Is it all right if I call you Shannon? You look like a Shannon. All sleek, sexy, and scandalous with your top-of-the-line Daktonics HD-12 LED technology that delivers life-like video to Auburn fans for eight Saturdays in the fall, along with the occasional movie in the spring that gives students a chance to get frisky on the field.
You knew it was happening. Don't be naive Shannon, you are one now. It is time to grow up.
Before I get too far off track, let me get to the point of this letter. Shannon, I think we are meant to be together. I know you get ignored by a lot of men and that has to sting. But lets be frank, you are plus sized. Actually, that is an insult to plus sized women everywhere. You are gigantic.
But I am not as shallow and self-absorbed as those other guys. Who cares that you are 2,220 square feet and would undoubtedly crush me if I try to catch you when you fall? Catching females when they fall is cliched anyway. Let them fall. It makes them appreciate you more when you are there to pick them up.
(They don't, however, appreciate when you are the one that trips them—not that I would do that. But if I did, it was because she had it coming. Teach her to tell me I couldn't ride the carousel again.) Anyway...
What I am trying to say is that I am OK with your size. Really, it doesn't bother me. In fact, if you were any smaller it would make watching you difficult.
Being able to swivel my head and see instantaneous replays from my seat in the student section is one of the things I love most about you. That and your up to the minute stats that you display alongside the video. I love stats (even though "passing yards" never passed 200 yards last season, change is coming baby, be patient).
Other critics of our love would undoubtedly point out the age difference. Sure, you are one in people years, but in technology years you are 25. Sorry, you will soon be obsolete. Now you see how the last jumbotron, Agnes, felt.
She was 115 and already well into menopause when you replaced her (she was also heavily pixelated, not attractive at all).
Shannon, it is you and me against the world. All the narrow-minded people will ask, "Why is that guy hugging the jumbotron? Is he petting it? Why is he taking off his pants?" But we will know the truth. Our love goes deeper than words or even feelings.
Our love is subterranean. It goes beneath the crust, through the mantle, and into the inner crust. It is some deep, hot shit.
P.S. Look for me at the La-Monroe game. I will be wearing an orange shirt waving a shaker.
This and more at The Pigskin Pathos! Yeah!