Lord, what a beautiful day. The sun was gleaming off our souls like newly born foals in the dawn of a fresh spring morning.
The spate of dark weather broke-if only for a day-upon the rolling Salt Lake City hills, and a few of us wanted to share our newly refreshed life streams with our brethren in Happy Valley, but with a very specific mission in mind.
No, my friends, not that kind of mission-but one just as meaningful for a member of the U’s loving family who doesn’t see the light of a crisp, sunny fall day but once a year.
Many may be aware of Cosmo the Cougar, the guiding light of Brigham Young University athletics, he who looms large over the playing fields and hardwoods of Provo but does little to enhance the lives of the student body.
Enter Corky, Cosmo’s long lost bastard brother. Corky was born to the fourth wife of Cosmo’s father, and since his infancy, he’s been cast aside as all that’s wrong with goodness in the heart and faith in the mind.
Corky’s role is simple: Bring just a sliver of gold into the otherwise mundane grayness of life as a BYU student. So yesterday, with a supporting cast of four Chronicle staffers, Corky set out on his yearly ritual, bestowing caffeinated yet carbonated beverages to the suffering Provoites while also carrying a big ray of sweet, soft, God kissed sunshine with him wherever he went.
Sadly, Corky was diagnosed with a rare but debilitating form of leprosy seven months ago, which caused the beloved cougar to develop stripes across his skin.
But where some would fall to their knees in despair and proclaim with all the fiber of their being, “Woe is me, Lord…oh, woe is me!” Corky refused to succumb to the cruel sprites of destiny and decided instead to share his spiritual rainbow with the world.
And so began another year in search of Cosmo. And another year of futility, obstreperousness and genealogical denial was upon poor Corky from the outset.
Things got off to a good start. Upon our arrival on the hallowed grounds of the Y, Corky was immediately approached by several members of the student body, who presumably couldn’t resist Corky’s virile stature. Of course, being from the U, Corky didn’t have much time for religion and quickly sent the sheep flocking back to their shepherd, Coca-Colas firmly in hand.
Next stop, The Daily Universe, home of Utah’s most prolific and elusive reporter. He’s so elusive in fact, many only know him by his initials: AP. If anyone could help our poor leprosy riddled cougar find the welcoming arms of his brother, it would be our fellow journalists, right?
Yeah, right.
Instead, all we found was a cold shoulder and some dirty urinals.
Corky was convinced the pall that Cosmo’s cruelty casts over all the region was impossible to penetrate…but he learned long ago penetrating anything at the Y is a losing battle.
It became quite evident our beloved feline would once again stare fruitlessness in the eye and pick from its tree of detriment.
Instead, Corky set his sights on an easier target: the repressed student populace and their football team, doomed to suffer an eternity in the Outer Darkness with an offense more vulnerable than a 12-year-old at the Neverland Ranch.
But, unlike the Y, Corky knows not the bitter taste of failure, and soldiered on in his effort to reunite himself with his weaker half.
But as usual, Cosmo and the cowards who house him refused to allow Corky such easy access to his dream, and instead cast him aside with shouts of “The power of Christ compels you” and “Oh my heck, you’re just so fuzzed up!”
As the sun set on that fateful day in Happy Valley, Corky arrived back home in Salt Lake City, confident in his role as the annual savior of reality to such a confused and befuddled land. And with God on his side, Corky fell asleep with a smile on his face and a finger upraised to the oppressive lifestyle of his kinfolk.
Lord, what a beautiful day.
