Dear 8lb, 9oz smallest baby Jesus, wearin’ the tiniest little silver britches,

Happy Game Day to you, Lord!

A quick moment of thanks for that messy W last week and another request for a little less strain on the old tickers this one. WOO-EE, Jesus, ya scared us!

Today our #blessed boys in red and black take on the Ole Miss Rebels, infant savior. First of all, Jesus, I don’t really understand. I did some looking into this and I have to be honest and say I didn’t much like what I read about what the name means and I don’t think it’s fitting to talk to the smallest creator of the Universe about it. It came about a long long time ago when someone suggested they name their annual after it! SO, tiny ruler, in summation, this team is named after a racist yearbook.

Nope. I know that won’t fly up in Heaven!

The news gets worse, pint-sized chief. The Ole Miss Mascot? It’s the black bear. Do you know what Mississippi leads the U.S. in, baby Jesus? BLACK BEAR HUNTING. How in all that is holy and small do they hunt their own dang mascot, little leader?

THAT. AIN’T. RIGHT.

If they were anything like our Damn Good Dawgs, they’d give their bears nice little houses and bags of ice on the hot days! The bear also came about after they decided their old mascot, Colonel Reb, was deemed racist (BECAUSE HE’S A DANG CONFEDERATE SOLDIER) Anyways, Jesus, I’m noticing a tendency about these folks and I repeat, I don’t much like it.

Speaking of things we don’t much like, mini-Maker, The Grove is basically the Charleston of tailgating. Sure, it’s pretty, then you get there and realize it’s filled with a bunch of awful rednecks in tacky clothes with average tastes in football teams, running around yelling about how they’re the best. No siree, Jesus.

We all know you find Heaven between the Hedges and that Oxford isn’t allowed to sit with Athens at lunch.

I guess we also have to address this RIDICULOUS Hotty Toddy thing. Jesus, their cheer has a CURSE in it. The D word! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Last I checked, you are, literally, the only one allowed to damn anybody, wee monarch, and the fact that Hotty Toddy doesn’t even mean anything just makes it worse. I mean, isn’t that a drink you have when you’re sick? I think the Dawgs just drink the bourbon and skip the hot and whatever a toddy is because they’re not sissies. I just can’t find a single reason why these fellas deserve your divine intervention, itty bitty baron!

Take good care of our boys today, baby Jesus. Let Jacob Eason see only one set of footprints in the turf as you guide him to victory. Keep Chubb fast, strong, and always ready to hail your mom. Give Coach K ALL THAT FIRE we’ve seen the last two games, littlest deity, and let’s march back to Athens with a (faux) bearskin rug.

In your Hunkerin’ Down name we pray,

GO DAWGS!