1.Flight tracking season is like holiday drinking. Appropriately, they happen around the same time of year, and if you enjoy it in moderation: it can be great. An occasional dive into a 280-character (*Author’s note: what hast thou done, Twitter?) rabbit-hole when you’re sitting on the john won’t kill you.

But, just like your uncle Phil — the one who started pregaming during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade at 10:30 AM and ends up face down in a steaming pile of Tryptophan and regret before the second football game kicks off — if you imbibe too much, it can ruin things for everyone else.

(via Odyssey.com)

Take your time. Feel free to sip on an occasionally reckless and self-indulgent Tweet from someone who just noticed a State owned plane leaving town and heading to Florida somewhere. Don’t chug it down, get the head-spins, and end up having idiotic beef with someone you once consider a friend/family. Not worth it.

2. Always lift with a spotter. Yes, Flight Tracking Season is an exciting time. Yes, you’re probably going to go a little too hard at some point like you’re Don Jr. doing a backbreaking dead lift For the Gram.

But, for the love of #FTSZN use a spotter. I’m not talking about some juiced up bro who will grip you lovingly by the hip flexors and shout at you to “dig deep!!!!” during a squat. I mean someone who can keep you from biting off more than you can chew.

This person should be trustworthy. Someone who is grounded and doesn’t seek the glory of getting questionable RT’s. A kind of Pippen to your Jordan. Someone you can bounce your crazier theories off of :

“Listen, hear me out on this one,

__________(SPOTTER’S NAME HERE)__________:

Monte Kiffin is from Nebraska. What if that flight down to Florida last night wasn’t for Frost? WHAT IF IT WAS FOR LANE F-ING KIFFIN?!?!?”

So, when you slide into our buddy’s DMs and fire off wildly inaccurate, purely-speculative reports about a guy who looked like Bill Moos walking through a Hooters in Orlando with a guy who had on nice dress shoes so he was probably Scott Frost’s agent? They’ll calmly, convincingly, put a bullhorn to their lips and talk you down from your digital ledge. They’ll be your human version of those paper bags people used to hyperventilate into.

3. You went full Donner Party. Never go full Donner Party. Odds are, you aren’t a very big deal on the internet. I’m certainly not. So, you probably have a few followers, a few Russian bots, and a couple friends who will pass by your Tweets/Facebook Screeds/Instagram in passing during the day.

The actual, real life, human beings will do this, primarily, while pooping. Proceed accordingly.

However, it also doesn’t mean that, just because you don’t think anyone will notice you, you should treat all of Twitter like a 280-character bridge full of trip-trapping Billy Goats in serious need of a Troll to complete the story.

(via BlackAndWhite-Blogger)

But if you do feel the need to get your troll on, just try not to cannibalize your own. I know that we see Husker fans the most. And that Husker Twitter seems pretty crazy. But, remember, online version of the Donner Party: don’t eat your own, unless you’re stranded in the mountains. This season has been full with enough hate-watching, we don’t need to try to devour the gamy carcass of other insane Husker fans if they get a little too into FTSZN.

4. We’ve got to keep our composure. We can’t have anyone freaking out out there. We’ve. Got. To. Keep. Our. Composure.

I get it. FTSZN is really all we have going for us, right now.

The football season has been a complete and utter bust. The program is in shambles. Every time we think that we’ve hit rock bottom, it seems like the opposing team tells us to hold their university-sanctioned beer and gets behind the wheel of some giant, Sci-Fi B-movie drilling machine and heads directly toward the Earth’s core.

But, just try to not go too over the top. Those people I’ve seen posting about flying down to Orlando to cheer on Central Florida in an absurdly desperate football version of an promposal? Stop. I know you want Scott Frost. Or Chip Kelly. Or whatever demigod you have deemed fit to drive our program’s DeLorean up to 88 MPH and get us the hell back to 1995. But don’t get arrested. Don’t stake out airports the day after the Iowa game.

This probably doesn’t need to be you on the runway when Scott Frost may or may not be flying over.

(via Orbo-Gifs)

And, if it’s all we’ve got? Let’s have a little fun, shall we? Now, if anyone needs me I’ll be going back to my office and doing some actual wor — wait, did I just see Scott Frost’s wife walking through the Ridge with a Realtor?