Trust me! I’m a public figure.

Politicians as coaches, were we to swap a few out as body or soul doubles with the current slate of candidates.

Houston Nutt=Mike Huckabee. Yes, both are from Arkansas, and both have lost a considerable amount of weight in the past couple of years. Huckabee lost three thousand pounds from his original weight of 3,190 pounds, something that assisted him in debates when his orbital gravity combined with the earth and the sun’s would tear opponents limb from limb in a kind of invisible draw-and-quartering kind of move. Houston Nutt lost the weight of the Razorback Nation riding his back, a force considerably heavier than 3,000 pounds.

The similarities spread (groan, love handle pun): both are paleotypes of their profession: Nutt, a seventies wishbone disciple in disguise who would, if he could, still run Darrell Royal’s baby the way it was intended to be run. (Stubbornly, and with three options on every play,) Huckabee, the unfrozen Huey Long daddy type politician promising to abolish the IRS, put a chicken in every pot, and treat the simplest Department of Transportation meeting as a pulpit moment. Secretly or unsecretly, you suspect both are nice men who are completely and totally batshit crazy, and should not be trusted with anything larger than a Kiwanis Club.

John McCain is Steve Spurrier. They both share the bond of torture, with McCain having endured North Vietnamese custody, and Spurrier coaching under the “supervision” of Daniel Snyder. Neither gives a shit what you fucking think, either. What time is it? Shut the fuck up time, that’s what it is, sonny. Got a ballplay right here to make this all work. Drawn up and in black and white on this here board. Can’t fail, man. Both shared a rough decade in the 70s, power ascendencies during the Reagan era, thrived throughout the nineties, and then had miserable early 2000s. Known for their air games. Also share surviving total fiery disaster as a commonality: McCain on the U.S.S. Forrestal, Spurrier in the 1995 Fiesta Bowl. Superb mouth cannons known for going off at the best and worst of times.

Barack Obama as Jeff Tedford. Whenever you need hope–there he is. Looks the part. Perpetually the option for “change” when it’s time to go for the “change” card. No matter the record, surrounded by sheen of shiny new awesomeness, even if he only has a short Senate tenure/barely beat Air Force in the bowl game. Good on offense, surprisingly suspect on defense at times. Better at the ground game than you might think by reputation. Both work in environments surrounded on all sides by hippies, and both shunned by extremists as compromises on the Mike Gravels/Mike Leaches of the world.

Little-known similarities: both are black, and both rate Lorenzo Lamas’ character in Renegade as their inner idol.

Jim Tressel=Hillary Clinton. Similarities: fondness for outdated fashion. Speaking like an auto-dialer even when addressing people in person. Joyless, even when discussing puppies, balloons, and bouncing happy babies. Have subordinates who fail them killed. (Oil can! Oil can!) Instantly favored in any national competition, evidence and reason be damned. Most vocal supporters like sleeping with women, lifting weights, wearing baggy jeans, and have short hair.

Mitt Romney=Urban Meyer. I will say anything to get you on my team. Anything. I’m recruiting Tim Tebow as a linebacker. I was against amnesty before I was against it. I will take your roommate and your pet chinchilla on scholarship to get you to come here, son. I didn’t not call him during the dead period. I fixed that Olympic thing without letting a single bribery suspect escape. You want the number pi on your jersey? You got it. You want me to make the nation France-istan safe for democracy by invading it, voter? You got it. I plan on starting you immediately. I plan on only being Mormon between the hours of 3 p.m and 7 p.m. every day, and most definitely not in a way that will creep you out as a Christian.

I’m telling you the truth. Just look in my eyes. Mesmerize! MESMERIZE!!!

Make serious political comments in the section below, and we will break out the cattle-killin’ gun and Javier Bardem wig.