To be the man, you’ve got to beat the man. And college football’s standing Man in residence went into the alley with Nebraska and gave them a face full of brass knuckles and broken glass. USC’s the Spanish Houseguest of teams: they show up fashionably late and superficially unenthusiastic, warm up slowly, but ultimately dance the other guests into the carpet somewhere around 4 a.m.

Conquest Chronicles has the stunning drive chart, but 49-31 doesn’t even describe how uneven the game truly was. 313 yards rushing against the Blackshirts, an error-free performance by Booty, and a somnolent Lincoln crowd are better testaments to what a thorough ass-kicking USC can hand out–though the Daily News “Veni, vidi, Victim” line comes close. (Latin, Greek–who cares. It sounds cool, and that’s what matters.)

Benny Hill walks the earth in Irish colors. For Brian, it’s Yakety Sax time again! Our lasting memory of the Charlie Weis era may end up being not Brady Quinn’s dynamic first season, but instead Weis dressed as a bellhop, running around being chased by buxom young women in bikinis at 36 high-speed frames a second.

Courtesy of MGoBlog, where it’s morning in America again.

Well, there’s always being right. We stated in this space that Sylvester Croom was as good as fired after the opening debacle against LSU. Mississippi State beats Auburn in Jordan-Hare as Brandon Cox continues his full unveiling as Daniel Cobb with a forged birth certificate, indicating that with a few more victories Croom may not, indeed, have a future as a Barry White imitator in Branson, Missouri’s fine dinner theater-type-establishments.

The following exchange between Auburn fan Cuddles Swindle and Orson summed up Cox’s 4/10, 42 yard, 0 TD/2 INT performance:

Orson: What the fuck is wrong with Cox? Wasn’t he good? Is he hurt?

Cuddles: I think he has sand in his vagina.

Well, that certainly would be uncomfortable. Forget we said anything bad about him. After all, he still outgained last year’s Heisman winner’s performance in the national title game, sandy hoo-ha and all.

Cue Daniel Moore. Alabama’s last second victory over Arkansas had Nick Saban’s facial muscles contracting in an involuntary manner he could not recognize. His lips curled upwards at the edges; the eyebrows lifted up, too; he bared his teeth in a manner usually reserved for threats and displays of aggression. Humans would register this as “happiness,” a concept Saban would have to study on tape later when he had time for that shit and was plugged into the wall during Mandatory Unit Recharging and Data Compression Time.

We wager three days until the Daniel Moore print of this comes out: entitled “The Catch,” it will feature the winning throw with the transparent ghost of a houndstooth-hatted Bear Bryant giving a thumbs-up in the background.

Dorrell looks clueless! Drink! A sign we’ll pay a whole dollar for a picture of popped up in the background on Gameday on Saturday: MARK MAY KNOWS FOOTBALL LIKE I KNOW EUROPEAN TAPESTRY. May picked UCLA over Utah, which is unfair because any sane person would have, but also picked Tennessee to beat Florida, which was 30 points worth of wrong.

Bruins fans are drinking after losing 44-6 to Utah’s backup quarterback. They should. Heavily. Without eating. And while huffing ether and hitting the salt shaker of coke in the glove compartment, too. Don’t look at the carpet. Never mind the flying dogs, either.