As an eagle-eyed spectator noticed (along with most of the UGA student section, apparently), yes, that young man was indeed peeing in that little room, and no, nobody has any idea what they did with his, er, leavings.

Kentucky, our apologies in advance.

I promise this isn’t a metaphor (and if it were, it wouldn’t be a particularly good one), but I had a nightmare last night involving not being able to open my eyes (and some small woodland creatures, but that’s neither here nor there). I was jarred out of the second one by my phone ringing off the hook, and here’s why:

Janzen Jackson, Michael Edwards and Nu’Keese Richardson, all 18, were charged this morning after an armed robbery attempt at a Pilot station on Cumberland Avenue, according to the Knoxville Police Department.

Each player faces three counts of attempted armed robbery.

Additionally, several news outlets are reporting that it was a semiautomatic PELLET GUN, which is apparently a real thing that exists. And here’s the money shot:

A Volunteer TV News photographer on the scene captured the suspects while they were being identified. At least one of them wore a black University of Tennessee t-shirt with an orange Adidas logo and the phrase “impossible is nothing.”

Honestly, in the first few minutes I was convinced it had to be a perfectly executed joke (I’m reminded of the first time I met Fearless Leader), and then my phone rang again, and again. There’s a weird kind of symmetry to it. Jackson and Richardson had already been in trouble with Kiffykins, though not legal trouble, in the past couple weeks. If it’s true, I hope they’re all three gone by the end of the day, lockers empty and dorm room doors swinging. Richardson and Edwards wouldn’t be missed all that much from this Vawls iteration (minus their strategic value as recruits), but Jackson was praised over and over again as being better than Berry when Berry was his age.

It’s weird. I never thought I’d end up mourning our clean police records, but they’re busted, so the floor is now open for wailing, gnashing of teeth, and outright gloating. Let’s all take a few deep breaths, and—

IF PHIL FULMER WAS STILL HERE THEY’D'VE USED A LOT MORE THAN A PELLET GUN THIS PROGRAM’S GONE SOFT I TELL YOU WHAT.

I feel better already.

41-17. The balletic maestro of the eye gouge says you may have your ball back now.

That leg! That charm! That musical Biblical name! The boys from Gainesville have found an electric new presence, a thunder-legged Legolas lasering long field goals lethally into the nets of Dixie’s toodly-oodliest of football gin joints. No, his name ain’t Ca-LEG, though you certainly think it could be from the way he uses it!

No, it’s CALEB, a moniker sure to be used as the first name of choice for a thousand bouncing babes across the Sunshine State, since the St. Augustine Striker has the state buzzing with the latest fad in Florida football, THE THREE POINT SKIDOO or THREE THE FOOTSKI WAY, a real hoo-dilly more commonly known in the ol’ rule book as “the field goal.”

Sturgis made double sure that the next time he puts on the old glad rags and gets a wiggle on at his local juice joint he’ll be crawling in Shebas by kicking THREE THREE POINT SKIDOOs tonight versus Mississippi State. What say you, nifty gypsy?

Sturgis, the St. Augustine Striker: “I’m glad I can help. I kick them when we can’t score from the five yard line.”

THAT’S RIGHT, YOU BIG SIX. It’s the craze that’s sweeping Florida football, daddy-o, and from the looks of it you’ll have plenty more chances to THREE POINT SKIDOO your way into being Florida’s most copacetic Heisman nominee this year. Dames: “He’s the bees’ knees!” Fellas: “He’s quite a fella!” Offensive coordinator Steve Addazio: HURRRRRRRRRNNNNGGGGGHHHH WHERE’S MAH THINKIN’ STICK HURGGGNNNNNGHHHH

From here at EDSBS Weekly: You’re the bees knees’, Caleb, and your crazy three-point dance has doing the lindy hop trying to keep up! GET HOT, GONE DADDY!!!

Florida’s offense has reduced us to Jazz Age jibberish. We don’t know what’s going on, either, unless the idea was to feature Caleb Sturgis in this year’s offense exclusively.

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Give Urban Meyer a pile of thumbtacks, and the man makes thumbtack salad and chomps down down on it happily.

“We’re game-planning as if there’s a chance Tim could play, and there’s a chance he won’t play,” Meyer said Wednesday morning. “And that’s going to be pretty much the response until the foot hits the ball.”

Ah, Belichick-y. Belichikian. Belichickois. Take the adjective form of your choice, but leveraging the two gameplans and forcing John Chavis to divide his attentions between two divergent strategies certainly salvages some good from the shitty situation of having your star battering-ram/quarterback as a question mark just three days before the most important game on the schedule. New defensive coordinator John Chavis is 4-11 versus Florida; Urban Meyer is 0-2 in Baton Rouge. SOME FORM OF GEOGRAPHICALLY DETERMINED FAIL MUST GIVE HERE.

Run, run, run, run, run. Florida might go even more run-forward than they’ve been to this point, and that says a lot. Florida’s run/pass balance is 175/98 for 2009, and with a quarterback coming off a head injury the urge to get the ball out of Tebow’s hands and into someone else’s with great speed will be imperative. One might even see the long-rumored I-formation surface from the playbook at last. (Gasp!)

Do that. A lot.

Le WildGatorCatHogRebelBone Florida has no shortage of speedsters to plug into the various roles required to run whatever you would call Florida’s variation on the Wildcat: CB Joe Haden, RB Chris Rainey, RB/Human Jet Jeff Demps, RB Emmanuel Moody, and even WR Deonte Thompson could all fill spots in a direct snap, no-pass single wing formation to take impact-heavy run snaps away from Tim Tebow and lean on Florida’s formidable run game.

An innovative nine lineman set. Leaving one eligible receiver in the set and thus protecting Tebow while simplifying his options. Technically legal, though inadvisable unless that one receiver is Aaron Hernandez. If he’s out there you’ll be fine with just one if you throw it high and long enough.

Max protection. Typically Florida loves to go empty set on third down, the same set resulting in the blown protection yielding the sack, the subsequent knee–>head meetup, and the most Illustrious Heismanesque Concussion of the Year not involving Jim Brown and a woman. If Tebow is in the game, your chances of seeing max protection are very, very good, most likely using the H-back and TE to buffer protections on blitzes. And make no mistake: LSU will blitz Tebow if he plays. The empty backfield won’t appear in sets with Tebow much, we’re guessing, and if they do they’ll be motioned into one-back sets

Red No-Contact Jersey. There would be an illegal procedure penalty on the first down of the game, but conditioning is a hard thing to break. Urban myth: red angers defensive linemen. Untrue, since the waving and taunting motions of the quarterback are what actually attract them, not the color.

Pass, pass, pass, pass, pass. On the other hand, another way to protect Tebow might be counter-intuitive: passing like crazy to start. If you can go Texas Tech on LSU–who most likely expects the run-first strategy from Florida–you can get the ball out of Tebow’s hands and away before any harm befalls him. Until Taylor Potts’ concussion last week, Texas Tech’s qbs under Leach had avoided missing any real injury time at all thanks to schemes designed to read and react instantly to defenses. Scott Loeffler certainly has a few routes he can crib from the TT playbook in keeping Tebow squeaky clean and intact if he plays, routes designed to get the ball out, keep the Baby Rhino upright, and keep Florida’s offense humming away one humble nibble at a time against an exploitable LSU defense. (See: Mississippi State’s 374 yards against them.)

This is all dependent on Tebow getting the ball off quickly….one of the factors contributing to this situation to begin with along with a blown protection, a very random collision with a teammate, and an excellent play by a Kentucky defender. If he can’t make the read quickly and get the ball out, then the pass-first approach would really be the total madness skeptics accuse Mike Leach’s very sane logic of being.

Bubble-wrap. It would distract defenders, too, and leave them manically popping bubbles while ballcarriers run untackled up field.

Holly: Rich Rodriguez IS White Goodman IN Dodgeball. Say, did you know Sparty’s chestplate contains actual kevlar? Nice moves, although it won’t save them. RichRod is a smug, entitled bastard, but shoo-law does he have a lot of projectiles in his smug, entitled arsenal. Sometimes the lovable losers win, and sometimes they get their front teeth broken at the gym. (And sometimes the losers ain’t all that lovable. Dantonio, you never call.)

Orson: Michigan State IS Khan IN Star Trek 2: Wrath of Khan. Khan had to have a “XX Years XXX Days XX Hours” clock in his bunker on Ceti Alpha V. You know this to be true, just as you know we could have just as easily cast Dantonio as the flower pot falling from the sky in Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, the reincarnated object killed again and again by Arthur Dent’s unending carelessness. Khan, though, has the right ring in terms of attitude. Michigan State is all effort and survival, but ultimately the lack of experience in three-dimensional combat that Rich Rodriguez’s offense has will doom the Spartans (though like the Enterprise in the film, Michigan will suffer significant damage due to lack of shields.)

Clemson @ Maryland

Orson: Maryland IS Mickey Rourke IN The Wrestler. The last chance we’re giving Maryland to prove it is not just a old broken down piece of meat whose best days are behind them. Unfortunately, the comeback has to happen against Clemson, who isn’t exactly Jon Cena in his prime, but who is certainly at least a Dolph Ziggler unwilling to take the dive for an aging former star working on replacement parts. Maryland is giving up 38 points a game, and the chances they have someone who can keep up with Jacoby Ford and CJ Spller are exactly hell now in neverleven.

Holly: Ralph Friedgen IS Jason IN Jason X: The One Where He’s In Space And Shit. Mother of god, Maryland just will not die. 1-3? Losses to Middle Tennessee and Rutgers? Whatever. They’ll knock off opponents better than them at e-ver-y-thing (Clemson and Wake), lose to the walking dead (Virginia and Duke), and win eight games. Somehow. Just you watch.

#3 Alabama @ Kentucky

Holly: Nick Saban IS The Joker IN The Dark Knight. Anybody wanna see a magic trick?

Orson: Kentucky IS Josh Brolin IN No Country For Old Men. He’ll escape with the money. He’ll run. He’ll make it to hotels with no name and hide the cash well. He will display cunning. There’s a man with a cattle gun on Kentucky’s tail, though, and he does not sleep, pounding oatmeal creme pies in the dark and chasing you all the while. Llewelyn Moss may be crafty, but he is not the grim reaper with a mop top hairdo. Nick Saban is, and the pounding running of Mark Ingram will eventually undo the ‘Cats in the end in a game closer than you might expect, but still one that ends with Verne Lundquist talking about a dream he has about his father while the lonely wind howls in the background.

#4 LSU @ #18 Georgia

Orson: LSU IS That Guy in the White Pants IN Enter the Ninja

Actually, we’re picking LSU in this game, but just wanted an excuse to post that. It’s a day game. Joe Cox is your starting quarterback. The Ginger Ninja’s only enemy is the sun, but she is a mighty one. You lose this game, Georgia, and Florida gets the privilege of attempting to deflate LSU’s bloated four spot in the polls next week. Best Youtube commenter, btw:

That guy went through all 7 stages of dealing with death in only 10 seconds, give the shrug a break! The shrug, by the way, was “Acceptance”

So true. You’ll watch Mark Richt go through all seven in the fourth quarter, btw. Like this:

Shock:

Denial:

Bargaining

Guilt

Anger

Depression

Acceptance

Holly: (Forgive the overabundance of Spielberg you’re about to be subjected to, but I’m trying to liven up what promises to be a largely blah-some slate of games this weekend.)A.J. Green IS E.T. IN E.T.: The Extraterrestrial. Gangly, adorable, and absolutely out of this world. Also starring LSU as scary mercenary types with guns who’ve been cuddlied down for sensitive new audiences. And like anyone with an appreciation for awesome, we liked them much better when we were younger and they were scary.

UCLA @ Stanford

Holly: Andrew Luck IS Lorenzo IN Once Upon A Time In Mexico. “You can ru-un, you can hi-ide, but you can’t escape my FLAMETHROWER.” (Maybe paraphrasing there.) UCLA’s secondary actually allowed Jonathan Crompton to complete a pass or two, so real quarterbacks are gonna have a field day. Luck has 742 yards in four games and a passer rating of 146.42. (Oh, and he’s a freshman. Woe betide Pac-10 secondaries for the next three years or so.)

Orson: UCLA IS Leonardo DiCaprio IN Catch Me If You Can The undefeated Bruins would feel like a total con job if they didn’t have a defense capable of slipping them out of the tightest nooses and onto the next schnook willing to take the bait. Every game for them is going to be like 13-10, and at the end it’s Rick Neuheisel grabbing his expensive, stolen suit jacket and using your credit card to hop the next flight to victorytown. You’ll feel dirty and violated afterwards, but you must respect the hustle.

Washington @ Notre Dame

Orson: Charlie Weis IS Clive Owen IN Children of Men. He’s not making it to the end of the movie, but when Brian Kelly takes the baby Charlie Weis got through the flames and hailing RPG rounds and raises it into manhood and back to some semblance of glory, you’ll remember the man who died in the rowboat to make it happen. Oh, and in this analogy Washington is the guy hit in the face with a car battery in the refugee camp.

Holly: Steve Sarkisian IS Johnny Rico IN Starship Troopers. South Bend is an ugly planet. A bug planet. I could talk about Washington’s top-40 passing offense and Notre Dame’s 106th-ranked passing defense, or Notre Dame’s numbers-y passing offense and Washington’s not-terrible passing defense, and how boring the ground games out of both have looked thus far, but — I’m sorry, we have a caller on the line: It’s Sarky from Buenos Aires, and he says kill ‘em all.

#25 Georgia Tech @ Mississippi State

Holly: Dan Mullen IS Jack-Jack IN The Incredibles. Lookit the widdle bitty baby! What a keyuuuute little JESUS CHRIST HE CAN SPIT FIRE (not very far…yet). It was fun to joke about in the summer, but now it’s getting a little uncomfortable to contemplate: What will this team look like in a couple years? Georgia Tech tried to ruin football for me in that Thursday night Cymbalta Bowl with Miami (”Where does Georgia Tech football hurt? Everywhere. Who does Georgia Tech football hurt? Everyone.”), and they remain unforgiven.

Orson: Georgia Tech IS Jimmy Stewart IN Vertigo. The nightmare that never ends: an ACC team headed to an out-of-conference team they should beat. Should, but won’t, as Dan Mullen takes the three and a half players qualified to run his offense, somehow stretches them into eleven, and ends up outshifting, out-motioning, and outflanking GT’s rickety defense in a shootout featuring the maximum number of misdirections and fakes possible in one game involving two teams this year. At then end, Buzz falls from a tower as Dan Mullen in a nun’s habit rings a cowbell and says “God save us all.” (Watch this one, as it will be “fun,” if not necessarily “skilled.”)

Auburn @ Tennessee

Orson: Auburn IS the invading alien horde IN War of the Worlds. Violent and unstoppable offensively, rampaging all they can see until Gus Malzahn is felled by the simplest of defenses: the virus of Auburn running off every coach they’ve ever had. Additionally, Chris Todd may prove to be susceptible to another potentially fatal infection: a defensive line capable of blowing up some of those slow-developing sweeps and fakes Malzahn uses. A fake handoff is useless when it’s made lying on the turf.

Holly: Chris Todd IS Robert Muldoon IN Jurassic Park. Try to imagine yourself in the Cretaceous Period. You get your first look at this six-foot safety as you enter a clearing. He moves like a bird, lightly, bobbing his head. And you keep still because you think that maybe his visual acuity is based on movement – he’ll lose you if you don’t move. But no, not Eric Berry. You stare at him, and he just stares right back. And that’s when the attack comes. Not from the front, but from the side, from the other d-back you didn’t even know was there:

Clever girl.

#7 USC @ #24 Cal

Holly: Pete Carroll IS Matt Hooper IN Jaws. You always hear about killer sharks, but they’re always in some faraway land, say, Berkeley. And no matter how much you study, and how much you hear of their prowess, you’re never quite emotionally prepared to meet an opponent you can’t necessarily overwhelm on talent alone. (Unless you’re Oregon and you take the novel approach of actually blocking Jahvid Best, but whatevs.) Given the injuries to USC and the fact that Tedford actually needs to win this game, I’m calling it a coin flip but pulling for the sharks.

Orson: Cal IS Dave Attell IN Pootie Tang. I can’t, I just can’t, because you know how this ends: USC stacks the box, dares Kevin Riley to throw, and we end up with a 20-17 game where Cal just misses the lip of the ramp, spins end over end in flames, and Jeff Tedord slams his clipboard to the turf before Pete Carroll gives him a “Wa-da-tai, sa-da-tay” at the midfield handshake.

Oregon destroyed Cal. Even without an operant offense, USC scrapes through this one before losing another improbable and inexcusable game down the road.

#8 Oklahoma @ #17 Miami

Orson: Landry IS Colin Farrell IN Miami Vice . Like his character, he will spend most of the film looking disreputably attractive while throwing easy lines against a tough opponent, your inflated expectations for the film/ the Miami Hurricanes. Like that movie, the chances you will remember anything about this game two months after it happens are small, and like Colin Farrell, Landry will be returned to the back burner in favor of more illustrious leading men.

Holly: Bob Stoops IS Vizzini IN The Princess Bride. Never get involved in a Land Thief war, you say? Miami’s hamstrung sans safeties against even Oklahoma’s backup QB. But it’s Big-Game Bob! But it’s not a BCS bowl, so he should be fine! But Miami’s beaten opponents thought not to be too bad at football at the time of the beating! But who will cover the Sooners’ wonderful downfield toys? Grow up fast, Baby ‘Canes. You’re a lot more fun at your fighting weight.

Beautiful ladies of Kentucky cheer on the team from atop their gorgeous steeds. That came out sounding more salacious than we wanted it to, actually.

The Fox has the following advantages of terrain, behavior, and natural ability. This is a road game, but not like a “Frodo-stepping-into-Mordor” road game. Kentucky is an underrated game environment by definition, largely because no one bothers to rate it in the first place, and because the locals come to the game to socialize, are quite friendly and generous with their bourbon, and do not flinch when you bring a horse into the stadium. For reference: equine seating available on a first-come, first-ride basis. Mucking is provided for a service fee. The University of Kentucky is not responsible for any injury resulting to rider or horse during course of a game. (See case of “Hungry Jared Lorenzen vs. Owners of Neigh, I Say!” Kentucky Civil Court, 837.723.92a, Sec 43 Commonwealth of Kentucky Civil Code.)

Kentucky also has a quarterback who won’t attempt to play outside of himself–we’re looking at you, Jevan Snead–a piece of versatile trouble in the form of wide receiver Randall Cobb, and skilled cornerback Trevard Lindley, who could give Florida fits in the manner Eric Berry did for Tennessee last week. The lines are respectable. The coaching on the offensive side of the ball and at the top are both crusty and wily in a good way. Respect is deserved, most especially coming off a 31-27 rivalry victory over Louisville.

Add in Florida’s outbreak of bacon plague, and Kentucky does enjoy certain natural advantages in this game. Don’t snicker: they do. The only downside to playing a team with the flu is your team getting it afterwards. There’s not enough bleach in the world to make a linemen blowing snot on you for four quarters sanitary.

Natural Advantages the Hunter May Employ Against the Prey. Special teams, first and foremost, the same brick Florida threw in Kentucky’s face early and often in blocking two punts, putting Kentucky out of the game in the first quarter of a game. Second, Florida’s need to bust out offensively, something Urban Meyer has to have harped on this week after watching Steve Addazio do his best impression of Spread Option Mike Debord the past few weeks. (Correction and apology: at least Debord would throw deep.) If Deonte Thompson is healthy enough to run a nine route, a nine route shall be had. If not, you may start seeing some alien names working the wideout spot, including Frankie Hammond, Jr.

The defense should limit Kentucky to their worst production of their season, but watch to see if Wondy Pierre-Louis plays a snap against Randall Cobb due to a mismatch in the nickel package. If Cobb scores a 50 yard TD in this game, it will be because of something Wondy Pierre-Louis did. We would wager infants and gold bullion on this. If you need to find Pierre-Louis, he will be the one celebrating a successful defense of a pass thrown twenty feet over the Florida bench into the stands.

The Fox Will be Subdued in: Three quarters, especially if the flu continues to ravage through the Gators, Tebow continues to find his rhythm (remember, it took him until week four to find stride last year,) and the playcalling continues to resemble a 2004 Big Ten offense thrown into a spread option wrapper. This will not be 63-5, but the talent differential should crush any chance of Kentucky surprising Florida with the UFIA of an upset. (Read this on Sunday for fun when Florida turns the ball over eight times in a 27-24 Kentucky victory for fun!) More important for Florida will be a consistent and complete performance, something need to put together in a conference game with a quickness.

Orson: Coach Meyer?

EDSBS: Thanks for joining us Coach Meyer. We want to start with a simple question: given the lackluster performance in the Tennessee game and the resulting ennui in the week after the game, and the shortcomings at receiver, and the mild panic over the offense’s lack of production…

…and the possibility that the transition from Dan Mullen to Steve Addazio at offensive coordinator has robbed the Florida offense of much of its creativity, and the swine flu currently plowing its way through the roster, the nagging case of Achilles tendonitis making Brandon Spikes doubtful combined with the hamstring injury to Deonte Thompson, the possible overreliance on Tim Tebow in the run game…

…the ongoing letdown vibe from only beating Tennessee by ten points, the long trip to Lexington, the continuing improvement of Kentucky from basement dweller to consistent bowl team, the notion that Kentucky is going to give us the best shot they’re going to give anyone this year, the presence of outstanding cornerback Trevard Lindley on the edge for the Wildcats, the foreboding example of USC losing to Washington last week,

…and all the other factors going into this game, are you concerned about a possible upset on the road for a number one team with plenty of issues of its own to work out on the road against a conference rival, Coach Meyer?

Urban Meyer: No.

Orson: Thanks for your time, coach.

Urban Meyer is a championship scowler and the coach of the Florida Gators, the current number one college football team in the nation. They play Kentucky this Saturday.

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It’s Tennessee/Florida, and therefore creeping death time. We’ll be all but useless for the next three hours at least, but feel free to make coherent and incoherent comments below.

So let it be written
So let it be done
I’m sent here by the chosen one
So let it be written
So let it be done
To kill the first born pharaoh’s son
I’m creeping death

Substitute “the defensive coordinator’s son” and it’s perfect. Inshallah, we shall see you covered in glory and the blood of the enemy on the other side.

#11 Ohio State @ Toledo

Holly: Aaron Opelt IS The Brave Little Toaster IN The Brave Little Toaster. The toast (sorry) of the MAC brings his flingin’ arm up against its first real defensive test of the year. Will the Buckeyes rebound from last week’s debacle when faced with a team that should by all rights be an easy target? Hayll, no. Toledo will cover that unconscionable 20.5 line at the very least, and in fact, let’s pick them to win outright, because they’re named “Rockets” and because if I picked against them, Toledo fans wouldn’t send me poorly veiled and spellchecked death threats. Got a long car trip this afteroon, and I’ll need the entertainment.

Can that guy play linebacker? (And does the Brave Little Toaster die at the end? I forget.

Tennessee @ #1 Florida

Orson: Brandon Spikes IS the County Assessor in DON’T EVER FUCK WITH THE COUNTY ASSESSOR BITCH. You know who’s been teeny eeny weeny mouse quiet? THE COUNTY ASSESSOR BITCH. Brandon Spikes hasn’t said anything all week, but his presence in shutting down the Tennessee run game will mean mo’ Crompton, and mo’ Crompton means mo’ interceptions, since he has thrown many more interceptions than one should as a college quarterback. The County Assessor will decide what real estate you can afford, Mr. Crompton. Considering your credit rating, it looks like you can afford nothing in the ZIP code of 32601.

Holly: Lane Kiffin IS Chuck Barris IN Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. Is any of it true? Who cares; we’re just here for the spectacle and the stories. Giant motherfucking catfish rains down the sky, Nick Reveiz racks up thirty tackles, Boo Berry breaks the NCAA career interception yardage record on the road in Gainesville and Tennessee returns to the Motherland victorious by a score of a billionteen to six. (What the hell were you expecting?)

#3 USC @ Washington

Holly: Steve Sarkisian IS Luke Skywalker IN A New Hope. Bratty early Luke who just wants to pick up some power converters. Yoda’s coming to YOUR swamp now, Sarky, and he likes your moves but you’re still Washington. Trojans, but a close enough game to send the Huskies to the locker room with the cuddly moral victory.

Orson: USC IS Martin Blank IN Gross Pointe Blank. It’s not me, says Pete Carroll, as he plugs three in the head of Washington at close range. Even friends get it if the name’s on the contract, Steve BLAM! /picksupdiscovermagazine /readsidly

Tulsa @ #12 Oklahoma

Todd Graham IS Patrick Bateman IN American Psycho . Up the coaching ladder no matter the cost, even if he had to stab people to get an incremental jump from Rice to Tulsa (the equivalent of strangling a co-worker for a promotion from assistant general manager to senior assistant general manager.) Now looking around and noticing the subtle bone-white of other people’s business cards, and sensing the sudden hollow cheapness of his world. I’m not saying he flexes in the mirror while filming his own sexual encounters. I’m saying he flexes in the mirror and screams “Yeah, Todd!” while filming his own sexual encounters. Two entirely different things. (This means Tulsa loses, btw.)

Holly: Bob Stoops IS Dana Marschz IN Hamlet 2. Completely and cheerfully divorced from reality. Look, it’s entirely beyond possible that I’m not coming back from this weekend alive, so let’s really live and call the upset here as well. Is it really an upset without Sam Bradford? Vegas seems to think so, setting the line at 17.5. Is that even going to be an issue with the departure of Gus Malzahn? What the hell, we’re about to find out. The Golden Hurricane (oooh, singular MLS-style name, edgy!) has torn up two previous (and bad) opponents by a combined score of 81-23. This is only slightly larger than Oklahoma’s last margin of victory at their previous meeting.

#19 Nebraska @ #13 Virginia Tech

Holly: Urban Meyer IS Rosie Perez IN Do The Right Thing. With a gun to my head and Diamonique Cold Meyer at the other end of it, I could not come up with a game I have less interest in watching than this one. Can I pick the West Virginia game instead? Because speaking of Malzahn, he’s about to bitchmake Bill Stewart at Auburn in primetime like the bitch Bill Stewart is.

Orson: Bo Pelini IS Alex Baldwin IN The Bear. The Bear’s antagonist–a bear–all too perfectly sums up what it’s like to play Virginia Tech, a huge, mean animal that, if you have one or two well-aimed bullets, can be killed nine times out of ten. Nebraska has a few of those in the form of an actual offense, something Virginia Tech continues to innovatively play football without. Close, as BEAMERBALL (TM) tends to be, but ultimately leaning towards the Cornhuskers.

Michigan State @ Notre Dame

Orson: Golden Tate IS Pele IN Victory. Notre Dame will go down early to the Spartans. Defeat will be in the air. Doom will tunnel up through the locker room at halftime and beckon the Irish to follow them to a season of bailing right nastily on Weis, but then everyone will remember that no one can cover Golden Tate, and that Charlie Weis should just go back to the four play “Toss-Draw-Deep ball-crossing pattern” offense they’ve been running since halfway through last year, and then it’s Dantonio Face time for the entire second half. Victoire! Victoire! Victoire! It will be just like the end of Victory, except for the raunchy sex with the locals, since that will get you kicked out of school if you do it in the wrong places in South Bend.

Holly: Tate Forcier IS Pete IN Pete’s Dragon, with a special guest appearance by Rich Rodriguez as HOLY SHIT A DRAGON. If we were even keeping track of our scores week to week, I would be logic-bound to take the Irish. We are not, and I am not, and though that one Domer troll has mysteriously disappeared since The Recent Unpleasantness, this is kind of a fun habit. Dantonio over Weis in a surl-off, and Spartans over Irish out of uncut Colombian spite. (I’m sorry, Harrison Smith. Forgive me, Golden Tate. It’s Hate Week, and it’s leaking everywhere.)

Navy @ Pitt

Holly: Dave Wannstedt IS David Spritz IN The Weather Man. Navy and Miami were my ‘09 BCS sleeper picks. The Baby ‘Canes are acquitting themselves quite nicely, but Navy took a heartbreaker of a haymaker early in Columbus before righting the ship against a not-awful Louisiana Tech team. And if anyone’s prepared to deliver a loss when he shouldn’t, it’s the Wannstache. Make it happen, Pitt Kitties.

Orson: Ken Niumatololo IS The Wolf IN Pulp Fiction. I have a mess, Ken. A huge one, since I’m now in week three of Wannstache Upset Alert, and have zero to show for it save for this tripled-down bet on Dave Wannstedt doing what comes naturally to him: blowing a game against inferior competition. I’ll make you coffee, whatever you need, man. Just clean up the dead bodies a suddenly consistent Pitt team keeps leaving in my car. Buffalo’s brains are all over the backseat.

Florida State @ #7 BYU

Bronco Mendenhall IS Kirk Douglas IN Spartacus. Running from the hills to terrorize an old empire wearing nothing but a spear and a jock strap. Okay, more than that, since these are Mormons, but remember two key plot points:

1. Spartacus rips Rome a new one, and

2. He ends up dead in the end.

But but but but BYU is a BCS buster and beat Oklahoma and THAT’S JUST WHAT COLLEGE FOOTBALL WOULD WANT YOU TO THINK. The patron god of this sport is Loki, and he’s telling you that mischief would be a tattered, tottering FSU team rolling into Provo and beating BYU. Mischief, he will have.

Holly: Bobby Bowden IS Theoden IN LOTR: The Two Towers. Not a whisper of an upset here. With a defense that’s as somnambulant as Bowden The Elder himself, and Max Hall in his third year flashing 325 passing yards, this will be over fast, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be pretty.

#23 Georgia @ Arkansas

Holly: Mark Richt IS Edmond IN Edmond. Which is more to be feared? Evil Richt with a chip-shouldered, something-to-prove team or Bobby Petrino leading a squad of indeterminate quality? Depends, are we playing football? Georgia, but not without a few scares.

Orson: Bobby Petrino AS Willard IN Willard Actually, I just wanted to imagine Petrino as the king of Rats. (No reason! We swear!) Remember what happens when SEC East teams go to the West? Horrible, terrible, unpredictable things, for the most part, especially against an improving Arkansas squad. Holly says “scares;” we say “hordes of rats devouring Joe Cox.” Arkansas gets its first big scalp in the Petrino era in a shootout.

Texas Tech @ #2 Texas

Holly: Will Muschamp IS Ben Wade IN 3:10 to Yuma. Say, did you know these two teams have a history? Because it seemed very important last night in the midst of an actual football game being played on television at that moment that concerned neither Texas nor Texas Tech that we know Texas Tech and Texas have met before! I wonder how that turned out? Anybody hear? I’ll take a jittery McCoy over an unfinished Potts, though if he hadn’t gone and shaved his beard this would be a treacherous pick.

Orson: Taylor Potts IS Hudson IN Aliens. You want some Texas defense! (Discharges 5 TDs in a noble loss.) HUH BITCH? (Fires seventy passes constantly throwing until the final whistle.) Oh, now you want some? (Scanning for open receivers, sees none, tries to buy time.) IS THAT ALL YOU GOT? (Fires off fifteen yard completion as he his eaten and killed by Sergio Kindle.)

1. Catfish are wily. You know why some catfish grow to be a godzillion feet long under riverbanks, undisturbed for decades on end? Because they’re clever motherfuckers, that’s why. Won’t win any Academic All-American honors, but the catfish’s ability to quickly and accurately distinguish between friend and foe would prevent situations like, say, staring down and throwing directly to a UCLA cornerback when there’s a wide-open receiver ten goddamn yards away.

2. The physicality of a catfish is ideally suited to the Tennessee offense. We’re not asking for much this year. We have a stable of fine tailbacks, a depleted receiving corps, and a talented but overwhelmingly injured offensive line.   All Tennessee needs out of its quarterback is a marked lack of fuck-uppery, and we’ll be golden.  The large lower fins of the catfish are ideal for handoffs, and its lack of fingers will provide an added layer of security to the center exchange, something our current (5th-year) (D-IA) (starting) signal-caller has been apparently unable to master.  Additionally, the catfish’s long and sensitive whiskers will serve as ideal tools for detecting the pass rush.

3.  Even the physical limitations of starting a large fish at quarterback can be turned to Tennessee’s advantage. With no arms to speak of, the catfish cannot throw, but nor can he attempt to wing the ball behind him mid-sack like he’s motherfucking Joe Montana. Joe Montana, Jonathan Crompton is not. Nor is a catfish, but at least the catfish knows this.

4.  Catfish are a renewable resource. With the aforementioned O-Line woes, having a readily replaceable presence under center makes sense, in a conservative old-guard way sure to be appreciated by the Volunteer faithful.

5. Failing all else, catfish are delicious. If Saturday goes ill, no one would think twice about gutting, filleting, battering, and deep-frying a fish. Doing the same to humans is generally frowned upon.*

*unless in Baton Rouge, and no, we don’t play them this year.

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PAID FOR BY The Orange Citizens For Catfish Quarterbacking Trust: Because you can’t teach football smarts, and you can’t fix football stupids.

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