O-si-yo, Weblog Voters. O-si-yo, First Nations. We bring you peace. Your giggles carry through this hall like the call of the lonely buck for his mate. This is the native dress of someone's people, so act straight. And yes, we've got the legs to carry this off, so stop gawking unless you're willing to take the merchandise home, sailor.Thanks to everyone who voted for us in this meaningless contest of mouse clicks. Now, let's rotate this prize through the blogosphere, Stanley Cup-style, and give everybody a little taste.
We would first like to accept this award on behalf of the good men behind Blue-Gray Sky, which has traveled across many rivers and fields to find itself here under the banner of heaven today. It is a blessing to both the people of the Notre Dame tribe and to all of those who ride the fruited plains with it. They are full like a ripe pomegranate with the pride of their people. Let every asgehya and asgaya rejoice.
We would also like to state that this tribal outfit is drafty in the most surprising places. That is all.
We would also like to thank those who watered our horses and signalled their way to victory: our readers, whose posting and support was constant like the rains in the land of the skunk, deserves much thanks. Wado, friends. Also deserving thanks is EDSBS, whose two lone tribesman carry such burdens in their pants as to earn the nickname "They who need hose reel for manpipes". Again, wado, friends.
Any one else who braved the cold plains of the internet to earn our victory, much
thanks. A victory for one tribe in the nation, though, is a victory for all. Ride away then with a piece of the trophy reader, and follow it as it wanders like the goose through the clear skies of the limitless internet.
And now we are going to change into something more comfortable immediately following this speech. Like a muu-muu or something other than this glorified mini-skirt. Peace, friends.
At our victory party at the Linebacker last night we filled our trophy Cup with Long Island ice tea, drank it down, hooked up with a couple St. Mary's girls to the dulcet strains of "I Think I Love You", and woke up in front of Oak Hill with a nasty hangover and a severe case of frostbite. The Cup, however, was still intact. We now pass the Cup to Everyday Should Be Saturday, to the land of gator chomps and jean shorts. Enjoy a full bowl of kamikazes on us, guys (but you better rinse that sucker out first).
When you guys are done with it, pass it along to another worthy sports blog, and let us know where it's going so we can update the "Where's the Cup" chain.