Tonight I was feeling fine, sipping some purple wine, and thought I'd opine, about the ags on here. Gig.

"Give UT My Notice"
(Parody of Give Judy My Notice by Ben Folds)

UT
Why won't you respect the honor we swore?
We love/hate you
You don't care do you?
But UT
We can't stay your little bro
Not with our ego
So we gots to go

And we regard you as our rival, dear
And you don't even notice that we're here

Give UT my notice

I know we always called you tu (ha ha ha)
It's funny (whoop!), and you get grumpy
But UT
We ain't gon' be y'all b!tch anymore
Our daddy ain't Dodds
So we out the door

SEC grass is just so much greener
So we'll suck like a vacuum cleaner

Give UT my notice
Give UT my notice

UT, mug down with us one last time
They've passed back the command
Not that you'd understand
I think we have had a darn good fling
And now just one more thing

Horns down
We're going to keep that around
Because it's just part of us
We Aggies can obsess

And we're not running 'cause of your network
And we are running 'cause of your network

Give UT my notice
Give UT my notice
Give UT my notice
Give UT my notice
My notice

original song

Have you ever loved a beer for more than what was just in the glass? Have you ever felt connected to a restaurant because of the owner's story, the ambiance, or something memorable that happened in your life while you were there? Like the fifth taste, umami, some things take on a deeper meaning based on a combination of flavors. And like umami, the impression can be difficult to describe.

Destiny seems to dictate that the karmic consequence of something being so awesome is that it will come to an abrupt end. The father of modern microbreweries will sell out. That cooking savant creating magic in some obscure kitchen will leave. That musician changing the Universe with every note will off himself.

1560 The Game in Houston had radio umami. They were local and independent both in business structure and in business practice. In hindsight, I admit that we could all sense that the glory days of the station were in the rear view mirror. However, when Lance Zierlein announced he was leaving, it got real.

If you've ever watched your favorite establishment give rise to something remarkable and then destroy itself, then you probably felt like this (but only never bothered to make a video -- and drop that many f-bombs):

Mom. Earmuffs.

R.I.P. 1560 The Game. Double Rods. I don't recognize you anymore.

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