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Okay, being the premiere football program of the decade may not be all humdrum excellence and hourly romps with ruthlessly waxed, polymorphously perverse and willing sex partners. There are thrilling, unpredictable things happening on the field, and one of them is sophomore cornerback Shareece Wright, one of our nominees for Concussion Farmer of the Year thus far.

We’re not saying he hit him in bounds, or even hit him in a legal or intelligent way. We’re not even saying he didn’t hit him off the bench, actually–judging from the video, Wright could have been chugging down a blueberry and asskicking excellence flavored protein shake on the sidelines at the start of the play and then rushed over to hit Locker, for all we can tell.

However, he did hit him really, really, really hard, and it certainly looked awesome enough.(Rules be damned!) Get him to pay attention to the white lines on the field and stop attempting to become the second coming of Kevin Everett by leading with the helmet as he’s wont to do, and we’ll be talking hot magical pain pancakes in cleats here. They don’t hand out new spinal cords, you know, though they do sell slightly used ones in Tijuana.

You’re going to watch it, anyway, you sick, sick person. However, like the informed observer you are, you’re going to watch and enjoy it thanks to our list of eight totally true things, since you’ve already decided not to go to the gym, spend time with your significant other, or remain sober tonight. Good for you, trooper!

Why, yes, they’re leaking right now, thank you very much.

8. Dennis Franchione is under so much pressure his teats leak condensed milk constantly. (This usually requires some firm pressure with a gloved hand. Food safety starts with you!)

7. Up to fifty thousand people to attend, the second largest gathering that night in Miami and the largest not involving muscular chickens with razors strapped to their ankles. Wait, there’s a Mets/Marlins game? Okay, third largest, and second largest without the death chickens, okay?

6. Stephen McGee, dual threat quarterback, finally embodies all that A&M fans truly want in a quarterback: tough, fast, able to run the option, and white.

5. Aggie Corps of Cadets could be mistaken for immigration officials, causing thousands in stands to flee in panic.

4. Aggie Corps of Cadets could be mistaken for DEA officers, causing thousands in stands to flee in panic.

3. Aggie Corps of Cadets could be mistaken for Russian Tax Police, causing thousands in stands to flee in panic.

2. Kyle Wright is starting tonight, and will save the groundskeeping crew time and effort by trimming the grass one underthrown ball at a time.

1. 270 pound Jorvorskie Lane will score a diving touchdown. Sadly, the impact will shatter the limestone bedrock of Miami, spoiling the Florida Aquifer and making the city unsafe for human habitation. Unsurprisingly, no one living in Miami will notice this.

It’s Hate week 3.0 on EDSBS, meaning that we play Tennessee on Saturday, and can’t sleep for the bloodrage we’re working up prior to the game. Join us and make INGSOC triumphant.

We give you chapter two of the Chairman’s manual with Reasons 1-25 Florida Rules and Tennessee Sucks Forever. Because they do, indeed, suck forever, sometimes as a football team, sometimes as a state, but most pleasingly to the Florida fan, when they suck together all at the same time in one sorrowful, audible slurp.

1. Tennessee is shaped like a parallelogram. Florida, however, is “America’s Wang.” And where would America be without its wang?

2. Florida great Steve Spurrier is a Volunteer State exile (Johnson City), meaning that the greatest coach ever born in Tennessee ran screaming from it the first chance he got, and never came back. There’s no humor there. It just really sucks for you, Vol fan, and makes us warm and happy inside.

3. Even after thirty years of government interdiction, Florida’s still putting the yayo on your glass coffee tables in piles, America. You’re welcome (sniff).

4. We gave you Creed in order to make you feel good about your own life in a fun way, as in “I’m not Scott Stapp, and that’s great, really.” Nashville gives you music to help you justify your sad, tobacco-stained penniless existence, prole…um, we mean ain’t it great scraping by on 22K with three kids in a place with terrible public schools! WOOOO!!! VOTE PAPPY FOR GUVNAH!!!

5. Our coach has won a championship in the 21st century. (more…)

Dear Michigan fans,

We have no words of comfort. For comfort, go to mom, or better yet, Oprah. Or better yet, fire your motherfucking coach once the nadir turns into the midpoint when you lose to Michigan State by thirty, or (Jebus forbid!) Notre Dame next week, or to whomever else would snap the creaky back of the Carr Administration at this point. You’ll still suck, but you’ll have cut off someone’s head–and coachblood makes the wounded fan’s heart sing every time.

Instead of comfort, we focus on one seemingly cosmetic but terribly important thing. We watched the Oregon game, hoping to be that Oprah type person: rooting for the downtrodden, pulling for the wounded little meerkat, you know, falling prey to our national genetic predilection for the underdog/comeback kid. And for an instant we were there, until we saw this:

!!!!

This would be less appalling if it were alumni…but STUDENTS JINGLING KEYS? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Young, healthy people with clean, fully-functioning lungs JINGLING KEYS TO MAKE NOISE!!!! My god, why don’t you hire Salvadorans to come yell for you? Or better still, they could just come in and cheer for you while you watch the game in the parking lot in peace and quiet and save you the trouble of screaming “DOWN IN FRONT!!!” (Because that would hurt your lungs, wouldn’t it?)

Yes, this is coming from a boorish, decorum-free SEC fan whose fellow fans bring cowbells to games and set off seismometers at the geology department during games in between handing out sociology and leisure management degrees to illiterate, well-muscled athletes. It is also directed at a school in a conference where some schools actually cheer their asses off and force teams into penalties with crowd noise. And some Michigan fans have been railing about this for way, way longer than we have.

Don’t blame the architecture either. Instead, scream. At this point, you should be screaming, anyway. Who cares if it’s at your coach? Notre Dame doesn’t have to know that. This is football. Blood. Screaming. Tribal violence. Bizarre rites and rituals. Put away the keys. Pick up the torches. Less Roman, more Vandal, dammit!

The full–and we mean really, really full–Fulmer Cup report comes later today. But we must pre-empt and give you this amuse bouche from the blotter in South Bend, Indiana, where there actually are prostitutes.

Derrell Hand, 20, a University of Notre Dame defensive end/nose tackle, was arrested and jailed Thursday afternoon for allegedly propositioning a prostitute.

Hand, who was suspended indefinitely from the team Friday, was released from the St. Joseph County Jail on $250 bond Thursday.

Go pimp one for the gipper, nurse. He’s fading.

Hand was picked up as part of a sting operation by the South Bend police department. His defense should be that he merely speaks like that to not only every woman he meets, but every man, as well, as part of an undiagnosed Tourette’s tic.

Judge: How do you plead, defendant?

Hand: Whateva, trick, fat dick that’s sick gotta spit one quick before I flip. How much?

We’d call it Irvin syndrome if we hadn’t cried like a pussy watching the Playmaker get inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame and ask his wife and kids for forgiveness for being a less than perfect father. (Sniff.) Hand should just go ahead, transfer to BYU, get a DWC in Provo, and therefore unify the “inadvisable crime to commit at religious college” title belts.

“I feel like I just crapped a pineapple”–those were the words of Ronald Reagan after pushing through a particularly contentious piece of legislation in his first term, and they reflect our own feelings as the Tennessee Volunteers finally grace the Fulmer Cup with their esteemed presence.

We’ll open the bidding with a question: what’s hard, made of cocaine, and looks like crack and was found on the dashboard of walk-on Tennessee football player and rhymes with crack? If you said crack, you’re obviously a felon. Turn yourself in now. If you do it in Knoxville, you might share a bunk with Justin Jackson, who can now look forward to being sexed by inmate Barry and his delightful selections of homemade toilet wine.

It’s crack. It gets you high.

Tennessee football walk-on Justin Jackson has been dismissed from the team after he was arrested on charges of selling crack cocaine, university officials said Thursday.

He sells cocaine! Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-kaayeaahhaawwwww!!! Phil Fulmer, who is very, very fat, has kicked Jackson off the team, a punishment Urban Meyer described as “harsh.” For actual selling of motherfucking holy shit CRACK, the Tennessee Vols will receive 3 points for selling narcotics and one point for the longstanding crack bonus. (Crack always gets a bonus point, because crack is…crack, worthy of a point unto itself.) He also got a generic weed charge, tacking two points on for a total of six points in all for the Vols.

Not enough to even get them on the big board amidst this year’s stiff competition, but enough to make us feel like the world is close to spinning on its correct axis. We feel like we just woke up to the promise of a new day, as if the universe were made suddenly whole and right in a single act. (Exhale.) We would like to ask you to join us by standing up in your office chair right now, clicking the jump, and engage in an office dance party to celebrate the circle of life, and deliver an important anti-drug message, too. Remember, people: you don’t have to smoke crack to have a good time. (more…)

This video is from the Alabama Senate. The question is which one went to Bama and which to Auburn?

Countless Africans really are wandering the streets of Lagos and Lome wearing “USC: BACK 2 BACK CHAMPIONS!!!” and “BRADY QUINN: HEISMANTASTIC!!!” t-shirts. Or at least we like to think so after reading about how hypothetical merchandise like “Buffalo Bills: Super Bowl Champs” tees and hats wind their way down the supply chain and onto the backs of Malian herdsmen.

An eagle-eyed reader saved one such example of neverwas memorabilia for us, however, and sent it post-haste to the Swindle Reptile Farm on Highway 78. The taste is a bit fresher on this one, however, and endlessly sweet for us.

Busted Memorabilia presents: the “Make Florida an Urban Myth” t-shirt.

The front:

Available in brilliant scarlet.

The back: (more…)

It’s one of the most magical times of the year: you wake up, and there’s just a hint of summer in the air. The bees buzz, the birds warble…perhaps you hack up a thick ball of pollen-encrusted mucus, if you’re fortunate enough to live in an allergen hell like Atlanta.

And then, the children run down the street, clutching white papers with baby blue print on the letterhead: THE APR’S OUT! THE APR’s OUT!!!

Jump for joy, piglet! The APR’s out!

The NCAA’s attempt to quantify the reconciliation of athletics and academics did indeed come out yesterday, and it lives up to its reputation again as being one of the sternest, least forgiving gauges of academic performance in small schools never hoping to even play in a bowl game or sell a single piece of NCAA merchandise. The letters stand for Academic Progress Rate, but we can substitute any number of better source words for the acronym APR:

Abstruse Pedantic Ruse

Auburn? Pretty Ridiculous.

Athletes Placed in Remedials

Annual Pipsqueak Reaming

The last one is particularly apt. The schools receiving the most serious scholarship penalties and Myles Brand finger-wagging all come from college sport’s Christmas Islands: Northern Arizona University, Texas Southern, Tennessee-Chattanooga, San Jose State…and most snidely, HBCUs and schools affected by Hurricane Katrina. (Myles Brand doesn’t care about black people! ) Oh, and FIU and Georgia Southern. Those puppies got kicked, too. (more…)