***WARNING! Project Runway spoiler-type information included. If you have no idea what we’re talking about here…well, it’s a show that both straight and gay men watch. And we’re not gay! Not that there’s anything wrong with that.–ed.

Highlight for spoilers: In honor of grumpy ex-junkie Jeffrey, who won Project Runway (watching this does not make us gay! We swear!) we have this morning’s Blogtoberfest, which will be wearing a stunning handbeaded evening gown with a plunging neckline. And a football helmet.

–Kanu decides to encode Phil Steele’s diaries into Steele-speak. The results are grand cru stuff for the initiated and addicted, which we know you are.

–Urban Meyer continues to pour haterade on the new clock rules. Florida only had three possessions in the first half of the game against Auburn, which might have been a different story if Florida’s d had figured out Al Borges mysterious “throw to the flats every down” sloth offense.

–Speaking of Auburn, they’ll happily pay the $5,000 fine for piping in what the SEC has warned is “excessive” noise in the form of a lame cat growl and the not so lame “Welcome to the Jungle,” which despite being nearly twenty years old still makes us want to burn the curtains. The next infraction would elicit a fine, which again, they would likely play by passing a hat around the stadium every game and then submitting in cash.

On this note, let me be the first to suggest Florida’s counterattack: sonic weaponry. Imagine the convenience of a concealed sonic weapon, undetectable amongst the thicket of cameras and microphones on the sidelines, sending pain-inducing waves of agony into the head of the opposing quarterback. If it’s good enough to disperse bloodthirsty Somali pirates, it’ll decimate Matthew Stafford.

Or you could just play Nickelback’s “Someday,” whose effects on massed crowds is similar to the brown note’s reputed powers.

We’ll show you noise pollution, Mike Slive!

–While the whole world is putting thumbtacks in Lamar Thomas’ cereal: The Wiz has a great, lost anecdote from the ‘Canes glory days. Apparently, even Gino Toretta thought Thomas was a shitbag.

–Bruins Nation may have caught Karl Dorrell in a lie. The solution to this is to fire him immediately.

–Peter’s got jitters about the Longhorns’ road trip to Lincoln. You know a team is rolling through its institutional salad days when they talk about getting nervous over a game where they might only win by ten points on the road.

–Lewis Grizzard would have been sixty today. Kyle King has a better, more personal memoir of how much anyone who read him misses him, but we still miss him, even if he was the faux-redneck, Izod-wearing, golf-playing, soft-boy we suspect all Georgia fans of secretly being.

Anyone who reads My Daddy Was A Pistol And I’m A Son of a Gun will find themselves thrown an artfully constructed curve ball; what starts as a standard short book of humor quickly morphs into one of the most brutal, scathing depictions of dysfunctional fatherhood/sonhood you’ll ever read. It’s Turgenev in boat shoes, and hits harder. It’s one of two books we cannot reread because it just hurts too much to think about doing again.

Lewis, R.I.P. Between you, Flannery O’Connor, and P.J. O’Rourke, we wouldn’t know what good was.


Lewis. We still miss him, even if he hated our team.