d&d Letters to Santa - Buckeye Savant

Arkansas Civil War reenactors don't play fair. Hicks!

Dear Santa,

We've always had a pretty good relationship...I still believe in you and I never lost faith through the "virginity years" or the dark days known as the John Cooper Era of Ohio State football. Eventually, I got some regular justice and the Bucks won another national championship - so it's all good.

Recently, I have tried my gosh-darn best to be good...well, apart from the sexual deviance, drinking to excess, and jokes about ethnic minorities or handicapped people (are they still considered people?). [Ed. They're super!]

Anyway, let's cut to the chase, what I really, really want this year is a victory over Arkansas for my Buckeyes in the Sugar Bowl. You see Santa, if we don't beat down the red-neck, inbred, stinky, Southerners once in a while, they might forget who won the War...and we really can't have that now, can we?

Jim Tressel has been good...he's a God-fearing, military supporting, leader of fine young men at The Ohio State University...and, by golly, he deserves a Sugar Bowl win for his team!!

In order to keep it fair, I promise to put-out a nice bottle of Bourbon for you this year - along with some hash browns (that aren't made from potatoes), and just for good measure, a couple copies of Leg Show and Shaved Orientals (which I borrowed from PK). Feel free to enjoy, but don't take them with you ...and I wouldn't go shining any black lights around them.

I am not asking for too much...let's just say Buckeyes 30 Razorbacks 21.

...and Santa, I'll owe you one!!

Merry Christmas!

Buckeye Savant

"in triumph doth wave"

On the eve of Flag Day it’s time to turn our eyes and hearts to what’s really important. Let’s put our hands over our hearts and remember that it’s only 76 days until the kick-off of Ohio State football. I know. Holy Shit. That’s barely a red coochie hair over 2 months.

I saw St. Tressel on the tube last night sitting next to Jim Brown at the Cavs wake. It made me so horny for football. Pretty soon we’ll have NFL training camps starting, which will at least give us something. Kinda like giving a jonesing cocaine freak a Mountain Dew, but it’s something. Then we get the full slate of NCAA football at the end of August.

Here’s a taste of what you can expect here at DaD during the football season. There’s this little college football quickie about Meatchickin State's new uniforms. I didn’t see any mention in the story about the wide yellow stripe sewn in the back of the jerseys. ZING. ZOWIE. (ED: We hope you smart, savvy and sexy readers will keep reading Down and Distant anyway.)

I’m heading out right now to see if Street and Smiths College Preview is out yet.

Blue 32, Blue 32, PK Out.

Cherry Poppin' update #1*

Eleven days later and the shock of it hasn’t yet passed. I just try to compartmentalize the memory, keep it repressed, keep churning forward, focus on the basketball team and the inevitable disappointment it will bring in March.

Jim Tressel let us down. The program has the stink of bologna sandwiches, cheap cigarettes and jungle butt on it. We were humiliated by the smegma of America’s penis. I do not like this feeling, and it won’t go away.

I haven’t been this ashamed since that day last November when I left my 16-year-old stepson in the house by himself while I went to the store. I went out, started my car, then realized I’d left my wallet in my bedroom on the night stand. So, making no real effort to come back into the house quietly, I trudged through the front door and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

As I crested the top landing, there was ole’ Ryan, naked, on the floor, bridging so hard Dan Gable couldn’t have put his shoulders back on the ground. Why naked? Why on the floor? Why the dishrag from the kitchen? Why with the door open? How did it happen so fast? Christ, I was only out of the house 30 seconds.

He looked at me with a poker face and asked, “What?” Startled, I quickly ducked into my bedroom. Now, I have a theory (one of many)—there are two kinds of guys in this world—ones who get busted whacking their yam bags, and ones who do the busting. Since I was the one fully clothed and flaccid, I’ll claim membership in Category Number Two.

I yelled into his room, “Uh, dude, if you’re doing something that would make you uncomfortable if other people saw you doing it, how about closing the door?” He replied that he didn’t know what I was talking about, then closed the door.

Now that I have Ryan’s four-inch root emblazoned on my frontal lobe, I think I’ll go watch some footage of Charles Barkley’s golf swing so I can guarantee I’ll have no capacity for concentration on the golf course this spring.

Nothing is worse than surprising someone while he’s making balloon animals with his monkey bits. Except losing to an SEC team in the national championship.

PorkChopU

*Cherry Poppin' Update #1 - Welcome TRM aka PorkChopU alternate alias to be determined later. His words and post. We'll get this posting/blogger/ookie cookie figured out at some point