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We've seen some leaked responses to Pat Forde's column insinuating that Pac-10 fans don't care as much about football as SEC fans. Here's two to contrast:

Dear Mr. Forde,

Oh, man, am I into my Washington Huskies. I mean, I get live with it. Stupid. Just ludicrously enthusiastic. See that pennant on the wall? I've got one just like it in my office. My co-workers look at it and just shake their heads sometimes. But I can't hide my passion. It just flows from me like the waters of Puget Sound Lake Washington past beautiful Husky stadium.

That's why I take offense at Pat Forde's accusation that Pac-10 fans don't care as much. I go to every game, no matter the weather. (And up here in the Northwest, believe me, we get more than our share of rain!) I wear my Huskies sweatshirt, my hat, and even a my Huskies jacket to some of the games. I'm just "one big purple nightmare!" as my wife and kids say, but it's all to show my commitment to my team. You can get pretty hoarse yelling "Go, Huskies!" as much as I do during the games!

Football doesn't rule my life, but it sure comes close. I wish you could just see that, Mr. Forde. If you come out to Husky Stadium for a game sometime, me and some loyal Husky fans would be more than happy to show you our love for our team in person.


Jason Richardson, a.k.a. the "Purple Nightmare.

And letter number two:


I strongly object to you implying that we Georgia fans were throwing "projectiles" at the Auburn team following the November 12th, 2005 complete and total nutpunching of the Georgia Bulldogs at beautiful, rat and pedophile hobo-free Sanford Stadium. (The same cannot be said of that rat anus of a shack Auburn calls home. Hobo pedophiles and rats galore pollute its filthy wings.)

As a longtime UGA season ticket holder and close confidante of innumerable Bulldog powerbrokers I can't mention here, I can assert fully and truthfully that the characterization is both inaccurate and slanderous, and demand an instant retraction by you with a subsequent apology from

We were throwing very specific items, Mr Forde, not mere projectiles. The man next to me, fellow Sigma Chi and attorney Henry Dickson, threw a blasting cap we stole personally from a Georgia Department of Transportation work zone on the way to the game. My wife threw a full bottle of Jim Beam, which broke without effect over Kenny Iron's exposed skull. Might I say that despite my undying, murderous hatred for the Auburn Tigers, the toughness of his skull is such that even an archenemy like myself must pay respect. That was almost Bulldawg tough of you, Kenny, and would have killed a lesser Auburn bastard-tiger-bird like Brad Lester or Cadillac Williams.

But your calumny also overlooks those of us who do not "throw," but instead "launch carefully planned and preserved artifacts of football history" at our loathsome, flesh-eating heathen opponents.

The man behind me, a delightful accountant for the firm of Porter, Keadle and Moore whose daddy played for the Bulldogs under Vince Dooley, threw an Olympic javelin once tossed by the Czech legend Jan Zelezny; the woman in front of me, a fine church-going lady of substance who would not want her name mentioned in this space, threw a jar containing a fetus preserved from shortly after the Hiroshima blast.

I'm proud to say that both of these hit Aubie the Tiger and killed him. Go Dawgs!

As for myself, I "threw" no mere "projectile." I proudly hefted a brick baked in the kilns of Macon, Georgia toward the head of one large-eared Beelzebub himself, Tommy "I'll leave Oxford in a pine box" Tuberville. Nothing special, you say? A fine Dawg fan such as myself would disagree, but only because I know that this brick, like 27 others I have stored in my basement, is made from both sacred Georgia clay and the mixed feces of (his name be praised) 1980 Heisman Winner and Best Running Back Ever Herschel Walker, a sample collected at the opening the Alpharetta D'Lites franchise restaurant in 1984 following my hero's effortless, heroic run to the men's room.

My brick went errant, however, and merely grazed the shoulder of an Alabama state trooper on the way down. I plan to atone for my miss this year, however, and redeem myself.

Oh, and shame on you for suggesting Pac-10 fans don't care as much.

Go Dawgs,

Tucker Paulding IV
Garland and Garland
UGA '74

You be the judge!--ed.