I was the youngest child growing up. It was me and my older sister. She claims I would come up with chants then follow her around the house, repeating them all day long. It drove her crazy.
Being a little brother is really no different from being a Vikings fan.
On the surface we really have no business at all talking smack to Packer fans. The bottom line is painfully clear to all of us:
SUPER BOWL WINS
Packers - 3
Vikings - 0
The fact that we get them to even participate in a discussion with us speaks volumes of our ability to get under their skin. Here we are, all cocky and self-assured, cozy in our little dome. And there they are, the locally-owned storybook franchise, fighting it out on their frozen tundra.
But all that doesn't matter.
When the Packers win they smile and pat each other on the back. They might shoot a knowing smile our way, but rarely much more than that. When the Vikings win we scream until our voices are hoarse, at Packer fans.
Even in defeat we let them know why we lost. We soil their victories with a cocktail of poor sportsmanship and I-can-talk-longer-than-you ranting. It's not that we really are poor sports, it's just a natural reaction we have to dairy.