Rebel Scum

Odessa Permian is more than a #TXHSFB team, it’s a cultural touchstone. Everything you need to know about @MOJOFB1, from Buzz Bissinger's famous book, program legend Joe Bob Bizzell, and the most recent 11-2 season. texasfootball.com/article/20…

Touchdown! Welcome back to Earth Artemis 2! Well done NASA!

Godspeed and GO ARTEMIS 2! #NASA

‘I God, Woodrow…it’s been quite a party, ain’t it? #RIPRobertDuvall

Jan 28, 1986: 40 years ago TODAY #NASA: "Challenger, go at throttle-up" #CHALLENGER: "Roger, go at throttle-up”

There is no better recap of the NFL week that was than @AnnieAgar This is brilliantly original and amazingly funny!

It’s noon on a Sunday and @ScottHanson isn’t on my TV. Sad day #NFLRedzone

My Red Raider mind does not understand what just happened! Typical Tech IS DEAD! 👆#GunsUp #BigXIIChamps

RIP Ace

58 years ago TODAY, On October 13, 1967 (Friday the 13th), “MOJO” was yelled for the first time. Permian was playing Abilene Cooper at Shotwell Stadium. It wasn't until the semi-final game in 1968 that it really caught on. YOU have the awesome responsibility to keep the Permian spirit and traditions alive for this next generation of Permian Panthers. Please do not let apathy and disillusioned disinterest take away what makes Permian a school and a spirit ABOVE THE REST. Resist change just for change-sake. Resist the urge to be like everyone else. We are MOJO...a cut ABOVE! Merry MOJO Day to you and yours! Go MOJO!

RIP Robert Redford AKA Roy Hobbs #TheNatural #WonderBoy #SportsCry

We lost a true American hero today. Jim Lovell, 97 years old, was the Commander of the ill-fated Apollo 13 mission. He embodied courage, calm, and ingenuity when the unthinkable happened. Faced with disaster 200,000 miles from home, he and his crew turned what could have been a tragedy into one of the greatest examples of teamwork and human determination in history. For those of us who grew up looking to the stars, Lovell was more than an astronaut—he was a symbol of what’s possible when skill, leadership, and unshakable resolve come together. Godspeed, Captain Lovell!

Was just a matter of time! ⛈️🌩️

Getting warmed up for #PAGameDay this season at Historic #RatliffStadium by doing some @DCI PA work at the West Texas DCI Competition at Buffalo Stadium in Canyon, TX! Incredible talent on the field and first-class hospitality and facilities from West Texas A&M! #DCI2025

RT @PlanoFootball: Week 1, See everyone at The Star in Frisco! #FaithtoFinish

I’ve lived in West Texas for most of my life, and I’ve grown tired of people who sneer and call it “the armpit of Texas.” You don’t have to love it like I do—but if you’re going to mock it, don’t be surprised when I take it personally. My family moved from El Paso to Odessa on January 1, 1980. Dad came here to fly planes for oil companies. Aside from the missing El Paso mountains, Odessa felt similar—flat, hot, dry, and nearly treeless. Green grass? That was something you saw in magazines. And when it rained, you’d stop and stare like you were witnessing a miracle. That horizon stretched out like forever—wild, empty, and honest. It hooked me. For a long time, in my youth, the word “Odessa” almost felt like a cuss word. It tasted bitter—like something you didn’t want to admit out loud. But moving back and maturing changed that. I saw it for what it really is: grit, pride, character….a place unlike anywhere else. Sure, we’ve got oilfield traffic, dust storms that choke out the sun, and pumpjacks that dot the horizon. But this place holds something deeper than aesthetics. It holds home. When we left the DFW area to return to Odessa so I could take the orchestra director position at Permian High School, people reacted with disbelief. “You’re leaving North Texas for… West Texas?” Like we’d lost our minds—or worse, our standards. But what they didn’t get is this: West Texas isn’t for everyone. It’s not easy. It’s not polished. But it’s real. It’s built on hard-working families. It’s teachers, roughnecks, and student musicians who don’t need skyscrapers to feel tall. It’s Friday nights under the Ratliff lights. Sunrises and sunsets that set the sky on fire. And people who shake your hand and mean it. No, it’s not always pretty….but it’s ours. I don’t love West Texas because it’s perfect— I love it because it’s part of me. We’ve got pumpjacks instead of pine trees, caliche roads, and skies that go from blue to brown in five minutes flat. You definitely don’t move here for the view. You stay because it makes you tougher. And I’ll go to bat for her any day of the week. So the next time someone calls the Permian Basin the “armpit of Texas,” don’t be surprised if I take a step closer and ask them to say it again— slower this time