LonghornLawyer
500+ Posts
As some of you know, I have had a problem with aggy misery in the past. But with the help of our Lord and Savior Jeebus, I think that I have finally kicked it. And so as to symbolize my triumph (inshallah) over the demon of aggy misery and to thank Jeebus for His intercession, I decided to give it up for Lent.
I figured it would be an easy enough sacrifice. My dealer, Cakeface Fran, had been wacked by the cartel. Something about skimming off the top with a newsletter--I don't ask questions. So with signing day in the past and the annual baseball meltdown well after Easter, I thought this would be an easy enough Lent. Right?
Right?
I certainly didn't think that aggy basketball would provide much in the way of aggy misery. I mean, I figured they had a good enough team to get through the first round of the tournament, and then aggy would be satisfied with that. I mean, they started 15-1 or something obscene like that. No danger of aggy misery there, right?
Right?
I suppose the warning signs were there when they started referring to themselves as a "basketball school," but I reckoned that had more to do with the ****** state of their football program than anything else.
I stand by that.
But I really should have gotten a heads up when they hired a guy who apparently used to play hockey for the Dallas Stars to coach their basketball team. And when they lost three in a row right before Ash Wednesday, by Vishnu I should have figured out that something was amiss.
But I never would have guessed that they would collapse this badly. So now I've got a guy who may or may not have been prime minister of Canada offering what he tells me is "top rate aggy misery," and I'm having a tough time holding out. I mean, for Chrissakes, they made ESPN's "Bubble Watch" as a team with "Work to do." I know they're in if they win just a couple of games. But the fact is that they look so ******, Xenu has a better chance of escaping his Pyrennean prison than aggy has of winning a game the rest of the season. ****--they're going down in flames, and if I don't enjoy it, then someone else will.
They will--mark my words. The aggy misery trade will go on with or without me.
But I don't want to digress too far on our country's failed war on aggy misery. Suffice it to say that I favor full legalization.
But in any event, basketball aggy misery just doesn't sound the same. It kind of sounds like something that's been cut with baby laxative. And I don't want any part of that. But they tell me they're a "basketball school" now, and I've so missed aggy misery. Part of me says that life's too short to waste on second-rate aggy misery. But the part of me that wakes up with the jitters having dreamt of annual bowl losses since Bucky Richardson was in college tells me that I need something, anything, to tide me over.
So I come to you, HornFans. If aggy misses the Tournament, I just don't think I'm going to make it. I think I'm going to have to binge on aggy misery. And we all know what that leads to: a barely conscious LonghornLawyer at Olsen Field in April muttering "poooooor aggy" while sniffing the vomit on his shirt. I dare not take this issue to another board on the interwebs, because we all know what those drug-addled denizens will tell me. "Go ahead, LonghornLawyer; everyone's doing it. It's so good when it hits your lips . . . ."
I need your help, HornFans. Help me keep my Lenten fast, lest I be in a world of **** with Ahura Mazda.
I figured it would be an easy enough sacrifice. My dealer, Cakeface Fran, had been wacked by the cartel. Something about skimming off the top with a newsletter--I don't ask questions. So with signing day in the past and the annual baseball meltdown well after Easter, I thought this would be an easy enough Lent. Right?
Right?
I certainly didn't think that aggy basketball would provide much in the way of aggy misery. I mean, I figured they had a good enough team to get through the first round of the tournament, and then aggy would be satisfied with that. I mean, they started 15-1 or something obscene like that. No danger of aggy misery there, right?
Right?
I suppose the warning signs were there when they started referring to themselves as a "basketball school," but I reckoned that had more to do with the ****** state of their football program than anything else.
I stand by that.
But I really should have gotten a heads up when they hired a guy who apparently used to play hockey for the Dallas Stars to coach their basketball team. And when they lost three in a row right before Ash Wednesday, by Vishnu I should have figured out that something was amiss.
But I never would have guessed that they would collapse this badly. So now I've got a guy who may or may not have been prime minister of Canada offering what he tells me is "top rate aggy misery," and I'm having a tough time holding out. I mean, for Chrissakes, they made ESPN's "Bubble Watch" as a team with "Work to do." I know they're in if they win just a couple of games. But the fact is that they look so ******, Xenu has a better chance of escaping his Pyrennean prison than aggy has of winning a game the rest of the season. ****--they're going down in flames, and if I don't enjoy it, then someone else will.
They will--mark my words. The aggy misery trade will go on with or without me.
But I don't want to digress too far on our country's failed war on aggy misery. Suffice it to say that I favor full legalization.
But in any event, basketball aggy misery just doesn't sound the same. It kind of sounds like something that's been cut with baby laxative. And I don't want any part of that. But they tell me they're a "basketball school" now, and I've so missed aggy misery. Part of me says that life's too short to waste on second-rate aggy misery. But the part of me that wakes up with the jitters having dreamt of annual bowl losses since Bucky Richardson was in college tells me that I need something, anything, to tide me over.
So I come to you, HornFans. If aggy misses the Tournament, I just don't think I'm going to make it. I think I'm going to have to binge on aggy misery. And we all know what that leads to: a barely conscious LonghornLawyer at Olsen Field in April muttering "poooooor aggy" while sniffing the vomit on his shirt. I dare not take this issue to another board on the interwebs, because we all know what those drug-addled denizens will tell me. "Go ahead, LonghornLawyer; everyone's doing it. It's so good when it hits your lips . . . ."
I need your help, HornFans. Help me keep my Lenten fast, lest I be in a world of **** with Ahura Mazda.