Ooga’s Birmingham Babblin’ Bumpkin Batterment – 10/23/2003

It is said there are seven reeksome regions of hell upon the earth; yea, open oozing scabs of gnarlacious nastiness upon the leprous left buttock of mother earth. And these seven regions of damnation are: the Black Hole of Calcutta; the Sickly Stinking Sinkholes of Siberia; the Dung-Dappled Dales of Auburn; the regions within the ten thousand tumbling tummy-folds of Fulmer the Foul; the nebbish-knotted North Avenue of the Nattering Nimrods of NATS; and the Babblin’ Bumpkin-Battered Boonies of Birmingham.

Upon these last, the Babblin’ Bumpkin-Battered Boonies of Birmingham, there is an additional curse, for the Aladambamians, having already pockmarked the earth with the Dung-Dappled Dales of Auburn and the Tidely Toe-Cheesery of Tidesaloser, hath appointed yet another feeble and festering faculty. And there, for many generations, the lower orders of the Aladambamians hath dwelt and multiplied like ingrown hairs in the unbathed and perspiring armpit of mother earth, begetting their young in the puddles of snuff-spew surrounding their trailer parks, and producing ever lower orders of evolutionary development, many of them using their knuckles when walking.

And it is UAB, these people of the Babblin’ Bumpkin-Battered Boonies of Birmingham, who oozeth forth to challenge the People of the Dawg between the holy, hallowed hedges of sacred Sanford–like unto Nerdly Bill Gates challenging Attila the Hun to a kick-boxing tournament. For the Dawgly Warriors are even now girding their loins, looking forth to the valleys that lie beyond–the Gigglesome Gator People and the TigerEaglePlainsmen of the Pukesome Pastures of Auburn. And beyond that, the Dome of Domination and the Sweet Bowl of Worldly Conquest.

And the prophet taketh last week off, and drinketh his grog, and trimmeth his festering toe-nails, and grouteth his bathroom tile, for Vandy is Candy, the weasely wine-coolerish wimpolians of the lordly SEC, and unworthy of sacred prophecy. But without the words of the prophet, the dawgly warriors approacheth the land of embarrassment. No more shall the prophet restrain his revelation! The Bumpkins of Birmingham goeth down! And lo, the Gigglesome Gators goeth down! And great shall be the words of the other prophet, Munson the Muscle-Mouthed. And great shall be the tailgate feasts, and frothy and full-bodied the grog, and frothy and full-bodied the ten thousand wanton wenches of Athens. Amen.

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