Two chuckle-worthy posts from Westerdawg: first he channels the Onion with a mock reaction to Gailey’s getting the worst tab from Stewart Mandel, and second a post about exactly what one hundred pounds of marijuana looks like. Having roomed for a time with a gay rave queen in Gainesville, FL in the mid-1990s, we can verify the expert opinion quoted in the post: it did look about like that.

Boi From Troy offers up a summary of who’s in the repair shop at USC, complete with requisite photos of manbeef.

HP has a great summary of Bruce Feldman’s Top Ten Venues, as well as some solid contributions of his own. We pride ourselves on speed-just ask our wife about that-so here’s our top three, rather than ten, taken from admittedly limited experience in the Southeast.
Anyone who wants to offer us tickets to educate us, please leave your offers below. We’ll be there with a vodka tonic in hand.
1. Florida State.. Loud, and frightening as hell when the war chant gets going. The architecture of the place screws with you–regal, brick elegance from the outside, bare, grey and spare on the interior. Entering as a rival is putting yourself in the head of Joe Pesci in Goodfellas; one minute you’re walking into the house about to be made, and then you see the room where they’ve got the tarp spread out to catch your bleeding, dead body. Funny red-stater fans, too, who know how to put on a good spread and flat-out drink a hole in their solo cups.
2. LSU. Crazy-ass cajuns coming up from the swamps. Rednecks streaming down from the hills. An indescribable amount of booze coursing through the collective bloodstream of the fan base. And loads of yellow and purple, a combination with a preternatural ability to raise waves of anxiety in the mind. The best-sounding band in college football helps, too, as does the Louisiana smorgasbord surrounding the stadium. We’re betting you there’s more cholesterol in two hundred yards of Baton Rouge tailgating than there is in the entire nation of China. Tiger stadium is zesty as a bag of Jalapeno Zapp’s.
3. Auburn. They put your team logo in flowers in the endzone corners. Alumni tote around quarts of George Dickel and gallon bags of off-brand Chee-tos. Toomer’s Corner. Jordan-Hare pronounced Jerdan -Hare. Nice people who lack the “sports-sociopathic” vibe of ‘Bama fans. (No offense, Bama fans, but it’s you and English soccer fans neck and neck for the sheer, crazed obsession title.) They care, but not to a scary extent, a sanguine vibe about their sport reflected by Tommy Tuberville’s phone number still being in the Auburn phone book. A warm fuzzy all around, even if you lose. (Almost.)

Blue-Gray Sky had a better sequel tag line than we did–“The Quickening”–but we had to try our own for originality’s sake. We’ll be closing the Blogpoll roundtable tonight, so get your comments and bets in while you can in the post below, next to the picture of our heroes Shaun and Ed. The roundup will be in tomorrow, including choice awards decided on a largely arbitrary basis by yours truly, including the “Spurrier Award” for cheapest shot taken and the “Trev Alberts Award” for the pick most removed from the sphere we call reality.

As our 17 loyal readers may remember, we’ve been promising a site redo for quite a while, since the two biggest complaints about our site have been our relentless Phil Fulmer fat jokes and our miserable site design. Until Fulmer puts down the frosting gun we’ll continue the fat jokes; at this point, it’s a running gag too fun to give up. The site design, however, is another matter entirely. Originally due this week, it’s been pushed back to next Tuesday or so, depending on our web guru’s schedule. Until then, all 17 of you will have to enjoy the run-on paragraphs and wide-open spaces of our internet prairie home.

To follow up on our post on the art of “noodling”: Thai fishermen pull in a 646-pound catfish. The fishermen, however, didn’t catch it with their bare hands. In response, two words: total… pussies.

Weaklings!

We’ve been meaning to write about this for a while now, but all this blogpolling and internet brawling kept us from it. Stewart Mandel, the first person to publish us, internet-style, in one of his mailbags, fills the void of the summer doldrums with a list of his best and worst coaches. We skipped right past the best to go straight to the worst, thinking to ourselves: damn, Gailey’s got to be there, or Mandel’s writing this from a Guadalajara detox clinic with a morphine drip in his arm.

Gailey, pointing aimlessly.
Boom! The only number one Georgia Tech’s gonna earn this year hit us right in the face: Mandel placed Gailey at number one for his worst coaches, complete with a hilarious picture of Gailey gamely trying to celebrate something.
(more…)

CFN counts them down from one hundred, lunging for the crown of specious preseason speculation and seizing it firmly with their hands still greasy from all that Rupert Murdoch cash. (Reading that, did anyone else just think of how weird a “Cribs: Pete Fiutak” episode would be? Just me?) Gasp as they rank Northwestern ahead of Wyoming! Stand in awe as they put Miss. St. ahead of Navy! Wonder why they bothered at all!

Look up “big motherfucker” in the dictionary, and you’ll find a picture of Cory Lambert. Cleared to play for Clemson this fall after some academic delays, Lambert is 6′7″ with a 290-pound frame. By the time the strength coaches get done with him he could look like Leonard Davis’ big brother. Remember, though: if he gets mad, just send him a Candygram-Cory like candy…

Cory Lambert rides into Clemson.

Michigan State senior wide receiver Agim Shabaj has been declared academically inelible for next season. Shabaj led the Spartans in receiving in 2003 but last year he dropped to 3rd leading receiver. It always hurts to lose seniors… but he wasn’t exactly Plaxico Burress.