A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. - George Orwell, 1984
Hate, hate, hate.
It is the force that drives us as football fans - a title which itself is suggesting a sort of lunacy - to crowd the semi-sacred shrines to our Southern Saturdays and cheer, wildly and drunkenly, for the destruction and misery of strangers. Wailing and scowling, we stand in awe of the athletic prowess of our gridiron heroes, whose acts of violence serve not only as entertainment, but vindication. The earsplitting crack of colliding helmets, the satisfying crunch of bodies in a scrum, and the haphazard regard for personal safety which characterize the game we love, all satisfy this primal, dangerous urge.
Our hatred, our lust for violence, and our need for victory: those are what we satisfy with this sport. Don't be ashamed of it; embrace it. Open up your hearts, and let the hate out. This week's target of hate? Central Arkansas.
Where to begin with you, Central Arkansas?
Well, for starters, you're in the center of Arkansas. And if Arkansans have taught us anything is that we don't really want to mingle or, really, be in the same county as students and alumni of the Natural State's universities.
So, begrudgingly, we will allow you into our fair Oxford this weekend, and we'll even let you get a plate of food at Ajax or something, but don't think you can, like, stick around and hang out and shit. We're not your friends. We're your hospitable hosts, but even then only for a few hours on a Saturday.
Benjamin Franklin said that "guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days." He died well before the Louisiana purchase, let alone Arkansas' statehood. This is obvious because, if he were to have lived that long, his aforementioned witticism would have likely read "guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days - unless they're Central Arkansas fans, because then they're more like a skunk because you can smell them without even seeing them or even knowing that they're there. Also, you'll accidentally run one over with your motorcarriage and your whole whip will smell like rotting vomit for two or three weeks. It's awful."
So there's that, Central Arkansas. And then there's the little matter of your mascot.
How dare you plagiarize our time-honored, beloved Rebel Bear mascot? How dare you give him some awfully punny name like "Victor E." (Yes, we get it, you clever bastards.) and force him to wear purple? YOU TOOK OUR BEAR! TERDISHUN! And how dare you make him purple?
Ugh. It's not even close to reasonable. Everyone knows that bears, especially bears from the South, aren't purple; they're black, and they dress like Houston Nutt. This is a scientific fact. Idiots.
[ED: Hey, y'all, don't think about it too hard. I'm not advocating you pee on Central Arkansas' fans cars or something. You just need to realize that they're the enemy, and they need to be thought of that way. Don't take the "hate" thing too seriously. Hate on.]