I’ve been dunking so hard on my boss that I’m starting to feel bad about it. I mean, it’s not entirely his fault for why our workplace is so fucked up.
Put yourself into his shoes: you’re new to the job, you’ve been brought in to straighten out a mess, you make plans, then the boss that brings you in gets fired (which a particular subordinate, me, warned you about should you follow through with said plans).
So you’re shaken up a bit, regroup, and (probably) kiss ass to keep your job. Your new superior says to take control of a deteriorating situation. Then you make new plans.
Unfortunately your subordinate middle managers act out of self preservation and keep you in the dark about everything. As a result, your new plans are poorly executed then you make a critical mistake: you blame the low men on the totem pole instead of your managers
Now you’ve got a BIGGER problem: me. I warned you about ruling with an iron fist and that you should probably learn your way around before you start making drastic decisions. You didn’t listen. And because you’re the top dog, I’m not giving you a second chance to fuck up.
So I air out the workplace’s dirty laundry to YOUR superior and HR.
What you think is just an employee bitching turns out to be something more serious: this very issue that I brought up, who happens to be a particular individual, not only has negatively impacted your workplace but it has also negatively impacted members of HR themselves.
So there will be no warning, there will be no write up. There will be a direct investigation. This issue will certainly be removed from your department.
You see, when you’re in our business, it helps to be familiar with all the moving parts around you. That’s called politics and that’s the only way to survive around here. This is why I told you to get familiar with everything before you start ruling with an iron fist.
Now normally this wouldn’t be a big deal. Sure it’s a little embarrassing having your department investigated while you’re (presumably) on thin ice. Unfortunately, an addition to firing a talented and qualified supervisor two weeks earlier, it was announced this very week that two more qualified and experienced employees will soon be leaving (not including me because that’s a bombshell I’ll be dropping later because I’m an asshole). Furthermore, you’ve been unable to fill vacancies due too few qualified applicants and too little pay. In sum, you’re about to be short on employees.
To summarize: I’ve absolutely owned you. Without really meaning to, honestly.
The first time, I was just pissed off and venting without actually thinking my warning would come true. And the second time, well, I just blindly fired a shot and it landed perfectly on target 🤷♂️
But luck fell into my lap because I listened and learned my place. You didn’t do that. Now I’ll go to bat for you in the investigation (after I turn in my notice of resignation) but all this could have been avoided. As a result, this will probably be the biggest FUCK YOU to a former employer that I could possibly deliver.
I’m in Bermuda, or Bahama’s, Key Largo, Montigo, or wherever.
If you need to reach me call me at (420)666-6969. If you need to email me do so at iremovedaribtosuckmyselfoff@tinydickpills.com. You should also Venmo me $42,731 to help with various legal costs associated with public indecency charges (I thought it was a nude beach. My bad ☹️)
If you want to see pictures of my tropical beach stay…complete with tasteful nudes of course…head on over to my Instagram.
I don’t usually like the mask to slip. I try to play a guy playing a guy online, ya know?
But I’m human. I cry; laugh; Love; shit in the toilet; and work an actual job like everyone one else.
I’m not an important person. In fact, on paper, I am the least important person at my place of employment. To make myself sound more pathetic, I work weekend nights.
No one want to work that shit, right? But I do. Someone has too. In fact, I invite management to come work with me ALL THE TIME.
Sure there’s nothing glamorous about my job, but I largely work alone and get to call the shots. But more importantly, at least as far as my employer is concerned: I DON’T BITCH ABOUT PAY.
I have never asked for a raise. I have never even called management (on weekend nights) unless they call me first. I try to make sure that ship remains floating while everyone else gets to sleep in their beds and enjoy precious time with their families.
At least that was story before November 2022. Then something changed: new management. You put on a smile, introduce yourself, and say you look forward to working with them.
But then odd whispers are heard through the grapevine: word is that you make too much money (I’m actually underpaid considering the area I live in); I’m not qualified to do my job; I will have to receive extended training or face a reduction in pay or possible termination.
So what do you do? You confront management about these rumors. And what do you discover: yes, the rumors are true and deadlines must be met before the end of 2023.
I won’t divulge what kind of employer this is. But I will say that it’s the kind where you can vote out the top boss who chooses his or her underlings and this boss has to run for re-election every four years.
So you remind management “hey, you are aware that you are appointed by your boss, right? And in your boss’s position, the incumbent has lost twice in a row. And I vote in this election by the way.”
So you feel kinda bad about making such threats, even though you’re right, because it was said out of spite. They’re just trying to do their jobs too, ya know? So you lay low for a little while.
Then shifts change, the second in a month and a half, irking some but mildly irritating you. And THEN in a meeting, all of these rumors are made explicit, outraging everyone.
Another thing about this employer: in addition to an elected top boss, there is also an elected group of people to balance out power. So you reach out to one of them, air out your grievances, let it be known that you will quit unless a certain member of management is fired, then begin applying for other jobs because you know nothing will be done about it.
But then, just after Christmas, a miracle occurs: the top boss terminates the manager you and everyone else wanted gone.
Things settle down, everyone’s made happy, but one person wants to settle an old score. A flippant remark is made, everyone laughs about it, but one person takes offense. It’s blown out of proportion, and the person who made the comment is terminated.
You’re understandably pissed about this. It is commonly understood that management was in agreement and laughed with this comment, but made the terminated individual the scapegoat. So you keep it to yourself and lay low.
A month goes by. Everything’s quiet. Suddenly you receive a notice that you’ll be hit up with insubordination if you fail to complete some recently introduced, ill-defined task. In fact, the manager that issued this notice sent it out right before his three day weekend. It was literally the last thing he did before he left.
So exercising your meager role as a night attendant, you reach out to ALL of management…at 2am on a Saturday morning…and give them mundane updates and inform them that this will be standard practice moving forward because there is no management on weekend nights.
So a few managers pop in on Sunday morning and inform you that they will be the ones that will determine “standard practice”. You say “fair enough,” but you also know where the bodies are buried-so to speak, of course-so you tell management to take care of such n such issue and to never threaten you again.
Where things stand currently, your issue will likely get taken care of which will force the retirement of a certain problematic individual. While this will absolutely hurt your already staff depleted employer, to make matter worse, you will also be turning in your two weeks notice.
I’m not proud of my behavior. But really, there’s A LOT that I left out of this scenario. I said nothing about my boss and supervisor that got fired two years ago. So I’ve had enough of the threats and backstabbing.
Sometimes you have to send a message to your superiors: don’t fuck with you 🤷♂️
So the toilet factory is back to its same old shit. They tell me now that I need to stop taking extra long shit breaks. And I tell them that extra long shit breaks are good for the company because shitting is why we’re in business!
This is stressful. I am tired, depressed, and disappointed that I put this much effort into this shit business only to get treated like shit itself in return.
“Christopher Nolan is a hack,” Mr. Ree said, “Oppenheimer looks nothing like Cillian Murphy.”
“Goddamnit Mr. Ree, I fucking hate the old west,” I replied as I spit out some chewing tobacco, “it’s nothing like the movies. Everyone is drunk all the time and reeks of cow shit!”
“How’s that any different from 21st Century LA?”
“I know we’ve been here awhile,” I said as I drank directly from the whiskey bottle, “but I just can’t get used to it. I miss Miriam. I miss Izzy. I miss my unborn son. Hell, I even miss Angelika!”
“Who?”
I took a few cocaine drops to help with a toothache. “Nevermind,” I replied, “I forgot what we were talking about. I could use some grub though. Where the hell is Maybelline?”
Maybelline, Oppenheimer’s wife, brought out a fully roasted turkey with all the fixins. Mr. Ree and I were joining her and her son Malachi for supper around the fireplace. “Sure looks delicious, Mrs. Oppenheimer,” I said, “will Mr. Oppenheimer be joining us this evening?”
“He’s in town tonight. There’s a public hanging,” she explained, “he probably won’t be back until the wee hours of the night.”
“This turkey is delightful, Mrs. Oppenheimer,” Mr. Ree said, “too bad Bob couldn’t join us.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ree. I didn’t catch your first name, by the way.”
Ree looked up from his plate, mouth stuffed with turkey, and cocked his head. “What do you mean?” he asked.
I changed the subject. “I suppose you’re used to not having Bob around. Being a sheriff’s wife must be lonely,” I said.
“Yes,” Mrs. Oppenheimer lamented, “but I have my dear son Malachi to keep me company.” She smiled and looked over to her son. “Malachi Oppenheimer, how the lord has blessed us,” she continued. Then Maybelline looked at me with a wink and a suspicious, crooked smile. “I also have you two gentlemen to watch after me,” she said, “care for some pie?”
I thought for a moment.
“Well, I appreciate you offering,” I replied, “but because of poor diet and access to copious amounts of narcotics associated with the Old West, I haven’t experienced an erection since I’ve arrived and…”
“I think she means apple pie,” Mr. Ree interrupted.
“Oh yes, of course. I’d love some pie,” I said.
Maybelline got up from the table and departed for the kitchen. I quietly nudged Mr. Ree. “Hey, do you still have that opium pipe?” I asked him.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You are stoned as fuck!”
“I know! I think I have a problem!”
“If we ever make it back to the future,” Mr. Ree whispered, “you’re getting some help!”
Maybelline returned to the table all smiles carrying a piping hot trey of apple pie. Malachi was licking his chops with anticipation. “I want the biggest piece, Mom!” he declared. Mr. Ree and I chuckled.
“It sure is nice having a full house for a change,” Maybelline said, “it keeps my mind from worrying about Mr. Oppenheimer.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Elkhorn used to be a quiet town,” she explained, “but with Mr. Dickleburg from Helena coming down and bullying us townsfolk, Bob has become more worried. He’s just one man, you see. Mr. Dickleburg has a whole army.”
“I assure you ma’am, Mr. Ree and I will do everything we can to help Bob protect this town.”
“It’s not only that,” Maybelline paused, “but he’s also taken to the bottle a lot lately.” She began to weep as she grabbed ahold of my hand. “Oh, he’s just not the same man anymore!” she cried.
“There there,” I said.
Suddenly, J Robert Oppenheimer busted through the door and tossed Mr. Ree and me two Winchesters. “Grab a horse,” he ordered, “we gotta ride into town.”
“But Bob,” I said, “I told you: I’m a terrible shot without my .357!”
“Just point and shoot,” Oppenheimer replied, “I don’t have time to explain. Hurry! Elkhorn is about to have company!”
I actually wrote this portion of the story back in 2021. It’s a direct sequel to the “Detective James of Los Angeles” story Dr. Sí.
If you recall, at the conclusion of Dr. Sí, James and his friend Mr. Ree are thrown back in time thanks to a time weapon created by J. Robert Oppenheimer. Oppenheimer himself, in an attempt to escape Dr. Sí, also went through a time portal earlier in the story, whereabouts unknown.
Since I’m not feeling my other writing project, I’ve decided that I’m gonna finish this story.
Once Upon a Time in Montana
“It’s hard being a gay man in the old west,” Mr. Ree said.
“Word. Wait…you’re gay?” I asked.
“Well I wouldn’t say I’m gay. But I exclusively have sex with men.”
I took a sip of whiskey. My mind was on other things.
We were in Montana. I reckon the year was 1879. Mr. Ree and myself have been stuck out of time, out of place, for the last two years.
Time travel does strange things to a man. For one, it strips you completely naked. Mr. Ree and me were found in San Francisco, ass to ass, behind a brothel on Haight Street when we emerged from the plasma ripple. But it does something else: you realize that everyone, and everything, you’ve ever known is out of reach.
I’d never see Miriam again. Or my unborn child that I left back in another timeline.
But Mr. Ree maintained hope. “We might as well get filthy fucking rich,” he said. The gold mines in California were stripped by 1879. Resigned to our fate, we travelled to Elkhorn, Montana to start a new life.
As we sat in the local tavern, townsfolk glared at us. One burly man came up to our table.
“We haven’t seen your kind ‘round here before,” he said.
“So?”
“We don’t take kindly to strangers. I reckon y’all better drink your whiskey and ride out before sundown.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business buddy?” I said. “We ain’t bothering you. How about you ride your fat ass back to your table?”
“Them are fightin words.”
“Damn right pal! You don’t want none of this!”
“Now gentlemen,” Mr. Ree interjected, “there’s nothing here that can’t be settled by a good old fashioned duel.”
The burly man nodded. “I’ll see you outside.”
“The fuck are you doing Mr. Ree?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it. You got a Korth 357. You’ll blast his ass into the future,” he replied.
“Ree, this is 1879,” I said, “they don’t make bullets for this gun yet. I gotta conserve my ammo. Besides, wouldn’t I be disrupting the timeline?”
“Nah. According to J Robert Oppenheimer, this is a new timeline, remember? We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
I just shrugged and walked outside. The burly man was standing in the street. The townsfolk all stood around.
“Alright,” I said, “fastest draw wins, or however this bullshit works.”
The burly man opened his duster, exposing his six shooter. “Ready whenever you are,” he said.
We had a stare down. The townsfolk stood around nervously, waiting for the fireworks.
Suddenly he reached for his six shooter. I drew my 357. The sound thundered from my gun, echoing across the town and down through the mountains.
I shot off the burly man’s suspenders. His pants fell down, exposing his ass and penis.
I twirled the 357 and placed it back my holster.
Suddenly a shotgun blast went off. The townsfolk scattered. Out of the shadows appeared a man dressed in black. His spurs jingled as he walked towards us.
“I won’t have this nonsense in my town,” the man in black said.
I recognized the face.
“I’m James,” I said. “And this here is my partner, Mr. Ree.”
“I know who you are,” he replied. “And if you fire that gun again, I’ll shove this shotgun right up your ass.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a threat,” I said.
He stepped a little closer.
Could it be?
“I’m Oppenheimer,” he said. “SHERIFF J. Robert Oppenheimer.”
***
“Bob,” I said, “you know us. Just set us free and we won’t cause trouble.”
Sheriff J Robert Oppenheimer locked Mr. Ree and me in jail. He sat behind his desk. He looked tired, haggard, and was pounding a whiskey bottle.
“Sorry boys,” he replied. “But we have enough trouble with Dillon B Dickleburg coming into town and buying up all the gold mines. This town is a powder keg.”
“Well shit Bob! You are a man of science. You said that gold was a part of your time travel weapon. Just build another time machine and send us back to our timeline.”
“Like I said, even if I could do that, it’s highly improbable that I can get you back. In fact, it’s definitely impossible with 19th Century technology.”
“Have you even tried? Come on, you were a legend in our timeline. What happened to you?”
“You just don’t understand.”
A ten year old boy then walked into the jailhouse. He went up to Oppenheimer and gave him a hug.
“Who are these men papa?” the boy asked.
“These are just strangers Malachi, now go home to your mother. She’s been looking for you,” he replied.
The boy rushed out of the jailhouse.
“Ohh I get it now,” I said. “You’ve settled down. You traded in your lab coat for a badge.”
Oppenheimer put down the whiskey bottle.
“I arrived in this timeline through the spacetime ripple 15 years before you two showed up,” he said. “I met a woman, we settled down. I now have a son that I’d do anything to protect.”
“I’m just asking for your help,” I replied.
“I killed countless people with those damn nuclear weapons,” Oppenheimer continued. “Not again. I have an opportunity to do it right this time. I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect my family and this community from dangerous people like you.”
“Bob, please,” I said. “We’re not here to cause problems. In fact, if you need assistance handling this Dickleburg fellow, Mr. Ree and I can help.”
“You two have done enough damage.”
There was some commotion outside. I could hear one of the deputies ask “how can I help you Mr. Dickleburg?”
“Ah shit,” Oppenheimer said. He grabbed his shotgun and walked outside. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
“Mr. Rockwell up in them hills has been chasing us off that land,” I could hear Dickleburg saying.
“I’ll have you know, Mr. Dickleburg, that Mr. Rockwell is the rightful owner of that property. If he wants to chase you away, he’s well within his right,” Oppenheimer said.
“Why sheriff, all I want to do is offer him a business proposition.”
“Now Mr. Dickleburg, I’d advise you to leave that man alone. If you have a message for him, I’ll make sure he receives it.”
I could hear Dickleburg pull out his six shooter. “I own this town Sheriff,” he said. “I am the rightful owner of that property and all the property around it. That means I own you.”
I could hear the clicking of Oppenheimer’s shotgun. “The people of this town are the rightful owners,” he said. “You go back to that company of yours in Helena and you tell them that if they come back, there will be a bloodbath.”
“I’ll be back,” Dickleburg said. Him and his men galloped away on their horses.
Oppenheimer came back into the jailhouse. He took the keys, opened our jail cell, and handed back the 357.
“Men,” he said, “I now pronounce you deputies of Elkhorn, Montana.”
***
I couldn’t hit shit with my six shooter. I missed every target.
J Robert Oppenheimer’s 10 year old son, Malachi, watched and nodded his head. “Did you really know my father from the war?” he asked.
“Sure, why not?” I replied.
“Whose side did you fight for?”
“Uh, Abraham Lincoln’s?”
“Which detachment?”
“963rd, 9th battalion, 4th infantry, uhmmm, at the Battle of Waterloo?”
“Did you get injured?”
“Oh yeah. All over.”
Malachi scratched his head. He knew I was full of shit. “Are you sure that you didn’t know my father from the future?” he asked.
“How do you know about that?”
“He has a time machine in the barn.”
Malachi took me into the barn and lifted a large tarp off a time weapon—a similar looking time weapon that sent Mr. Ree, Oppenheimer, and myself back to 1879.
“Does it work?” I asked Malachi.
“Of course. My father built it. He can make anything work.”
Oppenheimer stood at the entryway of the barn. “That’s enough Malachi,” he said. “You run along now.”
Malachi shook his head. “Yes father,” he said and went back to tending to his chores.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Bob?” I asked.
“It doesn’t work.”
“Malachi says it does.”
Oppenheimer paced back and forth, rubbing his hand across his face. “Look,” he said, “we can go over this all day. Sure, I can send you to the future, the past, whatever. But it’s almost impossible to get you back to YOUR timeline. I’m sorry James. But we need to look at the present. You’re here. Mr. Ree is here. I need help. This community needs your help. Please help me. I can’t fight Dickleburg on my own.”
I thought through his words. “You love Malachi,” I said. “But did you know that I have a child back in that timeline? If there is a chance, however slim, to get back there, I have to take it. Wouldn’t you do the same if you were me?”
Oppenheimer nodded. “If I’m going to help you,” he said, “then we have to secure these goldmines. There’s a property in gold that makes these time weapons work. To secure the mines, we have to defeat Dickleburg.”
I pulled out my Korth 357.
“I’m no good with those six shooters,” I replied. “But I can shoot a fly’s dick off with this 357. Can you help me make more bullets?”
I’m a veteran of various online battles during the 00s, from the days of IMDB message boards to the message boards of Reddit and Free Republic. I also dabbled in shitposting and trolling on Twitter and the days of MySpace. I officially retired in 2020.
Kids point and laugh at my advanced age, but let me tell ya something: there ain’t nothing I haven’t seen. So listen to me when I say that NO ONE is undefeated in internet battles.
I’m not gonna name any names, but I’ve seen one too many caustic personalities, championed by their legion of followers, playing with fire. Remember all the pre-2016 trolls that created an internet culture which led to Donald Trump? They’re all laughingstocks now. You think your followers will always have your back? That’s a false sense of security. The sad reality is that all of your followers have a love/hate relationship with you.
They WANT to see you fail.
And the bigger you are, the harder you fall. So heed my advice, grasshopper: one day you will get absolutely OWNED. So choose your battles wisely.
Personal note: I was not referencing you Joe Newcomer. Keep up the good fight 😁👍
“Where will Notre Dame end up?” you ask while crying your eyes out. Short answer: fuck Notre Dame. And to hell with all the independent FBS schools for that matter. Maybe if they joined a conference I’d give a shit about them 🤷♂️ Plus all of their uniforms suck too, so they’re not even worth addressing.
Okay, so maybe the SEC isn’t the weakest conference. The Mountain West also has painfully boring uniforms. For background purposes, The MWC currently hosts 12 schools in football.
12. Nevada-Reno
I feel absolutely nothing for this uniform. It’s less than boring. It creates a black hole in my imagination that’s large enough for Matthew McConaughey to fall into.
11. Utah State
This is only a slight elevation from making me contemplate death to just plain boring.
10. Hawaii
I don’t know, this just feels like a missed opportunity to do something more creative. I love the logo. The all black style is pretty dope too. But I guess this just fits in with the rest of the MWC blandness.
9. Fresno State
Yeah, I’ve got nothin.
8. Nevada-Las Vegas
For a program that was taking applications for head coach through Indeed, the uniforms aren’t too shabby. And for the record, yes UNLV rejected my application.
7. Air Force
Blue and white is a crisp look but that bolt logo is a bit amateurish. They’d be better off just putting numbers on the side of the helmets.
6. New Mexico
‘Lobos’ is a cool-ass name. While the uniform looks good, I feel like I’ve seen this red too many times in this conference.
5. Wyoming
Brown and yellow sounds like a combination that shouldn’t work but it does here. My biggest gripe though is the cheapass font.
4. San Diego State
At first glance this looks like another run-of-the-mill MWC outfit. But it’s actually got a lot going for it. The logo is awesome. Aztecs are cool. And the red sleeves with the black body is totally bitchin.
3. San Jose State
The Los Angeles Rams should take note here on how to make this color scheme look good. The blue and yellow are bold enough alone, so there’s no need to do too much. The colors speak for themselves. Plus, totally awesome logo.
2. Colorado State
This one might be an acquired taste but the green and gold works for me. Since the LA Rams totally fucked up their helmet logo, CSU Rams now have the best ram helmet. But green is an another underrated color that more teams should utilize.
1. Boise State
These uniforms absolutely hurt my eyes, but in a good way. And respect to their blue field. Only those with strong eyes can stand to watch an entire game. So congratulations to the Boise State Broncos for making the playoffs.
This is part 1 (of 758 parts) of dissertation on college football uniforms. I will be grading EVERY uniform in the Power 5 conferences and the Group of 5 schools. Later, they will be going head to head in a playoff system that I will completely pull out of my ass.
So let’s begin with the Southeastern Conference (SEC).
The SEC, which currently consists of 14 schools, is commonly known as the toughest conference in college football. However, in my view, they have the weakest uniforms.
14. Alabama
The Alabama Crimson Tide may be the greatest college program in football history but their uniforms suck ass. Their mascot is an elephant with a limp trunk. You’d think with as many titles as they have, their mascot’s trunk would be fully erect and slapping opposing counterparts around. So that’s a missed opportunity. Plus, they have numbers on the side of their helmets. Grow the fuck up!
13. Texas A&M
Maroon is a very popular college color. But I don’t give a shit. It’s boring, plus the A&M font sucks. Additionally, the A&M logo looks like “ATM”.
12. Mississippi State
Watching Miss St. and A&M play is one of the most confusing things you’ll ever see. That being said, Miss St. does a lot better job at rocking the maroon, plus the logo with a simple ‘M’ and ‘State’ draped over it ain’t too shabby. Simple, but effective.
11. South Carolina
I want to like this uniform, but again, the maroon-ish color is killing me. That’s a pretty good helmet though and the black alternatives are kinda dope. And kudos to any team that calls themselves “Gamecocks”. 👍
10. Vanderbilt
Congrats to Vandy for not being the worst in this category. I like the name ‘Commodores’. I like that they have Lionel Ritchie as their mascot. Pretty solid logo and helmet. But that black and gold is kinda ‘meh’.
9. Arkansas
I hate Arkansas. Both the state and everyone in it. The football program can kiss my ass too. But ‘Razorbacks’ is pretty good name and the logo ain’t to shabby either. As for the uniforms, they’re pretty basic, but the cardinal red really pops.
8. Tennessee
Goddamn I want to love this uniform. People talk shit about the checkered orange pattern from time to time, but that design makes sense. A lot of interstate construction crews run through Tennessee, so those colors are an accurate representation of that state. The problem is that not enough is done with this bold color scheme. The ‘T’ logo is pretty bland to boot. The alternative grays aren’t too bad though.
7. Auburn
As you’ll find out, I’m quite generous to teams that sport orange. I don’t particularly like navy blue, but its pairing with burnt orange pays off here. My issue with this uniform though is the white helmet and pants. If they went for a solid navy blue across, it would probably be one of the best in sports.
6. Mississippi
This is just a solid uniform throughout. Though honestly, I wish they ditch the navy blue and run with the cardinal red and light blue full time.
5. Florida
First off, fuck Tim Tebow. Secondly, he looked pretty badass donning the orange and blue. While Florida’s colors pop a little better than Auburn’s, they still suffer from the same problem: the white pants for home games. Ditch the white and go full blue. But the helmet is a thing of beauty.
4. Georgia
Nice uniform but that Georgia logo looks a little too familiar. Now This is one of the rare uniforms that I think looks BETTER in its away form. The red helmet with the solid white is really sharp. And fuck Stetson Bennett too.
3. Kentucky
As with Georgia, the white away jerseys mesh really well with the helmets. Kentucky thankfully uses a a fully blue uniform for home games. I don’t even mind the checkered sleeves (which they probably stole from Tennessee). And don’t get me started on those silver helmets 🥰🥰🥰
2. Missouri
I’ve said before that gold (or yellow) and black are probably the two strongest colors a team could put together. And I’m saying it again here.
1. Louisiana State
The helmet alone, in both its white and yellow forms, is enough to propel LSU into the top spot. This means that LSU gets an automatic bid into the tournament (seeding to be determined). In truth, I don’t know if I actually like this uniform or if I just feel sorry for the people of Louisiana (for having to live there). Either way, congrats to LSU for advancing.
The Internet Ruined Everything 