The Worthlessness of College Cheerleaders

I will seek absolution later for what I'm about to do in this blog now, but this three-year college cheerleader letterman (via my awesome mascotting skills) is about to disparage the entity known as college cheerleaders. Hypocrisy? Perhaps. Nonetheless, it needs to be said.

First, a few disclaimers:

1. I'm not talking about professional cheerleaders. Their entire purpose on this planet (and this is certainly no secret to anyone who is breathing at this present moment) is to be sugary-sweet eye candy to a bunch of beer-swiggin' buffoons both in the stands and on their couches. Talentless, yes, but they're not hired for their talent. They're paid for their looks, their bods, and their willingness to wear next-ta-nuttin' for several hours a week in front of thousands of people (i.e., "libido apes").


2. Mascots are still very valuable. They still deserve a great deal of credit. In fact, they are the best part of some of the teams this year (I'm looking at you, Notre Dame Fighting Irish Leprechaun Dude!). Therefore, they are not included in my little rant.

Now that that's out of the way, I wish to do my disparaging.

1. Formulaic cheers--When was the last time you heard a cheerleading squad start one of their cutesy, learned-this-one-at-summer-cheer-camp cheers, complete with their stilted movements, and that cheer immediately became an uproarious crowd sensation, shaking the very foundation of the stadium itself and putting fear into the other team's players? I'll answer that one myself--never! The only cheers that work are the ones that fans start and the cheerleaders leech onto as if they are the ones "leading" that cheer.
2. Formulaic stunts--What's the point? Seriously, are you trying to prove that with certain movements, you are "athletes"? Just because a 200-pound male cheerleader (i.e., a dude who played 3rd-string football in high school and couldn't even get close to making the cut in college) can toss a 90-pound female cheerleader (i.e., a cupey-doll waif of a human being whose make-up bag weighs more than she does) in the air, what does that prove? Again, I'll field that one myself--nothing!
3. Formulaic dances--If you're particularly sensual in shakin' your perfectly sculpted booty to the delight of every drop of testosterone within a 100-mile radius, then where should you be? Correct! On the school's dance team (i.e., the minor league farm system of professional cheerleading), not on the cheer squad. Thus, those 90-second dance routines you worked on for the past month and a half and that you're presently trying to pull off in front of a crowd are more awkward to watch than a 6th grade co-ed dance. Don't--just don't.

Anyway, I know that I have just condemned my soul to ex-cheerleader perdition for all of eternity, but I felt that the Truth was greater than my own soul. It simply needed to be said.

Now, it's simply time for the collegiate cheerleading squad to realize it has overstayed its welcome and to go the way of the American female beauty pageant, Vanilla Ice, Thanksgiving fruit cakes, and Sarah Palin (I can dream!)--and that way is A-WAY. Forever.