Auburn Fans, LSU Fans Do NOT Smell Like Corndogs

That’s right Auburn fans, LSU fans don’t smell like corn dogs. There, I said it. In fact, the stinch you claim to smell is actually the big dump that you dropped right in the middle of Death Valley- you know the measly 4 wins you have in Baton Rouge since 1901 (or Baton Rootch if you’re the guy that used to sit in the office next to me). Just because LSU fans wear Wal-Mart jerseys to the games doesn’t mean they work at the local tilt-a-whirl set up in the K-Mart parking lot. You are not Bill Nye, or Jaleel White, so stop wearing britches (yes, britches), a Polo Oxford, a bow tie, and suspenders when it’s 93 degrees in the shade. And LSU fans are trashy?

Yeah, because rockin’ the gold chain and sweet tats at 300+ is not trashy at all.

Since there are literally 300,000 people in Baton Rouge on game day, we had to aimlessly wonder a mile through a sea of endless purple and gold tents while trying to find some fellow State alums. Because of you Auburn fans, I cautiously took my first few steps into this uncharted territory like I was trying to float a chuck wagon down the Columbia River. Besides a few drunken Tiger Baits, the only serious heckling we received was a 3 year old trying to run over me on what seemed like a supercharged Power Wheels. No one threw feces or doused me with whiskey. Hell, we were even stopped at every other tent and were offered beers. I can’t even get that kind of hospitality in Starkville.

A few LSU faithful also stopped us and asked us if we had eaten some good food. I guess he assumed that we were from Mississippi and, for some reason, didn’t know what good food was. In his defense, he wasn’t aware that 24 hours later we would be back in New Orleans gorging ourselves on The Boudreaux (poached eggs over alligator sausage, jalapeno cornbread, and Crystal potatoes, smothered in a Creole hollandaise), a Louisiana crab omelet, and a make-your-own-bloody-mary-bar three blocks from our house at Atchafalaya. As we continued on our not-so-perilous journey, we consumed enough andouille and boudin to make Gord Brody envious. No corn dogs. No funnel cakes.

Speaking of envy, maybe you Auburn fans created this mythical corn dog phenomenon because you can’t share the spotlight with the SEC’s other Tigers. Just go ahead and join Ole Miss and officially pick another mascot. You already have 17 [17’ing] officially unofficial ones to choose from.

Auburn fans, because of you, I was also hesitant walking into the stadium, especially since I was holed up behind enemy lines in LSU’s season ticket holders section.

I even made sure to don my maroon because you said the urine that would be thrown on me by belligerent LSU fans wouldn’t stain. Yeah, there are 90,000+ rowdy fans in Death Valley, most of them drunk, but is there really any SEC stadium where the home crowd doesn’t mix Evan Williams in the stands and get a little obnoxious. Needless to say, the only stains suffered that day were caused by my reaction to 5 interceptions (I swore I saw Mike Henig on the field).

I know we’re the doormat of the SEC. I know Jemmye is trashy. We cant' read, and we don't wear shoes. Yes, we offer a PhD in Poultry Science. Cowbells this. Rednecks that.

But Auburn Fans, next time you think that you have concocted a clever insult, please make sure:
1) It makes enough sense where fellow SEC fans can laugh with you, and
2) It is original (see Oklahoma/Nebraska)