Michigan Wolverine Memes?
It's a comedy drive-by on the Wolverines!

Alright, Wolverines—when we invade Ann Arbor, we own State Street, rebrand the Big House as “The Big Hole,” because it looks like a Walmart with a Napoleon complex, rocking a mullet and a midlife crisis!

Yo, you’re screaming “Go Blue!” like it’s a whole vibe, but it’s just a color! Solid choice, though, when your mascot’s a meth-induced weasel with an attitude problem and a comb-over!













The Stadiums: All three resemble five-story parking decks that have a grudge against electricity.

Ohio State has a 100-year-old concrete toilet masquerading as a cathedral. Its “iconic” horseshoe shape—open at the south end—makes it feel like the architect quit halfway through and said, “Ha! Let the wind freeze their souls during November games.”

Georgia’s Sanford Stadium is so old it has a Social Security number, a pension, and an unresolved beef with Yale from the 1929 opener. BTW, it’s right next to the 100-acre Oconee Hill Cemetery—like it’s daring you to survive the walk home.

The Big House is a Walmart with a Napoleon complex, squatting like it owns the Midwest. Inside? A concrete abyss where 100,000 drunk, screaming Wolverines drain what little self-respect you have left.



Typical Fan:

Thinks “O-H” is a complete sentence and wants a fierce Brutus Buckeye tattoo (which doesn’t exist—Brutus looks like Mr. Peanut). He didn’t defend you when his roommate called you a hussy, but was ready to fistfight a Wolverine over a flag.

His LinkedIn profile describes him as an “entrepreneur” because he sold Adderall to his Georgia roommates and claimed it was a pharmaceutical startup with scalable growth potential.

He cried harder when Harbaugh left than he ever will when you break up. Won’t fight for your relationship, but wrote a lengthy Reddit post begging Jim not to leave Michigan and go to the NFL.

Warning: Don’t dare mention high school, or he’ll hijack the conversation for a solid half-hour, bragging about his four-touchdown flag football “glory days,” acting like he’s Al Bundy about to hawk shoes at the mall!


What's Their Major:

Let’s get one thing straight—these schools barely teach. They just babysit students between football games.

She lists “Public Relations” as her major at Ohio State because she gets into bars for free by wearing a tight dress.

He took one communications class at Michigan and now thinks he’s qualified to “run social” for his dad’s hedge fund.

If you major in something at Georgia, it’s either Marketing, Sport Management, or “Undecided but heavily medicated.”

Plus, Everyone Thinks They're Better Than You: My roommate at UofM, a history major, glanced at my thermodynamics proofs, nodded, and said, "Not bad for a first draft."


Study or Go to the Bar:

Most of the guys are drunk on school spirit and stadium beers and think “cum laude” is a cocktail and “magna cum laude” is a jumbo sized cocktail.

Writes “work hard, play harder” in their Instagram bio like it’s a legal disclaimer for skipping class after getting home at 3 a.m.

Always having “one more drink” to forget the tuition hike—and maybe their GPA that’s so low it’s practically auditioning for a two. So hey, at least there’s that.

We Put Your Rivals’ Pettiest Thoughts Into Print


Hey Bulldog Nation—when we roll up to your campus, it’s a full-blown tailgate takeover. And when you protest? We just flirt with your girlfriend and bark at you until you quit.

We get it—you love yelling “Go Dawgs!” But maybe don’t scream it while blackout drunk, face-down on the floor of a Clayton Street dive bar.

This book drags the cult of red and black through the hedges without mercy, torching every sacred football ritual, bar scene, fan hideout, and student stereotype with humor so savage it’ll feel like you just lost to Bama...again.

So let’s dive into the glorious chaos that is UGA—armed with jokes, rants, and roasts, each soaked in Athens-specific shade but deep-fried in something that still resembles RESPECT.


Born from the depths of every intense Big Ten rivalry and fueled by every obnoxious "Go Blue!" chant echoing off the bathroom tiles in a Main Street dive bar, this book drags UofM through the Huron River and doesn't apologize.

This is more than comedy—it's a psychological breakdown of the cult of maize and blue, where delusional Michigan fans treat a two-loss season like it's a personal persecution.

No part of the Michigan experience is safe because we're shredding every school and football-related tradition, bar scene, fan hangout, and student archetype with humor so biting it'll sting worse than a loss to MSU.

Let's dive into the chaos that is UofM with jokes, rants, and roasts, each dripping with Wolverine shade, but also slathered in RESPECT.


Hey Buckeyes—when we show up in Columbus, we take over your campus, rename the Horseshoe “The Participation Trophy Pit,” and remind you that your mascot is literally just a tree nut with crazy-looking eyes.

We get it—you’re proud of yelling “O-H!” But maybe don’t chant it mid-arrest outside a High St. bar, reeking of Axe body spray and shame.

This book drags the cult of scarlet and gray through the rust and regret of the Midwest, torching every tradition, bar scene, and delusional fan take with comedy so cruel it hits harder than whatever that was against Michigan.

So grab your what's left of your shame and brace yourself—we’re diving headfirst into the cold, bleak chaos of Ohio State with Columbus-specific shade but with RESPECT.

Rivalry Jokes, Rants, and Roasts

Do you have a joke you think should be in our next book?

RivalaryJokes@gmail.com