Garandx
Well-Known Member
I’m so tired. I’m tired of going into every Iowa game thread in the first three minutes and seeing the same god damn thing.
“What is going on here?!?!?”
“Can Iowa actually win it this time?”
“Stanley will wake up.”
“Iowa’s defense is looking good.”
“Northwestern is trash.”
Guess the fuckety fucking F what. No they fucking don’t. They don’t got it. This is Iowa. There is no happiness here. We will not pull it out. We will leave it in there and the next thing you know you’re 27 years old with nine kids, living in a single wide with a plywood bathroom door because you kicked it when you were drunk in Council Bluffs, married to a hooker from Tiffin that’s coming back from retirement to show the young uns from big ol Brazil how it’s done, and a beer belly the size of a KEG OF NATTY LIGHT BECAUSE YOUR DAD NEVER TAUGHT YOU THE OL COITUS INTERRUPTUS.
And dont bring your chaos gods bullshit up in here. CHAOS ISNT CHOKING AWAY GAMES EVERY FUCKING YEAR. Your chaos gods have forsaken you. Losing in heartbreaking and brand new fashion every time is your new god.
Ya wanna know what it’s like being an Iowa football fan? It’s like getting ready to have sex with a girl and she slips your dick out of your pants, tapes 40 grit sandpaper to her hands and gives you a handy.
don’t tell me it’ll get better. don’t tell me how to feel my feelings. I don’t want to hear “but mah CLOSE GAMES” From Michigan. I don’t want to hear about how we are young but promising. I don’t want to hear about how I just have to wait. Or you’ll be good next year.
One day I’ll die and the misery of being an Iowa fan will be over. I’ll be walking to take my place in heaven hopeful for the sweet release of not watching this team every Saturday. I’ll be prepared to pass through the pearly gates, full of bliss and happiness with all my suffering over, there will be sweet calming sound of Martha the Cleaning Lady singing On Iowa, when they slam shut in my face and from seemingly out of nowhere I’ll hear Gary Dolphin sigh and say, “Fumble Iowa, recovered by opposing team.” The music stops, dread fills my stomach, everything turns yellow. Just then, a bright crimson light appears and Ricky Stanzi steps out of the light and touches my shoulder. I feel the warmth again, everything will be alright. He leans forward as if to tell me something wonderful and whispers almost inaudibly, “Iowa will never fire gary barta” then kicks me right in the gooch and shoves me off the edge to fall into a black and yellow room with my eyes stapled open and Nate Stanley repeatedly missing wide open receivers while mumbling ”Im a good QB” while I’m forced to watch this fucking team F up again and again on repeat for the rest of eternity.
“What is going on here?!?!?”
“Can Iowa actually win it this time?”
“Stanley will wake up.”
“Iowa’s defense is looking good.”
“Northwestern is trash.”
Guess the fuckety fucking F what. No they fucking don’t. They don’t got it. This is Iowa. There is no happiness here. We will not pull it out. We will leave it in there and the next thing you know you’re 27 years old with nine kids, living in a single wide with a plywood bathroom door because you kicked it when you were drunk in Council Bluffs, married to a hooker from Tiffin that’s coming back from retirement to show the young uns from big ol Brazil how it’s done, and a beer belly the size of a KEG OF NATTY LIGHT BECAUSE YOUR DAD NEVER TAUGHT YOU THE OL COITUS INTERRUPTUS.
And dont bring your chaos gods bullshit up in here. CHAOS ISNT CHOKING AWAY GAMES EVERY FUCKING YEAR. Your chaos gods have forsaken you. Losing in heartbreaking and brand new fashion every time is your new god.
Ya wanna know what it’s like being an Iowa football fan? It’s like getting ready to have sex with a girl and she slips your dick out of your pants, tapes 40 grit sandpaper to her hands and gives you a handy.
don’t tell me it’ll get better. don’t tell me how to feel my feelings. I don’t want to hear “but mah CLOSE GAMES” From Michigan. I don’t want to hear about how we are young but promising. I don’t want to hear about how I just have to wait. Or you’ll be good next year.
One day I’ll die and the misery of being an Iowa fan will be over. I’ll be walking to take my place in heaven hopeful for the sweet release of not watching this team every Saturday. I’ll be prepared to pass through the pearly gates, full of bliss and happiness with all my suffering over, there will be sweet calming sound of Martha the Cleaning Lady singing On Iowa, when they slam shut in my face and from seemingly out of nowhere I’ll hear Gary Dolphin sigh and say, “Fumble Iowa, recovered by opposing team.” The music stops, dread fills my stomach, everything turns yellow. Just then, a bright crimson light appears and Ricky Stanzi steps out of the light and touches my shoulder. I feel the warmth again, everything will be alright. He leans forward as if to tell me something wonderful and whispers almost inaudibly, “Iowa will never fire gary barta” then kicks me right in the gooch and shoves me off the edge to fall into a black and yellow room with my eyes stapled open and Nate Stanley repeatedly missing wide open receivers while mumbling ”Im a good QB” while I’m forced to watch this fucking team F up again and again on repeat for the rest of eternity.
