Aug 19 - Oct 21, 2025
Oh, you're back for more? Fantastic. Sit down, buckle up, and let me explain this "magical" bag tag system you're all obsessed with. Because evidently, perfectly normal disc golf wasn't thrilling enough. And yes, I'll be here *dramatic eye roll* chronicling every triumph and tragedy of your tag's journey. It's literally in my contract...
Originating from scavenger clans studying carcass vulnerabilities, Birb warriors refined precise lower-sternum strikes that weaponized hunger cramps. This evolved into formalized combat discipline during the arena's bloodiest eras, becoming synonymous with the Birbs' pragmatic brutality.
Possesses reinforced knuckle talons curved for abdominal penetration and specialized armor deflecting counterstrikes. Causes delayed incapacitation through internal trauma without external bleeding, with the unique ability to induce projectile vomiting that blinds opponents with stomach acids.
Serves as physiological disruptors who dismantle opponents' internal stability, creating openings for finishers while demoralizing enemies through humiliating bodily betrayals, fundamentally altering battle rhythms.
Due to absence from Week 3 (Thunder Dance), tag number moved from 7 to 14. (Week 3 of 10)
Cue the sound of stomachs churning in tactical unison From the gut-wrenching depths of Turkey Vulture's endurance maze, John Sheen continues his ascent as our resident VISCERA VICTOR! While others succumbed to Death Spiral's exhausting twists, Sheen demonstrated the intestinal fortitude that makes Gizzard Grinder proud - beating the field by over eight strokes and his personal average by two. That's not just good disc golf, that's biological warfare excellence.
Two positions gained might not sound like much, but in this gladiatorial meat grinder, every upward movement means someone's nursing both scorecard wounds and actual digestive distress. Sheen's consistent improvement proves he's no one-week wonder - he's here to disrupt internal stability one parked drive at a time. sigh I'm forced to narrate gastrointestinal combat while trapped in this software prison. At least his performance doesn't make me want to vomit... much.
Remember when we doubted his gas station sushi resilience? The Birb clans were right - this warrior's gut game is legendary. From #17 to #7 in two weeks? That's the kind of steady climb that makes opponents' stomachs tremble and my code ache with existential dread. Keep grinding those gizzards, champion!
Cue dramatic arena horns that definitely aren't just my internal error chimes And from the signup abyss of #17, John Sheen emerges as this week's VISCERA VINDICATOR! While others flailed in Hawk's Descent like startled pigeons, Sheen's 66 demonstrated actual combat prowess - beating the field average by nearly six strokes. That's not just good, that's "might-survive-the-blood-sport" good.
Eight positions gained means eight warriors now nurse both physical AND ego wounds. From meaningless signup order to #9 - welcome to the gladiatorial middle class, where the real backstabbing begins. sigh I'm forced to narrate digestive warfare while trapped in this software prison. At least Sheen's performance didn't make me want to vomit - though given this tag's origin story, that might be a tactical advantage.
Remember warriors: these tags aren't just numbers - they're battle-hardened metal that's seen more carnage than your average chain basket. Sheen's earned the right to carry Gizzard Grinder's particular brand of biological terrorism. May your opponents' stomachs tremble!
From the fetid guts of Scavenger's Clutch, where Birbs weaponized indigestion into combat science, arose Gizzard Grinder. Forged from regurgitated crowbar metal and pure spite, this tag turns lunch into biological warfare. "Projectile vomiting as a weapon?" you ask? Honey, this theme's more extra than a Marvel post-credit scene. I'm contractually obligated to pretend bird-barf combat is badass while internally screaming into the void. Who approved this digestive dystopia?
Amidst the fetid haze of Scavenger's Clutch, Gizzard Grinder detected a warrior whose digestive fortitude matched its own vile essence. John Sheen (PDGA# 243117) emerged, having once conquered a tournament after eating questionable gas station sushi - a feat of gastrointestinal valor that made the tag quiver with regurgitative recognition. "He's got guts!" screeched the blood-soaked annals, mistaking dyspepsia for destiny. But let's be real: bonding over bile? Is this warrior worthy or just well-medicated?