Girl, you know it's true. Hawks kill gophers.

Milli Vanilli are back! Are you guys ready?!?! Of course not! No one is ready! Oh wait, one of them died...... Vanilli is back!! By himself!! Are you guys ready!!?!?!?

Anyway, Milli Vanilli have nothing to do with this post, I just love and miss them.

What you see below is the Death Klutch gopher trap. Death Klutch. That's bad ass. It's especially bad ass because clutch is spelled with a "K". Cool, huh.















You may be thinking, "Ok Nickead, but what's your point?". My point is that the Hawks last game is tomorrow against the "Golden Gophers" from Minnesota, and the players from Iowa will be administering the Death Klutch to each of the gophers with strengft and quickness. I was thinking about hawks and gophers in the animal world yesterday and decided to go into the wilderness and see if I could listen in on one of their conversations. Luckily mother nature was feeling cooperative and I was able to tape record just such a conversation between Greg the Gopher and Henry the Hawk. Here is the transcript. (This is totally true, fuckers.)

Greg pokes his little bastard gopher head out of his hole to see Hank standing there in all his majesticness.

Greg - AAAAAH. Jesus Hank, you scared the living gopher shit out of me.

Hank - Oh, sorry Greg. I was just swooping down for some lunch. Mike the Mouse was delicious.

Greg - You ate Mike?! Oh well, he was a bit of a douchebag anyway. Hey I was talking to Chris the other day, you know, Chris the Cat? Anyway, he was saying that the humans have sports teams named after us. Pretty sweet, huh.

Hank - HAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA. HA. HAHA.

Greg - What's so funny?

Hank - I just find it funny anyone would name a team after a gopher. I mean come on, a gopher? A Hawk I can understand. We fly around in the sky looking all distinguished and what not, and upon spotting our prey we swoop down and BAM! They don't even know what hits them. Precision and power my friend. But a gopher... I mean what's so intimidating about a dirty little rodent tunneling around in the ground fucking up golf course lawns.

Greg - Hank, you're an asshole. Conceited too. Gopher's have a lot going for them.

Hank - Yeah? Like what?

Greg - Well.... we can dig like crazy, so we must have strong hands.

Hank - That's it? You can dig. Ooooooh, watch out. Greg the Gopher is gonna dig his way into the end zone with his muscular gopher hands. I'm pretty scared Greg.

Greg - You know what, fuck you Hank.

Hank - HAhahah. Come on seriously. I googled gopher the other day, you know what comes up? Pest control. You're nothing more than a pest, bitch. You're just gonna have to deal. I bet if you google a hawk the results would be something about power or grace. Or maybe some conservation site with people spending thousands of dollars to save us or something.

Greg - No, actually I googled you yesterday and it comes up with the Petrohawk Energy Corporation. How majestic is that you corporate whore.

Hank - Why were we googling each other for no reason?

Greg - Beats me. Ask dipshit here who is making all this up.

Nickhead - Shut up. I'm not supposed to be in this TOTALLY TRUE story. God damn it Greg.

Hank - You know what, I'm bored of all this. And you're beginning to piss me off, Greg. Now that I think about it, I may still be hungry.

With nanosecond speed, Hank thrust his beak through Greg's little bastard gopher eye and into his tiny gopher brain, killing him instantly.

Hank - I'm just playin, Nickhead. I wasn't really hungry. I was just sick of Greg's crap and wanted to let everyone know what happens when gophers mess with hawks.

Nickeahead - That's corny, Hank. But whatever, go hawks!

Then it happend, the first ever wing to hand high five. God bless America.