Blackshirt

as opposed to being "Un Nebraskan", I think many outside fans, especially from the North division would probably call it "Typical" of Nebraska fans We take a LOT of pride in the reputation of being the "Best" and most gracious fans, and we have no problem telling other fans about that reputation. whether they want to hear about it (again) or not. Yeah you're right in some cases - but those are usually the people that need to hear it again b/c they "just dont get it". and could use a reminder. My comment was more referring to Nebraskans in general, who are for the most part, very humble.

I love it. Killing them with Class. I absolutely love this reputation, and it makes me proud as hell to be affiliated with a program with substance AND style. Do you realize how stupid this makes other jackhole "fans" look, when they run around like hooligans, and we continue to take the higher road. They look like complete derelicts. And it translates off the field as well guys. Having dignity & class gets you so much farther in life than being an ass. Real life example - I worked for Sprint in KC for 6 yrs, and literally 80% of the skers I met around the company were in executive or upper mgmt level positions. In my organization alone (about 400 ppl), 2 VPs, 1 Director & 3 managers were Huskers. Why? I'd like to think its b/c we're all inherently smarter than everyone else, but I have to believe its moreso b/c Nebraskans have such a great reputation for being so sincere & hard-working - and merging that with a solid education results in great things. I also dont think its a coincedence that Omaha has more Fortune 500 companies than many much bigger cities (KC included), is home to 2nd wealthiest person in the world, and at one time (not sure if this is current), THE STATE had more millionaires per capita than any other state in the country. Not bad for a state "in the middle of nowhere" with very little if no tourism whatsoever. Be proud to be a Nebraskan, and the great reputation that comes with it - and at the risk of sounding "un-Nebraskan" - we deserve it.

Interesting. Kraynaks my boy from the old country. He does a good job with breakdown and is a funny kat, so it should be a solid broadcast.

Huskers 38 Pokers 17 R: 275 P: 198

Congranks HNU. (eye combined congrats w/ thanks b/c typing is hard). Its been fun having you around the past 2 yrs bruh - now if you will just get the eff back over to the mother land I can buy you that big damn red beer you deserve.

Not condoning the illegal activity that is CD MAKING, but.... i might know where you could obtain the files to do said cd making if one so desired... Husker Fight songs, tunnel walk

"They have one of the greatest groups of fans I've seen in the country," Crowder said. "Just the fact that even after they lost a hard game like that, they stay after the game and cheer, 'Go Big Red.' That was a highlight for me." Wow, for an opposing player to say something like that "was a highlight" for him after such a dramatic win - wow. Makes me feel even more proud, b/c clearly it was a very unique & surreal moment for him. Class DOES matter guys - and the Nebraska program is The Benchmark.

Absolutely awesome E. Just watched it twice. Thanks for the monday morning goosebumps!

Yessir, it did. Felt like the stands were on springs.

I think we need a *puke* icon for all these effing ND blackmajik games. And the "ESPN HEARTS ND AND BRADY QUINN THE MOSTEST" despite repeated MEDIOCRE performances is about enough to make me cancel cable. damn i wish there was a legitimate alternative to espquinn.

Thanks for sharing your perspective Jays. We appreciate the kind words, and especially b/c of the fact that you dont don the Big Red spectacles. Best of luck to you guys v OSU. After hearing similar stories from numerous UT fans today, Im starting to believe Ohio St "fans" might just be the biggest losers that ever existed.

Well done chamrocck.

Thanks for taking the time to make the comment, LH. Its appreciated, and shows you guys have class yourselves for recognizing the importance of it in CF.

Well said. Also lets not forget, it seemed that at that exact moment the snow just opened up, so the ball was clearly slick -- see the Texas fumble on the following possession. Fact is, that fumble couldve happened to anyone in that situation, run or pass. And I hate to say it, but it also happened to ZT, with a dry ball. Should we directly blame him for the loss? Keep your head up Terrence, without you theres a good chance we're not even in a position to win that game.

Agree completely. Was in the North endzone and the new stands were literally bouncing up and down - so I'd say they're now properly broken in. My buddy from Texas was looking at me like WTF is going on. the place was going absolute beserker. he was very impressed and said that was the most electric atmosphere he'd ever seen, and was glad to be at a game like that even if it meant a loss for his whorns.

He had a helluva game while he lasted - but Im afraid he may be MIA again for a while. Unless someone can confirm he finished the game without a hamstring-limp. He left on the last drive, and it didnt look good. My guess is that he rushed his return for a big game at the risk of exacerbating his injury. Reckless or courageous? a bit of both I'd say.

You sound as if you no what teh down by the yard two. again.

Yes indeed - another great time thanks to Bob & his family. Thanks again Bob!

Actually he did. Navy serviceman and son have tickets Ok ok thats a happy ending to a great story and all, but it wasnt exactly a romantic tale of woe, good vs evil and one man's epic quest with only his nanalama as his companion, seeking tickets to the holy land, or anything. SO FOR THE LOVE OF LINDSEYLOHAN, DOES THE ETR HAVE HIS TICKETS YET????!!!!!!!??? THE RED HIMSELF is seeking tickets folks. where is the love for the red.

This was posted a couple yrs ago, but seems appropriate again this week. Long read, but pretty damn amusing. C-West, is this you??? **Warning, those offended by profanity should not read** A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999: 6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking blast 6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels 7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning) 8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer) 8:53 Crack open second beer 8:58 Crack open…(you get the idea) 10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95 10:35 Headed for San Antonio 10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities 11:10 We decide we don’t have enough booze, so we double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol’ 750 ml plastic bottle “Traveler” Jim Beam 11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees. 11:55 I decide that we’re going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. 11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f#*k himself. 12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We’re on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We’re hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT. 12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. 1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. *Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. 1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the “Traveler” and 11 cans of beer into my pants. 1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the sh#t out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as “Cell-Phone Flop Out.” Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he’s so confident in his team, he should “flop out” his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: “And not those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-bitches!” He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom. 2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy. 2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas. 3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I’m still talking sh#t. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler. 3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety. 3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler. 4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom: “Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice c**k.” He is unamused. 4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pussies. 4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants. 5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field. 5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: “I’m sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable.” 5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: “Why the f#*k didn’t you announce last call over the f'ing PA system??!!” 5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. “Whazzis?,” I mutter, awaking from my coma, “Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?” Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan sh#t all over the letters “S”, “K”, and “A” in the “Nebraska” spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty. 6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship. 6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. *It is warm. I don’t care. 7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I’ve never had a Zima. I wonder if it’s any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig. 7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don’t care. 8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides “You’re Going to Miss Me When I’m Gone” and “Neon Moon” and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to f#*k off and restart “Neon Moon.” 8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he’s an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f'ing tent here. He ignores me. I think he’s still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle “Neon Moon” loudly. 8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We’re going to kick the sh#t out of Arizona. 9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do “the bathroom Brice.” There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a “Niiiiiice c**k.” No one is amused but me. 9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: “Where did you get that, sir?” I tell him (no sh#t): “Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?” I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I’m going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light. 9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing. 10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I’m OK and perhaps I shouldn’t take it so seriously. I tell him to f#*k off. 10:15 After the fourth consecutive “worst f'ing call I have EVER seen,” I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. “Perhaps,” I think to myself, “I’m taking this a bit seriously.” 10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I’m so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops. 10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving. 10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap. 11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver’s seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a “Stupid c-sucker.” 11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a “Stupid c-sucker.” 11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a “Stupid c-sucker.” 11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a “Stupid c-sucker.” 11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around and pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to “Neon Moon.” 12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle. 12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight. 12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther’s. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther’s. 1:17 The PollyEsther’s doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. “Fellas,” he says in between his fits of spastic laughter, “I’ve been working this door for almost a year. I’ve been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain’t never seen three drunker mother f'ers than you three. Sorry, can’t let you in.” We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder. 1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear “Last call for alcohol!” I turn to the group and mutter: “See, dat wasn’t that f'ing’ hard. Day don’t f'ing’ do that at the Awamo…the awaom…the alab…f#*k it, that stadium we was at today…” We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers. 2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Katz’s. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it. 2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately. 2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings. 2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every f'ing bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don’t give a f#*k. The tab is $112 with tip. 2:46 I’m sleepy. 9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at Katz’s. She is not pretty. HOOK ‘EM HORNS, BABY!!! Out->>

No, unfortunately not.

Sure. But we may also need a version w/out to make it easier for t-shirt printing.

I walked thru the checkout process just to be sure of all the service fees etc., and heres the total including the discount: Nebraska Cornhuskers Vs. Texas Longhorns Sat, Oct 21, 2006 7:00 PM Memorial Stadium-ne Lincoln, NE Section: 20 Row: 87 Price Per Ticket: $100.00 Tickets Requested: 2 Discount Code: [huskerboard]: HuskerBoard Member Exclusive! Tickets: $200.00 Discount: - $10.00 Subtotal: $190.00 Shipping: $14.95 (2-day) Service Fee: $19.00 Total: $223.95

There is currently a pair of tickets on Tickethippo.com for $100 ea, Section: 20 Row: 87., but probably wont last long. The next pair are $116 ea. *Also use discount code "huskerboard" for 5% off. Texas Tickets You can still get these mailed to you in time via 2-day. May have to pay $10 or so extra for shipping but would be worth it.

Wow, already great work in only a couple hrs! Im impressed as usual. To answer the questions -- eliot is right, any trademarked logos & terms owned by UNL (stuff you see on shirts etc) are not usable. However, using a standard "Collegiate-style" "N" similar to what Nebraska uses is okay (like homie did). It's such a general & widely used font, that it's unlikely it would be deemed as infringement, as long as it isnt EXACTLY the same as the main block logo displayed on the field. Maybe use a font similiar to the N on the helmets. Keep up the good work!