From the beginning of this blog, for the most part, I have always tried to be somewhat reasonable and stay away from the types of things I consider to fanatical one-sided ranting with complete disregard for logic and the consideration of others. I’ve tried to be honest, with a decidedly pro-Alabama slant, without the mindless name-calling and unintelligent drivel I read on a few other blogs; my team and its fan base are not infallible. Just because I love the Crimson Tide and root for them without exception, that does not mean that everything their coaches, players, administrators, boosters, and fans do it above inspection, criticism, or reproach.

Furthermore, I have many good friends who went to and support Auburn. It is a fine institution that is full, for the most part, of fine individuals. I see them in the business and social worlds. I sit by them at church, I wave to them in the neighborhood and I am truly glad to see them when our paths cross. They are my brothers and sisters in this fine state that we all call home. There I feel better for having said all of that and that will continue to be the company line come next Sunday. But starting today…..

All that is out the window. We have officially started Iron Bowl Week. And do you know what that means?

It means that until the conclusion of the game this coming Saturday I hate the Aubs.

I hate their colors. I hate their mascot. I hate their big-eared, egotistical-dress-up-as-friendly-good-ole-boy head coach. I hate their former snitching-ass offensive coordinator. I hate their new offensive coordinator that was too stupid to be an offensive coordinator and is now the offensive coordinator again because the aforementioned head coach was too stupid to figure all this out ahead of time.

I hate Tigers. I hate Eagles. I hate Teagles.

I hate Plainsmen. I hate villages. I hate the Plains. The fact that these bumpkin-ass slack jawed yokels think they live on the plains is proof positive of how dumb they are. They’re pastures, people. Pastures. The plains stretch for thousands of miles. You can’t swing a dead cat (or bird- would you please make up your freaking minds?!) in Auburn without hitting a pine tree. That does not constitute plains. Pastures. You live in pastures.

I hate little brothers. I hate sociology degrees. I hate the Department of Animal and Dairy Science.

I hate people that besmirch one of my childhood heroes by claiming that he was a mumbling drunk and then name a field after Pat Dye. Have you heard Pat Dye lately? I’m pretty sure Coach Dye doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

In short, and in closing for now. I hate Auburn. And other than the few short moments in which I participate in the blessing before my Thanksgiving meal on Thursday, I will let that hatred consume me for the next five days. And in case you didn’t think I was serious, Picture Me Rollin will be known as “Go to Hell Auburn” for the next six days.

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