Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Hi, My Name's Derek...Thus the Big "D" On My Chest

We thank the good folks at Joe Sports Fan for the following weather report...

Hi, my name is Derek Hansfield. I'm a 22 year old biology major at Duke University. I rounded out junior year last May with a 3.8 cumulative GPA, and plan on heading to med school after I wrap up my senior year next Spring. However, this past August, I received my biggest accolade to date.

Leader of the Cameron Crazies.


...which looks to be, per South Park, a very localized cloud of smug settling over the general vicinity of 9th Street in Durham, Enn Cee. Mom Hansfield must be beaming from ear to ear at the thought of her $51,000 p.a. encouraging such behavior as this:



I'm the "D". That's right...the alpha. I'm the foundation, the soul, and inspiration for my fellow brothers and sisters. I bleed blue, and was accurately rewarded....A panel of 8 seniors from last year's Cameron Crazies crew voted me in. It paid huge dividens [sic - this is what 51 large gets you?]...It's not easy finding something to rhyme with Hansbrough, but we do because we're crazy. Cameron Crazy.

Well, there's that. From the looks of things, it appears that all that Dutch Boy Semi-Gloss went right to his head, and not in a good way. Do you even know what that much paint does to you, Mr. Pre-Med? Haven't these damn kids today seen Goldfinger?

I've got 121 appearances on TV in my career. Last year's Crazies' leader graduated with 325 TV unofficial appearances, so I've got some work to do. I say "unofficial" because Coach K doesn't want us to keep track of individual achievements. He told us, and we listen to Coach K.


Parched, are we? Must be the paint asphyxiating your skin...


And seriously, this is exactly the sort of thing that they invented 12-step programs for. I mean, when you're this deep into the Kubler-Ross denial stage:


This year, we're not allowed to stand on the court, which is crap. I worked hard for 3 years, just to get the chance to touch Dick Vitale whenever I want... [Emphasis added. Actually, more like "emphasis implied," because you just know he means every single word of this.]


...there's only one way it's going to end: a sack, a nondescript motel room off I-40, and an extensive deprogramming session. Alternately, someone could step up and tranq him.

Post a Comment
There was an error in this gadget