| Found in an
email that was Fwd, Fwd, Fwd... If your the original author, or know
of them, let me know for I can give them credit.
An LSU Oath...
GEAUX TIGERS......
You know, in these dark days of the early 21st century, we are faced with
innumerable problems. Terrorism. Wars. Crime. Gubernatorial recalls.
Dogs and cats living together. Pandemonium. Alabama fans. But underneath all
that depressing muckety-muck, there is a gold lining. No.... a purple
and gold lining. And as we embark upon that glorious phase of the moon we
call football season, let me just share with you a few things that are
important to me. What I believe. {Men's chorus humming "Hey Fightin' Tigers"
in background...} I believe in Louisiana State University. The place where a
boy became a man. The greatest 12 years of my life. I believe in LSU
football. The purple and gold. The rabid fans. The pageantry. The sight of
the team running through the north goalposts. The Golden Girls. The sound of
the Golden Band. The smell of bourbon. And occasionally vomit. I
believe in the most beautiful place on the face of the earth. Stately oaks.
Broad magnolias. The Quad. The parade ground. The Indian Mounds. The black
posts. I believe in the history. Halloween night. The Rag. The
Earthquake Game. 62-0. The night Britney was spotted in the press box. I
believe in tailgating. I mean real tailgating. Red meat cooked over an open
flame. Cold beer. (Except for after 3:00...that's when I switch to bourbon.)
Headlights when the weather gets nippy. I believe that anyone who loves the
Tigers has the OBLIGATION to express that love with outright unbridled,
fanatical, blood-curdling screams which cause those around you to worry
about your sanity. The kind where you have no voice left by the third
quarter. I believe those who do not yell meaning most of the people between
the 20's who didn't want the price of their tickets to go up) should have
their tickets confiscated. I believe that Mike the Tiger is the baddest
mascot in the land. I believe that our live Bengal Tiger mascot (cared for
by the LSU School of Veterinary Medicine) could make lunch out of that
freaking steer from Texas in about 15 minutes, and then have that stupid
looking Colorado buffalo for breakfast. I believe that any fan of an
opposing team who enters our stadium should be treated with respect. But
they should be heckled mercilessly when their team starts to lose. If their
team does well and they heckle me, I believe I have the right to give them
the finger, or punch their dates. I believe that there is no finer moment in
Tiger Stadium than when there is a fight, or people think there is a fight,
and 30,000 people all turn in the same direction looking for said fight, and
some hapless Barney Fife security guy walks up the stairs looking for the
instigator, but has to walk back to his post empty-handed. I believe in the
guy across the aisle from me, who keeps yelling at people to stop touching
him. I believe that beach balls should not be allowed in Tiger Stadium. I
once almost fell out of the damned upper deck jumping after one of those
things. I believe that tears come to my eyes when the Golden Band takes the
field and the drum major salutes the students. I believe in sultry autumn
nights, pretty girls, smuggled-in alcohol, Chinese Bandits, Pre-Game, hot
dogs, cheerleaders on top of the tiger cage, Two Bits, Hot Boudin, and the
ghost of Sid Crocker. In summary, I believe in Saturday night in Death
Valley. |
