The Final Book of Ooga – 11/24/99

Posted by saxondawg on 1:11 PM 24-Nov-99

Ooga, the hunkering hermit, girds up his loins, sharpens his spikes, shakes the Thanksgiving-roasted-mole-and-dumpling leftovers from his beard, and lets out a ground-shaking bellow. If dinosaurs still walked the earth, they would run for shelter. Ooga is limbering up for his final and greatest mortal battle with the forces of evil. The prophet clears his throat, coughs up a half-chewed lizard, and speaks:

Lo! Behold! The final dark days of the thousand-year-period enter their dusk, darkness begins to fall, and the long-foretold Millennium, The Thousand Years of Dawg Dominion, when Red and Black shall rule and the Vol shall lie down with the Gator, are imminent. Have not Ooga’s fabled ancestors of old, from Erk of Thunderdome to Krug the Impaler, not spoken? Have they not pointed to the Nebulous Ninety-Eight of the Nerdpeople, when the Holy Hedges of Herschel would be defiled? Have they not spoken of the Wanton Walloping of the Wheelchair Warriors, when the Nerdpeople would overcome the only challengers they were capable of confronting? And did not the fearsome Goldberg the Gallbladder-Muncher warn that a day of reckoning would close out these thousand years?

Lo, that day of reckoning has arrived.

Nerdpeople! Hear my solemn growlings! Come thee hence from behind thy computers, thy science fair competitions, thy Star Trek marathons–and know thy Dark, Dire Destiny of DoubleDawg Devastation. Take off thy thick glasses and deliver them to thy ever-hovering mothers. Remove thy pocket protectors and bequeath them to thy sniveling and nose-picking little brothers. The People of the Dawg will not toy with thee this year.

No, ye vile and nauseating dorkish ones! They shall rise up and invade the foul, stinking wasteland known as Grunt Field. With a cry of vengeance, the Dawgnation shall fall upon thy frail and weakly bodies. The Great Wall of Stroud shall collapse on you. Seymour the Sissycrusher has a thigh greater in girth than thy entire puny quarterback, and he shall prove it in a display that will disgust the millions who behold on the Sacred Screen.

Thy midget quarterback shall seek shelter beneath the cavernous butt of Friedgen the Fat, but he shall be caught by Kendrell the Dweeb-Dicer. And the lightning feet of Quincy the Quick shall create a great fire at the center of thy gnarly field, and Donnan the Dominator shall seize thy warrior chief, O’Leary the Oleaginous (“of or pertaining to oil”–saith Webster’s Dictionary). And the Oleaginous one will be thrust into the fire, whose flames shall leap high into the night, illuminating the ancient city of Atlanta, which shall burn yet again with Yankee fuel, only this time the infinite and oily bodily fats of the Yankee.

And all the invading, whining Yankees of Atlanta will sniff the wretched stench of the burning Oleaginous oils, and the odor shall remind them of New Jersey and bring them forth, and they shall be thrust into the fire which shall rage ever greater. And when all the Yankees and Nerdpeople of the inferior kingdom have been roasted, and Ooga has eaten his fill of barbecued muskrat and is drunk with grog, the Great Dawg, yea, UGA VI himself, shall lift his fabled leg and quench the flames.

And lo, the remaining entrails of Joe Hamilton shall be boxed up, and delivered unto graduation, and shipped off to Canada where he shall play Arena Football unto the end of the Age, leaving the Nerdpeople to annual losses to Wake Forest and Duke. And the Nerdpeople will snivel forever and suddenly become interested in basketball again as of old, and the Big Dawg shall reign for a thousand years.


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