Smack Talk: Bayou Bucket returns after five years, rivalry continues

Editor’s note: To prepare for Saturday’s game, The Daily Cougar and The Rice Thresher have exchanged a few words — all in good fun, of course. Both editorials will appear in the Cougar and Thresher.

The Cougar:

Dear cokehead virgins,

UH would like to extend a greeting as our two schools once again renew our sporadic rivalry. We know some of you are good at math, or something, so you should be able to figure out these simple stats: We’ve played the Bayou Bucket three times since 2010, and the Cougars won every time.

We know a lot has changed since 2010. Barack is out; the Cheeto is in. We’ve cycled through five different new iPhones. Disney reanimated Star Wars.

Animals that were fish when you last beat us at football can now walk. That’s an evolution joke. You get it because your parents didn’t hug you enough, so intelligence defines your entire self worth.

The world may be radically different now than seven years ago, but you still won’t win. Sorry.

Alumni from each of our schools have been mayor, but at least we got the cool black one, who steered us out of the biggest rainstorm in U.S. history.

And with all the funding in the world, you’ll never have a black Twitter.

You’re the Canada of Houston. Pretty, vaguely reminiscent of fall weather, and sporting weird accents, but completely unremarkable.

When your team starts underperforming on Saturday night, it’s partially because of jetlag, and partially because you suck. You’re probably still in a daze from traveling to the beautiful land down under, where Stanford kicked your ass 62-7… two weeks ago.

Coach Bailiff didn’t take you on a study abroad trip; you were there to show the Aussies what America’s game looks like. But it wasn’t a total failure. More people showed up to your game 8,500 miles away than any of your games on campus.

But we get it; you played Stanford because you want to be Stanford: an academic powerhouse that also excels at sports. Newsflash: You’re not.

And you’re also trying to be the Hogwarts of the south, with your owls and all of your fancy residence halls. But your magic powers don’t translate to the pitch.

So anyway, we’re looking forward to seeing you guys Saturday night. We doubt you can say the same. Just don’t be upset with the goose egg you’ll be leaving with.

Ruck Fice. Go Coogs.

The Rice Thresher: