Duckfighter Illustrated: Reporting on his trip to Atlanta
Comments
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I blacked in during the Make a Wish bullshit. GRAA, Race.
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You know why this article deserves to be flagged.
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What if I want to slide into Bolivian?
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Do the Bolivians make marching powder too?Swaye said:What if I want to slide into Bolivian?
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In respects to the pregame prayer, I was feeling good from the liquid diet before the game. Didn't phase me much.
The dude was well wishing a bunch of people he didn't know. That was cool.
I'm sure the bama fans loved it except for the fact he was black man.
Also the Georgia dome was a great venue.
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Considering that Washington is a church school and that Petersen is nicknamed "The Bishop", I think we should start every football game with a prayer.
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Oh Thor, let us hammer those who oppose uswhatshouldicareabout said:Considering that Washington is a church school and that Petersen is nicknamed "The Bishop", I think we should start every football game with a prayer.
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So it could be said that Saban beat the bishop?whatshouldicareabout said:Considering that Washington is a church school and that Petersen is nicknamed "The Bishop", I think we should start every football game with a prayer.
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Race Bannon sat alone in a downtown Atlanta hotel room. The smell of booze and pills filled the room.
Quietly, Race chewed on an extinguished cigar. As he thumbed through the latest issue of Ebony, a faint warmth spread between his legs.
Then, as suddenly as it arrived, it passed.
"Christ," he muttered to himself.
His fingers were sore and cracked from flipping page after page after page. He had no idea how long he'd been laboring over this miserable necessity, but he was not ready to give up yet.
He let out a deep breath and prepared to continue working. The 10 AM glare burned through the window.
But as he set his rheumy eyes on an advertisement promising never-before-seen length and rigidity, a single phrase crept into his dulled consciousness.
Oh Alabama
He shook it off and returned to the ad, searching for a 1-800 number that might offer some solace. But he couldn't focus on the page. His mind was stuck.
You got the spare change
You've got to feel strange
"What is happening?" He wondered aloud to a pile of soiled men's and women's underwear. He hadn't felt anything like this in years. "How long has it been?" He put a hand to his forehead, unable to remember as the thoughts came roaring back.
Alabama, you got the weight on your shoulders
That's breaking your back
"NO!" He cried. "It can't be!!"
Your Cadillac has got a wheel in the ditch
And a wheel on the track
The words flooded him, haunting and invigorating him in a crazed tunnel of energy. It was an avalanche of emotion and he was powerless to do anything but absorb every word and note.
What are you doing Alabama?
Alabama...
Alabama...
...
He awoke sometime later. He didn't know how long it had been. Hours? Days? Weeks? He would never know. Never be able to explain what had happened. Who would listen? or care?
With a sigh, he reached over and found the magazine, determined to finish his personal Kobayashi Maru. But deep in his mind, he knew Alabama would always be there.
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Dardanus said:
Race Bannon sat alone in a downtown Atlanta hotel room. The smell of booze and pills filled the room.
Quietly, Race chewed on an extinguished cigar. As he thumbed through the latest issue of Ebony, a faint warmth spread between his legs.
Then, as suddenly as it arrived, it passed.
"Christ," he muttered to himself.
His fingers were sore and cracked from flipping page after page after page. He had no idea how long he'd been laboring over this miserable necessity, but he was not ready to give up yet.
He let out a deep breath and prepared to continue working. The 10 AM glare burned through the window.
But as he set his rheumy eyes on an advertisement promising never-before-seen length and rigidity, a single phrase crept into his dulled consciousness.
Oh Alabama
He shook it off and returned to the ad, searching for a 1-800 number that might offer some solace. But he couldn't focus on the page. His mind was stuck.
You got the spare change
You've got to feel strange
"What is happening?" He wondered aloud to a pile of soiled men's and women's underwear. He hadn't felt anything like this in years. "How long has it been?" He put a hand to his forehead, unable to remember as the thoughts came roaring back.
Alabama, you got the weight on your shoulders
That's breaking your back
"NO!" He cried. "It can't be!!"
Your Cadillac has got a wheel in the ditch
And a wheel on the track
The words flooded him, haunting and invigorating him in a crazed tunnel of energy. It was an avalanche of emotion and he was powerless to do anything but absorb every word and note.
What are you doing Alabama?
Alabama...
Alabama...
...
He awoke sometime later. He didn't know how long it had been. Hours? Days? Weeks? He would never know. Never be able to explain what had happened. Who would listen? or care?
With a sigh, he reached over and found the magazine, determined to finish his personal Kobayashi Maru. But deep in his mind, he knew Alabama would always be there.
You earned the full Bolton from "this miserable necessity" alone.









