Football humor

This is by way of apologies for infrequent updates over the last few days: some observations on how the northeast and the South look at football differently. After all, after the shellacking the Cavaliers took against Florida State this weekend, we all need a laugh:

Women’s Accessories
North: ChapStick in back pocket and a $20 bill in the front pocket.
South: Louis Vuitton duffel with two lipsticks, waterproof mascara, and
a
fifth of bourbon. Money is not necessary; that’s what dates are for.

Stadium Size
North: College football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
South: High school football stadiums hold 20,000 people.

Fathers
North: Expect their daughters to understand Sylvia Plath.
South: Expect their daughters to understand pass interference.

Campus Decor
North: Statues of founding fathers.
South: Statues of Heisman trophy winners.

Homecoming Queen
North: Also a physics major.
South: Also Miss America.

Heroes
North: Rudy Guliani
South: Archie & Peyton Manning

Getting Tickets
North: 5 days before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus
and purchase tickets.
South: 5 months before the game you walk into the ticket office on
Campus
and put name on waiting list for tickets.

Friday Classes After a Thursday Night Game
North: Students and teachers not sure they’re going to the game, because
they have classes on Friday.
South: Teachers cancel Friday classes because they don’t want to see the
few hung-over students that might actually make it to class.

Parking
North: An hour before game time, the University opens the campus for
game
parking.
South: RVs sporting their school flags begin arriving on Wednesday for
the
weekend festivities. The really faithful arrive on Tuesday.

Game Day
North: A few students party in the dorm and watch ESPN on TV.
South: Every student wakes up, has a beer for breakfast, and rushes over
to where ESPN is broadcasting “Game Day Live” to get on camera and wave
to
the idiots up North: who wonder why “Game Day Live” is never broadcast
from
their campus.

Tailgating
North: Raw meat on a grill, beer with lime in it, listening to local
radio
station with truck tailgate down.
South: 30-foot custom pig-shaped smoker fires up at dawn. Cooking
accompanied by live performance by “Dave Matthews’ Band,” who come over
during breaks and ask for a hit off bottle of bourbon.

Getting to the Stadium
North: You ask “Where’s the stadium?” When you find it, you walk right
in.
South: When you’re near it, you’ll hear it. On game day it becomes the
state’s third largest city.

Concessions
North: Drinks served in a paper cup, filled to the top with soda.
South: Drinks served in a plastic cup, with the home team’s mascot on
it,
filled less than half way with soda, to ensure enough room for bourbon.

When National Anthem is Played
North: Stands are less than half full, and less than half of them stand
up.
South: 100,000 fans, all standing, sing along in perfect four-part
harmony.

The Smell in the Air After the First Score
North: Nothing changes.
South: Fireworks, with a touch of bourbon.

Commentary (Male)
North: “Nice play.”
South: “Dammit, you slow sumbitch tackle him and break his legs.”

Commentary (Female)
North: “My, this certainly is a violent sport.”
South: “Dammit, you slow sumbitch tackle him and break his legs.”

Announcers
North: Neutral and paid.
South: Announcer harmonizes with the crowd in the fight song, with a
tear
in his eye because he is so proud of his team.

After the Game
North: The stadium is empty way before the game ends.
South: Another rack of ribs goes on the smoker. While somebody goes to
the
nearest package store for more bourbon, planning begins for next week’s
game.
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Bumbershoot Part I

Written Saturday 31 Aug: Just got back from our first day at Bumbershoot. Mental note: look at the map first next time. We parked on the wrong side of the Seattle Center for the Will Call desk, and that’s a long walk.

Despite which it was really pleasant. Walked around in the sun, watched a goofy circus, heard a lot of percussionists, laughed at kids trying out hula hoops for the first time, watched the last two songs of Johnny Lang and the first three of Ani DiFranco.

Watching Ani: the first two songs sounded pretty much alike: spoken lyrics, sung chorus, spiky guitar accompaniment. The third one got lyrical. She introduced it as a “long rambling folk song.” As she played I watched a blind woman being led down the sidelines of the stadium field by an usher; her cane steadily slid ahead of her, bobbing from side to side, as Ani played.

Tomorrow, Sonic Youth. Tonight, collapse.
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