Gabriel's Horn

A terribly biased view of sports through the Eyes of Texas.

Kicking it up a notch…

Posted by TxHny on August 27, 2007

Fans, friends, family, really bored people, the rest of blogdom and hopefully not any law school admissions officers or my employer:

Gabriel’s Horn is on the web. I know many of you spent countless nights tossing and turning regarding the fate of our widely acclaimed newsletter. JB and I officially graduated and entered the grown up work force, which is a scary thought in and of itself, but if anything we now have more time to drag the nets and come up with the bottom dwellings of college football fresh for you. In case you were worried, we’ve also promoted The Masked Wino from draft editor to full time contributor. Now, rather than get your dose of Longhorn updates, the status of Mark Mangino’s pregnancy, stats and trash talking about anyone and everyone just once a week, you’ll get a little taste of what we’re servin’ up all week long. (What can we say, our stamina is improving.)

Shortly we’ll get all of the old issues up in the archives and we’ll certainly have your favorite features back from the paper newsletter. Plus, now with TMW on board, we have a whole slate of fresh ideas that we found at the bottom of a few wine bottles over the weekend.

It is no secret that if our blog could have a crush, it would be on Burnt Orange Nation and EDSBS. (Our blog can have as many crushes as it wants. So there.) As such we were inspired and slightly enamored by this article: PB’s Oath To Elevating The Discourse. As we kickoff our entry into blogdom, we felt this is the perfect time to make our own pledge. We should point out that if you are looking for elevated discourse on Texas sports, you should totally check out BON, because Peter Bean is a better person than any of us. We have no intention to undermine his endeavor, but we solemnly pledge the following.

1. Texas is better than you. If you cheer for anyone but Texas, we will talk about you, your mother, your shithole of a school/college town, and how anyone and everyone who goes to your university must be incestuous, trailer park, toothless, sheep raping, knuckle dragging varmints. Even if you are directly related to us. Even if you beat us in Connect Four. Even if you are our boyfriend. We expect the same banter in return. In regards to calling us homosexual, pot smoking hippies (or I even once heard that UT is entirely hispanic?) have some backup. We will when we put you in your place you incestuous, trailer park, toothless, sheep raping, knuckle dragging varmint.
Caveat 1a: Swearing at little old ladies, saying the f-word in front of kiddos (unless the little shit says it first), and suggesting that fans from the opposing team should perform sexual favors on your behalf in order to be associated with greatness is completely and totally unacceptable. (It is best to avoid any and all taunts to Baylor. They have a lot of rules over there – which means they probably have a lot of pent up aggression. Nobody wants to get poked in the eye – so just avoid the Bears all together. They mean that Sic ’em stuff – trust us.) Showing your Johnson to girls is also unacceptable. Hear that Arkansas? I still have nightmares about your winkie that you somehow gave a mullet.
Caveat 1b: We like Michigan fans. And Georgia fans. And bloggers in general. And Orson Swindle makes us hesitant to trash the Gators, particularly after they handed tOSU their ass, twice, in 2006. The fans of these teams are exempt, for the most part.

2. We will continue to practice blind hatred. We’ll acknowledge that it is blind hatred – and will admit to varying degrees of blind hatred. (Example: we blindly hated Adrian Peterson but not as much as we blindly hate Matt Leinart.) However, if you ever play for USC or OU: we hate you. Blindly. Regardless of whether or not you played at a Texas high school. Regardless of how many volunteer hours you have at the animal shelter. Even if you signed a Michael Vick is a Tool petition. You could rush for 500 yards in a single game and we will still hate you. On gameday – you are simply a stepping stone to our rightful throne of greatness – and should be hated as the underling that you are.
Caveat 2a: The hatred may be possibly lifted if you play for the Cowboys someday. We won’t make promises, considering we really hate Tony Romo.

3. What not to wear. Your coach’s wardrobe is an important subject for discussion. Sure, it doesn’t have jack to do with the game. If that guy has on a goofy visor, a shirt that shows off his man-boobs, or an embroidered sweatervest – we are going to call you both pansies. We know you didn’t dress him, you may not even like him, but you will suffer the grief of your poorly dressed coach.

4. We are not above crazy inequality math. Particularly when it is advantageous for us to a) make fun of you or/in addition to b) making us look good. For example, last year would be something like Baylor>Colorado>Texas Tech.
Caveat 4a: We teach the school of crazy inequality math. Therefore, you are not able to use our method against us. Shallow, we know. We didn’t say we were fair about our promises.

5. Adoration. We will not entertain any negative discussion about Mack Brown, Colt McCoy or Vince Young. They are perfect, god-like creatures. We also reserve the right to add any names to this list as we realize their overwhelming awesome-ness.

6. We’re Texas, y’all. Despite all of the above, we will strive to be the sort of fans that make other fans say, “Damn, Texas is the shit.” We can take what we dish out and we may even give credit where it is due, without much pouting. We admit this won’t be a pretty process and there may be a little too much Lone Star beer involved. Just give in, puke in the morning, and get your ass to Juan’s for some proper hangover grub.

So there you have it, hot off the grill. Look forward to more posting this week including a rundown of Arkansas State (no pun intended), the Texas Toast and a few other tantalizing morsels.

The interminable off season is drawing to a close, only 5 days until Longhorn Football.


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