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Dear Coach Meyer: Just say "NO" to Dr. Lou!

A horrifying remark from Urban Meyer has us thinking about worst-case scenarios.

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Matthew Emmons-USA TODAY Sports

Ohio State fan: How does it feel to have a glorified lemming coaching your football team? I say this not to stir the pot or mock the plight of small rodents, but to shed light on an issue that'll undoubtedly destroy Buckeye Nation as we know it if not addressed soon.

Of course, I broach this subject with a shitload of empathy. None of us, even the best of us (read: Kerry Coombs), are immune to peer pressure. (Remember the first time you tried molly?) As twerk team captain Miley Cyrus once wisely observed, "Nobody's perfect, you live and you learn it." Moreover, I even concede that it can be gratifying to make morally dubious decisions solely because folks around you are making them. Still, it's generally unwise to blindly follow the whims of another person, lest you end up plummeting off the side of a cliff like one of those poor little lemmings.Especially if that person is Lou Holtz.

In an otherwise boring-ass speech at the 15th annual Lou Holtz/Upper Ohio Valley Hall of Fame induction ceremony (SIDE NOTE: Lou Holtz has his own Hall of Fame? What are potential inductees judged on, the size of their salivary glands?), Meyer exhibited his follow-the-leader mentality with one particularly disturbing comment: "When Coach Holtz asks me to do something, I don't say no."

WELL THEN.

You guys are relatively smart, so I don't think I have to explain all the potential pitfalls of such a boneheaded life philosophy. Instead, I'll list a number of obvious follow-up questions for Meyer that inexplicably went unasked (the LAMESTREAM MEDIA strikes again, amirite?).

  • How are you still alive?
  • How the HELL are you still alive?
  • How long have you maintained such a boneheaded life philosophy?
  • Do you have any regrets about maintaining such a boneheaded life philosophy?
  • Do you have a substance abuse problem?
  • Do you have a pet lemming?
  • Which of these things does Dr. Lou most resemble: a scarecrow, a tin man, or a cowardly lion?
  • What is your opinion on the "Just Say No" campaign, Nancy Reagan's admirable attempt to discourage folks from recklessly heeding Lou Holtz's advice?
  • You realize that Lou Holtz isn't actually a doctor, right? (TRICK QUESTION:He actually is!)
  • DO YOU FEEL AT FAULT FOR THE MISDEEDS OF AARON HERNANDEZ
  • If you were stranded on an island, which Lou Holtz book would you bring to pass the time?

Those'll do for now. The OSU community deserves answers. Meyer deserves a reprieve from the wrath of Dr. Lou. Dr. Lou deserves 25 to life.

Finally, since it's July and there's literally nothing else to do, let's imagine the most plausible endgame to Meyer's depraved "I don't say no to Lou Holtz" lifestyle. Reader discretion is advised.

1. Upon returning home from a recruiting visit to the Virgin Islands, Meyer receives a telegram from Dr. Lou that reads "ROAD TRIP ;) !!!!!" Powerless against Lou's avuncular charm, Meyer quickly commits to going. "I call shotgun!!!!!!" he replies.

2. They are driving to South Bend, but you already knew that. South Bend is where Dr. Lou spends his summers, winters, birthdays, Arbor Days, spring breaks, vacays, solstices, equinoxes, Advents, Lents, blue periods, Ramadans, and dreams (or nightmares, which invariably feature Dwayne Jarrett streaking down the sideline). South Bend is the type of town that would replenish Lou's soul in the event that he had one. South Bend is where boys become men, and where men become felons.

3. Halfway through the ride, Lou makes clear their trip's purpose: they are going to break bread with Charlie Weis. (Yes, Weis still spends his offseasons in South Bend. A man like him can't afford to be around Kansas's barbecue scene year-round.) Meyer begins eating his own tongue out of sheer nervousness, but immediately regrets doing so, because Rule No. 1 of the Weis household is to enter with an empty stomach. (Charlie Weis has been known to interpret this rule a little too literally.)

4. Dr. Lou tells Meyer to put on a shirt that reads "CHARLIE & THE WEIS GUYS", because shirts that remind Weis of his disastrous ND tenure are sure to make a dazzling first impression! Incidentally, I own this shirt and am ashamed to report that I once wore it unironically. However, I have since graduated from the requisite 12-step program and have moved on with my life. Meyer, on the other hand, is woefully unequipped to handle this 100% cotton, made-in-Honduras monster.

5. Our fearless duo arrives at the Weis estate, a sprawling, modern ranch, complete with its own cattle farm in the backyard. Ominous storm clouds hover above the roof, but Lou assures Meyer that everything will be A-OK. Meyer offers a tepid knock at the door, eschewing the bird poop-laden doorbell; Lou physically chastises him - with a wooden paddle, carved in colonial times! - for not smiling. Meyer accepts his punishment silently. After a long pause, Weis answers. His figure not only towers over Meyer, but around him. "I like to call this a decided schematic advantage," he quips.

6. The scene inside the house is, frankly, absurd. Hundreds of Cuban exiles, all female, serve as Weis's personal foot-rubbers. Paintings of Che Guevara cover each and every wall. What looks like a bathroom is actually a petting zoo. What looks like a petting zoo is actually Pete Carroll's bedroom. Carroll does not look like a man living there of his own volition. Weis saunters over to Carroll and instructs him to put some lotion in a basket. Meyer is rendered physically ill by all of it, to the absolute delight of Weis and Dr. Lou. "Will there be blood?" Meyer whispers to Lou. "Yes," answers Lou, "and not just from Charlie's porterhouse."

7. It's an exorcism. Of course it was an exorcism. Why? Apparently, Weis still holds Meyer in contempt for choosing Florida over Notre Dame in 2005, which basically flushed Weis's career/reputation down the proverbial toilet. He went from being hailed as Bill Belichick's offensive guru to coaching the second-best program in freaking Kansas, so it's kinda hard to blame him for any of this. Weis and Dr. Lou begin the exorcism, which requires them to force-feed Meyer a cocktail of sweet ‘n' sour sauce, V8 juice, and Lucky Charms cereal until he vomits all over the "CHARLIE & THE WEIS GUYS" shirt.

8. Everything goes to plan, and Meyer is nowhere to be heard from again. In need of an interim coach, OSU tabs Weis to take over their now-fledgling program (hey, it beats hiring John L. Smith), which he proceeds to run into the ground.

9. Moral of the story: Nancy Reagan is our greatest American!

Happy 4th of July, everybody!