Let us all remember the wise words
of George Costanza
: A meatloaf divided against itself, cannot stand
I was thinking yesterday and nearly sprained something. I would like to share this prophecy
with you, Reader. Imagine for a moment that I, Bernie...were to land my very own dream job. For hours each day I would drink beer on Sanford bridge, gulping in each malted hop just as fast as the ambiance around me.
And maybe one day after that I would be recognized for how well I was doing and be given a perch to sit in; I picture it like a red lifeguard stand, except taller. I would look down upon my passersby as they milled about toward the Journalism Building, or perhaps Tate Center for a game of pool. On gamedays, as the band played whenever our Dawgs scored the crowd would also look to me to perform some seemingly mundane ritual, like crushing an empty against my head. I would treasure this job like no other, put 12 ounces of energy into its frothiness and would shudder at the thought of doing anything to put it in jeopardy.
But then one day my ego gets too big for my authentic Georgia helmet autographed by the legendary Scott Woerner
- To my great BullDawg Bud Bernie! You're the best!
(Hey! It's my damn prophecy, stop laughing!). I lose a bet in Jacksonville and wear a pair of jorts to the next game. My risk/reward checks and balance fails me. I somehow think my awesomeness
can survive such a travesty.
is the first to call for me to step down. He writes that I've devalued my own two diplomas
. Prez Adams is still blitzed from all the free promotional PBR
I've been slipping him right after he publicly chastises the very stand on which I sit. What's worse, the Dawg Nation is embarrassed, hurt and pissed the hell off
. My own brethren, tailgate buddies...even Stacy Searels
won't return my phone calls.
Ashamed and forlorn, I step down after a heartfelt yet still amazingly empty apology. The end. Game over. They give my throne to some young upstart like Nama, or maybe even an outsider like Cord with little to no ties to UGA. By Hate Week I'm a forgotten beltloop on the Dawg Nation's silver britches. I take some menial job as a blogger and live out my days reminding people in grocery stores that I was once the guy who used my forehead to crush cans from Sanford Bridge.
Sad...beyond measure. Yet there's a lesson of course. And the one to take from this Reader...drink PBR, not martinis
. At least you won't end up handing over a pair of red panties to a trooper and crying like a man about to be castrated by his own wife.
- First and foremost, if you haven't met Garrett Karp, you'd have a better chance from way down town. Courageous kid, great story. Cancer sucks.
- So now Damon Evans can focus on his family, the true innocent victims in all of this. Unfortunately, he's now three days behind after that ridiculous press conference Thursday.
- His professional life will survive. Heck, he may even end up at Southern Miss with Larry Eustachy. And we know that guy drinks Pabst.
- Of course there's lots of responses to Evans' firing. But the big issue now is what the settlement is. We should find out later today just how much UGA was willing to pay to end this sad chapter. UPDATE: three months pay and 100K longevity bonus.
- The Senator thinks Bradley's panties are over-wadded. I detect an addition to the Lexicon evolving....
- Even before Ms. Fuhrmann was putting on her red unmentionables early Wednesday evening and some Buckhead bartender was mixing up the first of three vodka martinis, Quinton was wondering if Damon was being graded on a curve.
- Sidenote - now that the AJC has typed red panties more than the nerds have spilled their Yoo-Hoos over them...can we really call them unmentionables?
- Meanwhile the search is officially on today for a new AD. Bill King and Kyle's vote is for former Dawg and Foley underling Greg McGarity.
- Streit had a special edition to his countdown for July 4th.
- Meanwhile Noops celebrated in sweet style.
- LSU AD Joe Alleva says this is a big year coming up for Les and the football program. I just hope Coach Miles got some extra timeouts for Father's Day.
- Lastly, what's America come to when a former hotdog champ can't grab another 15 minutes of fame without getting cuffed and stuffed?
Sorry for the shorter list of ingredients today. Been a busy weekend coming off vacay and celebrating 234 years of superior dental care.
But the real good news is that today is a new day. Sure, we'll have moments when Relationship Dawg Nation meets Independent Dawg Nation...like next Monday when the media covers Damon's courtdate. We'll be reminded of what once was. And more importantly what might have been.
But in the end Relationship Dawg Nation can't hurt Independent Dawg Nation any further. That's the Dawg Nation we know and love. Sugar Bowl Dawg Nation, Comin' Down the Track Dawg Nation. Yes, in the end we are still standing, maybe even better than ever.
It may be a Monday Reader, but wipe that mopey mug off your face and give the world a big Dawg smile. I mean, it could be worse...you could be a chicken rancher celebrating your first EVER national title...or a middle aged blogger still dreaming of his dream job. Either way, here's your fork. As always, try not to overtax it.