It’s been a running joke of mine for decades.
Invoked at moments in my mundane existence, when getting in touch with an inner Ken Kesey levity would be nice.
Where are those acid flashbacks now that I really need them, the ones our finger-wagging elders warned us about back in the day ? A few kandy-colored tracers wouldn’t be a bad thing now and again, as long as I’m not behind the wheel.
Little do I want, however, a brown acid bummer. Like the only one of mine experienced at a Chicago concert at Memorial Coliseum. Twas a very weird evening.
Anyway, that’s kind of how it felt to this college football analyst (of my own mind) with all this seismic plate-shifting conference rejiggering. Which kicked way up a notch recently, as if Emeril dumped a whole bottle of hot sauce in the roux he was concocting.
What’s coming this year is relatively benign. Four new schools in the Big Whatever.
But next season we got a transcontinental sea change a comin’. (Mixed metaphor used.)
Bicoastal nonsense. Accepting the non-presence of PAC 0.
With more possibly, hopefully not, on the way.
At any rate, to cope I have just completed Part I of a College Sports Realignment Assimilation Conversion Therapy course, presented by the Bear Bryant Institute. Part II is next summer. Continue reading Footballishness: Realignment Therapy