The (un) Real John Force

Fan Outbreak

2008-07-18T10:08:00.000-07:00

Winning the championship takes alot. You need the best crew, crew chief, driver and equipment. But everyone knows that. What they don't know is that there are other tools. One of my favorites is laying the heat on the opposition and just watching 'em fold up and self destruct.

I was thinking about this on Tuesday, and came up with a pretty good idea. Little did I know how friggin' brilliant it was going to turn out. I call Densmore and tell him to get me a group of actors to play fans...but not just any fans (I have legions of those) but CRAZY fans...HYSTERICAL fans...fans that need to be subdued before someone gets hurt. Then I have him get another group of actors from a local gym to play the part of my security detail.

They all showed up to Seattle this morning.

So Im doing an autograph signing with Capps, Scelzi, and Tony Pedregon when the first one shows up. She looks like a hippy from some kind of animal rights group or something. She starts screaming my name, jumping up and down and then bum rushes me. Knocks me over the back of my chair. Capps starts wigging, and tries to pull her off. She slaps him open handed on the jaw when my "security detail" pulls her off. She's all yellin' and screamin' how she loves me and I changed her life. Scelzi is floored, and just kind of chuckles and says something like "It takes all kinds...."

Then comes the Coup de Grace...here comes this guy who actually starts screaming, takes his shirt off showing off some fake John Force tatoo while chanting "I love you John!!!" and then (get this) starts friggin CRYING! The security guys sit him down and he's totally lost his mind and he's balling his pretty head off. Pedregon goes "I don't remember it being like this????" and I just kind of go "I get this everyday...had a lady tackle me in a Carls Jr last week..."

They're all gettin' shifty taking it all in. Makes em think Im Elvis or something. Now remember out there kids at home, this blog the next time I run Tony and he red lights. It happened right here.

Sleepless in Seattle

2008-07-17T07:42:00.000-07:00

Showed up here in Seattle late on Wednesday and couldn't sleep last night worth a dang. I called Densmore from the Force Bus at about 4am, and he answers the phone half asleep "You're psychotic...what do you want?" I tell him to find me what hotel Capps is at and what rental car outfit he used. "Just how the hell am I going to do that at 4am?" No idea...you're so smart figure it out. I got no time for excuses or quiters. I didn't get 14 of these rings with excuses and I tell him so. He hangs up on me in a big huff.

Twenty minutes later my phone rings. Densmore has the hotel, rental car outfit and (get this) the credit card number that he paid for the car with. I throw on my Wranglers and head over to his Hotel. Cappy's rental car was in the second row in front of the hotel. I call Hertz and tell em I'm Ron Capps, and I lost the keys to my rental car. I give em my home address, and the credit card number I paid with and tell them it's an emergency because I left my Viagra in the car. The lady had a helluva time not busting out in laughter. They were there by 5:45 with spare keys and unlocked it for me (suckers). The guy asks to see my ID before I leave, and I make up this story about how its in the hotel room upstairs and I'm not waking my wife up. He looks at me all suspicious until I slide him a twenty which sends him down the road.

I take the car back to the Force Bus, open up one of my storage compartments and pull out all my sponsor stickers. In half an hour, the car looks like my Castrol Ford, and I have a "14 Time NHRA Funny Car Champion John Force" sticker across the rear window. Then I head over to Wallmart at 7am, and get some pink seat covers and Barbie floor matts. I put a plaid dash matt on it, a Yosemite Sam antennae ball and hang a "Mary Kate and Ashley" air freshner from the rear view mirror.

Then I go back and drop it back where I got it...with an Andy Gibb "Shadow Dancing" cd in the CD player.

All in a morning's work. On to the race track.

I Hit Wilkerson with a Toilet Seat

2008-07-14T08:30:00.000-07:00

So it comes together like this...Ashley and Hood collect these stupid duckies everywhere they go on the tour. It makes me want to go home and rethink my life. The latest gag was her buying him a ridiculous duckie toilet seat. She left it out on the table in my bus, so everytime I went in for some piece, quiet and beer there it was...staring at me.

So when Wilkerson beat up on Hight, I went back in the bus and sulked for a while. Then when they called Funny Car to the lanes for the Final, I grabbed the damn duckie seat, a six pack of Coors and hopped on my scooter headed for the finish line. I was chatting with a few guys at the finish line that work for Safety Safari. They were all asking me about the seat and I told em it was a gag gift for Wilkerson if he wins...which actually wasn't too far from the truth. Before I knew it, I was sitting on my scooter with a pile of empty beer cans all around me feeling much better about life. When Wilkerson was first across the stripe, I went and stumbled/hid behind a tree thinking I was just going to jump out and scare him. But after his interview when he walked by I jumped out and clobbard him with the duckie. Broke the thing right in half, and Wilkerson was off his feet like he just got hit with a tractor. Then in a panic, I got back on my scooter to make with the getaway. I was seeing four of everything after downing about 9 beers, and piled it right into a Churro cart.

I feel bad for Wilk, because he told all the NHRA guys all he remembers is getting jumped by a giant duck in a Castrol outfit.

NOTE TO NHRA: Making the finish line safer starts with not allowing a menace to society like me drink beer at the finish line. I'm Just sayin'.

I Fired Neff

2008-07-14T08:10:00.000-07:00

So I fired Neff on Sunday. It lasted about half an hour. I qualified my heap number five at Denver, a track with air so thin the damn car is anorexic. It runs like a Volkswagen with a loose plug wire. And who do I draw first round from the twelve spot? My teammate. Now Coil and I went over this with Neff during the winter. It was real simple. It went like this:

Champ: So I want you to be hungry.
Neff: Im starving.
Champ: I want you to crush them.
Neff: We're on the same page.
Champ: "Iron" Mike Neff
Neff: I'm painting that on the fire hatch.
Champ: Unless you're running me.
Neff: ........
Champ: Then you become "Iron" Mike Nerf.
Neff: Nerf?
Champ: There is one Champ in this pit, and it ain't the new guy.
Neff: ........

So he beats me, which really kills me because I went by him like a fat kid chasing a runaway Twinkie and apparently ran out of room...because we only run to 1000 foot. If I had that last 320 feet, I would have put three counties on him. I needed that win, but mostly I knew the winner of our race faced Wilkerson next round...a man dearly in need of a butt kickin'. So atleast I got a Force car running him next round right? Yeah, Neff gets trailered after Wilkerson beats my daughter. Then Hight gets trailered. Wilkerson went tearing through my pit like it was tissue paper.

So action speaks louder then words. I start by firing Neff, and his whole team. Then I sit down with a beer in each hand and realize that I'm an idiot and the kids doing his job. I had to give his team a pay raise to get em back. It's coming out of my personal beer fund, which about put me back in the hospitol.

Im gonna go lay down.

Filling out some Job Apps

2008-07-10T13:32:00.001-07:00

So I got hold of Capps personal info and I been filling out applications all over town. At first it was for places like Round Table Pizza and this fork lift company. But then I was heading home on 5 North, and see a "Male Strip Club" outfit. I parked, and actually sat in the car for like ten minutes stressed out about what the people in this joint were gonna be about. But finally I convinced myself that this was for Ol' Capps and I needed to take one for the team.

I head inside and speak to the manager "Manny." I tell him my name is "John" and Im the agent for Ron. I had a headshot of him with me, and the guy is immediately interested. I tell him to call Ron's sister "Shelly Capps" and tell him about Ron coming in there and filling out the application. I tell him Ron won't do anything without his sister's final approval. Little does Manny know that Shelly is Ron's wife.

Anyone out there like a play by play of how that phone call is gonna go?

Im a genius in Spirit

2008-07-10T13:04:00.000-07:00

So Coil came back from the nerd compound and heads into my office. He's excited about something he learned yesterday, so I listen to him babble for a few minutes about final drive ratios, mag this and clutch that. And then I cut him off and say "So let me guess...you're thinking we can run like 1.63 to the thousand foot mark." He kind of sits there looking me over...like I'm some kind of freak. Then he says "Force, we can make it to about 300 feet that quick. We still have the rest of the track. Im thinking 3.90's." I start laughing like a maniac, and then tell him that they cut off a fourth of the track. Then I tell him to go back to second grade, and pay attention this go around.

I'm thinking all this time Coil is spending with the Italian isn't such a good idea. When he was in my office, his pants were ironed and his hair was combed. And then this mish mash of 3.90's crap. I may need to call Celebrity Rehab.

1000 Footers

2008-07-09T08:03:00.000-07:00

So I haven't had much time to get on this thing since NHRA broke the 1000 foot news. I've had a lot of people come up to me and ask what I think. Truth is, I don't really think much about rule changes. I just find ways to win under the new guide lines. And that's just what we been doing over the last week.

I sent Coil, Bernie, Prock and Medlen over to my nerd compound. I hired all these geeks and engineers and put them in a room with all this computer stuff to figure it out. Now I ain't one of these pencil pushers, but in my office I started doing some math:

1. We can do 1320 feet in 4.70 seconds. (I can do it quicker, but work with me here)
2. 1320 feet minus 320 feet is 1000 feet. That's almost one fourth of the track shortened.
3. My Castrol hotrod is green. (green is faster. It means "go")
4. My last name is "Force." Force is what it takes to get these things moving. Coincidence?
5. I have like 3000 race wins.

Now in my estimates, I should be able to do 1000 feet in...uhh...1.63 seconds give or take. Maybe less in Denver.

We'll see how close the nerds get to my number.

Trouble with The Fuzz

2008-07-02T13:32:00.000-07:00

So I was in my office Crank Calling some of the folks at random extensions over at Oakley. Telling em Im Gary Scelzi and I was wondering if I could come down there and wash there car. Bigtime stress reliever. In the early 90's it was sending 300 cheeseburgers from Burger King over to Cruz's house when he had the McDonalds deal. Now its crank calls to Oakley and Napa.

So anyway in walks this great big huge cop. Im all positive that Capps sent a male stripper over here, and tell him "Get on over here and gimme a kiss!" and the cop unsnaps his holster. Hmmm. He gets all serious and says "Sir, Im here investigating the theft of a motorhome from an owner in Fresno, and he tipped us that he thought the vehicle was here." And in the moment, I was staring at him trying to remember for the life of me where the guys said they parked it. Im picturing how lousy Im gonna look in handcuffs in a jail cell when he goes "Hey...aren't you that race car driver from Castrol?"

Five minutes later we're drinking beer and snapping pictures. He calls a few of his buddies from the precint and they're all down drinking beer and I start fessin' to what Scelzi did to me, and what I did in return. They agree to report back to Scelzi that the thing was found in a manure field near Bakersfield...and that it was filled three feet high with manure inside.

Upgraded Coach

2008-07-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

So I sent some of my boys to upgrade Scelzi's motorhome. Last year, he was gonna "hang it up" and not race anymore. I still say it was all a ploy to trick me, but whatever. So he was going to sell his motorhome and actually had it advertised for a while. I was gonna buy it and turn it into a hotdog stand at the race track, but Densmore said it was bad for PR.

So it was a swanky Monaco coach. But seeing as Gary is all about Dodge these days, I got him something a little more fitting. Enjoy it Gary, you can have the keys to your Monaco when you bring Andy back.

Wallynapped

2008-07-02T08:12:00.000-07:00

So I get in the shop this morning (it was still dark outside...Im neurotic about work) and this picture is taped to my office door. I could tell it was Andy. Not the napper, but the wally. The Wally was Andy. I name all my Wally's, and Andy was number 4. I beat Ol' Bernstein in the Finals at Pomona in 1988 and it was my fourth career Fuel Funny Car win. I named the Wally after Andy Gibb, because Coil and I were on a listening binge from one track to the next listening to that "Shadow Dancing" song.

So this picture is on the door of my office...and there is a sticky next to it that says "If you ever want to see this Wally again, you'll agree to my demands. -Scelzi"

Now listen, Im no rocket genius. I used to be a truck driver. But if Im gonna steal a Wally from the Champ, Im not signing my name. But Coil had a point...he thinks its Capps signing Scelzi's name. Im a bigger conspiracy theorist.

I think its both of em.

Coil in Love

2008-07-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

Coil got invited to some "Men of Racing" event that ESPN was holding in February. Coil is about as social as a rattlesnake, but for some reason this shindig had him all excited. Some european nerd named Jean Todt sent him an email asking if Coil was going. So apparently, this guy is some kind of Supernerd that works in Formula 1. So Coil goes to this thing, and he and this guy hit it off talking about all this racing development mumbo jumbo.

So on Monday, Coil shows up at the shop wearing Italian loafers. I didn't say anything about it, but I noticed. He starts leaving the shop on time...I didn't say anything, but I noticed. The guys start talking about his "new friend" and him hanging out at night working on some project together. I didn't say anything...but I waited.

Then he shows up this morning wearing a fedora, leather loafers and driving this damn thing. No one knows what it is. I haven't said anything yet, but if he starts drinking tea instead of coffee Im calling him to the carpet.

Scelzi and Troxel DQ'd

2008-07-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

So there have been alot of people asking me my thoughts on this scale issue after Scelzi and Troxel got yarded. I feel bad for em (not really) and I would never condone the use of materials in the race car after the run is over (fingers crossed). But I will tell you this: The scales suck. There, I said it Graham...they suck. They go fifteen pounds one way, and then fifteen pounds the other. In other motorsports, they have these super advanced digital hoopty gadgets that can tell you what a knat weights. We have scales like the one above...they're like heirlooms or some crazy thing. Great Grandaddy Light gave it to his son, and his son gave it to Graham. And Graham swears its accurate as hell. And if you try and argue with him, he'll DQ your ass and then put posters up of your family members prohibiting them entrance to the race. You should have seen him turn blue when Scelzi called his scale a "broken down red neck piece of cowshit." He turned so blue I thought he was a smurf.

But seriously, the scales suck.

Hoodwinked

2008-07-01T08:46:00.000-07:00

OK I've kept quiet on this long enough. So Ashley's all screwed up over this Danny Hood kid. And she comes to me with this crazy engagement last year and she almost finished me off. If the damn race car wasn't bad enough, and my little baby girl getting in one of these things is enough to tip anyone over she has to come to me and tell me she's getting married to this clown. The guys all nicknamed her "Hoodwinked."

Don't get me wrong, he ain't all bad. He's probably a really nice kid...as nice as they get in there young, dumb and thinking with their wiener days. I got like 50 of these kids, and they're all the same...and I've seen a few of them oogling Brittney and Courtney...who my attorney tried to explain to me are now "legal" at which point I threw my stapler at him and chased him down the hall with one of my Wally's.

And Hood knows he's got me by the short hairs. An example? So I go walking in to my Tech Center on Saturday at the Ohio race and set down my Powerade. I go talk to Coil for a minute, and when I turn around the little bastard is sitting at a workstation and chugging MY Powerade. We got 40 chests of the stuff outside. Which bottle did he pick? The one IM drinking. And the worst part is Coil LOVES this kid...talking about legally adopting him. Coil loves anything that causes me pain. He whipped out his camera phone and took this picture right on the spot.

Its a plot, and they're all against me. Well screw you guys, I got like 27 Championships from beating real men like Ron Capps, Al Hoffman, and Cruz Pedregon. I can handle you little brats.

Just wait.

Who is Paul Page?

2008-06-30T15:21:00.000-07:00

So every few years we wind up with a new sports caster. It didn't used to be that way...we had Steve Evans for a lot of good years. He was the man. Then we had a rotating door of different gomers that include Marty Reid and Mike Dunn. I like both those guys. Mike Dunn is a blood sniffing cannibal race car driver like me so we get along. But who the hell is Paul Page? I bumped in to him in the pits, and he was wearing one of those shirts with a little horse on it and talks through his nose. I don't have him figured out yet.

To break in a new guy in the booth, I get him liquored up with five or six strippers and watch the carnage. Dunn said he'd pay me a hundred bucks if Id let him come along with a camera.

We'll see what this new guy is made of.

Im Back

2008-06-30T15:15:00.000-07:00

Took some much needed time away from the Interweb to focus on winning. Im lean, mean, and back in the green machine. I've been hitting the weights, hunting the tv cameras, and now Im back on the blog.

The champ is here.

I'm on Myspace?

2007-11-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

Looks like Densmore or one of the other computer literate weiners that work at JFR have put me up on Myspace. This allows me to hit on all the fourteen year old screaming yenta's with glittering Sidekicks glued to their head. But what the heck, it's all in good fun. I'm not writing anything on this account, but you never know...it might be funny. Worst case is that I cast my fleet of Castrol attorney's down like the hounds from hell. Don't look at me like that, it's all fun and games until somebody posts a picture of me in a tutu. I've seen what these computers can do, and it's scary.

The Myspace is over here.

Force and Coil, A history

2007-11-05T13:09:00.000-08:00

Seems like every race I go to, people ask me about me and Coil, and how we met. Austin and I been together in racing for a lot of years, but that history goes back before drag racing. I met Austin when he was the lead singer for Disco Dazzle and I was the bass player for Disco Express. We wound up playing a lot of the same disco bars, and this was a groovy time back in history. Long story short, we were both in to cars, girls and disco. Coil helped me build my firstFord (a Torino) in my back yard. He knew everything about those Clevelands, and we pulled one from a yard and built my first hot rod. We would wrench on the Torino during the day, and play gigs at night. Finally, Bernie came along and the three of us went out on our own.

For old time sakes guys. Were we funky? Damn Right.

Robbed

2007-11-05T12:53:00.000-08:00

So I was hobbling back to the pits after the semi final, and I bumped in to Dave Connoly. I thought I would wander over to him and see how the kid was doing after being robbed of his title. I mean, lets face it...facts are facts. The Countdown is a total bust. If I win the first 20 races next year, and make the final four NHRA takes away all my points and we start again. That's what happened to this kid.

So I walk over to him and he smiles at me. I'm lookin' for a real good one liner to put a smile on that kids broken heart, so I say "Cheer up kid, you could look like me!" And he says "Don't be so hard on yourself Senator, we'll get you elected next year. Have you seen my doll? I had it right here." And then he starts looking around for his doll. The kids totally cracked. Way to go NHRA.

I hired some help to deal with Ashley's boyfriend

2007-11-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

So when we were in Las Vegas, I walked in to my bus and caught Ashley smootchin' with her dang boyfriend. Awkward. Not for me, but for him because I threw my walker at him. So I pull her aside later and say "Look honey, I can't focus with you kissin' away on this kid. I need you to do that somewhere other then the track. Like say an old folks home in the year 2055. That way I'll never have to see it again." She got all mad and called me irrational. She's right, I am irrational. It's won me championships being irrational. So I decided she was right, I needed to be irrational. So I call this buddy of mine in the Navy we'll call Maverick. And I ask him for some professional help. He sends these four guys out here that are in some club together called the "Seals" or some wierdo name like that. Ashley's boyfriend walks in the pit, and these guys snatch and grab him, throw him in the trunk of a Chrysler, and drive off. I get a call six hours later from some blocked number, and this cloaked voice says "The package is secure." I say "Where the hell did you drag him off to." "Guam sir. " I told Ashley that he dropped a clutch disc on his foot, and went home. Said he would call her later. She's starting to give me some static but I'm just playin' dumb on this one.

My Crew Chiefs are Swami's

2007-11-02T19:09:00.000-07:00

So I'm in the trailer getting the troops pumped up today for our second qualifying session. Gets the crew guys all hopped up, and it makes Coil's hemorrhoids flare up which is reason alone to do it. So I start playing off the chiefs, and I say "What are you gonna run Medlin?" He goes "4.82 Force." I say "Okay, what about you Prock?" and he goes "Pick a number Force" and I go "4.82...matter of fact I challenge all four of you guys to run a 4.82 today. Anyone that misses a 4.82 by two hundredths is a friggin' Marian." When I said the word Marian, a chill swept the room.

So all the chiefs go back to their hotrods and start rubbin' on em. I catch em talking to themselves, and they looked about as stressed as if this were for the final at Indy. Nobody wants to be a Marian.

So the guys roll out tonight, and Neff goes first. He runs a 4.819 and misses the mark by a thousandth. Medlin even flipped me off when he was walking off the starting line. I love that man. Next comes Guido with Ashley's car. She runs a 4.819, identical to the thousanth with Neff. My jaw hung wide open. Guido gives me a wink when he walks off the line, and I wanted to kiss him. Then comes the coup de' gras...Burkhart and Hight. Burkhart goes 4.813 and Hight runs 4.827. I about tipped over. Your gonna tell me that all four of my teams not only ran within two hundredths of a 4.82, but within a hundredth. And they wonder why I've won fourteen of these things. Look at my boys. The buck stops right there.

My Ford 500

2007-11-01T14:37:00.000-07:00

Take a good long look and drool boys and girls. Developed by Ford and Force Racing. That's right, we're building our own custom bullets now. Neff is going to test it next year in his car, but don't let that fool ya. If it flies, it will be in my car the next ROUND. I have like fourteen of these in our Engineering Center. I have another 200 in an underground vault 30 miles west of Ford's SVT location. Ford is begging me to let them sell these to other teams, but because Coil and Medlin developed half the technology they need me to sign off on it. You got better odds of getting me to fire Austin Coil and hire Stone Cold Steve Austin in his place. Not real good. And thats the bottom line!

So Compton calls me

2007-11-01T13:24:00.000-07:00

So I just got a call from Tom Compton, and he was in some kind of a panic. He asked me "John, we been friends a long time right? " "Sure Tom" "And you know, I always come through for you John. Don't I? Make sure that you get the best media coverage? Make sure that we always interview all your drivers?" "What are you after Tom?"

At this point, he gets quiet. "John, I need a favor." "No you can't date Ashley." "No no, thats not it. See...I bought this new car..." "Oh, congratulations. What did ya get? If it's a Ford, you should have called me...they give me a great deal..." "No no...see. I bought this new Bentley...." At this point I whistle, and start laughing. I don't know who the hell spends like 250 grand and doesn't by a new Ford GT40, or a Lamborghini. I thought only rappers bought Bentleys. And Compton is way too white to be a wrapper...whiter then the white on my Castrol Ford. So I say "Well, what do you need from me? Help making the payments?" and then I totally crack up. But Compton ain't having it. He says "Well...this new bimbo admin that I hired overheard me talking about it, and leaked it out on to the internet." "Ok, what can the champ do for you." And I swear on my great great grandmothers grave, he says "I need you to tell people that you gave it to me as a gift."

They had to call 911 to get an ambulance out here for oxygen, because I've never laughed that hard in my life. So here goes.

Hey everyone, did you hear about the Bentley I bought Compton? Anyone? Anyone?

More Surgery

2007-11-01T07:43:00.000-07:00

So some of you might have heard about my toe being broke. Check it out over here. They mentioned it on the broadcast in Las Vegas. They reported that it had been broke when I got home from LA. Obviously thats crap because people don't break more bones working out. Truth is, I agreed to have dinner with Mike Dunn if he would keep the lid on me piling that race chair in to the outhouse. That was where I broke the damn toe. Feet first right in to the thing.

So now I'm hobbling around on both legs. Two casts. I'm sure if the doctors had their way, I'd be in a full body cast by now. But this isn't going to affect my rehab, I can tell you that. If I have to have the docs install bionic legs then thats the rout I'm going. So all you Funny Car drivers that are secretly hoping that I'm too banged up to drive come February: Start Sweating.

A message to the fans

2007-10-31T16:29:00.000-07:00

A quick word to all you laptop using Star Wars addicted computer geeks out there on the Internet. Your visits to the site have far exceeded my wildest imagination. Apparently there is a regular Nerdapalooza of folks hitting this site to here Ol' Unreal John Force ramble on. I just wanted to thank you for all the kind comments, and let you know that I will try my best to make three posts per day. Morning, afternoon and early evening is what I'm thinking.

This is of course if I don't become a big movie star and start hanging out with famous people like Lionel Ritchie and Paula Abdul. See you all in the morning.

Clooney Calls

2007-10-31T11:29:00.000-07:00

My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning with people chattering about this film. Im on the phone with my marketing guy Dave Densmore working on rights, movie tie ins, happy meals, John Force action figures, etc. Densmore is trying to play hardball with these Hollywood agents, but I think he may be out of his league. Dave's starting to get a little wierd on the phone with me, and I can tell that the pressure of putting a deal together with Spielberg is getting to him. I think its healthy, keeps his trigger finger itchy.

So the call waiting beeps when Im on with Densmore, and I click over. "John, George Clooney here." I close my eyes trying to picture this guy, and again I'm drawing a blank. "You know...ER, Batman. The Perfect Storm." I don't say anything, just like I don't say anything when Coil is rambling and I don't want to look stupid. "Uhh...Oceans 11, Oceans 12...." Silence. "I played Booker Brooks on eleven episodes of Roseanne." "Now I gotcha. What can the Champ do for ya." He gets all coy with me, and says "Well, I uhh...I here you're doing a picture with Stephen." I love the way these Marians all talk about each other by their first name, and drop the last name. If Paul Page calls me John one more time, I'm gonna donkey punch him. Anyway so Clooney starts rambling. "Its always been my dream to work with Stephen. And John (again with the first names) I am a huge fan of your team. Huge fan. And I want a part in the film. I want to play the Snake." I ask him "Do you know the Snakes name?" He says "Uhhh...no." "Okay, is Snake a driver, an owner or a crew member." He says "Uhh, listen I have no idea." "You just liked the name 'Snake' didn't you?" "Mmm Hmm...and I'm tired of making movies in the middle east." I hung up on him and called Densmore back. Told him to call Clooney, and tell him he can have the part, but he gives half his percentage to my new Top Fuel team. Bazemore, call me.

Hollywood Calls

2007-10-31T09:38:00.001-07:00

So I get a call this morning from some teenager. He says "John Force please." "You got him." Im thinking this is some telemarketer, and I almost hang the phone up when he says "I have Stephen Spielberg on the line sir, one moment." I just stand there in my kitchen in slippers and a pair of underware wondering who the hell is pranking me. My gut says Coil, but I ain't sure he's funny enough to pull this off.

I hear a click, and then some guy says "John? Stephen Spielberg here." "Uh huh." "Hey listen, Im on the set of Indiana Jones here talking to Harrison, and we're thinking that we want to do a movie about you." "Who is Harrison?" He kind of laughs and says "Han Solo. Indiana Jones." I can't think of who the hell that is, and tell him so. He says "How about the cowboy in the '57 Chevy in American Graffiti." I gasp. Holy crap, I think that guy is famous. "So John, we're thinking big budget. Harrison plays you, we got a verbal from Michele Ryan's agent for the roll of your wife. She plays the Bionic Woman on that new show for NBC. What a great ass. And get this John, we got Mark Wahlberg to play Ron Capps."

At this point the room starts spinning and I have no idea what's happening. Don't get me wrong, they been trying to make a movie about me for years. But this is Stephen Spielberg, and I know I've heard that name before. And the Cowboy from American Graffiti was my hero when I was growing up. I still remember him sayin "I ain't nobody dork!" And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that Spielberg was the genius behind the Porky's franchise.

So he says "And get this John. We're going to name the picture 'Brut Force.'" I immediately loved the title, because it was a shot a Capps sponsor. "So listen John, I'll have my people call your people. Harrison says hey, and we're gonna send you one of his whips. Gotta run John. I need to get this Indiana Jones movie in the can!"

Guinea Pigs in the countdown

2007-10-31T05:45:00.000-07:00

So I watched the Vegas race on tv last night, and I have to feel bad for alot of people. Look at Pro Stock, with Connoly winning every race since what? Pomona? And he gets beat in Vegas second round and is like tenth in the points now or something. What a rip off. And I like Ol' Jeg, but he was actually acting like he deserved to be leading the points going in to the World Finals. I did the math, and if this would have been a regular (read: sane) season of points, Dave Connoly would be beating Jeg like 10,383 to 19. (Plus or Minus.) And you could tell the poor kid wanted to kick Graham Light in the nuts when he was doing his interview.

In Funny Car and Top Fuel, the battle would be much closer. Atleast Fuller is leading the points going in to the final race. We'll see what happens with the floppers but it looks like Tony has her pretty well locked up.

I'm hearing that rule changes abound next year for the Countdown, but you can never tell with the NHRA Gypsies. But if they do, it makes you wonder how history will look back on this group of champions. Especially if it's someone that wouldn't have (shouldn't have) won if the points weren't reset twice along the way. We may remember them as the Guinea Pigs from 2007.

Adventures in bicycling

2007-10-29T17:36:00.000-07:00

Im a simple guy. Hand me a can of Schlitz and a box of Whoppers and I can survive for days. So I been on this new high carb diet trying to get some meat back on my broken ass bone. But Ashley and Brittney come by this afternoon and start getting all preachy about Atkins this and cardio that. They do this to me atleast once a year. We even did an episode about it on my show.

So the girls leave, and quick as there gone I grab two beers from the fridge and get in to my chair. I start clicking around and settle on Rocky IV. You remember that one where Rocky kicks the ass of the Ruskie after the Ruskie kills his buddy? I think this may be the best friggin' film I've ever seen and I'm liqured up and crying about halfway through. Then all this crazy music starts playin', and I get all pumped up for him to kick this Marian's ass. And after he drops Ivan "DragQueen" Drago, I decide that I'm gonna listen to my daughters and break out my bike. I call my doctor at Baylor and ask him if I can ride my bike. He laughs and replies "Hell No." Thats how I know this is a great idea.

Now I don't have one of the fancy candy ass jobs like what Bazemore and Mike "Divekiller" Dunn ride. I have me one of the ol' style beach cruisers. So I open my garage and the weather sucks. Its all rainin' and I just stand there stairing outside tryin' to figure out what Im gonna do. And I hear Rocky say "You can do this champ." So I start diggin' around for my umbrella and on a serious beer high I head out in to the rain on my cruiser with my umbrella.

Moral of the story: Don't drink and watch Rocky.

Diving

2007-10-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

So talk of the town this week is all the diving that went on in the desert. I'm talking about Fuller and Baca, Pedregon Vs (big surprise here) Pedregon. We here at John Force Racing frown on laying down for a fellow teammate (fingers crossed). It's bad for the sport, bad for the fans, and only okay if your name is Neff, Hight or Ashley Force and I'm in the other lane.

That being said, I want to talk about diving technique. Because I think we really need one. Taking a dive is like trying to do a scene with Alec Baldwin, you need to mean it and you need to sell it. People aren't as dumb as they used to be (they're still dumb though - Ed.) and the internet has giving every Marian in town a soap box that reaches millions of people. So if you are going to dive, there needs to be a technique that gets people to buy it.

So here are the rules I feel we all need to follow:

If you are taking a dive, make sure that you aren't winning the race when you smoke the tires for gods sake.
Make it believable. If you smoke the tires, get in and out of the throttle a couple times like your trying.
Everyone loves drama. Pitch the rods out. Knock the burst panel out or pitch the blower off.
Fire is good. No one in their right mind would set the car on fire taking a dive. Even CSI would say "No way that was a dive. That thing is on fire."
When you get out of the car, throw something. Jump up and down and make a real scene. It will keep Mike Dunn's sniffer off your case. He smells dives like I smell tv cameras.

And for all you fans out there that feel like your getting cheated with the diving, just remember: Shit happens when you party naked.

The Next Generation

2007-10-29T07:45:00.001-07:00

So I'm back home in front of the tv and getting some rest. All that chaos in Vegas wore me out. And something dawned on me last night when we were heading home. I'm always talking about that "Next Generation of Drivers" crap, and I'm fixin' to stop. Because last night I realized what that statement means: These are the drivers that are here to replace me. Replace me! Nonsense. I'll be driving these hotrods until Im as old as this guy here.

I was looking around our stable last night at my Next Generation of Drivers. You know how many World Championships they've won? None. Zippo. Nada. Robert came close last year, finishing second. You know what second is? First looser. Looking at Ashley cut a .130 reaction time in the final made me throw up in my mouth. We gave her a good hotrod, and she's gettin' real close to winning won of these things. But if your dead late you're getting beat.

I have an entire stable of drivers that haven't won a single title. I have like fourteen of the damn things. When I go out to dinner and wear all my rings, I have to hire someone to wear the other four. So all this talk about me hangin' it up is just garbage I throw out there to get in the heads of my competetors. Then I show up at the Winter Nationals and watch em all seize up. So don't fear about me not coming back. Like I said earlier, I'm gonna win the next five of these things and go from there.

I know one thing: If I win seven more titles, I'll have to hire two people to go to dinner with me. My flunky will be out of fingers.

Small Accident

2007-10-26T13:16:00.000-07:00

So I get to the race track, and unload my racechair out in the parking lot. I put on my fake beard and shades to keep the fans from seeing that it's me. So we warm the thing on gas, switch it over to the ethanol side and do a sixty foot burn out in the parking lot. People were standing up on trunks to see where all the smoke was coming from. This chair friggin' hauls.

So I roll around to the entrance gate with my hard card. The moron gate attendant says "You ain't John Force sir." I forgot to take the beard off when I got to the front, but didn't realize that until later. I look back at him and say "Son, get outta my way." He says "I'm going to need to call security." That really flipped my switch. "So call em junior, tell them to follow the scratch marks" and I rev her up to about 7 grand and let her loose. The guy kinda screams and dives for cover as my chair blazes past him with the hides loose. I pull second gear and she gets crossed up between a crowd of people, a hot dog vendor and an outhouse. Im looking for the button for the chutes, and grab the only button I can find. NOS Button. The engine goes strait in to the rev limiter in third gear and Im doin' atleast a hundred. Its crossed up, and I need to pick where Im gonna crash it. The crowd of people is out, so its shit or hotdogs for the champ. I aimed for the hot dog vendor but like I said, she was crossed up. I see Elvis about the thousand foot mark and hope he's not headed for the outhouse. I hit the thing full tilt boogie, and there is a big ol' crash.

It took em three showers to get me clean, and my chair is a total loss. But based on my entrance, I'm pretty sure that all of Las Vegas knows that the Champ is here.

Im in Las Vegas

2007-10-26T10:58:00.000-07:00

It's been killing me to be away from racing. I miss my team, I miss the competetors, and I miss the smell of burnt nitro and bleeding eyes. I miss the shake, rattle and roll. So on Tuesday I told Dr. John Medlen that I needed some transportation to get around the race track. God know's I'd pile a scooter in to an outhouse in my current condition, and there is no way in hell I'm using this sissy ass wheel chair that Baylor gave me.

Medlen, being the man that he is hooked me up with something that lets me roll around the pits with my dignity, and still outrun the fans if they start to crowd me. It's got two Buell motors injected on methanol, and that bottle you see strapped on it is full of giggle gas. Medlen tells me it does 1.30 to the sixty foot mark and will clear the traps in eight seconds with the button down. We started it in my driveway and the neighbors took their children inside and locked the door. So look for yours truly running around in my new buggy.

ps. Bazemore I'm looking for sponsors for a digger. No promises.

The Final Countdown

2007-10-26T07:35:00.000-07:00

I've been getting asked by the media all year about my thoughts on the countdown. And I've tried to play it pretty strait and support NHRA on their decisions. But I did want to clear the air on this issue once and for all.

NHRA gets asked all the time why they aren't as big as Nascar. Why don't you do this, why don't you do that. Its all the same Monday morning quarterbacks that drink coffee instead of beer and spend all day and night in front of their computers bitching on the internet instead of having any kind of life outside of the Matrix. Message to nerds: put the keyboard down and go install NOS on your mini-van. You'll love yourself in the morning.

So anyways, NHRA. They get all stressed out and work themselves up trying to be like Nascar. They hire all these big brainiacs to help them decide what they need to do. Guys that have never even seen a set of B.A. Heads, and don't know who Mert Littlefield is. Guys that don't know Jim Jannard from Jim Carey. Im talking pure marketing dorks from outside of our sport. The guy that thought up the countdown structure is this guy here...we'll call him "Dorkguy" for his protection.

So they all get together and decide that the best way to fix it is to copy it. Where they screwed it up was going from eight down the four. I can live with eight, but the countdown to four is screwing things up. Connie called me the other day, asked how I was and before I could even answer he starts calling NHRA all these names and said that the countdown was destroying our sport. I see both sides of the thing. NHRA needs something that makes the series more dramatic. But the teams have sponsors that want to believe that thier horse is still in the running.

In the end, I really don't give a damn. I've decided to win the next five championships anyway. They could reset the points every round in Pomona and stick me in a Buick LeSabre for the final and I'm still going to find a way to win. People that whine less win more.

So Bazemore Calls

2007-10-25T14:56:00.000-07:00

Just got off the phone with Whit Bazemore. He called to check in and see how I was, then started working himself up about the deal with David Powers and how Powers can bite his white ass. Bazemore is a funny character. When he's away from the track he is this really nice guy. When you get him near the smell of nitro, be turns in to Mr. Hyde and wants to blow your damn doors off and sell em for scrap on Ebay.

He asked me if I had any interest in funding a dragster team for next year, and I told him I would have to get back to him. Truth is, Whit doesn't want anything to do with a dragster and never did. But when ol' Don Shoe wanted to kick him to the curb, he had to go where the money was. And he did a smart thing by following his sponsor over to the Powers team. Only thing is that Whit is like dynomite accidently dropped off at a cigar shop. Sooner or later, theres a big "Boom" and everything for six blocks is flattened.

Whit has a Funny Car drivers blood. He needs to get a job in a flopper, or he needs to put on 100 pounds of muscle and join the UFC. I'd pay money to see that.

Chassis Scuttlebutt

2007-10-25T07:49:00.000-07:00

Everywhere I turn people are talking about chassis. It's on Competition Plus, NHRA, Nitromater, and probably the cover of this month's Scuba Magazine. I talked to the folks at NHRA about it and gave em the skinny. Bottomline: The best crew chiefs on the planet work for me. They are looking at all the data, and Force Racing will use that data to build a chassis so utterly bad ass that the Department of Defense will lease the plans for their next Tank designs.

Now usually I keep stuff like this close to the vest, but in this case Im going to make an exception. NHRA wanted to mandate designs for Funny Car chassis at the beginning of the season, and this was the blue prints they gave us. So just let Coil, Medlen, Prock and Bernie fix it. Let the NHRA guys go back to the break room.

Conversations with Coil

2007-10-24T20:12:00.000-07:00

So Coil calls me a few minutes ago to check in on me. He and I have a love/hate relationship. He loves to get paid and hates that he works for me to do it. I love that he tunes the car, and hate that I have no idea what the hell he's talking about. So its kind of this mutual deal.

So he says "How you doing Force?" He never calls me Champ, mostly because WE are the champ. I'm not really the champ without Coil. He hands me Frankenstein and I just wrestle with it. Its a two man deal. So I say "Im ok. Wish I was down at the shop. Im bored as hell at here." He kind of pauses and says "Anything you need? I can swing by on the way home." Truth is, I would have loved to see him. My whole life is racing, and Coil is right there in the middle keeping me sane. But I took the high road and said "Get on home Austin. I'm strait."

So I go back to watching Lethal Weapon (the original) on HBO, and an hour later there's a knock on the door. I go look through the hole, and its Coil. I open the door, and he looks at me all sheepish and says "You said you missed the shop. Brought you something" and hands me a rag he dipped in nitro. Probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. He came in for a few minutes and we watched Lethal Weapon in silence.

He may be a pain in the ass, but he's my pain in the ass.

Im gonna sleep with that rag on my pillow.

So A&E Shows Up

2007-10-24T16:11:00.000-07:00

I get a knock on the door a few minutes ago, and imagine my mood when the morons from A&E have sent the Driving Force camera crew out here. Half of California is on fire and these guys actually think that I'm the story. These two in the picture are Harry and Lloyd. Atleast that's what I call them because they are Dumb and Dumber.

So I let them in the door because I didn't want the Carnival guests storming the castle. They come in, and I can see that they feel guilty for even showing up. I head back in to the living room, give my morphine button a couple of clicks and then fart loud enough for the people outside to hear me. Thats for you, Harry and Lloyd. I hope you got that one on tape.

Then they start trying to film me, and all I do is turn on the Discovery Channel and close my eyes. I'm not really sleeping, but they buy it. I hear one of them say "Should we just let him sleep? What are we suppose to do?" and the other goes "I told Mark he was a moron for sending us out here. Let the man rest for gods sake. We're outta here." With that, they pack up and leave, feeling all sorry for me.

Harry, Lloyd if you're reading this the strippers showed up fifteen minutes after you left. Im showing em my box of Whoppers.

Hit and Run

2007-10-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

So I found the fake beard I used to wear when me and Coil would hit the strip clubs in the mid '90s. I put on some dark glasses and ventured out to find a beer and a corn dog. I got a few funny looks when I ordered two beers and at the wagon and killed the first before he brought me the second. Guys today are candy asses that forgot what being a man was all about. They gave up beer for Star Bucks, and stop working on cars to surf the internet. Im surrounded by Marians. They'll be curling their hair next.

Anyways, some lady recognized me but was cool about it. Some actress chick that said she'd been in all these movies but has always had a thing for me. Cameran somebody. Said her last boyfriend dumped her and she's wanting to know if we could go back to my place and can I sign some stuff for her.

Anyways so I made it back safe with a beer and a pretzel to spare. I called Rob Geiger at NHRA and had him send me three years worth of racing footage. Im holed up in here with my clicker, my morphine button, a box of Whoppers and my tv.

Crowd at Casa De Force

2007-10-24T09:12:00.000-07:00

I was having this great dream about my return to drag racing where all these people were chanting my name. By now, Im used to that kind of thing. So I open my eyes, and immediately realize Im at home because I was staring at the murial of naked mermaids I had painted on my ceiling. But then I realize that the chanting from the dream is still going.

I crawl out of bed, and shuffle to the front of the house to peek out the curtains. Oh. My. God.

There is a friggin' carnival in front of my house. They have all these tents set up, circus performers, people cooking food, and John Force posters everywhere. There are hundreds (maybe thousands) of people out there. A couple of people pointed at me in the window, and started laughing. I looked down to realize I was only wearing an undershirt, and my friggin' dong was hanging out under the shirt trying to get a peek at all the action.

Im going to find a rubber nose and fake beard, and see if I can find the guy at the beer wagon. This place is crazy.

So Scelzi Stopped By

2007-10-23T15:19:00.000-07:00

So after I sent Capps home with his weiner hiding in a dark cave and sweating about running us next year, he calls Gary Scelzi in some kind of frenzy. My phone rang eight minutes after Capps left. He swings by, trying to play coy with me. Asks me how I'm doing, do I need anything. I just take a pull on a Coors Light, smirk and say "After this last weekend, I think Im all set" and watch the look of horror on his face.

"What happened last weekend champ?" As if he didn't already get it right from Capps big ol' mouth.

"We tested one of the hotrods. It went 4.64." That's right, I dropped two hundreths off the ET I gave Capps. Scelzi started turning purple, and then said "Really? Thats GREAT John! Where did you run a number like that?" The moon. There was no fucking oxygen at all, and the car came back to the pits looking like we never started it. That's what I wanted to say. But instead I said "Madagascar." He just nodded. I'm not even sure if Madagascar is in the US, but I could swear its outside of Alabama.

I gave the button two clicks after that and when I came too, Gary was gone. I'll be watching the threads on Nitromater to see if he breaks the story.

So Capps Stops By

2007-10-23T11:57:00.000-07:00

So I get a call from Ron Capps, and he's asking me how I'm feeling. Now I like Ron, but if I was about to croak right here in the living room, I would never (on my worst day) let him know it. Why? Its complicated, but if I simplified it it's like this: Im the Champ, he's the enemy and Im going to crush him into little pieces next year. Simple as that.

So with a major morphine hang over, I start throwing on slacks and a sports coat over all my broken shit. I want him to think its cocktail hour over at Casa De Force, and that word of my injuries has been dramatically over stated. I grabbed a picture on my way to the door. Notice the red eyes? That's not the camera. That's the eyes of a multi-time champion that is going to hand you your ass in 2008.

So Capps come's in and see's me kicking it like George Clooney. We start talking about next season, and I let it slip (oops) that Coil has a new clutch program that we tested last weekend at an undisclosed location, and the car went 4.66 at 4200 feet and the track was 140 degrees. I made shit up as I went, but the poor kid looked like he was gonna loose his lunch right there in my living room.

Message to the funny car community: There is a 600 pound garilla that is going to peel you all like a bushell of banana's. I'll let the picture below tell the story.

I'm Finally Home

2007-10-23T11:22:00.000-07:00

So after 27 days in the Baylor Hospitol, I've finely made it back home. I can't remember what it's like not to have my ass hanging out of the back of a gown. I sat in front of the tv when I got home, flipped through the channels on my 400" screen, chugging a Coors and loving the fact that Im home, no nurses are walking in... and Im John Force. That's right, I said it.

So I had to give all these cheesy interviews when I was checked in to Lamer Hospitol. "They got a great staff here, blah blah blah." And actually, this one Doctor was bitchin'. Hooked me up with a morphine button wired right to my back. I used that bastard like it was an Asteroids game from the '70s. People would come by and visit, and if I wasn't interested I'd just lay in to the button and pass out. At one point, some Super Comp dude came by the room and droned on about how Im his hero, the best there ever was (he had a point there) and that he wants to be just like me. Three clicks later, and I was dreaming about strippers dancing in the Coors Light brewery on "All John Can Drink" night.

But now Im home. And damn it's good to be here. When I got home, the folks from Coors had send this to my house:

I had no idea that Coors had chicks in a box, but I ain't complaining!

So I'm home getting my rest, making alot of phone calls and getting the team ready for the last two races of the NHRA tour. Coil called me and told me that he's working on some new engine combination that's going to have us running '50s next year, and that we shouldn't get beat by Capps even once. Most of it was way over my head, but I did my usual "Yep...good deal" so that I don't sound like a friggin' idiot. He started ranting about Boost pressure, special volumetric efficiency in the intake with direct port something something..." and thats when I started clicking my button.

That's right, I had the morphine button installed in my chair. I've clicked it twice while I was typing thi....