Now the work begins: GEE-HAW'D!!

Oct 23, 2011, 11:00 AM

No longer spectators, but warriors. Rise, Sons of Clemson!

At first, I thought it was simply noise from some early Halloween celebration down the street, distant and barely audible in the crisp, chilly air:

Gee-Haw'd!

Then I figured I had left the TV on in the living room, and I was hearing the sounds muffled mixing of laughter and lamentation as Texas Tech shoved Oklahoma into the abyss:

Gee-Haw'd!

Doggone, don't you know I'd know that voice by now? For then, wide awake the voice came to me a third time ... and with unmistakeable certainty:

Gee-Haw'd!

The time has arrived, Sons of Clemson. A time of dreadful reckoning, of merciless justice, of complete desolation of abomination. The time when we grease the gear boxes of our tractors and and coat the prongs of our pitchforks with the entrails of those that stand against us as we even of the ledger of football destiny.

Gee-Haw'd!

And I, for one, can think of no finer group to suffer our wrath than that self-smug swarm in Atlanta. Too many times they have ruined our hopes and dreams. Too many times they have by some strange seredipity, mocking us as we wept in pain.

And now, these blasphemous bees have the unfettered gall to place Clemson in the center of their homecoming. THEIR HOMECOMING. Say it again, and again, until you fully realize the level of disdain they feel for us.

Bwahahahaa! Bow before me, puny Tigers!

They want Homecoming? Give them Hellcoming, Tigers!

Those who lend heart and voice, are ordained to become a weapon of divine disembowlment. This is a holy charge to all who can congregate on that hive of iniquity in Atlanta to do so. Burnish your weapons, polish your tractors and raise the orange flag of conquest.

Let there be no quarter, no solace for the buzzing blasphemers who would defile our holy crusade to restore the name of Clemson across ths country.

Too many times they have dodged the fate they so richly deserve.

Too many times: but not this time. This time, as the world watches, the Sons of Clemson are called to landblast the Bumbles.

Be grim in purpose and bring vocal havoc to their home. It is time to rise to that holy purpose for which Clemson was created: destruction of evil, exhaltation of the good.

Trap game? No, a certain doom for the Jackets

This is not a trap game. This is a game ordained by powers far greater than ours to seal Clemson's place in the firmament. Now a Top 5 school, the worls will be watching. It is time to show them just how powerful a riled up Clemson can be.

Rise and destroy those who would stand against us. Break their will, their spirit, their hopes. Leave their women (or what passes for women at GTech) weeping silently in the stands and build bonfires from the wreckage of their shattered dreams.

There is no adequate outcome this Saturday but the utter annihalation of the Jackets, of the utter destruction of their hope and the elevation of the Tiger as the most feared football team in this country.

As it used to be.

As it will be again.

Make it so, Sons of Clemson. Stand as one and accept this holy calling.