jacketsrule
Varsity Lurker
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2002
- Messages
- 58
Just found my other Dawgie post. I am sure we all saw Saxon Dawg's original "Four Notes on a Trumpet." It was funny; and it was the first truly effective smack I have ever seen from a Dawg. Unfortunately, just about every Dawgie I know emailed it to me; and they will continue to pull it out every time we play them.
Therefore, I attempted to create a response that any Tech fan can pull out in response. Saxon's post was an impressive original. I had to leave out a lot of potentially humorous material and orginality because it was more important to me in this case to have a line-for-line response. This version has a few editorial changes from the version that was on the Hive.
If anyone happens to still be reading this thread and wants to save it for next season or whenever you get Saxon's great work of literature, please feel free to copy this and use it in response. You can decide for yourself if it is worthwhile or deserves attribution.
BEGIN "
The Dawg Experience: Four Notes Redux
You wake up on the pull-away, beneath your Dukes of Hazard bedsheets, with that feeling in the pit of your stomach. That pounding feeling, that giddy nauseous rush that typically means any one of several things. You stumble into the john and painfully take care of business. Nothing a little Mylanta can't help. Something about how your stomach feels - after dinner at Ryan's Steakhouse last night - makes you remember: it's gameday in Athens today!
You put on your bright red rayon cargo pants and your black Jerry Springer t-shirt- your souvenir from your third appearance on the show. Then moving to the dresser, you specially polish your silver "Go Dawgs!" belt buckle, adding one final flourish, a little more more shine on the Dawg's derriere. Speaking of which, your underwear is relatively clean, your mullet is combed, and you're lookin' good! You're lookin' DAWG!
Heart pounding, you trot through the double-wide. Aunt Cletis and Uncle Bert are looking through the comic strips from last week's newspaper. That Garfield really cracks you up! You slip out the door quietly and hike up your pants with a twist as you walk through the crisp autumn air. And there it is - the BUS stop. It won't be long now.
You embark on Athens' own public transit system, your eyes scan the other passengers and, yes! There, sitting next to Athens' own mayor Davidson - another Dawg! You make your way over and begin barking for him, and he excitedly barks back. And now, with all the other passengers staring at you, you feel it more strongly than ever - the essence of being a Bulldawg. You pass gas, trudge away, and fall into the usual seat in row three until the final stop on Broad Street, chuckling smugly as you put those snobby Tech fans in their place with some more barking. It brings back memories of your prom.
You disembark in metropolitan Athens, deftly stepping over the freshman vomiting on the sidewalk, and take a deep breath of bus exhaust and sewer construction. Ah, to be in Athens! Now you see Dawg fans everywhere. By Hershel, there must be enough of them here to pay Ray Goff and Jim Donnan and even that Jirsa guy that coached baseball or something. You pause at the center of all activity in town - Holiday Inn on Broad Street. There, a guy you knew from trade school offers you another swig of Boone's Farm; and you step behind a tree to partake of the most sacred game day tradition. If only that rock was a Tech fan. You would show her!
Then, you're on campus, less than two miles from the stadium. You take in the pageantry that is game day. You hear fans chattering about Hershel, recruits parking their escalades, and frat boys fighting. It's the sound of barking. It's drunken rednecks and boxes of cheap wine. It's twenty years of "just wait 'til next year!" It's "Wake Forest of Maryland or Something" and Larry Munson describing an entire game without mentioning who the opponent is. It's Vince Dooley, the very embodiment of all this great institution stands for, showing up those academic people.
Above all, its about those same four profound words: "How 'Bout Them Dawgs!?!" Woof. Woof. You hear it now. They can't suspend you from middle school for saying it anymore. You start barking at the top of your lungs, your gut bouncing with each crazed utterance. The entire crowd joins in: "woof!"
That pure, beautiful, classy sound. It's your call. It's what makes you a Dawg. Deep down you know that next year will be the year. With all those recruits, it's only a matter of time 'til Florida goes down. You only hope it happens soon. The next NCAA probation won't mean the death penalty. Hershel and Coach Dooley would never let that happen. Just thinking about Hershel makes you want to bark some more! This sacred moment cannot last.
You just can't lose to an academic school like Tech. Your boss will never let you forget it. Some day, you'll finally do it. You'll get a promotion and make enough money to help recruit. You can buy your own SEC Championship ring. You'll help your beloved Dawgs achieve more than the Capital One Bowl. And in your heart, you'll always be a proud Dawg. "Woof! Woof!"
END "
Therefore, I attempted to create a response that any Tech fan can pull out in response. Saxon's post was an impressive original. I had to leave out a lot of potentially humorous material and orginality because it was more important to me in this case to have a line-for-line response. This version has a few editorial changes from the version that was on the Hive.
If anyone happens to still be reading this thread and wants to save it for next season or whenever you get Saxon's great work of literature, please feel free to copy this and use it in response. You can decide for yourself if it is worthwhile or deserves attribution.
BEGIN "
The Dawg Experience: Four Notes Redux
You wake up on the pull-away, beneath your Dukes of Hazard bedsheets, with that feeling in the pit of your stomach. That pounding feeling, that giddy nauseous rush that typically means any one of several things. You stumble into the john and painfully take care of business. Nothing a little Mylanta can't help. Something about how your stomach feels - after dinner at Ryan's Steakhouse last night - makes you remember: it's gameday in Athens today!
You put on your bright red rayon cargo pants and your black Jerry Springer t-shirt- your souvenir from your third appearance on the show. Then moving to the dresser, you specially polish your silver "Go Dawgs!" belt buckle, adding one final flourish, a little more more shine on the Dawg's derriere. Speaking of which, your underwear is relatively clean, your mullet is combed, and you're lookin' good! You're lookin' DAWG!
Heart pounding, you trot through the double-wide. Aunt Cletis and Uncle Bert are looking through the comic strips from last week's newspaper. That Garfield really cracks you up! You slip out the door quietly and hike up your pants with a twist as you walk through the crisp autumn air. And there it is - the BUS stop. It won't be long now.
You embark on Athens' own public transit system, your eyes scan the other passengers and, yes! There, sitting next to Athens' own mayor Davidson - another Dawg! You make your way over and begin barking for him, and he excitedly barks back. And now, with all the other passengers staring at you, you feel it more strongly than ever - the essence of being a Bulldawg. You pass gas, trudge away, and fall into the usual seat in row three until the final stop on Broad Street, chuckling smugly as you put those snobby Tech fans in their place with some more barking. It brings back memories of your prom.
You disembark in metropolitan Athens, deftly stepping over the freshman vomiting on the sidewalk, and take a deep breath of bus exhaust and sewer construction. Ah, to be in Athens! Now you see Dawg fans everywhere. By Hershel, there must be enough of them here to pay Ray Goff and Jim Donnan and even that Jirsa guy that coached baseball or something. You pause at the center of all activity in town - Holiday Inn on Broad Street. There, a guy you knew from trade school offers you another swig of Boone's Farm; and you step behind a tree to partake of the most sacred game day tradition. If only that rock was a Tech fan. You would show her!
Then, you're on campus, less than two miles from the stadium. You take in the pageantry that is game day. You hear fans chattering about Hershel, recruits parking their escalades, and frat boys fighting. It's the sound of barking. It's drunken rednecks and boxes of cheap wine. It's twenty years of "just wait 'til next year!" It's "Wake Forest of Maryland or Something" and Larry Munson describing an entire game without mentioning who the opponent is. It's Vince Dooley, the very embodiment of all this great institution stands for, showing up those academic people.
Above all, its about those same four profound words: "How 'Bout Them Dawgs!?!" Woof. Woof. You hear it now. They can't suspend you from middle school for saying it anymore. You start barking at the top of your lungs, your gut bouncing with each crazed utterance. The entire crowd joins in: "woof!"
That pure, beautiful, classy sound. It's your call. It's what makes you a Dawg. Deep down you know that next year will be the year. With all those recruits, it's only a matter of time 'til Florida goes down. You only hope it happens soon. The next NCAA probation won't mean the death penalty. Hershel and Coach Dooley would never let that happen. Just thinking about Hershel makes you want to bark some more! This sacred moment cannot last.
You just can't lose to an academic school like Tech. Your boss will never let you forget it. Some day, you'll finally do it. You'll get a promotion and make enough money to help recruit. You can buy your own SEC Championship ring. You'll help your beloved Dawgs achieve more than the Capital One Bowl. And in your heart, you'll always be a proud Dawg. "Woof! Woof!"
END "
