Sure. You thought it was a good idea, just like all the mad geniuses do. I’ll bring something into the world that no one’s seen before, and just leave it to rot here, to fend for itself, like some kind of half-frog, half-man. It’s new! Bigger! Stronger! Faster! We had to be…different, didn’t we?
You couldn’t just use the classic Nebraska logo, right? That’s be nasty. Square. Uncool. You couldn’t just be a pigeon–you had to be a peacock, didn’t you, Strutty McFeatherass? Nooooo, you have Sam Keller promising to complete 65% of his passes. You’ve got an offensive line promising not to give up 68 sacks in two yearsYou have the Big 12 North sitting there wide open like the legs of a giddy, strapping, whiskey-drunk farmgirl who climbed down off that Husqvarna just for little old you. . You’ve got old Rageface in Boulder taking his team paintballing and listening to him tell fucked-up Zen koans. WAAAAaaaahhhh Nansen kills a kitten. Big shittin’ deal–I’d thank the Zen monk that would scrape me off your cursed, sweaty epidermis. No one’s offering to put me out of my misery in the name of Zen.
You asshole. You don’t even know what I go through. Everyone will know what it is, dude! Oh, that sounded like a peachy idea back at the tattoo shop in Omaha, where you picked the man to do it based on that AWESOME skull with the snake crawling through the eyes, except the snake turned into a woman? A Vargas girl, right? You wouldn’t recognize a Vargas girl if one woke up sitting on your face, Captain Strikeout. (more…)
Our mustache of the day once said this:”A man who limits his interests, limits his life.” Easy enough to say when your dad was the man who invented the powder essential to keeping tartar sauce fresh on the shelf, thus securing a Yale education and inherited fortune for your ass. Nevertheless, we applaud the sentiment, as we salute a fine and freaky mustache all of its own: the pencil-thin rapier ’stache of Vincent Price.
Creatures crawl in search of blood, to terrorize y’awl’s neighborhood.
General Neyland says that’s one sexy offense you’ve got, there.
Friend of the blog Wes Wolfe bring us the story of the actual single wing renaissance in Virginia. We were only slightly joking when we said that West Virginia and Florida, on about 20 percent of their snaps, run the single wing. Louisa County High School, on the other hand, ain’t joking: they went to the state championship last year running an unadulterated version of the single wing straight from General Neyland’s playbook.
If you want to read the whole article, Wolfe’s paper, the Central Virginian, is undergoing a bit of a web overhaul at the moment, so we’ve got the article in picture form below. Warning: the pics are huge, and will look clunky. Excuse the mess, but when it comes to our passion single wing, we’re willing to put it in whether it fits or not.
We predict three comments pass until someone writes “Me, too, Orson. Oh, we’re talking about site formatting here, right? Because I was talking about my dick.”
We were stumbling around the room at 6:15 this a.m. when another sign of impending and awesome football stumbled across the CNN crawl as Sanjay Gupta told us all the bad things lead poisoning can do to you. (Why no one talks about all the upside of lead poisoning is yet another cheat the liberal MSM sells you on every day, slave!)
The crawl read:
PERCY HARVIN SAT OUT FLORIDA PRACTICE WITH ANKLE TENDONITIS, COACH URBAN MEYER SAYS …
When CNN’s giving you crawl on Harvin’s wonky ankle, you know a rough beast is rising. Harvin’s ankle seems to be a chronic inflammation thingy, meaning that it’s tweaky, will continue to be tweaky, and may disappear overnight/haunt him the rest of his life. It must be the side effects of being so fast your foot actually adheres to the earth from the heat of it abrading the turf.
He suffered from it last season, too, so diving headfirst into the ditch of fan despair might not be the most logical thing for Florida fans. He did decently enough. We hear. You know, from, people. Football types.
Even if Harvin’s ankle continues its codgery ways, Florida’s got speed to burn–nay, incinerate. Andre Caldwell’s a no-bullshit-wind-aided-Florida-State-clocked 4.3 runner, freshman Chris Rainey and Deonte Thompson both change weather patterns with sub 4.4. speed, and Brandon James, the discount Barry Sanders type caught purchasing local produce illicitly earlier this year, can run very, very quickly. Even if Harvin’s not 100% for the year, there’s a mess of mess for defensive coordinators to handle.
The weather gets cold in the fall. It’s hard to believe this, considering we’re typing this from the last functioning PC in the scorched, waterless landscape of the Lost City of Atlanta. You’ll need sweaters, eventually, and when you do put one on…make it less Tressel, and more Song Girl in the style department.
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Orson Swindle and Stranko Montana are two men pushing thirty who should know better than to run a college football blog, but evidently don't. Both graduated from the University of Florida, and both agree that college football is far too important to be left to the professionals.
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Comments? Questions? Long strings of profanities directed at something we said? Please send your comments to harumphharumph -a- yahoo -dot- com. Please direct all tailgating photos and stories to edsbsfans -a- gmail -dot- com.
Lake The Posts Northwestern football, which is purple and smarter than you and no thank you would NOT like a ten win season at the cost of academic integrity, thank you very much.
Maize ‘n Brew And still yet another strong, funny, and literate Michigan blogger. Embarrassment of riches over there, really.
MGoBlog The horribly, admirably partisan Kodiak Bear of UM Blogs
General Neyland says that’s one sexy offense you’ve got, there.
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