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A fellow has a week off and decides to play a round of golf every
day. First thing Monday morning, he sets off on his first round
and soon catches up to the person in front. He sees that this is
a woman and, as he catches up to her on a par 3, that, in fact,
she’s very attractive. He’s interested and suggests that they
play the rest of the round together. She agrees and a very close
match ensues. She turns out also to be a very talented golfer
and she wins their little competition on the last hole.

He congratulates her in the car park then offers to give her a lift
when he sees she doesn’t have a car. All in all it’s been a highly
enjoyable morning.

On the way to her place, she thanks him for the morning’s
company and competition and says she hasn’t enjoyed herself
so much on the course for a long time. “In fact,” she says, “I’d
like you to pull over so I can show you how much I appreciated
everything.” He pulls over, they kiss and she shows him her
appreciation…

The next morning he spies her at the first tee and suggests
they play together again. He’s actually quite competitive and
slightly peeved that she beat him the previous day. Again they
have a magnificent day, enjoying each other’s company and
playing a tight, competitive round of golf. Again she pips him at
the last, again he drives her home and again she shows her
appreciation.

This goes on all week, with her beating him narrowly every day.
This is a sore point for his male ego but, nevertheless, in the
car home from their Friday afternoon round, he tells her that he
has had such a fine week that he has a surprise planned: dinner
for two at a fancy candle-lit restaurant followed by a night of
passion in the penthouse apartment of a posh hotel.

Surprisingly, she bursts into tears and says she can’t agree to
this. He can’t work out what the fuss is about but eventually she
admits the reason.

“You see,” she tearfully sobs, “I’m a transvestite.”

He is aghast. He swerves violently off the road, pulls the car to
a screeching halt and curses madly, overcome with emotion.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“You bastard,” he screams, red in the face, “You cheating
bastard. You’ve been playing off the red tees all week!!”

A fellow has a week off and decides to play a round of golf every
day. First thing Monday morning, he sets off on his first round
and soon catches up to the person in front. He sees that this is
a woman and, as he catches up to her on a par 3, that, in fact,
she’s very attractive. He’s interested and suggests that they
play the rest of the round together. She agrees and a very close
match ensues. She turns out also to be a very talented golfer
and she wins their little competition on the last hole.

He congratulates her in the car park then offers to give her a lift
when he sees she doesn’t have a car. All in all it’s been a highly
enjoyable morning.

On the way to her place, she thanks him for the morning’s
company and competition and says she hasn’t enjoyed herself
so much on the course for a long time. “In fact,” she says, “I’d
like you to pull over so I can show you how much I appreciated
everything.” He pulls over, they kiss and she shows him her
appreciation…

The next morning he spies her at the first tee and suggests
they play together again. He’s actually quite competitive and
slightly peeved that she beat him the previous day. Again they
have a magnificent day, enjoying each other’s company and
playing a tight, competitive round of golf. Again she pips him at
the last, again he drives her home and again she shows her
appreciation.

This goes on all week, with her beating him narrowly every day.
This is a sore point for his male ego but, nevertheless, in the
car home from their Friday afternoon round, he tells her that he
has had such a fine week that he has a surprise planned: dinner
for two at a fancy candle-lit restaurant followed by a night of
passion in the penthouse apartment of a posh hotel.

Surprisingly, she bursts into tears and says she can’t agree to
this. He can’t work out what the fuss is about but eventually she
admits the reason.

“You see,” she tearfully sobs, “I’m a transvestite.”

He is aghast. He swerves violently off the road, pulls the car to
a screeching halt and curses madly, overcome with emotion.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“You bastard,” he screams, red in the face, “You cheating
bastard. You’ve been playing off the red tees all week!!”

Q: How many NCAA basketball players does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Only one. But he gets money, a car, and three credit hours for it.

Q: How did Captain Hook die?
A: Jock itch.

Obviously, Football is a syndrome of religious rites symbolizing the
struggle to preserve the Egg of Life through the rigors of impending
winter. The rites begin at the Autumn Equinox and culminate on the
first day of the New Year, with great festivals identified with bowls
of plenty. The festivals are associated with flowers such as roses;
fruits such as oranges; farm crops such as cotton; and even sun-worship
and appeasement of great reptiles such as alligators.

In these rites, the Egg of Life is symbolized by what is called
“The Oval”, an inflated bladder covered with hog skin. The convention
of “The Oval” is repeated in the architectural oval-shaped design of
the vast outdoor churches in which the services are held every sabbath
in every town and city. Also every Sunday in the greater centers of
population where an advanced priesthood performs. These enormous
churches dominate every college campus; no other edifice compares in
size with them, and they bear witness to the high spiritual development
of the culture that produced them.

Literally millions of worshipers attend the sabbath services in these
open-air churches. Subconsciously, these hordes are seeking an outlet
from sexual frustration in anticipation of violent masochism and sadism
about to be enacted by a highly trained priesthood of young men. Football
obviously arises out of the Oedipus complex. Love of mother dominates
the entire ritual. (Notre Dame and Football are synonymous).

The rites are preformed on a green rectangular area orientated to the
four directions. The green area, symbolizing Summer, is striped with
ominous white lines representing the knifing snows of Winter. The
white stripes are repeated in the ceremonial costumes of the four
whistling monitors who control the services through a time period
divided into four quarters, symbolizing the four Seasons.

The ceremony begins with colorful processions of musicians and semi-nude
virgins who move in and out of ritualized patterns. This excites the
thousands of worshipers to rise from their seats, shout frenzied poetry
in unison and chant ecstatic anthems through which runs the Oedipus
theme of willingness to die for the love of mother.

The actual rites, performed by 22 young priests of perfect physique,
might appear to the uninitiated as a chaotic conflict concerned only
with hurting the Oval by kicking it, then endeavoring to rescue and
protect the Egg.

However, the procedure is highly stylized. On each side there are
eleven young men wearing colorful and protective costumes. The group
in so-called “possession” of the Oval first arrange themselves in an
egg-shaped “huddle,” as it is called, for a moment of prayerful
meditation and whispering of secret numbers to each other.

Then they rearrange themselves with relation to the position of the
Egg. In a typical “formation” there are seven priests “on the line,”
seven being a mystical number associated not, as Jung purists might
contend, with the “seven last words” but actually, with sublimation
of the “seven deadly sins” into “the seven cardinal principles of
education.”

The central priest crouches over the Egg, protecting it with his
hands, while over his back quarters hovers the “Quarterback.” The
transposition of “back quarters” to “quarterback” is easily
explained by the Adler School. To the layman the curious posture
assumed by the “Quarterback,” as he hovers over the central priest,
immediately suggests the Cretan origins of Mycenaean animal art,
but this popular view is untenable. Actually, of course, the
“quarter-back” symbolizes the libido, combining two instincts,
namely, a) Eros, which strives for even closer union, and b) the
instinct for destruction of anything which lies in the path of Eros.
Moreover, the “pleasure-pain” excitement of the hysterical
worshipers focuses entirely on the actions of the libido-quarter-back.
Behind him are three priests representing the male triad.

At a given signal, the Egg is passed by sleight-of-hand to one of
the members of the triad who endeavors to move it by bodily force
across the white lines of Winter. This procedure up and down the
enclosure, continues through the four quarters of the ritual.

At the end of the second quarter, implying the Summer Slostice, the
processions of musicians and semi-nude virgins are resumed. After
forming themselves into pictograms representing alphabetical and
animal fetishes, the virgins perform a most curious rite requiring
far more dexterity than the earlier phallic Maypole rituals from
which it seems to be derived. Each of the virgins carries a wand
of shining metal which she spins on her fingertips, tosses playfully
into the air, and with which she interweaves her body in most
intricate gyrations.

The virgins perform another important function throughout the entire
service. This concerns the mystical rite of “conversion” following
success of one of the young priests in carrying the Oval across the
last white line of Winter. As the moment of “conversion” approaches,
the virgins kneel at the edge of the rectangle, bury their faces in
the earth, then raise their arms to heaven in supplication, praying
that “the uprights will be split.” “Conversion” is indeed a
dedicated ceremony.



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