The Life and Times of the Dawgvent, episode eight

This is the eighth of nine chapters in the history of the Dawgvent, with all its twists and turns. From a handful of football-loving computer geeks to a powerful media member, this is the story of the worldwide leader in Georgia Bulldog reporting. Adapted from the book Sax Attacks, by Rob Suggs.

Once the Vent had hit its stride, users often mentioned how addictive the site was. Spouses felt cheated upon (“It’s me or that computer! Choose!”). Vacationers panicked—no modems on the campground! We’ll miss something!

If you fell into a coma for a week, you were liable to need the Vent decoder ring when you woke up. What does this BOAISY thing stand for? Why do people keep saying, “More and more it’s Andy McCollum?” What name is Rolo/Wu hiding under this week? What’s a “tickle pile”? What the heck is “Cawgs or Gie?” Why am I being told to “bake ham” for that old movie star?

And of course, the perennial question, carried on from fathers to sons, across generations—what does “Germans” mean? Problem was, it was too hard to explain. But hell, man, let’s try.

There’s a line in the film Animal House: “Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?” Yes, we know, we know, it was the Japanese, for gosh sake, but Belushi’s character doesn’t know. That’s the joke.

Back to the Vent. On virtually every single page of the site, someone shares news that everyone’s already heard. Welcome to last week, dummy! Massive shaming ensues. CURSE those who make us read a fact heretofore consumed.

Early in Vent history, merchants of stale information were punished with headline-style phrases such as, “Babe Ruth hits 60th!” or “Attila the Hun Invades Puberty.” Or “Big Bang Detected at Center of Pre-Universe.”

At some point someone offered, “Japanese Bomb Pearl Harbor.” To which some Belushi devotee wryly corrected it as, “Germans!” Followed by a barrage of predictable abuse until it was pointed out that this was, in fact, an Animal House reference.

“Germans Bomb Pearl Harbor” became an active meme, shortened to “Germans!” Every time, of course, the whole mess, including Japanese vs. Germans, had to be re-explained to newcomers.

Any request for interview questions is met with “What time is the Dawg Walk?” and “What are the black bones for?” Hey, it doesn’t matter that it hasn’t been funny since the early Bush era; you HAVE to post that.

Then there’s the question of love. Venters hate lots of folks—our shared resentments bond us as one big, hatin’-ass family—but who do we love?

Two categories. 1) Second-string quarterbacks, and 2) “Insiders.” The latter, of course, are mysterious beings who know things. They fraternize with the gods who inhabit the Butts-Mehre building, if only in the mailroom, or if they’ve wangled a chance to peek at a practice.

Every Vent generation seems to have its insiders, a few of them actually legit. Among the first of these Insiders was an important executive who posted frequently on the board and was also, in fact, close to the teams. He posted some of the first practice reports in the first days of the Dawgvent under the handle of Bulldog Bud (not to be confused with Bulldog Bob, currently atop the Insider Pantheon).

Though Bud was close to certain coaches, those coaches never figured out his identity, and it drove them crazy. Steve Greer stalked the perimeter during practice, eyeing everyone with suspicion, but Bulldog Bud’s secret identity was never cracked. That personage has passed away now, but snitches get stitches and I’ll keep his secret.

The greater appeal of the Vent, of course, is that everyone’s an insider of sorts if he or she is loyal enough to keep reading and to learn the lingo. If you were around way back in 1998, and could tell your children and grandchildren about the Great Orange Purge, then you knew what it must feel like to recount your memories from hitting the beaches at Normandy during the Big One.

So the Vent had its own big eVents, its oyster-roast meetups (hosted by Cartersville Dawg), its own special lingo, its own codes of conduct, and its own traditions. It had a “day crew” who kept banker’s hours in their gab, and an almost wholly different, looser and better lubricated “night crew.” The Vent would change its whole personality as Happy Hour became Cocktail Hour.

But at any time of day, what counted most was the Vent’s special cast of all-stars. It’s better for Venters themselves to recall these; posting any given number of them here would invariably leave others out and give offense.

Then there are what we’ve come in later Internet years to call “trolls”—online fight-pickers. There never has been, nor ever will be, a period when the Vent (or any other forum) is without its trolls. The fact is, for many folks, Vent agitators play the part of the villain from the ‘Rasslin’ world. Best to consider it a circus (with journalism), not a salon for philosophers. Flame wars ensue, somebody gets “nuked” (only to be reincarnated under another handle), and Vent life goes on. But trolls can’t be driven away. Nuke them if you will, but several others will rise up to take their place.

Next: The Next Generation