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A personal message of encouragement to those men over 250 pounds running the 40 in the combine this weekend. Play this in the background for maximum effect.
HIGH FLIGHT
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Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
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Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
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You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
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I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
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Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew—
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And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
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Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
--John Gillespie Magee
Fly fast this weekend, big bros. Fly free. Fly with the power of chicken's wings. Hundreds and hundreds of double-fried, savory chicken's wings.
