I’m so tired. I’m tired of going into every BYU-Utah game thread in the first two drives and seeing the same goshdang thing.
“What is going on here?!?!?”
“Can BYU actually win it this time?”
“Good team”
“BYU is so spooky.”
“This is the year they pull it out just wait!”
“BYU might actually be good.”
“Their defense is #1!!!!!111”
Guess the flipetty flipping flip what. No they flipping don’t. They don’t got it. This is BYU. There is no happiness here. We will not pull it out. We will leave it in there and the next thing you know you’re 33 years old with six kids, living in a 1950’s ranch home with a plywood bathroom door because you kicked it when you were reading scriptures in Provo, married to a semi-retired Relief Society President from Orem, and a belly the size of a KEG OF MUG ROOT BEER BECAUSE YOUR DAD NEVER TAUGHT YOU THE OL COITUS INTERRUPTUS.
And dont bring your chaos gods bullcrap up in here. CHAOS ISNT LOSING TO UTAH EIGHT STRAIGHT TIMES. Your chaos gods have forsaken you. Losing in heartbreaking and brand new fashion every time is your new god.
Ya wanna know what it’s like being an BYU football fan? It’s like getting ready to have sex with a girl and she slips your dick out of your pants, starts to blow you, then yanks the zipper up on your pants as hard as she can. And then says she has two kids with KYLE WHITTINGHAM.
IT TOOK STARTING THE “GOAT” ZACH WILSON TO EVEN MAKE THIS GAME COMPETITIVE.
don’t tell me it’ll get better. don’t tell me how to feel my feelings. I don’t want to hear “but overtime scary boooooooo!” From UTAH. And I don’t want to hear flipping a flipping thing from USU. Flip you. You broke your streak. I don’t want to hear about how I just have to wait. I DID MY WAITING.
One day I’ll die and the misery of being an BYU fan will be over. I’ll be walking to take my place in heaven, I’ll get 27 yards from the pearly gates, full of bliss and happiness with all my suffering over, there will be sweet calming music, and then all of a sudden from out of nowhere I’ll hear sweet, innocent whats-his-name sigh and say, “Touchdown Jason Shelley.” The music stops, dread fills my stomach, everything turns dark. Just then, a bright light shows up and Jesus appears. I feel the warmth again, everything will be alright. He leans forward as if to tell me something wonderful and whispers almost inaudibly, “U-T” then kicks me right in the dick and shoves me off the edge to fall into a black and red room with my eyes taped open to watch this flipping game on repeat for the rest of eternity.
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