The Packers Rule!
Let me tell you this, my friend: The Green Bay Packers rule! Brett Favre, Reggie White and the boys are going all the way this year. The Green and Gold are gonna take it all the way to the Big Dance in New Orleans this January, no doubt about it!
That's right—we're gonna ride the cannon arm of a certain quarterback all the way to Super Bowl XXXI! Unlike Dallas or San Fran or any other pussy-ass team, the Pack is led by the Man With The Plan, the 1995 NFL MVP, number four from Kiln, MS, the Golden Boy himself, Mr. Brett Favre! Who do you guys have? Troy Aikman? Elvis Grbac? Please!
I know there's people who say the Packers can't get it done 'cause they're a small-town team. But don't you see? That's what makes them so great! They're way up there in Northern Wisconsin, taking on all comers in the name of us small-town folks who might not be from New York or Chicago or Los Angeles but who can still whip some major tail when the game is on the line.
They say we don't have a ground game, but I know a certain number 34, Edgar Bennett, who just might beg to differ. They say all of our receivers are hurt, but who cares? Favre's so good he doesn't need receivers! They said we were in trouble after Sterling Sharpe left. Now, it's like, Sterling who?
Plus, I'll tell you something else: We've got God on our side, courtesy of The Minister Of Defense, Mr. Reggie White! With Reggie on our side, those other teams don't have a prayer. The Cowboys may say they're America's Team—which is bullcrap, anyway—but we're God's team!
For over 75 years the Packers have been kicking ass and taking names. And their fans know it. There's nothing in this life that compares to relaxing with a Schlitz and a sausage sandwich and watching the Pack kick the Bears' asses all over the field. It's like I say: It doesn't get any better than this!
The Pack has been around longer than the Bears, who have been around a long time, and that's the reason, as the saying goes, "The Vikings suck, but the Bears swallow!" Because we've got a history.
Wisconsin is Packer Country! The Packers don't just play football—they live it! And if the big-city slickers have anything to say about it, I'm right here. And so's the Pack! C'mon over and let's rock and roll! The Pack is back in '96!
For 500 Years My People Have Been Tortured And Persecuted, Slaves In Our Own Land
My people are a conquered people, with no future and a lost past. Our land has been taken from us, our culture denied, our ancestors murdered and erased from all history books. We are forced to live in squalor on dusty reservations, helpless as our children descend deeper into our pit of alcoholism and depression.
Once we roamed this land freely from ocean to ocean, content to live simply, hunting the plains and fishing the great waters the way we had since the beginning of time. We were happy in our way, happy to live and die as a small part of our world.
Yet our holiest traditions have been defiled and degraded. Our sacred places have been stripped of their beauty and befouled by the pollution and waste of our captors.
Great Spirit, where have you gone? Once, when this land was beautiful, you honored us with the benevolence of your bounty. Now, all that remains are tattered fragments and shards, littering the despoiled fields of a ruined countryside.
Five centuries of trickery, deceit, religious oppression, rape, murder and genocide have left us a tattered, faded people. We grind out what little we can on our barren, dusty reservations by selling beads and trinkets, whoring our heritage by dressing in feathers and skins and hopping like fools for the amusement of the very people who enslave us. In return we receive a few meager dollars, which we quickly spend on alcohol.
Though my ancestors once felled the mightiest of stags with only the hand-hewn weapons of ancient wisdom and tradition, the white men took away their power with their guns, stripping them of their dignity, leaving only the hollow shell and withered husk of what once was.
Just as the dead oak rots from within until the trunk splits with the softest wind, so has the soul of my people been slowly weakened and decayed. We are as the dust, no more alive than the bison and passenger pigeon, driven from this place by those who killed as they came.
Once I dreamed of rising up and reclaiming my past, but a dream is all it will ever be. History will remember us as a people shepherded to extinction by our conqueror's murderous guile. We will never break free of the bottle, the reservation and our new, ever-growing heritage: that of defeat and despair.