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Bruce Willis announced that he's stepping away from acting due to an aphasia diagnosis.

About 12 years ago, my Dad had a massive stroke. He was diagnosed, shortly thereafter, with Aphasia. Here's a little bit what it's been like for us and for him. First, I'll state the obvious: when it comes to matters of the brain and the human body, no two people seem to be alike. These are our experiences and in no way predictive of what the Willis family will go through or what Bruce himself will deal with.

National pundits trying to burn Nebraska football with some giant, curtain-pulling reveal of our mediocrity like the miserably predictable magicians that they are; ignoring the fact that we put the fucking rabbit in the hat backstage already. Like, "Tah-Dah!" You guys had Mike Riley as a coach and have underperformed.

What a fucking revelatory move, David Blaine. Hell of a plot twist, considering we were in the writers room the entire time, you stumblefucking twits.

Psssh, I've been creating personal branding logos and more for the #Huskers for years.

For instance: take this microbrew I made for Shawn Eichorst. (*Rest in Power Big Eich!) Or this original song I created for former Defensive Coordinator, John Papuchis:

Say what you want about Plies, but this hat is f-ing dope. Damnnn...there's more.

Nebraska leaves the Big Ten, signs a streaming deal with Amazon -- giving them access to the program a la 'Hard Knocks' -- and giving NU a direct & unprecedented pipeline to proper medical supplies and merch distribution (I have no idea how this actually works, so bear with me). They show a fully televised scrimmage, a 7-on-7s contest, and a skills challenge on consecutive weekends that enable the team to showcase themselves and enable Amazon to have an "Adults Only", swear-words/drinking encouraged broadcast of a game against Iowa after a few weeks.

RIP to the place that once sold me a case of Beer Thirty Light for $11.98.

Again, I bought an entire 30 cams of beer for under $12. And it tasted like it. Beer Thirty Light, which has a STAGGERING 1.5 rating on a beer app.

Thread of Ivanka holding members of the Trump family instead of Goya Beans.

We're at a socially-distanced outdoor concert, and I'm fairly convinced the lead singer of the band is wearing a fake mustache.

Will update as situation progresses. If the 'stache is, indeed, legitimate: it is shockingly dark. Like, the only way to describe the color of this 60+-year-old dude's facial hair is: aggressive charcoal.

Annual Thread (albeit a little late this year): What if 'Jaws' happened in an era when we all had Twitter? #Jaws #jaws45

Seen here: George Washington thirst trap at the National Museum of American History. How did he get so fucking ripped?

Because he had wooden teeth and so he had to fast intermittently?

I'm trying mostly to shut the fuck up and listen.

Listen to the black women who so often lead the way I should be leading. Love the way I should be loving and who too frequently thanklessly prop up the party that I am affiliated with politically and the ideas that I aspire to. Listen to the black men. The ones who we have been killing and enslaving amd oppressing ever since the ink was barely dry on the truths that were only self evident and only to be held when it was convenient for white people.

I've gotta have Myers, Jaws Shark, Hannibal Lecter, Chucky & Candyman.

https://twitter.com/ringer/status/1258834052208930816

Michael Myers is iconic. He's the Michael Jordan of killing horny teens making questionable choices.

(Thread) I just want to tell all you parents out there: you are badasses. You inspire me to be a better Father, a better person, every day. This is the challenge of our lives, raising kids while trying to stay sane & dealing with the gut-wrenching, acidic self-doubt. There are many laudable heroes and people who are battling far greater struggles, but this is merely one man's microscopic view at this macroscopic problem.

Here are the lyrics to the illest #Coronavirus rap I could conceive.
🎵*Sung to the tune of Nelly's 'Hot in Herre'*🎵

I am...alone in herre.
So I am...alone in herre...
With a little bit of *cough cough*
And a little bit of *cough cough*
Just a little bit of *cough* *cough*: I was like, good gracious, Covid’s contagious
The nation’s in isolation,
Waiting for the right time to do my Zoom,
There’s still zero chance I’mma clean my room, then uh

Since you've probably got time: here's a thread of all the stuff I've written for Omaha Magazine so far. Please go give them a read, share, like, whatever.

First up: a story about the Brian Duensing foundation.

omahamagazine.com/articles/reach… Next, a story about former UNO basketball player & motivational speaker, Kyler Erickson, who took his own personal tragedy and used it for fuel on his quest to change the world.

omahamagazine.com/articles/calli…

Look, is it miserable that they're going to have to severely limit the Nebraska state basketball tournament to immediate family members? Hell yes. It sucks.

What's the other option? Cancel: which sucks more. 1/ Because you can't legitimately be suggesting that we send massive waves of people into a goddamn enclosed arena to eat weirdly red hot dogs, high five one another, and split urinal-time during when there're documented cases of a highly contagious virus in our state? 2/

Let's get weird tonight, #Nebrasketball. What've we got to lose?

I want Haanif jacking up 25 shots tonight.

I want Thor dropping behind the back dimes like he's on a VHS of 'And 1 Mixtapes'.

I want Hoiberg to get a tech because he coughs into his hand, then touches the ref. I want Chuck Easley pulling up from the logo and turning around like it's going in, whether it goes in or not.

I want Ouedraogo to bring his birth certificate and hold it up to show everyone that somehow he's just 17.

I want Akol Arop to try to literally t-bag a dude on a dunk.

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Being a Democrat in Nebraska, a state that votes WAY after #SuperTuesday2020: Ever been to a wedding where they went cheap on the food, so they're out of side dishes by the time your table goes to the buffet? You're half-drunk & starving and when the DJ finally calls your table, you get up there and there's minimal options? That's what it's like being in Nebraska during the Democratic primaries. I get it, we're not immediate family. We don't matter as much, in the scheme of things.

Forget the Coronavirus, Trump would hold a rally if the arena was being imploded around him like the goddamn Georgia Dome. He would hold a rally in a meth lab.

In 2019, I wrote 21 posts for WhatTheHusk?!? and several for Omaha Magazine. If you've shared, liked, or even read a few words: I want to thank you with all of my soul. In 2019, I also made 8 episodes of a podcast. It was my first attempt and it was an unruly, fun-as-hell start to something very different for me. If you passed along a review, listened to a few minutes, or shared you support with me: I want to thank you more than I can express.

2018: Everything that happened before the season started.
AND
everything that happened in the second half of the season.

Scott Frost was coming home.

HE had returned. It was the right coach at the right time and the right place. That doesn't happen to us, here, very often. Everything was going smoothly. Frost was back. He was bro-hugging with Jason Peter, he was doing pressers with a fat Wood-River-style dip of chaw in. And he was gutting it.

Old men didn't need Cialis for weeks, when they found out he was fully bringing back the Walkon Program.