Gather Comrades! Gather from fields of book, from teet of cow, from farthest frozen pasture of glorious Starkingrad! Gather for tale of our beloved People’s University and Her Glorious Football Squadron!
When last we radiologically communcationed, I cautioned all loyal comrades of Our State to fully preparence themselves for lowly trick-making by School of North Capitalists! With great sadness do I addressment you evening this to informance you of recent eventings.
These are but few traits and actionments lowly Capitalists have engagenced upon Your fellow Comrades in week this. Gather to radiological transceivers and other implements of distance hearing for tale of loss so rending-heart that it would swell tear to eye of even most mannish of Bookfarmer.
To commencement Our story, we begin Saturday last in barren wasteland of Oxford, capitalist outpost in Our State. As all good and faithful comrades are aware, Commissar Mullen allowances for outpost to remain in Our State out of kind nature of His glorious heart! The compassion of Our Great Commissar extends even to enemies of lowliest nature!
Bulldog Football Squadron journey-made to Capitalist Oxford, where amiddling bars and profit-seeking establishments they engaged in tense combat with School of North Capitalist Bear Football Squadron! Hard battle was fought, and moving forward into time of half the game's diminishment, score was tied only because of Capitalist bribery of referees from Conference of Southeasternland.
In squalid School of North Visiting Squadron Locker Room, Commissar Mullen gave speech so enlivened with Agrarian Pride that players were said to wail with joy and pridefulness so loudishly that they could be heard in far Amory! People's University Squadron members re-took to field of game play with such fervor that they did not notice sly Capitalist maneuvering that would prove undoing of Greatest Football Squadron in Existence!
Come loyal Comrade, and envision Capitalist sideline. Is dark place, full of money passing from hands of Capitalists to pockets of unsuspecting young recruits! On edge of field of play, theistic School of North coach prays to his god of money and lies! And here, loyal Bookfarmer, here amid the Capitalists and Perverts, see a misguided young man, a boy grown from soil of Our State! How did this young man, this Moncrief, come to stand on wrong sideline in greatest of contests? Is story as sad as any in existence! Moncrief was natural born comrade, raised with true spirit of Agrarian pridefulness, but as he reached maturation point, School of Northland came and perched on his shoulder like whispering devil! Emboldened by lies of greatness of Capitalism, Moncrief abandoned his true beliefs and fled to outpost of Oxford, where he granted lowly Capitalist Squadron his superior talent which rightful should have been in possessionment of School of Northland! Betrayal!
Crafty Capitalist Squadron coach, knowing that only way to best superior Bookfarmer Squadron was to unleash a true born son of Our State upon them, sent Moncrief onto field of play! Commissar Mullen was not in expectation of such a development as this! What is that, comrade? You did not know that a man so wizened and awe-inspirationing as Commissar Mullen could be caught in act of surprisement? My dear Comrade, development such as this is testamentation to Commissar Mullen's honesty and purity! Our beloved Commissar is so envigored with Agrarian Pride that many schemeings and underhanded dealings of Capitalists could not possibly enter into cleanliness of his mind! But do not fear, Comrade! Our Glorious Commissar will not make same mistake twice!
Former member of Our State Moncrief played like trueborn Bookfarmer! Many touchdowns he scored, providing further evidence of superior talent of Our State football Squadron! If player from Our State can best players on Our State Squadron, surely that is all proof that is needed to understand how wonderful Our State truly is!
Commissar Mullen looked on with shock as minutes to end game rapidly approached. On tiny screen (not so large as screen in Starkingrad, I assurance you, dear Comrade!) Capitalists again and again played footage of our glorious Commissar accompanimented by music of whimsical nature with no redeeming purpose for glorification of State or University! Also, songs of glory to Moncrief were played again and again in most disrespectful fashion!
And then what happened, my dear Comrade? Then what did the Capitalists in the North do? They took to the field like pack of screeching beasts! As seconds ticked off clock, Capitalist hordes rushed onto field to engage in lewd and mocking behavior toward Our Most Delightful Football Squadron!
On good authority I have it that this is not extent of School of North dirtiness! Knives were thrown at the grandmothers of Bookfarmers! Men in coats and bowties beat women with bottles formerly occupied with drink of Capitalist liking known as Bour-Bon! Does their violence and disrespect know no end? How could they, gazing upon glory of Our Commissar, bring themselves to commit such actions as these?
Answer, my dear Comrade, is that Capitalists are not like yourself and myself. They dress themselves in clothing of great expense! They fail to properly respect soil from which they spring! They read books rather than planting them! Is likely that all bookfarmers are racist, something which no true comrade of Our State could ever conception!
So with scenes of violence against Our State ends story which I am relating to you on radiological device. But do not allowance yourself to sink into depths of despairment for Our Glorious Commissar has message to send to all loyal Bookfarmers! From his own mouth come following words, so listen with attentiveness, my dear Comrade, listen with the closeness to which you attend the milking of Your Cow or the churning of Your Butter! Commissar Mullen, in all of his refinement and glory, speaks in such words as these:
“Great pain it brings me to admittance defeat at hands of inferior Capitalist Squadron, but allowance me to bring prideful spirit to all denizens of Starkingrad, for all is not lost! Even as of this very day, People’s University Football Squadron is preparing self for Battle of Egg of Golden Colorance during season next! Be assuranced that with pride and supportance from you, my Comrades, victory of sort never before seen will come to pass in less than one year’s time! For Our University! For Our Bully! For Our State!”
And I leave you now, gentle Comrade, to climb into bed of flour sacks with girthful wife providanced by Commissar Mullen’s generosity! This very night, procreate with all fervor that more young Bookfarmers may be born into most glorious city on earth, Our homeland, Our Starkingrad!