COUNTDOWN: 24
“Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.”
August 4, 2008
TEXAS TECH ANGERS PIRATE COMMUNITY
Somali Pirates for Leach.Texas Tech suspends contract negotiations with Mike Leach, whose contractual situation should not be fretted about due to the fact that Mike Leach has two more seasons left on his contract, is avowedly very much wanted in Lubbock, and enjoys a manageable level of expectations year in and year out without the inflation generated for coaches by media markets prone to doing that sort of thing to coaches.
We, for one, want Leach to stay in Lubbock, and for a number of reasons. One, he’s too weird to happily exist anywhere else, a statement that is less a slight on Leach and more a slam on the homely mediocracy of most places in the world that view oddballs like Mike Leach as dangerous men. (”He’s weird, that Mike Leach! Now for a story on how you can save gas, because it’s expensive now! Have you heard about that? What’s up with that?”)
Two, he’s a bottomless well of pirate jokes, and a world of college football humor without the ready spigot of seaborne sodomy jokes is one we don’t want to happen. Three, he conducts interviews from anywhere he pleases, including such scenic sites as fast-food drive-throughs, bathrooms, and the operating rooms where his children are foaled. (”Wait, just a second, I have to cut the cord now…there you go, little Francis Drake Leach.”)
Fourth, he’s great for Oklahoma and Texas, who would be more than happy to see Leach stay, since the ARRRRtist himself is 3-13 against the Big Two of the conference in his Red Raider tenure. Leach will make over $2 million in the last scheduled year of his contract in 2010. If someone wanted to get him, they could; in fact, he’s been downright promiscuous in his job-hunting, a fact neatly obscured by his outsized personality and mind control over the press. (He stumped quietly for the UCLA and Alabama jobs. If you just imagined Mike Leach, Pope of the Crimson Tide, you just had a small stroke, and we apologize for the inconvenience. Seek medical care immediately.)
FULMER CUPDATE: UGA PEES ON YOUR PRESEASON RANKINGS
Please, no peeing here. Signed, Athens.Rankings mean nothing, especially when you’re too drunk to read them clearly. This is all too evident from the Georgia Bulldog’s roll through Athens this weekend, which featured all the requirements of a party done properly following the Bulldogs anointing as the number one team preseason in all the land by the pollsters:
–public urination
–arrest
–someone being cut
–a beer bottle making contact with someone’s head.
–the assault of quality garden-related crockery.
In the defense of the players, being so drunk you can’t talk on the weekend in Athens is not at all unusual, even for your teetotalling correspondent, who almost got into one of the few almost-barfights of his life in Athens. (”Stipe! I’m calling you out, asshole!”) Doing it the weekend before fall practice may not be so great an idea, as sweating out beer in the Africa-hot of the piedmont sounds three doors down from Mark Twight-level training hell, and that’s nowhere we’d want to be.
Points for the incidents are assessed thusly. For Darius Dewberry’s Cool Hand Luke act on a parking machine, one point; for Henson’s public urination and public intoxication charges (which really should be a package deal, since no one besides Bulgarian tourists acquire sober public urination charges–you heard us, Bulgaria!) get him two points.
For all the hoopla in the ATL media over this, that’s a measly three points for Georgia in total, showing once again that living expenses of all sorts are cheaper in college towns. Even your drunken foolishness comes at discount rates.
CAPTION CONTEST; FORM OF GIANT BARWIS-BOT!
Opening suggestions:
–”The five players seen just as they were seconds before crashing through the ceiling and merging into a giant robot.”
–”If you read the hands, it spells out ‘OROOEDB.’”
–”Part of Barwis’ revolutionary training regimen: 98 Degrees-style static posing.”
–”Helmets: the new showercap.”
Leave your own below on this joyous first day of practice, and put on a helmet for Chrissakes.
OHIO, VANGUARD OF CIVILIZATION AGAIN
Ohio State: still using the t-shirt gun, we hope.
From the defender of Western Civilization, the Buckeye State: since 1996 Ohio politicians have spent over $400,000 on Ohio State tickets with campaign money, according to the Chronicle of Higher Education. (Yes, we read the Chronicle of Higher Education. Their swinger personals are the best.)
The superb, spicy, batter-tasty nugget at the core of this is that the practice is written into Ohio campaign finance regulations, indicating that Ohio as a state is so football-mad that state legal code demonstrably takes this into account, and deems the practice as “official use.”
J. Curtis Mayhew, Ohio’s campaign-finance administrator, says the purchases are legal. “There’s no doubt that the statute is pretty lenient with regard to how they can spend their money,” he says. “Really, the big prohibition is on converting it to personal use.”
As long as you’re screaming bloody murder in an alcohol-fueled shitfit in a luxury box in an official sense, it’s perfectly okay. But when it gets personal, that’s when the Feds take notice, sir. As long as the pile of money and gallons of liquor waiting for an official from a potential donor are noted as “expenses” and included in a campaign finance declaration, we’re okay with it. Just hide your autographed Beanie Wells jerseys when the raid begins–the Feds will totally nab it when you’re least expecting it.
STEPHEN AND MATTHEW GET BACK ON THE TEAM
An apartment in Columbia, South Carolina. Stephen Garcia sits on the couch.
Stephen: Fuckin’ Tetrisphere. They don’t make shit like this anymore. Straight N64 pimpage, brah.
Floating Matthew McConoughey: No way, man. (Draws on enormous joint.) Strictly old school for brahs like you and me.
Stephen: It’s like I’m on a trip to Amsterdam on the train and playing Tetris at the same time.
FMM: With some Italian chick rubbing your sack like it was a Coach bag.
Stephen: Bitch, please. Mine’s a certified Fendi. Watch me knock this puzzle shit out with this long piece.
FMM: Double entendre, brah!
Stephen: What the fuck is double entendre?
FMM: Entendre is french for penetration. (more…)
CURIOUS INDEX, 8/4/2008
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Masters of Fulmer Cup Nano-engineering. Georgia continues to add to their total in baby steps. Points to be assessed in an entry later today, but the reported footage of the barfight suggests that the action was fast, furious, and ended the way all barfights should. Peter points the way to archived preseason college football polling records, which after 1985 seemed to firm up in the department of not having unranked teams popping up to steal a national title from the aristocracy of the perpetually ranked. (See: Imaginationland BYU ‘84 team.) The average? The eventual national champion since 1985 was, according to extremely detailed statistical analysis performed by a Georgia Tech graduate, ranked 6.28th. If this proves anything, it proves that the the real lesson here is that the AP’s apartheid-esque policy against decimal points in ranking will only continue to make them look like imbeciles in the long run. (If you would like a more statistically favorable manner of losing your money than gambling on college football’s eventual national champion, we suggest roulette horse racing, or anything else at all besides NASCAR betting, which is even dumber. Better yet, take your money and just send it to us at EDSBS, P.O. Box 281, Noah Brindise Place, Kandahar Afghanistan 28828.) Tony Barnhart is out at the AJC. The south’s best sportswriter, Tony Barnhart, takes the buyout from Cox to leave the paper, no doubt for meatier bones offered by ESPN. Heh RTWT MSM BOO insert other blog cliche here INDEED. Of special interest: Furman Bisher was paid off in his his currency of choice–barter–and Terence Moore was retained, as was Mark Bradley, meaning Atlanta has the brainless two-headed experimental Russian dog of sports columnist we so richly deserve at our terminally-ill daily. Can we invest in someone else’s life insurance policy? Richard Tuitu’u, Arizona’s only experienced tackle, just quit Arizona State’s football team. The combined 22.8 neocortical neurons of Rudy Carpenter’s brain cells just filed a blanket petition for asylum in “the country of wherever men in helmets killing us in huge numbers aren’t, please.” Eat an entire casserole–um, sorry, that’s hot dish–by yourself. Then run sprints up and down your driveway until you vomit. Then have your closest Yanomamo neighbor fire a stinging plug of the powerful hallucinogen ibini up your nose with a blowpipe, and then place a sack full of live, buzzing horseflies on your head. Then, listen to this. Or just listen to it. You could probably get the same effect without all the preceding nonsense…but like Billy Dee Williams and good times without Colt 45…why take the chance? (HT: The Wiz.) |
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