Sheep's got the Moo
If you mix one part madness with two parts Woo...you've got the Moo.
I admit...I was skeptical about the appeal of having first and second round tournament games in town. It had all the components of a full scale horrorshow. Parking cops sprang from demon seeds, lackluster teams invaded my personal space, and angry mobs of media complained of one too many stories about the big story. It was a recipe for manslaughter and everyone was loading their shotgun.
But there is something brewing in this town. It will be short-lived and probably insignificant in the grand scheme, but it is something out of the ordinary. Scrambling among masses bent on workaday normalcy, there is a sublime current of excitement. To vocally deny it is a sign of fear or ignorance.
The weekend promises more fireworks for both my town and my sense of anticipation. Downtown Greenville will host a street party that will be unlike many others it sees. The streets are famous for springtime after-work drink-offs, but it rarely sees an influx of out-of-towners bent on having fun.
Tomorrow, The Missouri Tigers will play the fourth-seeded Ohio State BuckTeeth. I can only hope the Tigers can prove their worth. The game starts at 3:20 pm...and I'm already rowdy.
I have seven hours of work left to do before I can start thinking about letting the Moo really kick in. I am surrounded my soothsayers, naysayers, and doomsayers. They are afraid of the masses. They are disgusted by their busted brackets. They are imploding under a sunny Friday workload.
There are times when a man can let his MooWoo fade under the pressure of tired, spent malcontents. This, however, is not one of those times.
I am reminded of a man I knew in college. His name was "G." He was never one to let his Woo fade. And if he couldn't collect a party, he found one on his own. He called it "Raging Solo."
If forced into the situation, I am fully prepared to act on his example.
Go Tigers
If you mix one part madness with two parts Woo...you've got the Moo.
I admit...I was skeptical about the appeal of having first and second round tournament games in town. It had all the components of a full scale horrorshow. Parking cops sprang from demon seeds, lackluster teams invaded my personal space, and angry mobs of media complained of one too many stories about the big story. It was a recipe for manslaughter and everyone was loading their shotgun.
But there is something brewing in this town. It will be short-lived and probably insignificant in the grand scheme, but it is something out of the ordinary. Scrambling among masses bent on workaday normalcy, there is a sublime current of excitement. To vocally deny it is a sign of fear or ignorance.
The weekend promises more fireworks for both my town and my sense of anticipation. Downtown Greenville will host a street party that will be unlike many others it sees. The streets are famous for springtime after-work drink-offs, but it rarely sees an influx of out-of-towners bent on having fun.
Tomorrow, The Missouri Tigers will play the fourth-seeded Ohio State BuckTeeth. I can only hope the Tigers can prove their worth. The game starts at 3:20 pm...and I'm already rowdy.
I have seven hours of work left to do before I can start thinking about letting the Moo really kick in. I am surrounded my soothsayers, naysayers, and doomsayers. They are afraid of the masses. They are disgusted by their busted brackets. They are imploding under a sunny Friday workload.
There are times when a man can let his MooWoo fade under the pressure of tired, spent malcontents. This, however, is not one of those times.
I am reminded of a man I knew in college. His name was "G." He was never one to let his Woo fade. And if he couldn't collect a party, he found one on his own. He called it "Raging Solo."
If forced into the situation, I am fully prepared to act on his example.
Go Tigers
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