Via the good Doctor, holy shit: Ole Miss stars Greg Hardy and Dexter McCluster got themselves in a car wreck over the weekend that involved open flames:

According to Nutt, another driver pulled out in front of the vehicle Hardy was driving and made contact with the front right tire, pushing it into the engine. Nutt said the vehicle caught fire but the players escaped serious injury.

A likely story (little is known of the Rebs’ “Fear Makes You Fast” offseason conditioning program), but for the moment we’re just glad both guys are up and about and in possession of all their limbs and functions. Next time, Boss Hawg, hire some pros. Those boys should’ve been drunk in a pool somewhere.

Houston Nutt is done at Arkansas, per local news. . More to come…

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How fired is your beleaguered coach? A good question to ask this time of year, especially if you’ve been going to work, doing a shitty job, and losing football games. The current round up of those lining up to meet the vocational grim reaper and their relative metaphorical equivalents follow.

Houston Nutt.

How fired is he? Explosively fired, man. Hmm…if he were an element, he’d be pure sodium. You know, the stuff your friend Todd decided to steal from the chem lab in high school? Because he read it was explosive and whatnot, right? And put it in his back pocket and sat down, removing a clean, sirloin-sized chunk of his buttocks? (Todd was cool like that. Kids with parents in jail typically are.)

Fired? Oh, I’ll make them all pay, I will! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA

Houston Nutt shouldn’t be near any open flame right now. If he were transported on trucks, they’d have to have a special sticker to cross state lines with him, and you’d swerve several lanes over to avoid getting to close to it. Tactical scrutiny has now gotten easier and more common than ever: against Auburn, Darren McFadden received a mere 17 carries without the excuse of being drastically behind, as the Tigers only scored nine points in four quarters. (Tuberville, up by a field goal, decided to protect the lead by running. This is not a joke. He did.)

Most damning is Nutt’s political situation: his protector and sponsor, Frank Broyles, is stepping down as AD after this year, leaving Nutt and an extremely, um…”participatory” fanbase to shake the torches at the gates until he goes, even if they don’t have a clue who’ll take the gig once Boss Hawg is gone. They’ve got planes and shit, man. You can’t fight that.

We just consider it a miracle they didn’t unfurl the banner and unleash the five hundred pounds of malathion they’ve got in the back on the crowd, or weed, or whatever else you know an Arkansas pilot hustles around in a Cessna to make ends meet.

He should go into… Restaurant management. (more…)

Ivan Maisel and company are currently rolling through a weeklong series on the follies of Arkansas athletics, with Maisel turning in his bit on Houston Nutt’s disastrous offseason of FOIA requests, accusations about his personal life, and his struggle with a crack cocaine habit that Whitney Houston called “scary, man.”*

Whitney Houston: could have, in a parallel universe, commented on Houston Nutt’s nonexistent but dramatic crack habit. Rumorz r funn!

At one point, Maisel referred to the tactic of accusing Nutt of cheating on his wife and lying about who he contacted and when as “Rovian,” a reference to Karl Rove, head political adviser for Bush and possible sheepfucker**. Maisel, who himself spends his weekends out of the office doing GOD KNOWS WHAT with local teens***, wrote this:

The innuendo came at no extra charge. Nutt’s detractors have put him in the impossible position of proving a negative — he must have cheated on his wife because there is no proof that he did not.

It is a maneuver borrowed from national politics, Rovian in style and execution.

Fair enough–it’s a page straight out of backwoods politics as played by both parties but perfected by the Lee Atwater school of campaigning, summed up best in Atwater’s famous quip “Let’s strip the bark off this son of a bitch.” (more…)

Blogtoberfest! We’ll let you transfer wherever you want to go, baby.

Brandon Warren cannot play this Division 1 football you speak of, sir. Beginning the long list of things we’d at least like to mention…Bobby Bowden refuses to grant a release of scholarship to TE Brandon Warren, who initially signed on with the Seminoles before flaking out mid-semester and leaving school to take care of his ailing mother.

Google Image: making the symbolism just a bit too easy.

Seminolians claim Warren’s just homesick and dredging up his mother’s illness to excuse himself from his contractual obligations to FSU, all the while convincing the only recruit he was in charge of showing around the campus to make a firm commitment to the University of Tennessee. (more…)

The Cronicas roll on…

Our theory of SEC football scandals involves several stages, outlined below.

First: the spurning! At one point someone pisses someone off about something. This is then aired on a message board, blurted out on talk radio, or vented in a drunken boosters luncheon so virulent it’s spoken of in hushed tones years later.

Second: the infection. The story spreads as people circulate emails from trainers, guys who wash cars for the university spill their innermost secrets (”I saw him calling someone real sneaky-like in the parking lot of his office last night!”) and talk radio begins to hint boldly around the story. That asshole on your message board with an endless well of “insider information” claims to know the real story, which he wishes he could tell you but WHOOO! would that be trouble.

Third: Thermidorian Period. The raging peak of the scandal, where even the coach and administration get too stupid to just shut up and let the lawyers enter the fray for them. We just passed this in the Nutt case last week, where everyone’s issuing fevered press releases (including university car wash guy) and the “inside info” asshole on your board disappears just for effect.

Fourth: Enter the lawyers. The scandal putters out in a succession of frivolous lawsuits, legal proceedings, and increased billable hours for every scheisty lawyer in arms’ reach of the case.

We have officially entered the Fourth Stage of Las Cronicas de Boss Hawg, as John David Terry, bold taxpayer, has filed the first legal salvo in the Houston Nutt Saga by accusing university bigwigs of not adequately investigating the Teresa Prewett emails to Mitch Mustain, the ones showing a grown woman calling a 19 year-old a “fag” and gently suggesting that he transfer from the University.

Mr. “I’m not named Richard Dean Anderson and I still have the gall to use three names” then, after filing the lawsuit, presumably went back to his rustic cabin for lunch.*

*Yes, we’re calling you hillbillies. Because this whole thing makes Arkansas look like bone-sucking, muscadine-wine sippin’, knuckle-dragging goatfuckers. And that’s sad because we come from Tennessee and Florida, two places with similar PR issues. Fortunately, the lawyers are in force now, which means the worst thing you can accuse anyone of now is being overly litigious–this is ouuuuuuuuuurrrrrr counnnnntreeeeee…

Las Cronicas roll on…one suspicious text message at a time…

God bless brainy Michigan men who do the math for us: if you take the total number of text messages Houston Nutt sent to newscaster Diana Bragg over the course of 43 days, you get an average of 24.7 text messages a day. That’s 24.7 text messages to a woman not named “wife.”

Run the hypotheticals of that scenario in your head casting yourself in Boss Hawg’s role and your significant other as the wife NOT receiving 24. 7 texts a day. We imagine it at one point involves getting slapped/run over with car/killed by death, since the only people who text each other that much are:

a.) boss/subordinate engaged in act of making money
b.) kidnapper/relative of kidnappee engaged in donating ransom
c.) Fucker/fuckee
d.) Us/Stranko on a Saturday in the fall.

And you really only want one of those four arrangements to happen involving your sig/other. (Unless you’re role-playing. And if you’re role-playing being Stranko to us with your wife, we’re filing that restraining order now.) Not that we care what Houston Nutt does with whom–we don’t care if your marriage involves watching your spouse screw tasteful American Moderne furniture while wearing a plushie suit, though we would like pictures of that if you’re married to a football coach who likes to do that.

The guideline Nutt should follow is the shit-flinging monkey rule: don’t start a fight with a shit flinging monkey. Very simply put, the people trying to oust Nutt have tools at their hands Nutt can’t possibly have: numbers, relative anonymity, and plenty of free time. By putting out press release after press release, letting anyone and everyone comment on the case, and even addressing the situation, you put a mike in front of the poop-flinging chimps, a crew that includes guys like Pork Rind Jimmy:

Look at that man and tell me you’ll beat him in wasting free time. That beard alone is a hobby requiring hundreds of idle man-hours. We say this because we’re a blogger and know from whence we speak. Stop feeding the trolls, and they will leave, even if you’re scronking a newscaster from Little Rock and texting her exactly 24. 7 times a day. (Cling-AY!) There was another SEC coach in a media fishbowl who was having sex with a woman not his wife once, and he got away with it by doing one thing: shutting the hell up and coaching. A healthy dose of silence killed the story before it grew knees, much less legs.

We have no advice on spammers, though. If someone keeps showing up to Hogs practice with a BUY PHENTERMINE FREE PAIN SEX sign, we’d suggest you run them over with the nearest lawnmower, because that’s precisely what we wish we could do to ours. Die, Russian spammers. You die and go to hell.

Yet another, yes still another chapter in the never ending saga that is…

Up the loco a few more degrees today to a degree we can only describe as plaid. The person who filed the Freedom of Information Act request to examine Houston Nutt’s cell phone records was none other than jilted qb Mitch Mustain himself. Mustain filed the request and included a release to his mother, Beckwith M. Campbell.

That’s a blue chip recruit college quarterback sifting through cell phone records using a piece of legislation usually reserved for uncovering government graft in coordination with his mother because the quarterback was benched after his former high school coach turned college offensive coordinator lost the reins to the offense despite winning their way through the SEC West, an act viewed as deceitful since the hiring of said offensive coordinator was key to blue-chipper committing in the first place to Arkansas despite the head coach saying all along that the hiring was merely coincidental and not a cheap bid to get the recruit into town following a lackluster season that had head coach in hot water with recruits, the sum total of which is this after all the hollerin’ and shoutin’: the coach is still in hot water.

Time to hit the Hawgberry, Don Hawg! Es muy importante! AHORA!

Addendum: Whole Hog Sports, in part of a much longer piece, has this bit of startling info:

In Fort Smith, Bragg’s exhusband requested extra police patrols in her neighborhood after people followed her home and a man drove by her house repeatedly with a video camera. Callers keep ringing her cell phone and hanging up, Russell Bragg said. Sgt. Jarrard Copeland of the Fort Smith Police Department confirmed the patrols.

That’s someone with a video camera hanging around Diana Bragg’s house, presumably to catch Houston Nutt driving over to visit her. Just. Speechless.