Sometimes, I suppose, the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Last Dec. 1, Farrar spoke with NCAA investigators and members of the Ole Miss legal team. A week later, Bjork summoned Farrar to another meeting. That morning, Farrar said, he received a text from Freeze: “Love you like a brother.”
Farrar said when he arrived at the meeting, Bjork handed him a letter explaining his career at Ole Miss was over.
“You have not met our expectations with respect to university policies and NCAA rules compliance. Therefore, effective immediately, we are terminating your job duties,” Bjork wrote. The letter did not specify which rules Farrar violated, and Bjork did not elaborate, Farrar said.
I wonder how straightforward Freeze is with those he doesn’t love so much.
Freeze, who answered the door of his Oxford home last week, declined to answer questions about Farrar and threatened to have a reporter arrested.
Uhh… never mind.
Get The Picture 
Absolutely disgusting. Here’s a guy (Farrar) who has gone though quite a bit in his life, from being raised by a single mother, to a bad accident that left him partially blind and disfigured, to battling cancer, and everything else. It’s quite obvious he’s the type who takes orders from others, and yet to attempt to make him the fall guy for all of this truly takes someone with no moral compass whatsoever.
And for Freeze to text him that he loves him like a brother as he’s about to be fired, followed by ignoring him afterward, again it shows how utterly immoral some people can be. By the way, Freeze still has yet to apologize to the Ole Miss fans (or anyone else for that matter publicly) for everything he’s done to them, which has greatly harmed the program. That, and that alone speaks volumes.
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They just keep peeling back the layers on one Hugh Freeze. It will be interesting to see whats underneath all those layers…
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BOB from Twin Peaks?
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A giant turd?
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Sounds like Farrar has some…. Freezer burn.
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Reaping what was sowed.
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“From the moment I arrived in December of 2011, I have emphasized to all of my staff that our program is founded on certain core values: faith, attitude, mental toughness, integrity and love,” Freeze said. “Doing things the right way.”
Especially when Hugh was plowing new ground
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I was just scanning and not paying much attention to the writers. When I saw that pic I just knew it was you without looking. laugh out loud don’t be a stranger DIF.
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Only because my two favorite Ole Miss pics are the mule and this
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When Hugh Freeze takes Viagra he gets taller.
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The all caps totally threw off my interpretation of that header. I read it:
“Barney, TRUST ME! I have everything under control! JESUS!!!!!!!!”
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“When writing stories set in Oxford, there is a temptation to invoke the style and themes explored by its most famous native son, the author William Faulkner.” The past is not dead. It’s not even past. Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, they would choose pain.
The winning entry in the 15th annual Faux Faulkner parody contest, “As I Lay Kvetching,” David Sheffield’s answer to the literary question: What if William Faulkner had written a script for the Three Stooges?
“As I Lay Kvetching, by William Faulkner — Stooges Episode .1632; Revisions by Mort Freberg, Abe Shineman, Paul DeMarco,
Curtis Ney; Eighth Draft, August 12, 1941.”
By David Sheffield
FADE IN:
INTERIOR: THE COMPSON HOUSE — DAY
She (the old woman, Mrs. Compson) had spent the better part of the morning waiting for them (the workmen) to arrive, yet they had not come; and when at length they drew the wagon into the yard and tied the mules beneath the scattershot shade of the water oak and climbed down amid the dust and moiling dogs to survey the house, she perceived to her dismay that they were stooges: two of whom were brothers (Moe and Curly Howard) and a third (Larry Fine) who claimed no part of their lineage but who was nonetheless of their ilk; come to wait, slack-jawed and splayfooted, before the great stair which led to the room where she (the old woman, Mrs. Compson) had retired; come with paints and pots of glue and damask wallpaper to cover them (the walls) afresh, while she (the old woman, Mrs. Compson) could only pray that they (the stooges) could refurbish and thereby sanctify it (the foyer) which now suspired with the age-old effluvia of honor and sacrifice and obduracy, still redolent with the wretched sweet scent of inviolability which they (her father and her father’s brothers, whose boots these stooges were unworthy to suck even so much as the laces of) had impressed into the very grain of the cypress balustrade upon which he, Moe, the eldest, now knocks — not obeisantly, not malevolently either, but indolently. Hearing no response, they break into something resembling song:
MOE: Helloooo…
LARRY: Helloooo ….
CURLY: Hellooooo …
ALL THREE: Hello!
CURLY: Nobody’s home. Let’s break for lunch. Nyuh, nuyk, nyuk.
MOE: Ix-nay! Put that away, numbskull!
Then Moe, aiming his extended fore and middle fingers, thrusting them into Curly’s eye sockets, heedless of the pain or even the surcease of sight this might inflict.
LARRY: Hey! He didn’t do nothin’!
MOE: Oh, yeah? Sez who? (This is not for you to judge or even acknowledge, this grievance between Curly and me, but is an old blood enmity which only we Howards can comprehend, while you, being a Fine, cant begin to plumb the depths of it. That is it. We are Howards and you are only a Fine, and being a Fine, you are not fit to regard us with anything more than sullen trepidation.) Now get going, lame brain. We got work to do.
CURLY: La dee, la dah …
At last it is Curly who picks up the plank, rough hewn and smelling of sweet gum, and — feeling the weight and heft and fiber of it — swings it innocently (bending to retrieve the tool, the ball-peen hammer dropped casually on Larry’s toe) and feeling the awful force of the blow as it (the plank) catches Moe upside his head and hearing the dreadful thunk of wood against bone and sinew, a sound the like of which he has not heard since his uncle (Irving) took them (Curly and Moe) to the park where he (the uncle, Irving) slapped with the blade of an oar the rotting rind of an overripe musk melon.
MOE: Spread out!
With his pliers Moe grasps his brother’s nose, twisting his nostrils inside out.
CURLY: Woob, woob, woob, woob, woob.
FADE OUT
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I’ve often wondered where the buck would stop with Barney… he seemed willing to be the fall guy up until now. Maybe realizing what a fraud Freeze is helped him push out from all that dirt the University and Freeze were trying to bury him under.
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Some of the most corrupt people always stand behinds the cross.
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But the most loving of them died on it for all of us…
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Amen RG!!!
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Some statements concerning Farrar don’t jibe with the accusations he partially admits are true. The next evidentiary step doesn’t present itself in the context of the question. Each time a direct answer of non-complicity presents itself, the writer swerves to tell us what a tragic figure Farrar is.
Yep, the total story ain’t been said yet concerning Ole Miss or by the writer concerning Farrar. I can wait to see what the details are before washing the ashes from Farrar’s head.
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Religious hypocrisy is the tastiest kind.
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Amen! “Barney, Trust Me. I Have Everything Under Control. Jesus.”
Other Tao of Hugh Teachings to Barney have alternate endings such as:
(a.) Just Left Chicago
(b.) Is Just Alright
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