The MZone said it, and we can't really deny it: there is a strong similarity between the Florida Gators' helmets and the Sunkist Drink logo. The fearsome cursive of the Gators' helmet (out of context) ranks somewhere on the galactic intimidation scale between a 16 year-old cancer-ridden Basset Hound and Lindsey Lohan armed only with a forty pound sledgehammer. (Get it? Because she wouldn't be able to pick it up? Because she's really, really skinny? HEY-O! We're applying immediately for our spot on Jay Leno's writing staff with that kind of stuff.)
Given that though, what's missing is the context the Gators' logo swims in: a sport full of seemingly namby-pamby mascots, logos, and colors whose inherent oddness is tacitly accepted by fans all over the nation. For example:
Intended messages: Military discipline, classical grandeur, warriors.
Unintended messages: Ritual sodomy. Condoms. Susceptible to ridiculous invasion plans.
Intended messages. Diversity. Power on a meteorological level.
Unintended messages. Michael Irvin. (Irvin= Coke, strippers, human trafficking, the 7th Floor Crew, Ken Dorsey breaking down the women's soccer team, anything associated with Sean Taylor, Scarface.)
Intended message: Strong. Classic. Built with Midwestern modest and power.
Unintended message: Too cheap to hire a proper graphic designer due to Dust Bowl.
Now take our dear fruity cursive, the font on the side of the Florida Gators' helmets.
We totally admit that the nouveau-riche 'tude sported by Florida fans isn't made any better by the 1968 marketing strategy clearly behind the lacy logo--it's the visual avatar of the anonymous sun belt, the strip mall of logos. On top of that, it's unusually feminine, curvaceous, loopy, and downright frilly. The compelling question remains: why keep it at all?
One word: irony. To wit: what could be more of a mindfuck than looking up on a crossing pattern and, with the safety whipping down headfirst on you with horrific speed, see the chipper, cheery Gator logo as the last thing you'll remember before losing consciousness? It's like being knocked out by Strawberry Shortcake on angel dust when a 250 pound, weight-room-kissed uberbastard hits you wearing the most cheerful colors and logo this side of the Disneyworld gift shop. If the concussion doesn't kill you, the irony will. Don't believe us? Ask Georgia fans, whose classic macho block G has quantifiably become the gimp of the lacy cursive "Gators" for well over a decade now--getting beaten stings a lot more when the guys handing out the pain wear a logo best described as "groovy."
Buy more orange juice! Have a nice day! BOOM!