Now that my favorite time of the year is quickly closing in on us, (Football season, silly, not Fall.) I think it is time to discuss some little known facts about some of our favorite SEC teams.
The origins of “ROLL TIDE”. In 1922, P. Asfidity Tide, resigned his position as Chancellor of the University of Alabama. He then took a job as a men’s room attendant in a local bar. This definitely was a move up since there were more sanitary conditions and a nicer clientele. One day when he was on the job he became fixated on making ugly faces in the mirror while making elephant noises. There was someone in the stalls at the time who noticed there was no toilet paper. The customer tried, repeatedly, to get Tide’s attention to no avail. Finally, exasperated, he yelled, “ROLL, TIDE”! So the next time you hear that phrase know that it is a desperate plea for TP. Act accordingly.
In my alma mater, Auburn, resides a serious identity crisis. They are alternately known as; the Plainsmen, the Tigers, and the War Eagles. The name ‘Plainsmen’ comes from what the town of Auburn calls itself, “The Loveliest Village on the Plain”. I lived there for three years. Trust me, the Chamber of Commerce is using a personality altering substance.
A “Plainsman” isn’t a name that inspires fear in the hearts of athletic opponents. So it is rarely used. The “War Eagle” comes from the fight song and is used as a cheer when something goes well in a game. They even keep a live eagle in a cage that is bigger than a two-story house. However, there may be some bird related problems in the near future.
They just put up a new scoreboard in the football stadium. It is 200’ wide. When the real War Eagle makes his pregame flight around the stadium and takes one look at himself 200’ wide I bet he is sure to lighten his load. I just hope he unloads on the opposing bench. Coach Malzahn will not look good in eagle-sized bird droppings.
I live in the middle of Gamecock country. Like all SEC fans these folks take their football seriously. I too like the Gamecocks. I preferred them slow cooked in a wine sauce with mushrooms. (That last crack is going to get me roasted.)
Body painting is very popular by some of the Gamecock fans. It is all good fun and the kids get to act silly on national TV. However, once the post-game cake and ice cream party is over it is time to hit the showers. It is not cool to show up at the 8 a.m. calculus class, Monday, with a big ‘G’ painted on your chest. That means you too, professor.
One thing I recently enjoyed reading. There have been statements in the media that the University of Southern California is the real USC. The response from a Gamecock was, “We were a collage before you were a state.” You gotta Love it. © 2015, Jim McGowan
Dear Uncle Seamus; My cat, Furpo McGurk, always comes into the living room and sits in the middle of the room. He has a blank look, one ear is forward and one back and stares into the distance without moving. He can sit there for hours. What is he thinking? – Confused In Cayce
Dear CIC; You are making a common mistake. In reality cats do not think because they have no brains. If you blow gently into their right ear you will hear a whistling sound coming out their left ear. Do you ever walk into a room and forget why you are there? Not to worry, this is a constant with cats.
Dear Uncle Seamus; Donald Trump has constantly been in the news these past few weeks or so. Putting politics aside, if that is possible, what is up with his hair? – Bald in Batesville
Dear Skin Head; Long ago in a land far away the Donald was a child. A loud and cranky little #@%&. His parents decided he needed a pet so they bought him a chinchilla. Mini Don loved the wee beastie and the two could never be separated. He called the hairball, Woodrow and used to carry it around on his head. One sad day poor Woody was lost in a horrible vacuuming accident by a maid who was a Democrat. To this day the Donald wears a stuffed Woodrow as a tribute to his lost pet.
Dear Uncle Seamus; Football season is nearly upon us. Every year my husband is glued to the TV. I could not get him away from it if I burned the house down. What can I do to get his attention? – Ignored In Irmo
Dear I Cubed; Traditional wisdom states that you should stand in front of the TV naked with a six-pack of his favorite beer in each hand. I doubt that this will work. With the advent of the giant TV screens you would have to weigh over 300 pounds. So that leaves one recourse. Is your house insured for fire damage?
Dear Uncle Seamus; I am experiencing mixed emotions. My only child, Bosco, is starting school. I am proud of myself for not strangling the little monster, yet I feel bad that I am going to miss him. What should I do? Mixed In Mauldin
Dear Mim; You are experience the first stages of separation anxiety. This is not uncommon with mothers and their first child. I suggest you walk him to the bus, help him on, wave good-bye and shed a quiet tear. He will be back soon. This condition does not last long. After a few years you may feel like throwing him under the bus. Experience parents have formed a support group. It meets on the first day of school at Bubba’s Redneck Saloon. It is one crazy group that knows how to party. Bubba runs them out around 2:30 in order to make room for the teachers who are a very sullen group of heavy drinkers. © 2015, Jim McGowan
This week’s column is by Fast Eddie and Lazy Jake Kilkenny.
By and large our human is a decent sort. He keeps us in food and water with the occasional treat thrown in. That is not to say he does not have a few faults. Every now and again he goes out and does not come back for hours. He tosses and turns at night making a good night’s rest nearly impossible. He also makes growling/purring noises all night long. As snuggle-buddies go there is room for improvement. Oh, and he doesn’t like to share his beer.
We can put up with that. However there is one bad habit that is simply appalling. He lets dogs into our house! The humans that come in are pretty nice. They give us scratches and say silly baby-talk stuff to us. But dogs, yuck! Have you ever smelled a dog?
Last week he had company over for three days. Evidently the woman was one of his kits from way back when. She was nice, but she brought three of the miserable, stinky dogs. They are a Yorky named Zuul, a mini-poodle named Zorro and an Australian Shepard named Bella. We’re not really sure about the names of the first two. They came through the door like the cops do when our human throws a party. Things went downhill fast. We bolted for the bedroom and dug in.
For three whole days life was miserable. We had to hide in the dust under the bed all day. We both nearly sneezed our ears off. Since we had to lay low we couldn’t watch our shows on the Animal Planet Network. There were no afternoon naps on the window sill. And forget about getting some water or kibbles. Using the litter box was out of the question. Both of us started crossing our legs around noon, our eyes at three. We were not happy campers.
There was one good thing about us being under the bed. On the first day the little one, who is small enough to fit, tried to get at us. It is going to be a long time before he will be able to use his sniffer. It was hiss, swat, yelp and he was gone not to be seen again.
From then on it was night patrol. If we were very careful we could sneak out and get chow and look around. But if we so much as heard the slightest dog grumble from the guest room we were back under the bed like a shot. You have never seen two madder kitties. They finally left.
A while back we taught our human how to speak ‘Cat’. He is not fluent, but he does get the jist of it. When they were gone we cautiously came out and sat at his feet. We chewed him out proper, using terms never used in polite feline company.
We can tell you it is going to take a lot of chicken livers for him to get back on our good side. © 2015, Jim McGowan