A Little Bit of Culture

I know, I know. Usually I only do one post per week, but this week was different. A few different things irked me. And because I know the 12 people out there who read this are die-hards, the seven days in between posts are a struggle. (What? It's not?....... Well then I'll go on thinking it is). So this week I'm doing two posts, only this one is a tad different from my others. I'm going to culture you people with an awesome poem I wrote while watching the NCAA title game between Butler and Duke. I know it's not as good as, say, the boys from Rezillaient Productions. But it is certainly better than this crap. So here it is. Enjoy:

I turn on the tube,

And what to I see?

A college basketball analyst grinning with glee.

He calls them "awesome" and "perfect"

I really wanna puke,

There are so many reasons I love to hate Duke.

From Singler and Scheyer,

Back to Laettner and Hill,

Everyone gawks,

At Coach K's crew's skill,

But each time I hear it,

I get physically sick,

Sick of hearing about each

And every overrated prick.

"The play defense, make shots, give teams a spook,"

There are so many reasons I love to hate Duke.

They'll throw elbows, grab jerseys,

And nothing gets called,

Yet breathe too hard near them,

The refs get appalled,

"A foul for you!"

They'll yell from afar,

And when asked about the elbows

They cry "Crazy you are."

They could get away with murder,

Maybe even a nuke,

There are so many reasons I love to hate Duke.

Now they have another title,

Let's hear about it some more,

I need to listen to it

Like Tiger needs another whore.

The NCAA is their whipping boy,

And it seems to be no fluke,

That there are oh so many reasons I love to hate Duke.

(Post-game addition):

The championship hats weren't ugly enough,

They needed something more,

And there comes Jon Scheyer,

As gangsta as ever before,

He turned his hat sideways,

Thinking he was cool,

And to that I'm forced to say

Shut up Jon Scheyer. Who are you trying to kid? You are as preppy as all of your other teammates who will never, ever do anything significant in the NBA. Just like JJ Redick. Or Shavlik Randolph. Or Mike Dunleavy. And who can forget Jay Williams, who clearly taught Ben Roethlisberger how to ride a motorcycle. Legendary. So turn the damn hat straight. K?

So there you have it. Are you .001% more cultured now? I know you are. If not, then at least the soothing rapping of Big D will culture the crap out of you. Then, of course, Chilly C will immediately nullify any culturing because of how awful it is, but then again, can you name any famous rappers to ever have come from Coventry, Connecticut?

I thought so.