Okay so you’ve gotten all the way to this page, deep inside the SPLATT universe and you’re still not quite ready to send a SPLATT? The obvious question is “Why the heck not?” Well? Why not? Look, a SPLATT is the perfect way to say “I love you,” “I need you,” and “I’ll never forget you.” Caught you napping did I? A SPLATT is NONE of those things. Quite the opposite actually. It’s a put down, man. It ragging on your friends. It’s making them feel three feet tall! Who doesn’t love that?

Look, there are all kinds of people in the world: there’s jocks and sportos and motorheads, geeks, nerds, chicks, dudes, suits, violin players, guitar players, sax players. There’s celebs, there’s body builders, there’s lawyers, lots of lawyers, there’s doctors and waitresses and politicians and saints and sinners. Did I leave anyone out?

My point is there’s one thing we all have in common: the desire to put our friends down in a fun, semi-harmless way that doesn’t hurt anyone and they can give it right back! So that’s what it’s all about. Get off this damn site and go SPLATT your hearts content! Hallelujah! Holy crap! Where’s the Tylenol?

Have you ever met a Notre Dame fan? Wow. They are a bunch of psychos. If you’re part of this crowd, well, I guess you’ve stopped reading. Anyway, the Notre Dame fan is the perfect person on which to take your Splatting! skills for a test drive, and here’s why: where other teams have one or two major rivals, and therefore one or two life and death contests. But for Notre Dame fans are so intense (some would say irrational) that they get just as fired up for a mid-year football game against Wake Forest as they do for a game at the Rose Bowl against USC with the National Title on the line. This makes their poor people giant SPLATT targets. You can practice every single week!

I have a buddy who loves Notre Dame so much that he had the little guy, the Fighting Irish guy tattooed on his leg. My buddy went to Providence College. Figure that one out. One weekend he and a few more buddies and I were drinking beer, watching football. It was all fun and games till the Irish game started. There was a change in my buddy. He drank faster, he stared at the TV, he paced. He yelled, he screamed, he threw things. They lost in the final minute (and I swear I’m not making this up), he punched the door frame so hard that he broke his hand and couldn’t work for a month. Did I mention that he went to Providence College?

Personally, I don’t have any emotional attachment to Notre Dame. But I now have a schedule taped to my office wall and I SPLATT this poor dude before, during, and after every Notre Dame game in any sport. Volleyball, golf, field hockey, you name it.

I’m a guy. I’ll sit around and talk sports and guitars till I’m blue in the face. My wife? Not so much. She reads trashy mags, she watches trashy TV. Her favorite summer activity is sitting on the beach, baking her skin, reading Us Weekly, and gossiping. “Did you see the dress so and so was wearing in this photo?” “I mean so and so isn’t even cute!” “Ugh, so and so’s boobs are so fake.”

Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to know that her friends have an equal amount of opinions, yet few of them are ever the same. So Mrs. SPLATT Has taken to Splatting her gossip all over her fellow chicks’ phones. She’ll be in LA, see a friend’s favorite celebrity at Starbucks, take a video (yes, you can make your own SPLATTs!), add a snide comment about her shoes, “Nice imposter Monolos” and send it on to her Pals back home. Now it’s a game. Where me and my buddies SPLATT back and forth about football, baseball, or hockey, the women in our lives are equally busy bashing each other and their favorite famous people at an alarming rate.

If you have a teenage daughter or a 30-year-old girlfriend or wife, SPLATT may be just the gift that would make her birthday one to remember. And maybe she’ll send a thank you SPLATT