(Vol. VIII, 2009, Auburn vs. LSU, Tiger Stadium, Red Stick, LA, 24 October, 2009)
It came to pass in the year of the blind zebra, two thousand and nine, that a plague of yellow flags, bobbled balls, and fallen defenders didst visit the holy land of the Loveliest Village, sent to sift loyal subject from betrayor, and proud warrior from coward. For King Chizik, in his wisdom, hath surveyed the chinks in the orange helm, and the blunt edges of spear and sword, and prayed unto the gods to purify our race, and to strengthen our ranks, even if at the cost of defeat.
And Lo, I return this day to the fearless nation of the conqueror, and do here prophesy what ye shall see with your own eyes, commencing one day henceforth. And in your seeing, shall you again believe and cast off the mantle of the underdog, who doth hope for the best, yet expect the worst. For in the deadly and dishonorable lands of the Swamp, the Dawgly wasteland, and the stench of West Vance are the unconfident slain.
Yet even now, doth the stench of deep fried coon ass corn meal wafteth through the swamp of Red Stick, home of King Lesticles, so dubbed for the surgical implant of an incorrect anatomical part into his tiny brain.
The Valley of Death. Land of the Serpent, James of the Carvilles. Home of the vile unwashed masses whose drunken hysteria visits anarchy upon all visitors in the night air of Bataw Rooje. And as hath been written, and passed down from generations, the People of the Corn Dog are so named for the malodorous contempt which infuses the very epidermis of this refugee land. Battered and fried is the Dog of Corn. And Lo, battered, covered, smothered, and scattered shall be the People of the Battered Wiener on a Red Stick. For they shall be found with Les, and be exiled Miles into the stench of their underwater wasteland. Rancor and treason rises from within their ranks, and a plot to overthrow King Lesticles hatches even now.
And now, cowering not from defeat in our dwellings, hath our people arisen, and raised their voices as one:
“Rise up, Tigers! Cry not of the excuse of the defeated, and drink not of the wine of despair, for battle rages on, honor the prize. We shall march with thee this day, unto the land of the unclean. On the mighty shoulder of Ben shall we first crammeth the football down their foul throats from which these mouth-breathers do emitteth forth the remnants of corn dog and malt liquor. And then, shall the arrows of Malzahn find their weakened flank, felling the pompous purple defenders. And in this land of unwashed, sausage-subsisting, swamp-dwelling faux-French do they lie in ambush, hoping in arrogance to restore their battle honor by the blood of the true Tiger.”
Lo, they know not the death which shall be visited upon their homeland soil, one night henceforth.
In cover of night hath King Chizik hatched a lethal assault, and kept from watchful eyes the might of our forces. For peaceful lies the Tiger, until in righteous anger he is stirred. And the babbling boobs hath roused the beast . . . from his lair the plates of the earth rattle and shift, a sacred summons unto war.
And Lo, I return this day to the fearless nation of the conqueror, to prophesy of bravery to come, an assault unforeseen. Holy and brave people of Auburn, dream not of future glory! Our chiseled warriors sharpen arrow and spear, and gird their loins for battle. Firm is their resolve, and steeled their glance. Strong is their love of country, and brother, and no disunity breaks their ranks. They know well their battle plan, and fire funnels up their nostrils. For Lo, shall they swarm as if a pack of Tigers uncaged, yet as one . . . for the strength of this pack shall be the warrior, and the strength of the warrior shall be the pack. Though outnumbered, we shall fight with the ferocity borne of hunger and scorn, the food of the conqueror.
And Lo, the scorn of the soothsayer and mockery of the scribe is but a gnat upon a mighty beast. King Chizik is undeterred in his sacred quest, seeking not the love of the scribe, as hath the Dishonorable Dwarf of West Vance. He genuflects not before the false prophets of gloom, and accepts no audience with the slobbering soothsayers of doom. Mouth breathing fools! Ye speak as if trained in the art of war, yet hath not once distinguished thyself on the battlefield. Not once hath your bloodshot eyes gazed upon the Sacred Book of War, in which are recorded the battle deeds of blue-jerseyed heroes, whose blood was spilled for the honor of this land.
Unto what chromosomal mishap hath the Feaux Tigers pledged allegiance? King Lesticles, a man of cursed anatomy, reversing at birth his man-loins and brain. A man of inaudible mumblings, and confused ranting, unaware of his naked emperor’s march unto certain death.
And long into the cool October eve shall the sweet smoke of victory riseth up in joy, but shall a dark cloud of doom encircle the West Vance prisoner camp, where the boy King, Lame of the Kiffins, shall invade and seize victory from the Crimpson Kneck Elephant Tide nation amid wailing, gnashing of teeth, and brick hurling.
Amen.
Manly Tiger
Auburn Tigers 31 LSU Corn Dogs 24
