Despite spending an entire Saturday feasting on chicken, the greedy, rapacious pig turns to vats of cheese balls, bags of pork rinds, processed cheese foods, and spoonfuls of sour cream.
It should go without saying that it gets ugly...
buncha fat bastards
Auburn was fat against Jacksonville State and they needed an overtime session of deep knee bends to escape with a victory. Bret Bielema can’t keep his fat mouth closed and it’s cost him some dignity Arkansas some check marks in the win column. Ohio State is deep into the process of getting fat on all of their scheduled cupcakes and Northern Illinois nearly huskie’d them out of their pre-arranged slot in the CFBOMGPLAYOFFS™.
Sharpen your pencils Dawgs. I’ve got a question for you. What can you learn from those half-assed examples?
PUT THAT PACKAGE OF DOUBLE-STUFFED OREOS DOWN…otherwise you’re going to go and attempt your tackle of Willie Quinn and get thrown off like a trigga tray.
Down...Set...JUKE!
Let me introduce y’all to somebody. He’s equal parts badass and superior technique. He’s as fluid as Walter Payton and can drop the hammer harder than Dick Butkus. He’s but a freshman, yet his talent is incomparable. He once hiked the football to himself, threw a 15 yard out, ran downfield, took the lateral with one hand while stiffarming an all-state linebacker with his other, dipped his shoulder, plowed through a safety, and scampered the remaining 76 and a half yards for the touchdown.
In the post-game locker room he interviewed himself for the local radio station and then finished his Precalculus while combing his hair. He wanted to look fresh for his high school sweetheart when they met for chocolate milkshakes at the Tast-EEE-freeze.
So stick your fat paw out there Reader and shake David-Michael Carrell’s hand.
Firm grip huh? He’ll use that same grip tomorrow to destroy your hopes and dreams with just one snap of the ball. You’ve been contemplating hard for Alabama and the Crimson Tusks ever since The Visor disengaged his headset last Saturday. You’ve been talking all week about air finger quotes
You make me sick and WIPE THOSE OREO CRUMBS AND THE GODDAMN CHEESE DIP OFF YOUR SLACK JAW SON!
Cuz while you’ve been drooling on your Dell Inspiron 500xKLps38RG21 you bought off Craigslist even though it had the missing * key, and while you’ve been blathering on and on to your neighbor over the chain link fence, gotdamn David-Michael Carrell's been practicing. He’s been watching film. He’s been carrying little Adelaide Jean-Pierre Paul’s books to class.
If there’s one thing fat, lazy bastards can’t detect it’s the few moments before their own pants get pulled down. Shanked. While you’re scrambling around with your stained Wranglers around your ankles, David-Michael done somehow snapped the ball to hisowndamnself. Up in the middle of the thirty-eight Southern University fans that made the trip, several rows above the Human Jukebox himself, a loud cry rains down.
“RUN D-M C!! RUN D-M C!!”
Your cognizance catches its breath and you shake the fuzziness out your earholes where it slithers down your neck just before you manage the only words that make any damn sense in this world, the same world that’s so suddenly been turned upside down and bassakwards….
“OH. SHIT.”
On the field, where the score was somehow 17-9 in the third quarter, David-Michael Carrell has hurdled, spun around, juked, jived, bowled over, and sprinted past every single special teamer Coach Mark Richt could legally trot out onto the field to score the Jaguar’s first touchdown. The roars haven’t even begun to subside when D-M C tacks on the two point conversion out of the Wild My Adidas formation.
WTF?!?!? Tie game. All your Georgia bros in the stands suddenly are remorseful for the snickering and the taunting they did at Abuurn two weeks ago. Because the beloved Dawgs are too heading towards overtime against what they were told and were telling themselves was a vastly inferior opponent. It ain’t fun when the tables turn y’all. You suddenly wish you’d laid off the canned whipped cream you spread all over those greasy pork chops Tuesday night before you washed em all down with a two liter of cream soda. You wish you’d’ve said no to that Crisco and Cookie Crumbles Cheesecake Wednesday evening while you watched Dancing with the Stars and sipped slurped Cheerwine. No, not the slice of Crisco and Cookie Crumbles Cheesecake. The entire Crisco and Cookie Crumbles Cheesecake.
 |
| "The whole damn cheesecake? You be illin'. |
Fat is you today. Fat is NOT you tomorrow. Get your ass home and eat a gotdamn celery stick. Logoff the DawgVent for one friggin’ moment. Pretend you don’t want to just drop that log of Velveeta into the deep fryer at your cousin Pete’s house. Cousin Pete ain’t met David-Michael Carrell. Cousin Pete ain’t had a belt that’s fit since Quincy Carter’s last pass in Columbia SC. Cousin Pete’s “tummy tuck” doctor gave him a Nutri-Slim coupon and a pat on the back. Cousin Pete likes to talk.
You're here today because you want to listen. So here you go...
You're here today because you want to listen. So here you go...
You need to walk right into Sanford Stadium tomorrow with a briefcase full of respect, straighten that business tie and take your seat. Tackle Damn Football happens whether you’re prepared or not. Tackle Damn Football is between two teams that are hungry and haven’t been fed all week. Their fans want more. Their fans NEED more. Their fans don’t WORRY ABOUT GODDAMN ALABAMA A WEEK IN F---ING ADVANCE!
Either shake David-Michael Carrell’s hand. Or watch him run right by your ass.
Now, let us pray. “Dear Lord, please don’t let the human jukebox and the longsnapper get too tricky. I repent my gluttonous ways and put my faith in Lawrence Harry Munson who always warned me to not get too big for my own damn silver britches. Amen.”
