Viewpoints

The Heck with The Ramblin Wreck.

Now let me see if I got this right. First off the rivalry between Tech and Georgia is called clean, old fashioned hate. Okay I’m diggin it. Supposedly it dates back to 1893, to Techs first win which happened to be against us. Not only did we throw rocks at them after they beat us, we threw rocks at them while they were beating us. We also called them names it appears, do what? They were called the Blacksmiths back then and probably weren’t good at that either. It was after that game the Tech fight song was written and it contains the line, To H$ll with Georgia.

I got a Tiger by the tail it’s plain to see!!!!! Whoa, it’s here where you should hear the zzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppp as the needle is dragged across the record. Goodgoogamooga what happened to Auburn? Didn’t they do something important last year, like win the national title or something? Our boys declawed, defanged, spayed, neutered, shampooed them and then wrapped them up with little pink bows around their necks. We expected Tony the Tiger on steroids, what we got, Garfield, Odie and friends on lasagna and beer. Was that the football team or the debate team in drag? Did they send the synchronized swimming team by accident?

Place 11- 20 Gators in a large pot, Jacksonville Municipal Stadium will do. They having big heads matters little, since most of them do. Add the right ingredients, to include one ex-Georgia player who can jump enthusiastically for three hours and whine for one. Add one sprig of a quarterback, John B IV, who proves one of two things, Florida women have no imagination when naming their children or Florida men aren’t smart enough to keep up with which generation they belong to. Bring to a boil, then turn down the heat, drop in 11-20 Bulldawgs, the best meat tenderizer in the SEC and let simmer for four hours.

I was again unable to watch the entire game Saturday night due to scheduling conflicts. I really need to make enough money to ensure nothing interferes with my watching Georgia football. I did continue to sneak out of the other thing I was attending, to catch up on the game and see a few plays. Luckily both were happening at the Tate Student Center, on campus. There was a group of students watching the game whom brought me up to speed every time I returned. Thanks to that group of young, enthusiastic, female fans for all their help.

I thought last week was like a bad episode of the Jerry Springer show. It was hard enough to speak of bulldogs without thinking of them as some sort of branch kin. Now I’ve got to make fun of a team with a close Bulldawg family member at the helm. Writing these stories isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I may say a lot of things in this story, but none of them will be about a certain little, baby, Dooley. Barbara will not be getting on me, I assure you.