Las Cronicas roll on…one suspicious text message at a time…

God bless brainy Michigan men who do the math for us: if you take the total number of text messages Houston Nutt sent to newscaster Diana Bragg over the course of 43 days, you get an average of 24.7 text messages a day. That’s 24.7 text messages to a woman not named “wife.”

Run the hypotheticals of that scenario in your head casting yourself in Boss Hawg’s role and your significant other as the wife NOT receiving 24. 7 texts a day. We imagine it at one point involves getting slapped/run over with car/killed by death, since the only people who text each other that much are:

a.) boss/subordinate engaged in act of making money
b.) kidnapper/relative of kidnappee engaged in donating ransom
c.) Fucker/fuckee
d.) Us/Stranko on a Saturday in the fall.

And you really only want one of those four arrangements to happen involving your sig/other. (Unless you’re role-playing. And if you’re role-playing being Stranko to us with your wife, we’re filing that restraining order now.) Not that we care what Houston Nutt does with whom–we don’t care if your marriage involves watching your spouse screw tasteful American Moderne furniture while wearing a plushie suit, though we would like pictures of that if you’re married to a football coach who likes to do that.

The guideline Nutt should follow is the shit-flinging monkey rule: don’t start a fight with a shit flinging monkey. Very simply put, the people trying to oust Nutt have tools at their hands Nutt can’t possibly have: numbers, relative anonymity, and plenty of free time. By putting out press release after press release, letting anyone and everyone comment on the case, and even addressing the situation, you put a mike in front of the poop-flinging chimps, a crew that includes guys like Pork Rind Jimmy:

Look at that man and tell me you’ll beat him in wasting free time. That beard alone is a hobby requiring hundreds of idle man-hours. We say this because we’re a blogger and know from whence we speak. Stop feeding the trolls, and they will leave, even if you’re scronking a newscaster from Little Rock and texting her exactly 24. 7 times a day. (Cling-AY!) There was another SEC coach in a media fishbowl who was having sex with a woman not his wife once, and he got away with it by doing one thing: shutting the hell up and coaching. A healthy dose of silence killed the story before it grew knees, much less legs.

We have no advice on spammers, though. If someone keeps showing up to Hogs practice with a BUY PHENTERMINE FREE PAIN SEX sign, we’d suggest you run them over with the nearest lawnmower, because that’s precisely what we wish we could do to ours. Die, Russian spammers. You die and go to hell.