Lumbering. Never has a word been so eloquently defined in the action of one human being as it has in the human who responds on occasion to the name Martin Cochran. It goes without saying that his very presence gives you an awkward tingle as if the state of his robust weight could tip into a disastrous tumble at any moment. The kind of tumble that could end badly for any knee, shin or small dog within tripping distance. Oh but it gets worse.
Once, in full sight of his college ultimate team, a simple wooden bench well respected in the Texas strip mall district took the full brunt of a sitting Martin, the crackling cries of those wooden planks as they shrieked for mercy gave nightmares to every bench within two miles. The only thing worse was the silence that followed, the hollow silence as he rose from the wreckage, there were no dogs that barked, no birds that sung, no words that could be spoken. Only one broken bench that sat crushed and humiliated, ruined to a point where it's soul purpose of supporting those with weary feet could never again be accomplished.
And who did Martin turn to in this dire time for condolence, BLAME, he turned to blame, the easy mistress of any guilty man, he blamed the wood, he blamed the team and he even blamed the size of the Texans who had sat before him. When the blame storm had subsided and only the chilling grip of loss still hung in the atmosphere Martin splayed out in the front seat of a parked car pulled out the Super Dupper Macho Nachos he had probably stolen and proceeded to smirkily regard the depleted bench while stuffing countless calories down his chubby gullet.
Does this sound like the type of man that embodies the Farricker award? The answer is an obvious and resounding NO. But due to the sterile climate and the rule about no repeats we, like the republican party, are forced to put forth a candidate who remains only because of the crumbling lack in competence of the other nominees.
We are not proud of this and we honestly did search high and low in the kitchen cabinets for another but like a three day old burned pot who destroyed every last drop of delicious soup Martin has remained. Crusty, filthy and in need of a soapy soak we have finally come to realize that Matin Cochran is the only pot we have and unless we want to buy a new one we are all going to have to cook with the pot we got.