Flipping Out With the Johnny U.

We here at the JUhS love many things. Two of those things are baseball and flipping out. Seriously. Love baseball and flipping out. So, of course, we love it when the two combine. About a year ago Joe Mikulik gave us this. In what I believe to be an homage, Phil Wellman of the Atlanta Braves’ AA affiliate, the Mississippi Braves, gave us this amazing bit of flipping out:





Johnny Flipping Out Rating: 8 out of 10 Eggs Fried on Foreheads (tied for lead with Mikulik)

Now, after his amazing performance, Joe Mikulik was given the Johnny as an arena in which to come on and explain himself and let the public know a bit about him. So, in fairness, the Johnny caught up with Mr. Coach Phil Wellman after the game:

JUhS: Welcome Mr. Coach.
Phil Wellman: You can call me Philbo.
JUhS: Not doing that. Anyway, we truly appreciate your performance the other night. I believe it tied the Flipping Out Fried Egg record. What do you have to say?
PW: Well, personally, I believe that to be an unstable rating system, but I’m glad. I wish I could've done more to set a new record. Next time, maybe I'll whip out my package or something....take a dump on the bat boy...something special. I’ve been studying under Bobby Cox, who is about to become the most ejected man in baseball history. As well, I consider Lou Piniella a mentor and hero and I have his poster above my bed.
JUhS: Hm. We certainly appreciate your creativity you put into your performance, meaning the army crawl and grenade attack with the resin bag. What was your inspiration?
PW: Well, few know this, but I’m actually a Soldier of Fortune. I’m well connected and very dangerous and that was just a warning to the umpire that his family’s house will probably be firebombed. Did you notice my thoroughness in covering the ENTIRE plate with dirt? Too many dudes just kick some dirt on there. But I wanted to make sure that it was done right.
JUhS: We’re kind of scared right now. So, what’s on your iPod?
PW: I have a huge mix of stuff. Charlie Daniels, Europe, Daughtry, Triumph, Da' Brat, and my all time favorite, Al Green. That was actually my iPod getting blazed over the PA during my performance. I called up to the booth and told Teddy the PA man to cycle over to my "Smooth Jams" playlist and crank up the good Reverend. I figured it established a good dichotomy for my performance. I like to sometimes call up and tell Teddy the PA man to cycle to my "Booty Jamz" playlist and get some JT Money in the air. Get them bitches in the crowd to "shake dey fat azzes".
JUhS: Wow. You’re quite the enigma...and crazy. Well, thanks for your time Coach. And best of luck.
PW: Thanks, man. But seriously, we’re the revolution.

After he said that, some horses crashed through the walls of the clubhouse and Coach jumped into the sidecar of a motorcycle driven by a leather-clad dude with a spiked-helmet (I THINK it was Dan Aykroyd). Then, they all stormed off and all that was left was the resonating sound of Lloyd Banks being bumped from the boom box being carried by one of the horsemen. Truly a weird night.

Flipping Out With Joe Mikulik

When I was 6 years old, I punched my grandmother in the face and then repeatedly shut the oven door on her head because she refused to give me just 4 more animal crackers! 4 MORE!!!

When I was 16 my high school chemistry teacher, Mrs. Stephens, accused me of cheating so I took a vat of hydochloric acid and threw it against her wall melting the pictures of her ugly ass family. Then, I sat down in my chair and clearly reenacted how I couldn't have cheated off the chick next to me with the big jugs because said jugs flopped over her test paper preventing any opportunity to cheat. I then micturated in Mrs. Stephens' fish tank while screaming at the top of my lungs "I AM NOT A CHEATER!".

A few years ago my youngest daughter got a puppy for her birthday. One afternoon, after I had gone way out of my way to Dairy Queen to purchase a cold, delicious strawberry shake to feed my craving for a cold, delicious strawberry shake I had to take a quick phone call in my study and left my cold, delicious strawberry shake in the kitchen. Upon completion of the call, I returned to the kitchen to find said puppy in the middle of a cold, delicious strawberry shake puddle on the kitchen floor. I got so angry and red in the face that my bow tie I was wearing caught on fire and smoke started to spout from my ears like steam from a tea pot. I then made a scream that only mythological sirens could understand, which broke every piece of glass in my house. I picked up the puppy and proceeded to punt it through some football uprights. When my daughter started to cry at the "cruelty" I had shown to her "precious Snaps", I dropped an anvil on her head and then punted her through some uprights as well. I then found a spoon and tried to salvage what I could of my now warm, melted, but delicious none-the-less strawberry floor shake.

So, some could say I have a "history of poor anger management". Some could say I "make mountains out of mole hills". I say that I'm merely a man of my own accord. I'm just trying to play with the cards I've been dealt and fighting for the little man and trying to rid the world of injustice. My life motto: "NEVER SURRENDER". My good friend, homie, brethren, mentor, etc., Malcolm X said "by any means necessary". Therefore, I feel justified in my actions from Sunday afternoon's baseball game in which, I "lost control" and garnered me a suspension and fine (as I'm sure you've all heard or seen by now). Here's the footage, just in case...



Shit, I hate Stuart Scott. Personally, I think I need to do some more bicep and deltoid work in the gym...where I'm regularly found forging my own weights from scrap steel I find under the highway.

So, now I find myself with 7 days off and out $1,000. What am I going to do with myself? I don't know. Some say I should "go to counseling". Some say I should take a trip or find a hobby. Hey! I have a hobby! It's called kicking ass and taking names and flipping the ass out!

Just this morning, I woke up to find my neighbor putting HIS trashbags into MY trash bin because his overly wasteful ass is too much for HIS bin to handle. I instantly Fred Flinstoned (walking with chest forward, feet stomping, arms pressed like concrete down to the ground) to the curb where I flung his trash all over his yard saying "shit" a lot. I then, set his piece of shit Toyota Prius ablaze while grabbing my crotch in the direction of his house with one hand and giving him the bird with the other. Next, I chopped down the giant oak in his front yard with my hands and fashioned a battering ram with which I knocked down his front door. I punched my neighbor in the nose, gave him a wedgie and then burned the bottom of his feet with a hot iron I had plugged in earlier. Finally, I told him his kids were "ugly retards" and that his wife had small boobs and stormed out after scattering some Chips Ahoy cookies across his living room.

Some say I'm insane and evil. I say I'm just living. Some say I need to relax. I say you can kiss my ass.