I didn't write this but thought I'd share........
May We All Bow Our Heads.
Dear little six pound, eight ounce Baby Jesus:
Thank you for blessing us that we all be born Kansas State Wildcats.
Yea,
though you have led us through these dark years of wandering in angst
and
suffering at the hands of the Philistines from Lawrence and Gomorrah,
still
we bless your name. Praise Jesus. And yea, lead us down the path of
righteousness while those Jayhawks stumble on their hedonistic path of
wretchedness.
Help us tonight to shove the sins of their ways down their vile and
wicked
craw. Yea, remind them that they are on probation and deservedly so.
Praise
Jesus. Through your hand use our Wildcats to show those evil Jayhawks
the
error of their cheating and selfish ways.
Dear Baby Jesus in your purple robe, bless our balls tonight. Let our
balls
go where they should everytime, be it in the hole or be it in the
hands of
the righteous Wildcats. Please direct the Jayhawks to play with their
own
balls as do little children who know no better.
Lord, bless the touch of Cartier, bless the touch of David, bless the
touch
of Clent, bless the touch of Lance, bless the touch of Akeem, bless
the
touch of Blake, bless the touch of Luis, Serge, Jermaine, and Jason,
too.
Bless the hands of the waterboy so that he may bestow water upon our
men
in
battle when they thirst.
Little Baby Jesus, with your Powercat on the headboard of your manger,
please bless the tongue of Coach Huggins when he decides to chastise
and
preach to the money changers in their striped robes, that it be quick,
that
it be sharp and that it may be mighty. Please, oh Lord Baby Jesus, put
your
hand on the whistles of those in the stripes, so that they may show
wisdom
in their decisions of when to blow their whistles and when to choke on
their
whistles.
Little tiny cute Baby Jesus, if it be your will, let chickens rain
down on
the unwashed Jayhawks tonight. Let the unjust feel the wrath of your
hand
through the Wildcats of Kansas State, both on the floor and in the
stands.
Jesus, bless the joints of the aged so that they may stand and stand
often
to cheer on the works of the righteous. Bless their mouths so that
they
may
shout loudly and shout often the curses that deservedly should fall on
the
sinners from the lands to the east.
Dear Baby Jesus, may you curse the toupee of Bill Self. Yea, Lord,
when
the
scum of the Kaw are not playing with each other's balls, let them
stumble
on
the weak ankles that lead them on their paths of cheating, their paths
of
lacking institutional control, their path of innappropriate benefits
and
dead beat daddies.
We have suffered long and painfully in your name, Baby Jesus. Help us
tonight to smite down the wicked; to reign mighty blows on the evil
and to
walk proudly out of Bramlage knowing that justice has been served and
the
truly righteous have prevailed and the evil-doers have been knocked
from
their pompous and sinful perch.
Baby Jesus, thank you for Bob Huggins. Amen.
