Hey gang! Do you know what's really interesting about cardinals? Nothing.
A cardinal is the songbird equivalent to a middle-aged accountant who dresses in drag on Sundays in order to mimic a veneer of abstruseness in an attempt to conceal the fact that the most difficult thing to understand about him is why he insists there be a 2.54cm buffer between the mayonnaise and the edge of his Milton's 9-Grain Bread.
What do you really want to see when watching the Zombie Chicago Cardinals? Their enthralling Quarterback battle? Larry Fitzgerald staring forlornly down the barrel of his future? Whisenhunt trying to figure out what a QB actually does around here anyway? Or are you like me, and the only reason you pay attention to the Crimson Rodents is to see if Darnell Dockett will finally contract testicular cancer, like he deserves?
The Seahawks don't care about any of that; the only part of The Arizona Cardinals they are interested in is the blood that flows through their tiny veins, and how much of it they can coat Online School Stadium in. These rapacious raptors are plummeting towards Glendale like a Scud missile, and when destruction has been unleashed, the dreams of 53 songbirds will have been turned to ashes the likes from which nothing will rise again.
Some of you may have forgotten the purpose of the SeaHawku, so allow me to state it: The Seahawks cannot win without the will of The 12th Man, and nothing focuses that iron-hard will like poetry. Everybody in the Universe knows that the most Metal of poetic forms is the haiku. Therefore, if we want our champions to emerge victorious, we must supply an arsenal of haiku...nay, Hawku!
The rules are simple: three lines of poetry, the first line contains five syllables, the second contains seven, and the last contains five again. There is no need to rhyme, but literary flourish is encouraged. Write a title in the subject bar, form your poem, proceed to giggle at your own cleverness. Read the rest of The Twelves poems, and rec to green any that make you guffaw.
Blast from the Past
There are a few quotes
Which will never lose their charm:
"Fuck yo couch, Glendale."
It Means No Worries...
Two words, John Skelton
Hakuna Matata, bro
Kam says "go to sleep".
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