Friday, October 7, 2011

Friday's misery, chapter 4: HillBilly hate crimes

I've kept my peace for the most part this week. But truth be told I have some pretty intense feelings for these mountain mongrels we're playing tomorrow. And none of these feelings will remind you of butterflies and eskimo kisses, cute little puppies or baby's breath.


They can take their critter tailed hats and their scrawny ass coon dog and kiss my pearly white seat sitter for all I care. My compassion for Tennessee fans is so low I can't even muster the slightest bit of excitement for them when they score a touchdown against the vile turds from Jortland USA. And I cheer for anything that causes those bastards to dive back into the swamp.


So all that to say, this is an especially miserable misery. If you can't match my level of disgust, you may not want to proceed. It gets a little ugly.


Word choice
The two most overused words in the English language are love and hate. Followed fairly closely these days by "OMG LOL, your outift is like so totally ahMAHzing!" But love  and hate still have a comfortable margin. When my kids say something like "I loved that movie! Didn't you Daddy!!" I usually respond by saying "No, I love you sweetheart. I liked that movie". You might think that's extreme. But why do we need a population of people walking around loving everything from trees to tv shows? I might have been conceived around the time of Woodstock, but that doesn't mean I need a bowl full of mushrooms to achieve a moment of zen with Phil Dunphy or Raylan Givens.
We ate the forbidden fatback.


But hate...well, the word hate we have to give a pass in the Fall. I might say things like "I can't stand orange" or "That goat raping mattress burner in the orange camo overalls and the permanent half-grin is someone I despise". But when it boils down to the nitty gritty, it's just more direct to say "I hate HillBillys and their damn song too!"


You can dress a cro magnon up, but that doesn't mean he's going to be able to comprehend the complexities associated with the statistics being thrown on the scoreboard at Neyland Stadium. Similarly, you can take a junior varsity coach from Louisiana that happens to have a sexy last name plus a permanent supply of salon spray and put him in long orange diaper covers, but that doesn't mean he can fill KiffyBaby's shoes.


So yeh, I hate HillBilly Adam and Eve, their coach and their entire tackle football team. If I'm up to it Sunday morning I might just repent. But the other 364 days...hate is barely a big enough word.


Fourth and vagina
You probably wouldn't be reading this right now if you didn't already know what Saturdays in the Fall are for. So please pardon me if I insult your intelligence. But do you also know what Saturdays in the Fall are NOT for?


Tea parties and cotillions. 


equals opportunity..
If we needed 10 yards and 3 downs left us a yard short, it's just no damn time to schedule a french pedicure for your poodle Coach Richt. Hell, even our youngest most inexperienced players can recognize when the situation warrants some gonadical intervention. Strap it on if you have to...call me out of the stands if you must...but let's just sprout a pair and take the yard from them.


I mean holy hell, did kicking a field goal work in Memphis? No, you're damn right it didn't. Just because we've all had to have that game redacted from the deep recesses of our football brain in the off season doesn't mean we can't learn from it and move forward. Stop using game strategy as a teachable moment...if y'all wanted the first down you should've gotten it in 3 downs by doing your job...


Horseshit! This is SEC football. Sometimes 3 just ain't enough. That goes for whether it's a down marker on the sideline or points added to the scoreboard.


Get a lil action in
All week I've found myself trying to focus on a mental image. I fast forward to about 10:30 Saturday night, a time when I know the game is over and the initial, raw reaction has blended into the late evening mood. And y'all...I just want to be happy at that moment. 4-2 is worlds apart from 3-3, especially when it means you've just lost to the intellectual equivalent of the melted ice cube at the bottom of your glass.


I just want to feel that excitement again of winning in Knoxville TN. We've had so many fond memories there. My God, a freshman ran over people...Verron knew exactly how to make that putrid endzone the most beautiful sight my Dawg eyes have seen...Thomas Flowers made them appear as if they were chasing livestock instead of covering a punt.


At 10:30pm Saturday I want to be enjoying the moment on my deck, explaining to my dog just why that game was so important and how beautiful a win in the land of the tooth is. I want to be reflecting on what it was like to bear witness to a Georgia team that played without fear and carried a busload of determination with it to Knoxville.


Saturday night's alright for fighting...


GATA Dawgs!!