re: Georgia

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Mad respect to ya boys.

You've been the third and fourth fiddle bitch around here for a long time.

Ya got yourself a proper coach and now you're the stand-alone number two bitch in this league, well done gentleman.

We're coming in hot and loose. Like our land-pirate ancestors. We're Jesse James. We're pirate Quintrill and his manhunting raiders. We don't give a frick. We sever heads, mate. It's what we fricking do. We are bushwacking guerrillas of war.

We fought the fight your bitch boi great-great grandfathers were fighting 10 years before AND after those count-bois quit.

We are the real Don's of this fricking country. Our blood. Not yours ya fookin' yankee boot licking sissy counts who embarrass your dead ancestors with vineyard vine and fricking loafers with no socks. Ya frickin' country-club wannabe fig bois.

Come into this state. On this soil. And you risk your life.

You're just a bunch of mint julep drinking watered down versions of what once was great blood. You're an embarrassment to what could have been.

Saturday. 11. Our field.

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