Look deep into your hearts, and know this: I'm looking for four for Alabama on the fifty.
Now, as you can imagine, I can't pay for these tickets. My vision for the game is that of going as a sentimental, generous gift from the sheer, unadulterated goodness of somebody's heart. I was thinking last night that any day--any day at all, my friends--I could be walking under a building and a piano could come crashing out of the sky and land on me. You know, from one of those thirtieth-floor piano warehouses you always see in the cartoons. How many times have we seen this happen? How many more needless falling piano-related deaths must we endure?
Can you imagine such a thing happening to me? Every single one of you would think, "Man, I wish I had been a better friend to Saxondawg. If he were here, I'd be a better __man __woman. Why, I would give him my four tickets to Sanford Stadium and also a parking pass and thirty or forty smackers for the concession stand. That's the LEAST I could do. Heck, I would probably hire a limo to drop him and three friends/escorts of his choice right at the gate, then pick him up--if ONLY I had one more chance to show how I felt about my good buddy and spiritual ideal, the incomparable Saxondawg."
Then, you would go on to think, "You know what? Every single one of Saxon's buddies, if they had any brains at all, would probably just write him a $100 check and put it in the mail RIGHT THIS MOMENT, realizing that then he could also see the South Carolina game from similarly excellent seats, and buy maybe a new 46-inch HDTV for watching the Vanderbilt game, given that Saxondawg is far too humble to ever let anyone pay for limo service to Nashville."
You would think about all these things, wipe away a tear or two as you chuckled over some of those wacky and wild Saxondawg moments, and then you'd sit up, pound your fist on the arm of your chair, and proclaim, "If I'm smart, I'll put Saxondawg and his family into my will before another day passes. Life is just too short not to guarantee a comfortable and leisurely future for my buddy in the lifestyle and screen size to which he is accustomed." And you would know that at least on that one day--you had done a fine thing.
Now, as you can imagine, I can't pay for these tickets. My vision for the game is that of going as a sentimental, generous gift from the sheer, unadulterated goodness of somebody's heart. I was thinking last night that any day--any day at all, my friends--I could be walking under a building and a piano could come crashing out of the sky and land on me. You know, from one of those thirtieth-floor piano warehouses you always see in the cartoons. How many times have we seen this happen? How many more needless falling piano-related deaths must we endure?
Can you imagine such a thing happening to me? Every single one of you would think, "Man, I wish I had been a better friend to Saxondawg. If he were here, I'd be a better __man __woman. Why, I would give him my four tickets to Sanford Stadium and also a parking pass and thirty or forty smackers for the concession stand. That's the LEAST I could do. Heck, I would probably hire a limo to drop him and three friends/escorts of his choice right at the gate, then pick him up--if ONLY I had one more chance to show how I felt about my good buddy and spiritual ideal, the incomparable Saxondawg."
Then, you would go on to think, "You know what? Every single one of Saxon's buddies, if they had any brains at all, would probably just write him a $100 check and put it in the mail RIGHT THIS MOMENT, realizing that then he could also see the South Carolina game from similarly excellent seats, and buy maybe a new 46-inch HDTV for watching the Vanderbilt game, given that Saxondawg is far too humble to ever let anyone pay for limo service to Nashville."
You would think about all these things, wipe away a tear or two as you chuckled over some of those wacky and wild Saxondawg moments, and then you'd sit up, pound your fist on the arm of your chair, and proclaim, "If I'm smart, I'll put Saxondawg and his family into my will before another day passes. Life is just too short not to guarantee a comfortable and leisurely future for my buddy in the lifestyle and screen size to which he is accustomed." And you would know that at least on that one day--you had done a fine thing.
