I invented that

I was watching a college football game the other day and something caught my eye, then I got pissed off. It just so happens that the University of Tulsa’s team mascot is the Golden Hurricanes. I for one would like to call shenanigans on that. You see, back in the early seventies I was part of a crowd of people who, how do I say this tastefully? People who enjoyed to attend wild fuck parties where there were no inhibitions and pretty much anything went. This is why I am having a problem with Tulsa’s choice of a mascot. It just so happens that their mascot is a sex move that I patented on one of those fateful evenings long ago. Basically, it involves me in a room with about six girls in a circle around me. I don’t think you need to be Alfred Einstein to figure out what happens next. In case you are that stupid, it involves a lot of body fluids and spinning around in circles. It’s a lot like being in the first few rows of a killer whale show at Sea World.
I don’t have a problem with Tulsa using the name Golden Hurricane. If anything it puts a smile on my face when I am feeling down. I just want people to be aware of the other, and only true meaning, for this term. They can try to make it into some cutesy little mascot that shows up at halftime and shoots t-shirts from an air cannon. Yet, we all know the true version originated in the upstairs den of Dave McClusky’s house in the summer of 73’. I still owe him money for dry cleaning.