Blogtoberfest–the best party you won’t end up treating with antibiotics…probably.

Love has stepped on both of these people with a hobnailed boot. Larry Munson is the sole property of the Georgia Bulldogs we envy openly and shamelessly, an announcer with just a pinch of Minnesota nose to him who sounds like an ages old tortoise sipping whiskey while broadcasting the game from somewhere deep inside Mammoth Cave. He’s a national treasure, he broadcasts Georgia football, and the combination of the two facts is proof that God blesses even the wretchedest on this planet with something good and pure.

Paul brings us the news and audio behind someone paying Munson to do a voiceover for their wedding. Personally, we think given the divine desperation Munson can summon up in his best moments, his narration of a divorce would be even better.

For the uninitiated, here’s a compilation of Munson’s finest lunacy. Even with all that blasted, scabrous red all over the screen, it’s still run-flat awesome. OH MY GOD A TOUCHDOWN MY GOD A TOUCHDOWN–even the teetotalingest finger-wagging Baptist forgave him for that, which you may see around the 2:07 mark.

NCAA officially files their mea culpa. Rule 3-2-5-e, which suffered a severe aneurysm in March, gets the official DNR order signed and approved by the NCAA. Spit on the ground twice in its memory.

Way more effective than that old ‘G’ Formation. It’s the offseason–help yourself to a little football history as Corn Nation examines the history of the wacky ‘T’ Formation. Not explained in the article: why the hell the Seahawks have it in Madden.

SMQ is Jacob wrestling the angel, and you’re not even watching. Sunday Morning Quarterback is rolling through every team in the land again and you’re not even paying attention. You owe him makeup sex, a nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and at least two romantic comedies for your negligence. And no, The 13th Warrior is not a romantic comedy, even if we told you it was. (Because nothing gets us in the mood like Viking Death,, but we’re not normal.)

Best. Shirts. Ever. Take sporting debate on the road with you with Dan Shanoff’s stellar array of Gator/Duke debate shirts. Or, if you’re less inclined to debate, you could just wear one of ours (click to go to the shop and buy, say, thirty of them for your friends:)

Tang still double-entendre funny! Gravity pulls down! And Nick Saban? Still a raving asshole to everyone and anyone around him. He’d try to talk to you a bit about this, but he hasn’t got time for this shit, even if he made time later to make time for this shit.

An anonymous tipster who did get a peek in Saban’s practices though says the coach is livid with the front seven’s lack of…well, just general lackness. But how could that be? You hired a coach who is the son of a great coach? Greatness is genetic! Look at Freddie Prinze Jr. if you don’t believe us, or Robin Thicke.

Again, repetition is the key to communication again. Pete Carroll: again, not going anywhere. Ever. For any reason. Except he’s got to stop by Whole Foods for some Newman-O’s, because they’re the best organic cookies everywhere. If you need him, he’s taking the golden unicycle.

Fuck your couch, Ed Orgeron. Via the Wiz, the best walkoff decision we’ve ever seen comes from Cliff Davis, now former backup qb at Ole Miss:

“I gave it up since they didn’t put me in the damn game,” Davis said Monday in a telephone interview. “Fed up. Football’s not paying my damn bills, so it’s time to get my education, join the working world.”

Davis left the game early in the fourth quarter, walked into the locker room, and then walked out of football for good. Coach Ed Orgeron was so shocked he didn’t even burn his house down in retaliation for his disloyalty.

Nigella Lawson: We’d still ride it like the MARTA. Cheesecake is coming, but we’d like to reiterate that Nigella may still use us for medical experiments any day of the week.