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Jasmine Hates The Atlanta Falcons

By Jasmine Sadry, 105.3 The Fan | CBSDFW.COM
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My weekly, “I hate the Cowboys Opponents Rant,” where my hate for the other team is rooted in highly non-sensical reasoning and the fact that I’ve generally never even stepped foot in most of the opposing team’s cities.

This week, my hate rant visits the Atlanta Falcons.

And in a highly unprecedented turn of ranting events, I can actually ATTEST to why Atlanta is atrocious because I’ve been there before!

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because for six seasons they harbored a sociopathic, waste of skin and blood, worthless human being known as Michael Vick. Congratulations, Falcons. But, at least you wised up and cut this socially degenerate monstrous clump of fecal matter in 2007 which at least makes you better than the Philadelphia Eagles. But, let’s face it. A room full of convicted felons is better than the Eagles so it doesn’t take much.

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because of this acronym: MARTA, their city’s transportation system. It stands for the Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority but those 5 letters spell “hell.” Not only is it a giant death capsule with outdated seats and walls made out of the same stuff your kids use as sand buckets. But, the MARTA holds questionable characters! I was accosted by a guy who wanted to sell me a pink Prime Co phone AND a guy who dropped ecstasy while looking for new, fresh meat to bring home for his wife to play with. Good going, Atlanta Falcons. These people are part of your fan base.

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because their city’s strip club experience for me was down right atrocious! Long story short, I found myself stumbling upon a strip club called “Girls ‘R’ Fun,” which happened to also be a former gas station. I was greeted by a stripper who had a house arrest anklet on. Folding chairs were set up in a main room next to little clock radios and boxes of Kleenex. The girls proceeded to gyrate to the local hip hop radio station and even kept the air humping going during the station commercial breaks. Thank you, Atlanta Falcons for showcasing THIS dump as one of your prized night life spots.

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because their downtown sucks just a bit more than our own here in Dallas. You have to walk for miles and miles in oppressive heat just to get anywhere. There’s the Coca Cola factory (which was closed when I was there). HOW DO YOU SHUT DOWN THE COCA-COLA FACTORY?! AND on top of THAT, the Georgia Aquarium didn’t even have the dolphins out when I was there! I walked SIX miles to go to a restaurant called “The Flying Biscuit” because the cabbies were rude and unwilling to not be creepy. The only saving grace for that brutal walk was the fact that the cream gravy everyone gave me the scouting report on lived up to the hype.

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because their city completely mislead me. College Park is listed as the birth home of quite frankly one of THE greatest fast food establishments in the history of ever: Chick-Fil-A. So, of COURSE I had to stop and pay respects to the place that unleashed my love for chicken strips and waffle fries dipped in a mixture of ketchup and mayo. Well, I found out quickly that on my stop off the MARTA (see point two of my hate) it was ANYTHING but the visions of grandeur I had in my mind of what the birth place of Chick-Fil-A would be like. No unicorns and Chick-Fil-A cows greeting me on streets paved with gold and Polynesian sauce. Let’s just say that College Park made my East St. Louis, Illinois experience seem like a primo weekend getaway! Take a good whiff of the air in College Park and you’ll get nothing but the smell of murder. In fact, the FBI’s annual crime report lists College Park as having the highest incident rate for violent crimes out of ANY city in the US! Way to go, Atlanta Falcons. Not only are YOU attached to this, but you’re single handedly responsible for ruining my Chick-Fil-A fantasy.

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because of Andre Rison. A kid that I used to go to junior high with LOVED Andre Rison. He used to pick on me and was SO mean to me that he spilled Big Red on my 1992 Cowboys Starter jacket ON PURPOSE! I STILL have that stupid red stain on the sleeve to remind me of Andre Rison. Again, Falcons. Congratulations, you have child bullies as part of your fan base.

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because there are too many streets named after peaches! We GET it, your state is known for its peaches, but COME ON! If you go downtown, West Peachtree Street runs close to Peachtree Street. Well, Peachtree Street then becomes Peachtree Road. Head a bit further north from THAT point and then you’re on Peachtree Industrial boulevard which leads to another area called Peachtree corners! I mean I LOVE peaches in ANY variation (from cobbler to the Peach Pit diner on Beverly Hills 90210) but seriously? It truly is the pits! See what I did there?

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because of their city’s airport, Hartsfield-Jackson International. For starters, I was on a layover there once on my way to Myrtle Beach. That darned airport couldn’t be MORE spread out and MORE confusing! There are 63 different monorails to take you around and when you’re pressed for time to meet someone in the food court for a Sweet and Sour Chicken lunch, none of them are running correctly! Which, leads me to another thing! Their food court was VERY disappointing! How do you NOT have a TGI Friday’s in that sucker? Where else am I supposed to get loaded up on Mud Slides and Dreamsicles before a flight? And secondly, that airport doesn’t take kindly to you singing and or saying the phrase, “Welcome to Atlanta where the players play” while greeting everyone around you as you get off the airplane! I mean it worked for Jermaine Dupri!

And finally…

I hate the Atlanta Falcons because their city is home to Gladys Knight’s Chicken and Waffles and WE AREN’T. Is it going to kill them to have a branch of their restaurant out here in Dallas!? Thank you, Atlanta Falcons. Because of YOU, I can’t get a good Chicken and Waffles fix. I really hope you think about that while your playing this Sunday.

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