Minimal football noise today, so let’s access that spleen and talk about how much another corrupt, shitty sport blows. No particular reason.

Full of shit, but will get you laid: Baudrillard.

We’re big Jean Baudrillard fans, and not because we’re some organic tea-sipping grad student getting wood to the concept of actually writing crap bollocks about art, meaning, and dissecting meaning without having to actually come up with any ourselves. You’re out there, we know who you are, and we will refrain from making the Starbucks serve-us-our-latte professor joke, because many of you do indeed go on to do terrible things like teach Lacan and Derrida to smartstruck private school kids cowed by your ability to string together three sentences together and use the phrase “late-stage capitalism” without shitting yourself from shame.

Plus, when you can quote shit like this pants just fly off smart ladies not quite smart enough to realize just how full of shit you really are:

Like dreams, statistics are a form of wish fulfillment.

That’s Baudrillard, who rules like Motorhead because he’s totally quotable, completely full of shit, and sold tons of books in France despite the fact that he, himself, would remind anyone he was brimming with intellectual fecal matter. He insisted, in fact, on most everything being fake and shitty–simulacra–mere imitations of things that once existed, and that most culture was just growing like the fingernails and hair on a corpse.

Drop that at a cocktail party, and someone will probably either pose thoughtfully or call you a homosexual. Either way you’re going for the bullshit gold, since it’s English major bongwater primo stuff. However, it may rightfully describe the EDSBS official Most Despised Game, not a sport, but a game, the hypertrophied croquet match that is baseball, and the fact that old incontinent people care enough about it to waste an ex-Senator’s time on whether or nor its players are taking illegal supplements. (more…)

This isn’t a high school athlete with a house arrest bracelet on, right? Right? Even Louisiana couldn’t be that…yes. End that sentence before it finishes. It’s entirely possible. We just want to see what the public consensus on whether this is photoshopped or not.

HT: Ragin’ Cajun Rebel, of course.

Holy shit, the Mitchell report is coming out today, and the shit in it will blow your mind. KSK’s already covered the Scott Mitchell section, but the Blake Mitchell section is loaded with explosive revelations

Blake Mitchell: Congress has questions.

For example:

–Blake Mitchell once sodomized his girlfriend’s DVD player for being “surly.” Being inaccurate, he missed and ended up with his penis caught in a surround-sound subwoofer. She turned on Braveheart and watched as the thunderous battle scenes’ bass tones left him speechless with ecstasy for three hours.

–Was often drunk and disorderly in the manner that South Carolina qbs should be. We’re looking at you, Taneyhill.

–Blake Mitchell has a wooden leg and allows a real live woodpecker to live in it. He calls the woodpecker Steve most days, unless it’s pissing him off, upon which he calls it “Assbird.” This bird is, unbeknonwst to most South Carolina fans, the true offensive coordinator for the team.

–Shock-blond hair used as currency in Belize. When told this, Blake Mitchell answered “There ain’t no such place as Belize. NUH-UH!!! NO THERE AIN’T, NERD!”

–Loves Gray’s Anatomy. No, really, especially the Asian dude.

–Once vomited up eight whole Chik-Fil-A sandwiches up on a dare while only keeping the pickles in his stomach.

–Uses the dessicated tallywhacker of Strom Thurmond as a bookmark, which is 13% gay.

–Snorted a double-tall Midori sour through a straw once, which is exactly 23% gay.

–Was white. Clear. Scary, evil cracker sheriff in television movie white. So white white supremacists had an inferiority complex around him. White enough to be forbidden from driving past airports for fear of blinding pilots on takeoff; so blanco that when he pulled up to a trough to urinate, other penises got sunburn from the rays shining off it; so white that when he mooned a trainer she ended up selling pencils on the street corner with a service dog in hand. So white that Fruit of the Looms look brown on him and so white that rap music makes him grow scales. We don’t even know what that means, but Blake Mitchell’s the whitest human being we’ve ever seen. Ever.

–If born seventy years ago, would be nicknamed “Sonny,” or “Red,” and have a biracial bastard child on the side.

–Will likely end up with a nickname like “Sonny,” or “Red,” and have a biracial bastard child on the side.

–Has some, my oh my, very interesting google image search results if you try “Blake Mitchell” with safe search off. Totally work safe! If you work at a brothel specializing in facials!

More shocking revelations to come!