly ditched us for a floozy in Philadelphia. Actually, the floozy was Philadelphia, which made it far, far worse. This was detestable Philadelphia who recklessly cracked the Liberty Bell. This was insane Philadelphia who heckled Santa Claus and peppered him with snowballs.

Photo by QueenCarolyn on Pixabay

Philadelphia’s least favorite person until Coach Charles Kelly came along.

Kelly is now dilly-dallying with that hussy called Los Angeles, and for who knows how long. UCLA is 6-0, but so what? It’s very possible that we could wake up in two weeks’ time and discover that Kelly is flying off to Michigan to extinguish that dumpster inferno called the Detroit Lions. That makes as much sense as leaving Oregon for Philly. But then, at times Kelly exhibits all the logic of a four-year-old whining for a pet hippopotamus.

Kelly had no luck in bringing Oregon a national championship. We owe him no thanks, no platitudes, and certainly no fawning. That’s because he returns to Duckburg not in peace, but in war, and so war he shall have. Do not forget for one millisecond that Kelly represents sleazy UCLA, the other Unscrupulous College at Los Angeles. And do not fall for the laughable lie that Saturday’s game is a homecoming for Kelly. He belongs in Oregon like Earth belongs in the M51 Galaxy.

Why Kelly Might Just Be the Ultimate Charmer 

Oregon disavows any connection to UCLA and anyone who is remotely tied to that academy of disgrace. Even though Kelly was not directly involved in the Brutus-like backstabbing of Pac-12 schools, he is guilty by association. His mitts are just as soiled as that blockheaded UCLA chancellor. Kelly, too, attached himself to USC’s scaly skin, slithering along to the Big Ten. Yes, UCLA and USC are venomous co-conspirators of attempted fratricide. Think of Coach Kelly sitting cross legged, wearing a turban, coaxing musical notes out of a pungi, and doing his level best to charm all the cobras in his midst.

Photo by Raúl Cacho Oses on Unsplash

“They promised me that the only UCLA admission test was an S-A-T.”

The Silliest Sentence Ever Scripted

On the UCLA athletic website, we came across a sentence even more absurd than pass-interference calls by Pac-12 referees. You may want to make sure you’re seated before you read this sentence, especially if you’re inside a building more than two stories tall. You might laugh so violently that you trip over your shoelaces, crash through the window, and land outside on your head.

Now that you’re safely seated, here is the unbelievably ludicrous line from UCLA:

“Is it too much to say the Rose Bowl is UCLA, and UCLA is the Rose Bowl?”

Aren’t you glad that you’re sitting down? Have you stopped laughing yet? The Rose Bowl is UCLA like I am the new Elvis. UCLA hasn’t been to a Rose Bowl game in this century. The last time UCLA won a Rose Bowl was in 1986, and three unmitigated disasters followed–Challenger, Chernobyl, and horror of horrors, the New York Mets winning the World Series. I am convinced that UCLA’s improbable victory caused a rift in the fabric of space-time, and nothing has made sense since. If you can’t figure out how to work the remote on your smart TV, it is UCLA’s fault.

The Laughs Keep On Coming

A football stadium was never built on the UCLA campus, stark proof that the dopey institution has been mismanaged over the years by chancellors with the foresight of Mr. Magoo. Imagine if the Ducks played their home games down in Cottage Grove, more than 20 miles away. UCLA plays its home games at the Rose Bowl, 24 miles from its campus in west L.A. Tell me again that UCLA is a better school than Oregon. Excuse me, while I go into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Image by Kim Heimbuch from Pixabay

21st century UCLA–no champions made here.

And how has the Rose Bowl worked out as a home venue for UCLA? Well, in the first 20 years of this century, UCLA has not had a single sellout, and in UCLA’s first game this season, the attendance was 27,143. If my sides split from all this laughing, I’m going to sue that clown school, I swear.

Yes, Uruguay Has Earned Its Place Here

What all of this boils down to is that UCLA has as much business cavorting in the Rose Bowl as the national soccer team from Uruguay. In their two last postseason appearances, UCLA lost the Cactus Bowl and Foster Farms Bowl, sending their program lower than the bottom of a West Virginia coal mine. But that was nothing compared to last December, when UCLA, in true serpentine fashion, wriggled out of the Holiday Bowl mere hours before kickoff.

North Carolina State fans who traveled 2,500 miles to San Diego were left with a bag of tacos from Old Town and an alibi from UCLA that smelled like week-old fish heads. UCLA did what it wanted to do with wanton disregard for others. It turns out, they were just warming up for the nastiest act of all–trying to destroy the Pac-12 with their cross-town butcher, USC.

Photo by Evan Demicoli on Unsplash

UCLA’s reputation after last year’s Holiday Bowl and this year’s treacherous move to the Big Ten.

Anything Worth Having is Worth Cheating For

The University of California was established at Berkeley in 1868; in 1919, UCLA followed, plagiarizing the name “University of California,” and making it part of their own. Followers do this. They copy things, which is a sanitized way of saying that they’ll steal anything that isn’t slathered down with Super Glue. When UCLA needed a fight song, did they look for a composer? No. Did they hire a lyricist? No. This would have required effort, with a dash of integrity, which is in very short supply at UCLA. So how did UCLA get their fight song? Easy. They stole Cal’s.

New schools need school colors. We imagine that UCLA put a lot of thought into this matter. We’re pretty sure that they thought of red. We’re confident that they thought of silver. And green. And white. We’re betting that UCLA even thought of mauve, and that they thought of fuchsia. We’re also laying down good money that after many, many thoughts, and many, many hours, and probably many, many days, one of the halfwits on the “Let’s Pick Our Colors Committee” broke the silence of deep thought around the room and said, “Why don’t we just steal blue and gold from Berkeley?” And so they did.

UCLA also needed a mascot and by now, thankfully, they had grown tired of stealing everything from Cal, so they struck “Bears” off the list right away. UCLA went to work to pick a unique name, all their own, with no influence from the original University of California. UCLA contemplated “Cubs” and “Grizzlies” and “Kodiaks.” They considered “Big White Polar Animals,” “Yogis,” and “Boo Boos,” and we’re still not sure how they did it, but in the end, they somehow came up with “Bruins.” It was the first and only time in UCLA history that they did not copy and steal from Cal.

After Further Review, We Support UCLA’s Departure

If UCLA is determined to make its slimy way to the Big Ten, we encourage the Bruins to go all in. We’ve studied the map and it turns out that there is no Big Ten school in Buffalo, New York. It’s perfect. The move will drastically cut the mileage to Piscataway and State College, P-A, and if football doesn’t work out, the Bruins could take up other sports.

We hear that kayaking is a popular pastime in Buffalo, and there’s a wonderful, lively river called the Niagara where the UCLA team could practice. We can envision the captain of the kayaking club, a Pied Piper of many paddlers who are following in single file–down, down, way down the river on a test run, kayak after kayak, after kayak, after kayak, after kayak.

Photo by Sergey Pesterev on Unsplash

Did anyone see where the kayakers went?

Meanwhile, Coach Charles Edward Kelly would be closer to his next Duckless, luckless gig of leading the Lions to no Super Bowls.

Alan Lohner
Tigard, Oregon
Top photo from YouTube 

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