In our Sporting News column this week, we forgot about Texas, which is okay because the poll’s supposed to be a prime example of how NOT to put your poll together, something most commenters seemed to grok. In apology, though, we offer five of the finest songs about Texas ever written. We messed with you, Texas–lo siento. We blame our mock top 25, which sucks just as much as anyone else’s.

Waylon Jennings: “Luckenbach, Texas.”

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I say! That schedule is positively brutal!

John Adams from the Knoxville News Sentinel played an important role in the founding of our country, and we thank him for that. (Mad daps to you from us for your refusal to pay bribes to Talleyrand in the XYZ affair; “filth in silk stockings,” indeed!) He also moonlights in the afterlife by writing columns on Tennessee football. While we appreciate the statesman’s right to do anything he likes in his now two-centuries-long retirement, we humbly suggest he is the one wearing silk stocking in most ladylike fashion, as he’s suggesting the SEC change its traditional scheduling because it’s “hard.”

In UT’s dreadful 5-6 season of 2005, you could fill a book with all that went wrong.

The SEC is supposed to be tough. It doesn’t have to be that tough.

And in that span of impossible scheduling, the SEC has won two BCS titles (”THREE!” says an Auburn fan from a plush bunker in Southern Alabama), reaped the largest profits of any conference in the nation, posted an impressive mark in bowl games, handily held up its end of a fat television partnership with CBS, and launched its own space program. (See: Ohio State, successfully shot into space twice.) Adams’ sole rationale for even proposing a changed schedule is that Tennessee hasn’t performed well in the 21st century, even though they made the conference title game last year. (?)

Adams clearly is onto something here, since even conservative schedulers like Georgia and Florida are putting babies like, er…Arizona State and Miami back on the schedule? We must respectfully disagree with our founding father here, since the move in the SEC seems to be not toward mitigating the bearish schedules, but diving facefirst into the woodchipper. If you don’t make it, the results are swift and gory; but jam the machine up with your well-hardened skull and you’ll sail though just fine. Tennessee doesn’t need an easier schedule: it needs more Eric Berrys on both sides of the ball, and you know, if you rob a government lab or two, you’re sure to find them. (Hint: look under the “Universal Soldier” tab under “Berry, Unstoppable Badass.”)

Why does John Adams fear competition? WHY DOES HE HATE AMERICA WHEN HE HELPED BUILD IT?

(PS. Under his plan, Auburn/UGA would cease to be a yearly matchup. See? He does hate America.)

Gator alum Lieutenant Boyles standing in front of the King’s Palace in Kabul, Afghanistan, 2007. Take a moment today to appreciate the rough men (and women) who allow you to sleep peaceably in your bed at night.

Happy Memorial Day to you all, and to everyone in uniform overseas. ONE HUNDRED COCKTAILS to you all.

You might not want to check this at work, or at home, or at any place in the known universe. Why? Because human skin begins to burn at 140 degrees fahrenheit and ignites somewhere around 1600 degrees, and this collection of cheesecake photos far, far exceeds the capacity of mortal men to handle them properly. In fact, we don’t even know what they look like because we’ve only heard the lore of their hotness secondhand; we fear their heat, an intense warmth we feel typing this from seven computers removed from the xenon-cooled hard drive where the files sit.

You are warned and aware of the dangers. Proceed only under the understanding that you act of your own volition and understand that EDSBS bears no liability in the matter.

With that, proceed. Good luck, soldier.

Marisa Miller Cheesecake. Visible femoral arteries roaaaarrrrgggh.

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Monday’s Curious Index contained an item referring to the Kent State Golden Flashes as “the stupidest team name in Division I football.” The Kent State Golden Flashes is, in fact, the stupidest name for anything, ever. We regret the error.

Thursday we posted a video we claimed was Matthew Stafford doing a keg stand. We clearly misidentified him here.

We regret the error.

A Wednesday night news bulletin showed video footage of obliterated dock pilings on Alabama’s Lake Martin, and attributed the collapse to “flash flooding”. The cause of damage has since been identified as “Auburn University’s offensive line.” We regret the error.

On Monday, we labeled the 1971 Nebraska/Oklahoma game as the “Game of the Century.” This was inaccurate, as the universally recognized “Game of the Century” was the 2004 Colorado/Colorado State game, where Bradlee “Dr. Kannenpeniz” Van Pelt, a.k.a. the Banging Dutchman, (more…)

On Finebaum yesterday. We use a ton of UM AHs.

Jack Mildren, Oklahoma wishbone genius qb, died on Thursday at the age of 58. In addition to being one of the savviest wishbone qbs ever to fake, run, and then pull up for an option pass, Mildren also served as the lieutenant governor of Oklahoma, worked as the vice-chairman of a local bank, and maintained a spot doing talk radio in Oklahoma. (You haven’t even answered all your emails today, have you?)

See the footage below for a taste of Mildren’s brilliant captaincy of the ‘bone against a hapless Oklahoma State team, a clue of the reads and on-field brainbrawn that got Oklahoma 472.4 yards rushing per game in 1971, a standing record in the NCAA’s books.

R.I.P, Jack.

I want a playoff! Dammit, how else you gonna find out who the best team if we just, you know, all sit around at the end of the season and stare at each other’s asses like a bunch of Roman bathers? Let ‘em play. I’m tired of this.

ROAR! PLAYOFF!

I also want a simple phone bill. You used to just get a bill, and there was an amount, and you paid it to Ma Bell. Now there’s numbers, and more numbers, and a lot of the time it’s the same number all over the place. Just tell me what I owe! I make four phone calls a month! The rest I do by post, just like ya should if you really care. The wax seal tells them you mean what you’re saying. Mine’s a minotaur with a lion on its back. That’s how you know if it’s Joe.

I also wish men and women had more conventional roles, you know? I have to talk to mothers like they’re fathers, and fathers like they’re mothers, and to the kids like they’re men. In my world women worked at home, men wore short ties, and gay men worked retail or in the theater. I know I’m old, but it’s not too much to ask for when I want a gay guy to tell me if my shirt looks good. They know better than we do. It’s because of an extra gland they have in their neck.

You know what I like, though? Velcro. Everything just comes on and off now. I can put a pair of slacks on in three seconds now thanks to these custom slacks with velcro seams. Hey, I see that look on your face. That’s between me and Sue, though I’ll tell you: I’d probably tear a rotator cuff trying to pull a fancy exotic dancer move like that. I do everything slow these days.