Zorro
Nuestro Zorro Amigo
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2011
- Messages
- 17,920
- Reaction Score
- 15,759
(I had been working on this for a while, while Zorro was asleep, but held off on posting anything until tonight, for fear of offending the gods of mojo. So, with a nod to Ray Stevens, and an apology to the gods of poetry....)
Hello there again out there in radioland, this is Biff Burns, your constantly roving reporter, roving around here in beautiful Tallahassee, trying to find something to report. Wait a minute, there seems to be some sort of disturbance here around the Tucker Center. There is a large group of people here, most of whom seem to be highly agitated. Let me see if I can talk to one of them and find out what is actually going on here.
"Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me why these good folks seem so agitated?"
"Well Hell yes, and you'd be agitated too. Here we finally got rid of all them damn unbeatable players at UConn, we was just on the verge of sweet revenge, and what happens? We miss a daggoned 3-pointer and let them weasel out. Argghhh! I'm so dadburned mad I could bite a hunk out of a steel girder!
Well yes we call it the streak (looka dat, looka dat)
This team was spozed to be so weak! (looka dat, looka dat)
This was too close to relax. But facts is still facts
The streak goes on another week!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, hello again out there in radioland, this is your old pal the Biffster coming at you again. This week we are roving on the campus of the University of Connecticut, as always looking for interesting news for all you good folks out there. Nothing much seems to be happening---wait a minute, all of a sudden there is a crowd pouring out of the basketball stadium. Most of them seem to be smiling and laughing, but here is a fellow wearing a bear suit with a big red sombrero, and punching himself in the head over and over. I'll try to talk to the poor soul and see what is grieving himl
"Pardon me, sir, but you seem to be distressed and agitated. I'm sure that all my listeners would like to know the source of your upset."
"Upset! That's the godurned word, sure enough! You'd be ticked off too if it was you! This was supposed to be the year we wiped the smirk of that danged Geno's face. Ol Kim has been tellin' us all winter how we now got all these great big kids on our team, some of 'um seven or eight feet tall, and we were gonna make the durn UCONNs screech. And what happens; why nothin' but they just nail our hides to the danged barn again! It is just about nigh more'n a body can stand or oughta have to!
Well yes we all it the streak (looka dat, looka dat!)
Them big ol' Bears got theirs this week! (looka dat, looka dat!)
Ths team's playing on guts, but still kickin butts
Just wait til they get some technique!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, hi there again, all my good fans out there on the airwaves. This week the ol' Biffster is prowlin' around Uncasville, Ct., and, as always, looking for the human interest story that we might run into. And it looks like we may have something here. Sitting here on the ground is a man with the biggest burnt orange cowboy hat you have ever seen. Must be at least 20 gallons, and has great big curvy horns poking out of each side. And he has the saddest look on his face that I have ever seen on a live human. Let's see if we can talk to him and find out the source of his grief.
"Excuse me, sir, Biff Burns, roving reporter. You appear to be terribly unhappy. Would you like to share with my listeners the reason for your dejection? Did you maybe lose all your money at the slots?"
"Oh fudge, it's a sight worse than that. I come all the way up here from Austin to see my beloved Lady Longhorns put the hook to them smart-alecky UConns and their smart-alecky coach, on account of it just naturally riles me up to keep gettin' our butts kicked ever danged fall. And what happens? Do I get to see the Lady Horns do some brandin;? Like fun, I did! I'd a been better off stayin' home and eatin' myself some bar-b-cue and drinkin' myself some Lone Star. Son, I say son, I am DEPRESSED!
Well, yes we call it the streak (looka dat, looka dat!)
It just goes on from week to week! (looka dat, looka dat!)
We know some day it will end, just hope it's not in South Bend
We've got to go down there next week!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi there, our in radio land, this is Biff Burns, your roving reporter out roving for a story. Slow night tonight..Uh, wait, something seems to be happening here just outside the Purcell Pavilion. People are milling around and seem highly agitated. Some are weeping, some are wailing, some are gnashing their teeth. Some are doing all three at once. One little fellow dressed all in clover green with a funny little green pointy hat on his head and little pointy green shoes seems particularly distressed. He's hopping around and stamping his little feet and just generally carrying on. Let's see if we can get a word with him and try to find out what is happening here.
"Excuse me, little feller; what seems to be the trouble?"
"Oh, it's trouble enough, b'Jaysus, trouble enough to spare! I was right there and seen it all. We thought t'was going to be our year to find the pot of gold, that we did! Faith and be'gorra, we seemed so strong and them so weak, with their nastiest players gone to seek their fortunes. And everyone said that we was the best, an' b'Jaysus we thought so too. by the holy relics of St. Paddy. And they was comin' to our house, and that cute little coach of ours had our colleens all revved up to fight! And by the holy St. Patrick, what happened? Ever time our fine Irish girls would make a bucket and get back in the game, b'Jaysus, one of those girls in the blue suits would make another! It's gotta be witchcraft! That little ol coach of theirs has just gotta have made a pact with the divvvel. It just isn't natural!
Well yes we call it the streak (looka dat, looka dat!)
It just hit 83 this week! (looka dat, looka dat!)
The Irish were tough, but not tough enough
To stop the Husky Mistique!
Hello there again out there in radioland, this is Biff Burns, your constantly roving reporter, roving around here in beautiful Tallahassee, trying to find something to report. Wait a minute, there seems to be some sort of disturbance here around the Tucker Center. There is a large group of people here, most of whom seem to be highly agitated. Let me see if I can talk to one of them and find out what is actually going on here.
"Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me why these good folks seem so agitated?"
"Well Hell yes, and you'd be agitated too. Here we finally got rid of all them damn unbeatable players at UConn, we was just on the verge of sweet revenge, and what happens? We miss a daggoned 3-pointer and let them weasel out. Argghhh! I'm so dadburned mad I could bite a hunk out of a steel girder!
Well yes we call it the streak (looka dat, looka dat)
This team was spozed to be so weak! (looka dat, looka dat)
This was too close to relax. But facts is still facts
The streak goes on another week!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, hello again out there in radioland, this is your old pal the Biffster coming at you again. This week we are roving on the campus of the University of Connecticut, as always looking for interesting news for all you good folks out there. Nothing much seems to be happening---wait a minute, all of a sudden there is a crowd pouring out of the basketball stadium. Most of them seem to be smiling and laughing, but here is a fellow wearing a bear suit with a big red sombrero, and punching himself in the head over and over. I'll try to talk to the poor soul and see what is grieving himl
"Pardon me, sir, but you seem to be distressed and agitated. I'm sure that all my listeners would like to know the source of your upset."
"Upset! That's the godurned word, sure enough! You'd be ticked off too if it was you! This was supposed to be the year we wiped the smirk of that danged Geno's face. Ol Kim has been tellin' us all winter how we now got all these great big kids on our team, some of 'um seven or eight feet tall, and we were gonna make the durn UCONNs screech. And what happens; why nothin' but they just nail our hides to the danged barn again! It is just about nigh more'n a body can stand or oughta have to!
Well yes we all it the streak (looka dat, looka dat!)
Them big ol' Bears got theirs this week! (looka dat, looka dat!)
Ths team's playing on guts, but still kickin butts
Just wait til they get some technique!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, hi there again, all my good fans out there on the airwaves. This week the ol' Biffster is prowlin' around Uncasville, Ct., and, as always, looking for the human interest story that we might run into. And it looks like we may have something here. Sitting here on the ground is a man with the biggest burnt orange cowboy hat you have ever seen. Must be at least 20 gallons, and has great big curvy horns poking out of each side. And he has the saddest look on his face that I have ever seen on a live human. Let's see if we can talk to him and find out the source of his grief.
"Excuse me, sir, Biff Burns, roving reporter. You appear to be terribly unhappy. Would you like to share with my listeners the reason for your dejection? Did you maybe lose all your money at the slots?"
"Oh fudge, it's a sight worse than that. I come all the way up here from Austin to see my beloved Lady Longhorns put the hook to them smart-alecky UConns and their smart-alecky coach, on account of it just naturally riles me up to keep gettin' our butts kicked ever danged fall. And what happens? Do I get to see the Lady Horns do some brandin;? Like fun, I did! I'd a been better off stayin' home and eatin' myself some bar-b-cue and drinkin' myself some Lone Star. Son, I say son, I am DEPRESSED!
Well, yes we call it the streak (looka dat, looka dat!)
It just goes on from week to week! (looka dat, looka dat!)
We know some day it will end, just hope it's not in South Bend
We've got to go down there next week!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi there, our in radio land, this is Biff Burns, your roving reporter out roving for a story. Slow night tonight..Uh, wait, something seems to be happening here just outside the Purcell Pavilion. People are milling around and seem highly agitated. Some are weeping, some are wailing, some are gnashing their teeth. Some are doing all three at once. One little fellow dressed all in clover green with a funny little green pointy hat on his head and little pointy green shoes seems particularly distressed. He's hopping around and stamping his little feet and just generally carrying on. Let's see if we can get a word with him and try to find out what is happening here.
"Excuse me, little feller; what seems to be the trouble?"
"Oh, it's trouble enough, b'Jaysus, trouble enough to spare! I was right there and seen it all. We thought t'was going to be our year to find the pot of gold, that we did! Faith and be'gorra, we seemed so strong and them so weak, with their nastiest players gone to seek their fortunes. And everyone said that we was the best, an' b'Jaysus we thought so too. by the holy relics of St. Paddy. And they was comin' to our house, and that cute little coach of ours had our colleens all revved up to fight! And by the holy St. Patrick, what happened? Ever time our fine Irish girls would make a bucket and get back in the game, b'Jaysus, one of those girls in the blue suits would make another! It's gotta be witchcraft! That little ol coach of theirs has just gotta have made a pact with the divvvel. It just isn't natural!
Well yes we call it the streak (looka dat, looka dat!)
It just hit 83 this week! (looka dat, looka dat!)
The Irish were tough, but not tough enough
To stop the Husky Mistique!
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