Funeral like atmosphere?? Hell no.
More like the Spartan 300 at Thermopolae.
We are confident and look for victory and the decimation of our enemies, the rapacious taking of their firm nubile women and the drinking of their beer. We will witness the defiling of numerous religious colleges. We will deflower their nuns and ride the fat Ram fan into humiliation.
However, if we must lose we will face loss with bared teeth and fierce screams of hells wrath. Taking down 100 of our foes for each of our fallen. Our defeat will be such that our foes will have nightmares of it down to their grand children. They will soil themselves and stink in their own shame.
No my friends. I sit on my golden haughty throne swilling fine bourbon from a solid gold Mason Nation cup. I bear my firm muscular chest to the sun and gaze upon a naked Mrs. Pikapp with her tight a** newly minted with Mason tattoo. I stand defiant. I stand drunk. I stand naked and proudly aroused to the fight.
Oh I am looking forward to this season very much. In victory or defeat we will have wine we will have blood and we will seer our names and our voices in history.
Grab your swords. Gird your loins. Drink deeply from the lips of your wives.
Prepare for Glory.
Go Mason you bitches.
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