Ron Prince is a man with plans. For example, he only recruits running backs who can fit in suitcases, a kind of Kenny Irons in reverse situation. He also likes red post-it notes because they convey urgency.

He’s also been reading up on his Douglas Adams and watching his South Park, because he wants you to remember one simple lesson: bring your towel.

Willie the Wildcat, the worst mascot in America, still appears to be a guy just wearing a head. And not even a proper mascot head, made from synthetic fibers, chicken wire, some felt and a bit of professional stitchwitchery. No, Willie’s head is something different and more hideous. Perhaps you had an eccentric great uncle: world traveler, bon vivant, holder of seven dubious diplomas and one obvious fake.

Ah, yes. Da Mao of Lijiang!

Great guy, even once the syphilis took hold? You found an actual tiger head in his basement once. He explained to you that it came off a beast he shot with Joseph Rock in Yunnan in 1933 “that was feasting on Chinamen like they were dumplings, mind you!.” It was dessicated, poorly taxidermed, and smelled like death’s jock strap, and so old the color had leached from the fur completely.

That same head is what this poor man wears on his head to football games. We suspect he’s a work-release inmate from a county in Kansas with a wacky judge with a penchant for creative sentencing. It’s the only possible explanation.

Power Towel. We think Ron Prince has a very low opinion of the opposition if he believes waving towels will do anything besides start brawls in the stands when one whirling towel catches a trashed K-State fan in the eye. (Towel corners can remove eyeballs. We learned this because we have a brother and an extremely immature father.) It will increase the cleanliness of the stadium, most likely, as fans bored with Ron Prince’s stagnant offense will begin polishing the bleachers.

The only other time we can think of this working–at all–as a massive fan-participation widget was in Pittsburgh in the NFL, where sausage-leadened Steeler fans, immobile from binge drinking and orgiastic eat consumption, waved them during games. Prince is missing out on the basic cause/effect, here: the real homefield advantage for the Steelers are the clouds of aerosolized alcohol that roll onto the field in the third quarter off the fans, which killed Tommy Maddox on the field in 2005.

Don’t forget your towel!

Still, the gimmick affords the opportunity to give Ron Prince the nickname we’ve been looking to hang on him like a rotting albatross: Towelie, who is forever asking you if you want to get high and asking you if you brought a towel. DON’T FORGET TO BRING A TOWEL!!!

Chumbawumba: Back in Business, Bitches! If you thought KLF and Chumbawumba had fallen into the same abyss with the Primitive Radio Gods and the Baha Men, you are totally mistaken. They made this song for K-State, which sounds like Adam Ant ate “Dr. Who” with a side of “Tubthumping,” topped it with a cocktail of Florida State Fake Injun War Chant, and then shat it fresh onto a purple platter for your…um..consumption?

It’s also 1.) totally scoreboard driven, and not cued by the band or the crowd. We hate this didactic zombie fan shit no matter where it is, including the AC/DC “Thunderstruck” kick they’ve gotten on at Florida, and 2.) kind of complex for a stadium chant. A pair of ten-beered brains in the stands will likely only get it together by the last bit successfully.

Fan1: Dude, seriously. Freeman’s 280 easy.

Fan2: That’s not Gatorade he’s drinking. That’s au jus.

Fan1: Should someone tell Ron Prince that the goatee is the mustache of the ’00s? And, like, not in that ironic Seth Rogen in Superbad way?

Fan2: Shit, I get lost when they play this thing. There’s a lot of whoas here.

Fan1: No shit. Whoa..whoa…nope. Totally lost, dude.

Fan2: Wait, I think I know this part…STATE! STATE!!!

Fan1: STATE! STATE! STATE! STATE! STATE!!!

Fan2: You should stop now. They’re not even playing the music.

Fan1: STATE! STATE! STATE! STATE! STATE! STATE STATE! STATE!

Fan2: (Attempts to stuff Power Towel in Fan1’s mouth. Eyeball-killing violence ensues.)

There’ll be problems, we guarantee. But there’s no stopping Towelie here. Rock on, K-State. You get knocked down, then you get up again. They ain’t ever gonna keep you down.