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Volume 69, Issue 13, Thursday, September 11, 2003

Sports
 

Cajuns pour hot sauce on Trashman

The Trashman

Keenan Singleton

This is a disclaimer. If you take this column seriously or as fact, your parents are probably blood relatives. The column's nature is lighthearted, over-the-top satire. Enjoy.

Women, children and literates, please turn your heads. The following column will make you sic (sic).

One year ago, I wrote a column about this week's opponent, the Louisiana-Lafayette Ragin' Cajuns (Sept. 12, 2002, "Pour hot sauce on the Cajuns") that ticked off quite a few Cajuns or Acadians or whatever they're calling themselves these days.

Last year, I did the writing, so in the interest of equal time, I'm going to turn the Cajuns loose.

God, help us.

Our first entry comes from someone with the moniker of "cajunbayoumail." I made a remark in the Sept.12 column about Ragin' Cajuns sounding like something I ordered once from Popeye's.

Here's the response: "For you information we do make more touchdowns then (sic) you think, and no Popeyes does not give away fried chicken when we do if they did they would go out of business."

Huh? Excuse me, is that English for dummies?

He or she or moron continues.

"... the score at the game was Sept. 14 2002 Louisiana-Lafayette W 36-17 Hmm seems to me that we do we make more then 2 touchdown per year we actually made that in a game against your team."

The score was a date, place and letter? A high school diploma sure doesn't mean much these days.

Here's another jewel.

"Forgive me for my lack of articulation sence (sic) ... and as you so eliquintly (sic) ... Cajuns, as definned (sic) ... A Cajun man actually designed the PT boats. Although he wasn't given credit for it, because a men (sic) of such little edcation (sic) cannnot (sic) be expected to outbuild (sic) a naval archetech (sic). -- Wayne G."

Party on Wayne. Actually party off. And don't reproduce either, the human race will thank you.

There were others, of course. Some had connotations of violence, some bragged about things shouldn't be bragged about (ULL's debate program). But most of them just made me cry from laughter.

I got phone calls. Like this one from a guy we'll dub "Boudreaux Cajun III."

"Yeah, Mr. Keenan Singleton, this is a coon-ass Cajun from south Louisiana. Just hear (sic) your report about us over here. Where you from neck? Eh? Tell me dat, where you from? You think it's so bad ovah here? Well you better not evah brought yo' ass over here partner; I can toll you dat. You got anything to say you come here and tell us to our face. Ya chicken-(bleep)."

Click.

That, ladies, gentlemen and Cajuns, is a real, unedited phone call. I can't make stuff like this up. It's just too good.

Funny, he berates me and commands me to go to Louisiana, but then hangs up before identifying himself. Looks like he's the real chicken-(bleep).

The sad thing is, I'm the best thing to happen to south Louisiana and Cajuns since indoor plumbing (funny, we both showed up around the same time).

Here's the bottom line Cajuns, be you ragin' or dumbin': Get a life, stop crying and please, please, go away.
 
 Send comments to dcsports@mail.uh.edu

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