Lawrinson14
Master Image Editor
- Joined
- Oct 11, 2011
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Let it be known that on the 11th of December, in the year of our Lord 2013, that the OTTO-man Empire once again sits firmly in a position of grandeur amongst the chaos that is college basketball.
Mighty powers have fallen. Oh have they fallen.
The Grand Duke of Durham has already become acquainted with the cold, lifeless eyes of defeat. The Court of Rock-Chalk has felt the tingling embrace of loss 3 times over. And the supposed saviors of the sport, those mighty blue bloods of Kentucky, have twice fallen in battle.
Yet here we stand. A pristine 9 and 0. In an era of Boeheimian success not seen the world over.
Our lands have become vast. Stretching from the pearly mecca of Manhattan, to the white-beached shores of Maui. A spreading of orange at which even Alexander himself would have marveled.
And our garrison of athletes is the envy of the hardwooded-realm. Our astrologers now find themselves gazing beyond the once familiar pale dull of 3-stars to focus on the warm, glowing potential of stars 4 and 5.
And it is this success that we cannot take for granted. For we should cherish the recent successes of the OTTO-man Empire and hold them near to our hearts.
Which brings me to the dregs of Saint John’s and Connecticut.
Despite their divine designation, St John’s is merely fodder, A kingdom-less leach that foolhardily stands between us and what is rightfully ours…that what we proudly won in battle time and time again. Yet only a fool goes into battle taking the opposition lightly. We shall be ready.
And lastly, let me quickly speak of the vile dogs of Connecticut. Their aptly named “boneyard” where the soulless remnants of fanatics fester, should no longer be of importance to us. For tearing down the huskies should not be the path to building ourselves up.
So here’s to the OTTO-Man Empire.
Where orange is more than just a color.
Mighty powers have fallen. Oh have they fallen.
The Grand Duke of Durham has already become acquainted with the cold, lifeless eyes of defeat. The Court of Rock-Chalk has felt the tingling embrace of loss 3 times over. And the supposed saviors of the sport, those mighty blue bloods of Kentucky, have twice fallen in battle.
Yet here we stand. A pristine 9 and 0. In an era of Boeheimian success not seen the world over.
Our lands have become vast. Stretching from the pearly mecca of Manhattan, to the white-beached shores of Maui. A spreading of orange at which even Alexander himself would have marveled.
And our garrison of athletes is the envy of the hardwooded-realm. Our astrologers now find themselves gazing beyond the once familiar pale dull of 3-stars to focus on the warm, glowing potential of stars 4 and 5.
And it is this success that we cannot take for granted. For we should cherish the recent successes of the OTTO-man Empire and hold them near to our hearts.
Which brings me to the dregs of Saint John’s and Connecticut.
Despite their divine designation, St John’s is merely fodder, A kingdom-less leach that foolhardily stands between us and what is rightfully ours…that what we proudly won in battle time and time again. Yet only a fool goes into battle taking the opposition lightly. We shall be ready.
And lastly, let me quickly speak of the vile dogs of Connecticut. Their aptly named “boneyard” where the soulless remnants of fanatics fester, should no longer be of importance to us. For tearing down the huskies should not be the path to building ourselves up.
So here’s to the OTTO-Man Empire.
Where orange is more than just a color.
