Thursday: interrupts science test review, "Seriously Dad, is Gurley going to Arkansas?"
Me: "Honey, go get the mother f---kin swear jar. Daddy's about to donate some goddamn benjamins."
Little Rock and the Jabberwock.
Arkansas is a state. (Yes, in this union. I checked.) More importantly, it's the birthplace of Prez Clinton, Maya Angelou, John Grisham, and Houston Nutt. (Giggity.) So it also gave us a blue dress, Oprah Angelou, Matthew McConaGay, and the end of Danny Ford's tyranny. (Giggity!)
But mostest importantly, the state of Arkansaw has given us Walmartians. You know, the people that dress up, leave the house in whatever rotted out El Camino from their front yard that will still crank, and head to the place that sells the mostest shit for less. These People of WalMart go there for more jewelry, IceHouse Light, eggs, prom dresses, cigarettes, deodorant/scented car trees, and also their paycheck.
But others go there to find their babysitter.
|The following Monday Lil Earl sat out at recess with what |
his pediatrician would later describe as a "wrenched up neck".
I don't know which city Walmartians were born in, but we know they're educated in Fayetteville. So I reached out to Professor of Anthropology at UArk. He answered my questionings about their unique civilization as such:
"We a fine foke what enjoys a goode state fair or even a trip over to Bentunville to look at the pretty WalMart Museyum."
"WalMart Museum? You're shittin' me."
"No, now it's a fine history closely tied to our state's job markit and our flagship educashunnal place as that's where we leanr to put our pig hats on correctly what with the pig snout facing forward and what not. It's also where we leanr that a propur and true WPS!! is gonna have I reckon about an 8 secund WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..." (continues on for another thirty to forty seconds without taking a breath...passes out...)
"Okay, Professor Hickey. Thanks for your time."
That was like walking upstairs backwards - ridiculous and just don't make no damn sense. Look, here's all you need to know about Arkansans: they backdoor their way into SECCG's much like they do the next Steven Seagal movie, and they'll get around to pulling up their drawers once the battery finally gives in.
|"Says here it'll fit inside my pocket. Reckon they |
mean 'tween my navel and thigh tattoos."
Meanwhile, on campus, Coach Bert's in year two of his South of Milwaukee Tour (and he don't mean Racine y'all) and is sporting an extra thirty pounds since last summer. Now, maybe that's just over exposure to fried southern cuisine, but I hear it's written into his contract that he gain enough weight to render any two-wheeled transportation vehicles inoperable. Cautious people those Ozarkian lawyers are.
And he's also introduced a new and improved, non-native tongue to his new disciples. It's called Hoganese. It's two part coachspeak and one part Jabberwocky from what I can tell. Now, no one knew Bielema was a Lewis Carroll fan. But I imagine after enduring several months with John L. Smith smiling all the time, Arkansas officials would've accepted about anyone not named Nutt. (GIGGITY!!)
"And has thou slain the
Shut the hell up! Look. Missouri wasn't shit. When you're done glad handing and circle jerking and patting yourself on the back you might just start to realize we have another goddamn football game. If you're not too fat from feeding off the WESOOOAWESOME!! teet maybe you can figure out a way to block a blitzing linebacker. That's right, while we've been gorging ourselves on positive press and tweets and texts and calls these razorbacks been starved to the point of desperation. They want a win more. They NEED a win more. If you don't believe that go find your seat on the bench, bitch.
I'm looking at you Pyke and Kublanow. I'm challenging you Theus and Andrews and Houston. We ain't got THAT guy, but we got THESE guys. And they need you to pancake some pigs.Those paper tigers laid down. These Hogs ain't. If we want to stay in the driver's seat we got to hunker down and make em earn it.
Now, shall we bow our heads? Lord, please pass the sauce and let the Boss loose. Please let eh rump cook evenly and fall off the bone the way the Lord Baby Jesus intended. And also please keep Penn Wagers the hell away from the Ozarks. Amen.