Ohhhh, man. I often day dream about the Houston "I'm in Finance" Texans packing up their weak ass **** and moving to Omaha. They can change their name to the Berkshire Hathaway MidCap Funds. Their following wouldn't change.
Then, the true Luv Ya Blue moves back from that toothless state into the warm and humid embrace of the rough and tumble town it so desperately needs. Toss that Titan moniker for the name that real men would re-adopt. The Derrick would fly again, baby. Grit would be back, and grit would follow them. The "I'm in Private Equity" bunch would curl their nose up to my beloved Oilers, like they opened up a corked '97 Chatue Lafite Rothschild. **** 'em. They can pick up polo. My great aunt would whip out her industrial size fan of hair spray, puff out her blondish buffant and bring the Derrick Dolls back, baby. Cigarettes and Bud Heavy for everyone.
That reminds me, I haven't pissed on Bum Adams grave in at least 3 weeks. I need to head over there.