It’s like that now. Because it is Friday, and it is Atlanta, and you need to get the hump out of your back now:

They’re not often quotable, but when they are d-linemen are the most quotatious. Gerald McCoy, Oklahoma defensive line behemoth, has the ideal solution for Texas Tech’s habit of throwing tortillas on the field during games.

“They throw tortillas?” McCoy said. “They better not throw me one. I’ll be hungry. I’ll eat it.”

“They need to throw chicken,” he said. “Hey, if they threw fried chicken — shoot, I’ll provoke ‘em on purpose. Aaahhh! Chomp!”

Figuring out the exact spelling of this and whether it complied with the AP Stylebook had to consume at least three minutes of human existence they will never, ever get back. We would judge, but we have to go blow 45 minutes playing Miami Shark now. That is a glorious waste of time, much like watching OK State’s third-string qb Brandon Weeden come off the bench and shred Colorado in the second half of a 31-28 victory in Stillwater. Colorado lead 21-10, but they are Colorado under Dan Hawkins, and thus refunded the lead promptly and efficiently without Mike Gundy having to get all ornery and demanding to see a manager.

Emmanuel Moody out for inconsequential blowout. Moody is out for the FIU game, which would matter if it weren’t Florida International, the cheese-eating multilateralists who claim to represent Florida to the world. When Florida invades Cuba without consulting the United States first in 2013, let’s see where your “diplomacy” is then, eh? < ----seriously Brandon Spikes and Channing Crowder are going down there with a boat full of beer, flare guns, and toilet paper. Should take four days before they are crowned co-consuls of the island.

Present dick turns out to be past dick. Mark Mangino almost got fired 20 years ago from his job coaching high school ball in Pennsylvania for being a profane, abrasive dick, just as he’s being pushed out at Kansas for being a profane, abrasive dick. Rock Chalk Talk thinks it’s merely a matter of time for Mangino’s departure, while Scipio Tex reminds you that “winning is always a sweet cologne on the nastiest funk. Or, in short: he’s fired unless they beat Texas this weekend, and then we’ll think about taking you back, Ike. Um, Mark.

The week, summarized in ALL CAPS: Sports Meme Rankings are up at SBNation. Read them. Love them.

Condolences. Stefanie Spielman, RIP. Donate in her memory here.

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.

Dollar signs. He’s going to Venus. He’s leaving today (or at the end of the season.)

Now that Mark Mangino can now be mocked not for his weight but instead for his serious anger management problem, the digging into the “pattern of behavior” has begun and yielded the richest of all foods, the Time Mark Mangino Tore A New Asshole For A Student Parking Enforcement Officer At A Loading Dock.

I told him this wasn’t relevant to this ticket and he said “This job gives you power, doesn’t it? You feel real fucking powerful walking around like a big shot…He got back in his car eventually, “You just don’t like talking to me because I’m ethnic, just because I talk with my hands.” He then went on to tell me how important he was to this university and how he doesn’t have time to spend dealing with this crap.

The PDF is gripping reading, and more legibly and sensibly written than the column Jason Whitlock filed on the subject. (Mangino’ fatness is crushing his soul, which is heating up beneath the pressure and spilling out in volcanic bursts of rage. Geologically interesting. Logically specious.) The ESPN roundup mentions an incident sparking the player meeting where Mangino “is alleged to have grabbed, yelled at and put his finger in the chest of a player who had been laughing at a walkthrough or practice prior to the Colorado game on Oct. 17.” To be fair, that finger is the size of a ham. Poking it with force could snap a sternum if he wasn’t careful.

Your new pony is Mike Leach. Mike Leach’s mad flirtation of the year could be Louisville, though Dennis Dodd is saying it, and Dennis Dodd is wrong about everything forever. This likely means, on a white board in the offices of the Louisville Athletic Department, there sits a white board with “MIKE LEACH” listed under a big “NO,” but even erroneous rumors are fun to throw around, especially when you think about Leach’s offense cracking a hole in the roof of the Carrier Dome one hypothetical day.

HAHAHHAHAHHHAHHAHAAH. (inhales) BWAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA:

“Tell them to call me,” said Switzer, 72 years old and 12 years out of football. “Tell them I can beat Navy.”

Dunkin’ Donuts would sponsor part of the buyout, ND. We’re not saying think about it, but you know: think about it. Into the trees, into the trees, Irish.

This man.. ..will be shoveling free bullshit for the next two to five years. If you need bullshit, he’s your man, and he will shovel like a champ until your bullshit needs are more than met.

Strong. Rack ‘em. You may want to avoid the Word From Our Sponsors thread, because commenter Play Me A Song Mr. Neuheisel won the whole damn thing by himself with this comment.

Love the dynamic between the domestic beer drinker’s perceived slight versus the craft brew crowd’s need to mention their current drink of choice. As if anyone gives a fuck. Myself, well I’m a malt liquor man. Nothing quite says “I’m going to try to grab your wife’s sweet ass and steal your car while you watch the game” like the 40 OZ of Nightrain I bring to a tailgate. Hell yeah, motherfucker!

Hell yeah, sir. We raise a glass of Thunderbird to you in honor of your fine commenting skills.

We’re glad you understand this, Mr. Black. Coming off another workmanlike 2009 victory, Florida may now only marvel at the glorious work done by its defense in saving Florida’s collective ass again on second hand video on Youtube, since the SEC still fails to understand that embeddable video = free advertising. Watch it while you can!

The victory over South Carolina and their American core values shirts–Integrity, Service, Titties, and Corn Syrup–did take Florida to 9-0, a very different 9-0 than last year’s unstoppable anime monster of team. Some have noticed the admittedly insane complaints, but at least they understand the beast they’re dealing with here.

“They want us to beat every team by 102, and give up no yards and score every time we touch the ball,” safety Ahmad Black said.

Um…yes. That is precisely what we want, because, as the Swindle Theory of Florida Fandom states, the only thing binding Florida fans together is a gleeful sadism. We would like to see someone set on fire and set on fire promptly, thank you very much.

“What is wrong with you?” From the SF Chronicle, who stylishly refers to the 55-21 beating of USC by the Cardinal on Saturday as a “defenestration:”

“What’s your deal? What’s your deal?” Carroll said, according to two sources near enough to hear.

“What’s your deal?” Harbaugh retorted, and that was that.

YOUR MOM! YOUR FACE! The best answer for Harbaugh could have been “Nothing, I’m just infected with WIN, that’s all,” but the heat of the moment boils the wit out of many. Going for two in the fourth quarter standing on a 48 spot to make an even fifty is retort enough, though not quite as good as getting the ball back and getting 55 anyway. Jim Harbaugh fears no man.

Behemoth: the Old Testament’s tastiest meat. The Cornhuskers devoured “behemoth burritos” on the bus after their victory over Kansas Saturday, meaning not only did their effort salt away at least a shot at the anarchic Big 12 North title with a upcoming matchup with K-State, but that the Nebraska training staff feeds their players nothing but the finest Old Testament creature meats. (Next week: Leviathan tapas with sides of real Golem for mineral reuptake after the harsh exertion of a football game.)

Jon Gruden: Staying at ESPN, meaning the especially delusional faction of ND fans will now move on to their next three candidates: Arsene Wenger, Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton, and Uatu the Watcher.

Lacked escapability. Texas kick returner DJ Monroe arrested for DWI EXACTLY 35 HOURS after the game, which is the most delayed celebration penalty ever. < ------ADD SOMETIMES HAS ITS DOWNSIDES KIDS.

Holly’s in transit today, so picks will just have to be up to yours truly. As we have no problem talking to the air itself, let’s get this monologue underway without delay.

Florida at South Carolina. The grumpiest 9-0 fanbase in the nation heads to Columbia to face the man who initially allowed them to look at 9-0 in the SEC and be grumpy, Spurrier the White, the

THUNDERCLAPS SPLIT THE AIR LIKE THE HAND OF GOD ITSELF–

–AND ISN’T THAT APPROPRIATE PHRASING, ORSON. IT IS I, CRAZY OLD TESTAMENT GOD.

Orson: [checks schedule] Schedule change?

COTG: YES OF COURSE I WANTED TO TAKE TOMORROW OFF TO WATCH THE NOTRE DAME PITT GAME.

Orson: Um, got any tips on how that might turn out?

COTG: YOU KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, EVERYONE LOSES IN THAT GAME.

Orson: Right. Wait, were that means you were working yesterday, right?

COTG: HAHAHAHA YES. YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THE THING IN KNOXVILLE. I THOUGHT THE PRIUS WAS A NICE TOUCH.

Orson: It was. Can we do this quickly?

COTG: OF COURSE. I WANT TO GET THIS DONE QUICKLY, TOO. I’M TALKING TO YOU FROM THE STEAM ROOM AND WANT TO GET DONE BEFORE CTHULHU OF VHOORI COMES IN AND STINKS THE PLACE UP.

Orson: I’d imagine he smells horrible.

COTG: THAT ISN’T THE WORST PART. HE DOESN’T WEAR A TOWEL IN HERE. YOU TRY APPLYING ENOUGH MINDBLEACH TO GET THE SIGHT OF A PENIS COVERED IN SPIKES AND EYEBALLS OUT OF YOUR HEAD. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE YOU’D START CIRCUMSCISING THAT THING.

Orson: I see.

COTG: SOME GUYS IN THE GYM DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU DIDN’T SIGN UP TO ATTEND A TAPING OF THE ‘DONG SHOW’ YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

Orson: …

COTG: LAUGH. THAT JOKE KILLED IN SODOM. NICE PLACE. NEEDED REMODELING.

Orson: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! Quite funny!

COTG: SMITEY IS MY NAME AND MIGHTY IS MY POWER. NOW, YOU MUST FIRST PICK SOUTH CAROLINA TO BEAT FLORIDA THIS WEEKEND. SPURRIER IS A LOYAL FOLLOWER.

Orson: I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.

COTG: YOU REMIND ME OF ABRAHAM. I ASKED HIM TO DO A FAVOR FOR ME ONCE.

Orson: Yeah, but that didn’t happen, right?

COTG: NO BUT I ASKED THE SAME THING OF HIS NEIGHBOR, TOO. NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT THAT.

Orson: Who was that?

COTG: MEL FROM WEST GILEAD.

Orson: Did he sacrifice his child for you?

COTG: CHILDREN, AS IN MORE THAN ONE. THERE WERE LIKE ELEVEN OF THEM. I MEAN, I LIKE MY CIGARS, BUT EVERY NOW AND THEN—WELL, SACRIFICE IS THE WRONG WORD…

Orson: Yes?

COTG: MORE LIKE “WINGED THEM FROM HIS ROOFTOPS LIKE COW PATTIES.”

Orson: …

COTG: ….

Orson: I don’t know what to say.

COTG: WELL, THAT’S WHY NO ONE’S EVER HEARD OF MEL FROM GILEAD, NOW ISN’T IT? HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW HE WAS GOING TO DO THAT?

Orson: It’s not like you’re God or anything.

COTG: YOU APPEAR TO BE DEFICIENT IN VITAMIN A. THE A STANDS FOR ANNIHILATION.

Orson: Who else am I supposed to pick here?

COTG: TAKE TENNESSEE OVER OLE MISS. THE SOUTH SHALL RISE AGAIN, BUT MOSTLY BECAUSE THE NEW MADRID FAULT IS LOOKING OVERDUE FOR A GOOD SOLID SHAKING.

Orson: And?

COTG: TESTINESS! ARIZONA OVER CAL BECAUSE I AM BUILDING MIKE STOOPS’ HOPES ONLY TO CRUSH THEM MOMENTARILY, UTAH OVER TCU BECAUSE I SAID SO, AND OHIO STATE OVER IOWA BUT NOT BY MUCH BECAUSE I HAVE CURSED THE BIG TEN FOR THREE SCORE YEARS WITH AN OPTION FOR TEN MORE IF I CALL MY LAWYERS AND TELL THEM TO MAKE IT HAPPEN.

Orson: What did they do?

COTG: GARY BARNETT KNOWS WHAT HE DID.

Orson: Figures it would be him.

COTG: YES. I HEAR SCALES AND SMELL FISHY BRIMSTONE. THAT MEANS EYEBALL-DICK IS DRAGGIN HIMSELF IN HERE. MY SCHVITZ IS RUINED YET AGAIN BY THE OLD ONES.

Orson: I’m still not going to bet on South Carolina, even with our offense being as mediocre as it’s been.

COTG: VERY WELL. SAY HELLO TO MEL FROM GILEAD FOR ME.

[SMITES Orson. Again.]

The principle is transferable to so many other things, though. For instance, take Brandon Spikes. He is a fierce linebacker, swimming through blocks and sniffing out plays other predatory linebackers miss. He’s practically sharklike, we tell you. Sharks have a lot of positives traits. They kill things well. They never stop moving. They often RSVP for parties well before others and have a natural sensitivity to the issues of LGBT other fish don’t have. They’re sharks, they’re proud, and you can’t take that away from them unless you kill them and eat them. Then you’ve pretty much taken everything away from them, because you’ve eaten them.

Is this Brandon Spikes’ future? With the right insane associative rhetoric, IT VERY WELL COULD BE.

Sharks, who are just like Brandon Spikes and vice versa, can do the same to you, and that’s the problem. Sharks eat things randomly. You might see Brandon Spikes eating a license plate on the side of the road because it’s shiny one day, and then what are you going to do, Florida fans? Let’s not even get on the topic of what happens to pregnant sharks around other sharks.

A pregnant shark at a New Zealand aquarium was bitten by another shark, unexpectedly releasing four baby sharks as visitors watched.

An aquarium spokeswoman said stunned visitors saw the injured shark and alerted staff that they had also seen things float from the gaping wound.

What happens when Spikes finds shark love and then bites open his beloved because, well, he’s a shark and that’s what sharks do? Do you know how much shark day care costs? Or how strained your relationship with your shark in-laws will become, especially because sharks have such difficulty dealing with their emotions anyway? What about when he just begins attacking men who look like Robert Shaw? Do you know how many barrel chested sketchoid guys with mustaches there are in Florida? He’ll never have time for football.

(If this does happen, though, Chuck Amato should grow a mustache, and someone should film this for the benefit of NC State fans.)

WHAT THEN FLORIDA FANS? We’re just saying, he might want to switch to decaf, because then you’ll be stuck with all these shark babies you can’t eat at once, sharkbacker Spikes.

For $100 per share, anyone can buy stock in the new corporation, and will have the ability to vote on a board of directors that will oversee and make decisions related to the school’s athletics programs – including football and other programs. The initial share offering will be $20-million.

Boise State Broncos, Inc. will be modeled on a similar idea put forth by the Green Bay Packers of the NFL.

We’re in for a grand to own a chunk of a team we’ve never even seen, and for an investment we can’t be sure we’ll ever see back. Talley-ho, American investing strategies! Some changes will have to be made if we are to have any input on the future of the franchise.

Out with this…bronco. In with the combat bear ridden by a man in a Master Chief outfit with a flamethrower.

Via: The House Rock Built.

Despite calling in another request for a game extension from their local Buffalo Wild Wings (sadly, no longer serving Weck) and getting exactly what they wanted, SEC fans will continue to complain about the officiating because they can, and because now with the advent of DVR and these fine internets even the most innocuous holding call can be scrutinized.

You should know the story has reached some kind of point of deflation when Nick Saban is telling the refs to go to the lake for a weekend, which we kind of would like to see a.) because it proves a point, and b.) because the resulting anarchy would make a soccer riot seem cordial in comparison.

“I just really do believe this: If I was an official, and I was making what I make officiating, because I love the game and I love doing it, and I was getting crit­icized by the media, includ­ing our announcers on TV, like these guys get crit­icized, I’d step back and say, ‘I think I’ll go to the lake this weekend. You can have this.’ That’s what I’d do,” Saban added.

If they did go to the lake they’d catch boots and call them fourteen pound largemouth bass, but that’s just the kind of year they’re having as a group. Officials around the nation will have another inexact and fallible day this coming Saturday because officiating is an art, not a science, and is practiced by frail, fallible humans who deserve your sympathy and understanding (after you’ve hit them in the skull with bottle from fifty feet away. Especially then.)

Rank	Team	Delta
1	Texas
2	Florida
3	Alabama
4	Cincinnati	1
5	TCU	2
6	Boise State
7	Georgia Tech	2
8	Iowa	4
9	LSU	2
10	Oregon	2
11	Miami (Florida)	2
12	Pittsburgh	5
13	Ohio State	2
14	Houston	2
15	Arizona	9
16	Southern Cal	2
17	Oregon State
18	Virginia Tech	3
19	Penn State	9
20	Utah	4
21	Oklahoma State	1
22	Stanford
23	Wisconsin	4
24	Clemson
25	Brigham Young
Last week’s ballot

NOTES APOLOGIES ETC.

–For the nth time: never mind the deltas.

–No, we’re not going to rank Pitt that high, since putting them where we did already feels like doing the splits over a steak knife. They lost to NC State and will implode at any second oh you just watch YOU JUST WATCH. (weeps, doesn’t know what’s real anymore.)

–Iowa doesn’t deserve to fall that far, or maybe they do. Requesting input.

–Ditto for Oregon, who…well, we still aren’t really sure what happened to them, because saying “you got run tha fuck ovah” can’t really be considered any form of analysis whatsoever.

–Seriously, don’t mind the deltas.

HURRRNNNNGGGHHHHH. It the international noise of idiocy, and it’s the noise you hear when you see USC ranked above Oregon (by a galling six spots in the coaches poll) after Oregon trashed USC last week in Eugene. The AP has the same error by three spots, but is operating on a bit more advanced credit than the Coaches Poll, the source of the easiest pointing and laughing this season in terms of random clueless voting due to old coaches phoning in their picks based on an outmoded understanding of the national picture. (Usually, by our counts, seeing the game as being stuck somewhere around 2004, following the universal trend of people being five years behind.)

Ho-hum. You know the Spurrier Bowl has lost its luster when even the Sun is looking forward to the SEC Championship game and ignoring the Old Master angle.

Oh, drat. The curse of having two huge cocks. Zach Collaros threw for 480 yards against UConn, meaning Cincy now has two quarterbacks who can turn the Cincy offense into a chump-slapping hellbeast bent on destruction. Hey, Norway found oil, Peter North just grew a second huge cock, and Christine Hendricks just won Powerball.

TAH-NOO-TAH BLITZ! RIGHT PAST FULLBACK! Indefensible is the right word, but mostly on the defensive side of the ball, where Jon Tenuta’s defense made no adjustments to a Navy team all too happy to throw wrinkle after wrinkle at the Irish defense. Originally Tenuta seemed like the Hulk to us, but after watching fullbacks run undefended through the ND secondary, we revise: he’s Drunk Hulk.

No, that’s the way my biceps always look. Florida DE Justin Trattou is playing out the remainder of the season with a completely torn biceps tendon in his left arm. It looks great, however, because all the chicks dig it and see how in touch he is with his feminine side and the notion that beauty, darling, has to hurt. Surgery isn’t necessary, so he’s just gonna ride this one out because, you know, it doesn’t really hurt and it’s all for the team and whatnot. /trattouwinces //trattoucheckstoseeifgirlislooking

We have suggestions.

–7 freshly circumsised and adoptable Filipino baby boys. (No questions asked.)

“Yeah, seven. But it’ll cost you. Bob Tebow Ministries doesn’t run on prayer and happy thoughts alone.

–600,000 nickels delivered in cheap garbage bags.

–1749 copies of this (ON SALE) classic by seven-time Pulitzer Prize Winner and astronaut Mike Freeman.

–Check written from his Cayman Islands account. (Takes days to clear, sure to draw IRS audit.)

–Three live Siberian Tigers. Black market prices, and surely available on a moment’s notice in Miami.

–Coupon for five favorable calls made by SEC referees in the game of their choice.

All are roughly equivalent to $30K or so, and should suffice in making Mike Slive feel more Roger Goodell-ish by the moment.

WE WERE RIIIIIIIIGHT. When you’re right so infrequently, you have to gloat when you can. Ahem:

The teams are remarkably similar in build and methodology, but if you have to go with anything, go with Tyrod Taylor’s ability to, on one or two frenetic occasions in the game, reach between his two very talented cheeks and just pull something from his ass.

Ahoy, ass-pulled wonderplay!

Taylor also fumbled once doing that, but he gives, and he takes, and did enough spectacular scrambling to keep Tech drives alive in a 16-3 victory over the ECU Pirates, who shot themselves in the wooden leg all night with drive-killing penalties. Tech freshman Ryan Williams also had 179 clock-killing yards and got to show off the “Sweetness” tat on his forearm for the cameras, so yeah, it was as slow a night of football as one might expect.

Chicken fightin’. Louisianans are not just loyal to Bobby Hebert because he’s Cajun, but because he is Cajun, actually played winning football for the Saints from time to time, and because he’s Cajun and quotable. Hebert’s son T-Bob will line up across from the People’s Republic of Terrance Cody this Saturday in the LSU/Bama game, and Bobby has advice for him involving chickens and crabs.

“I told T-Bob the thing to do is to get into a chicken fight with him,” Hebert said, meaning scratch and claw and do anything short of putting another lineman on his shoulders.

“If he’s aggravated with you, then it’s harder for him to make a play,” Hebert said. “It’s going to be a challenge. He’s got to fight any way he can. He’s Cajun like his daddy and his granddaddy and his relatives, so he’ll be fighting, I know that. He’s got to do what they call the crab block — stay low and aggravate him. I’m not saying to be dirty, but T-Bob’s got to stay low against him and bother him and try different things.”

He’s saying punch him in the balls, scratch at him, and bother him. Also, we think he’s trying to tell him to feed whole chickens to him during the game. Good strategy, but let’s suggest another one and go for turkey, just to get the tryptophan coma working for you in the third and fourth quarter. Possible disadvantage: turkey’s pretty greasy, so if consuming seven turkeys over the course of a game merely arouses him, he’ll be huge and slippery. Take advice at your own risk, T-Bob.

No word: on Urban Meyer’s possible fine/suspension from the SEC. When white smoke comes from the offices in Birmingham, we’ll know Mike Slive is burning hundreds to let people know it’s a fine.

Unconcerned with your Tom of Finland Lion: TP ain’t skurred of your puny t-shirts.

He will be wearing pants. Riley Skinner has been cleared to play against Georgia Tech on Saturday. It is a slow weekend of football when one of the five bullet points to kick off a late morning news update involves Wake’s qb, but that is where we’re at on a lackluster Saturday of football that IS STILL THREE THOUSAND TIMES BETTER THAN ANY SATURDAY IN THE OFFSEASON.

Bad. Ass.

Enjoy.

Category one: Nebulous Statistical Comparisons of Dubious Validity. Virginia Tech’s offense has been better than its dismal usual this year for two reasons: the improved run blocking of the Hokies offensive line and the emergence of Ryan Williams, the freshman running back who enters the game with 930 yards rushing and 10 TDs. If ECU allows 108 yards on the ground tonight ( a respectable average) then Williams will become yet another Hokie 1,000 yard rusher sometime around your third cocktail tonight. Be sure to toast him.

Of continuing and troubling concern to VPIUITAGMNAUCS–we think we got all the initials in there from VT’s title–is the scattershot play of Tyrod Taylor, an extremely efficient passer at 12th in the nation but streaky to an extreme. Taylor can bail an entire game out in a single master stroke, or he can perform tidily when supported by the run game, but the one thing Taylor will not be in a game is the piece you build an offense around it. If the game comes down to him, you need a miracle, and he’s already done that once this year against Nebraska.

Enter the reason ECU made such a nasty opponent for ECU last year: their quality rush defense, the principal quality turning ECU from speed bump into concrete wall for the Hokies. ECU held Noel Devine to 83 yards, and if you can do that to Ninjamountaindwarfman, you can do that to anyone.

The teams are remarkably similar in build and methodology, but if you have to go with anything, go with Tyrod Taylor’s ability to, on one or two frenetic occasions in the game, reach between his two very talented cheeks and just pull something from his ass.

Advantage: Virginia Tech. Yes, we just bet on Tyrod Taylor. We ALSO like to live dangerously.

Virginia Tech, You’ve Been Factor’d!

Category Two: Mascot: Dogfight of the year thus far for the Factor Five since there’s much to admire about both mascots. The Hokie Bird is an endearingly goofy anthropomorphic turkey complete with flapping wattle and a fierce expression, and like all the best mascots no one is supposed to know their identity until graduation day. (We would bet a hundred dollars this claim is exaggerated and inexact, and that someone’s had sex while wearing the mascot head, because that would be the first thing we’d do, because why the hell not?)

He loses points for being that guy in the gym. You know. Major Bonerpants on the bench press who needs a spot.

Hey…ladies…seriously, gonna need some help with this over here…

This is ECU’s mascot. He is a pirate.

That’s really his entire resume besides a resemblance to Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard, who was stabbed over twenty times and shot five before dying in a battle at sea. That and simply being a pirate is enough for us to make the judges signal in the direction of his corner for the win.

Advantage: ECU

ECU, You’ve been factor’d!

Category Three: Aura. Did we mention Pirate-Out? What was already ECU’s highest profile game of the year just went through the roof aura-wise. It will also generate some of the clumsiest drunken requests for sodomy in the Greenville area late tonight because “Yarr that’s what pirates would do.” Pirates around the area will, for the most part, go home to give themselves a Jolly Rogering, and yup that’s the end of our sexually themed pirate jokes. (NOTE PLEASE REMOVE HOOK HAND FIRST FOR BEST NON BLOODY RESULTS)

Advantage: ECU

ECU, You’ve Been Factor’d!

Category Four: Names.

Virginia Tech: Telvion Clark, Germond Oatneal, NUBIAN PEAK, Ju-Ju Clayton, Barquell Rivers, Kwamaine Battle

East Carolina: Derek Blacknail, Kwaku Danso, Doug Mayo-Tapp, Zico Pasut

Advantage: This was over at NUBIAN PEAK.

Virginia Tech, You’ve been factor’d!

Grudges? Scores to settle? Sheer cussedness? Virginia Tech certainly owes ECU for a 27-22 upset last year, so grudginess certainly has to go in favor of the Hokies. [Holds out hands in balance pose, leans back and forth.] Then again, ECU has pirates… Desire to avenge an embarrassing loss at home a year ago….pirates….need to bounce back from nutpunching loss to UNC….pirates. So yeah, that’s totally advantage ECU um VT.

Virginia Tech, you’ve been factor’d!

EDSBS FACTOR FIVE FIVE FACTOR PREVIEW SUM: 3-2, Virginia Tech You’ve Been Factor’d! Remember, this means bet the other way at your own risk.

Another cold day, he thought. His breath snapped in front of him like a frozen ghost. It disappeared as quickly as a married woman leaving your bed: suddenly, and sure to return in a few sad, empty seconds. He’d been breathing for years. It didn’t seem to help.

He thought about pouring a scotch. He poured a scotch. Only drunks drank in the morning, he thought. Fine. I’m not a drunk, I’m thirsty. If the water happened to be brown you couldn’t blame the thirsty man. He drank it. It warmed him a bit. It always did.

He then put on a clean shirt. If there was something scotch and a clean shirt could not fix he did not want to meet it.

Of course he had met something scotch and a clean shirt could not fix. She was as long an outrigger to the waist. Treacherous from the waist up if you were a tailor, but he wasn’t carrying a tape measure and thread that night. She stood at the bar waiting for the world to spin around her. He was happy to fall into orbit.

“What’s a lady like you doing in a pit like this?” He tried to look into her eyes when he said this. He failed.

“Waiting for the right tiger to fall into my trap.”

Her voice purred like the motor of an Indian motorcycle, and the rest of her was just as dangerous. They danced into the Waikiki night. The band played luau, the bartender played rum down their throats as fast as they’d drink it, and her fingers played on the back of his neck as if to show exactly where she could break him if she chose. Dames like her were like pickpockets, keen on misdirection. She would go for his heart, not his neck. Like a good pickpocket he would be miles away before he noticed it was gone.

He would have left memory behind if he hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror starting the car. The engine warmed up, and he ran a finger over the scar. That night a native decided to get restless. This one was handy with bottles. Normally he liked men who were handy with bottles, but only when they were pouring him the stuff to make him forget the nights, the broken hearts, the pain a man felt when he woke up alone, or with someone, or sometimes both.

This one was handy with a bottle the other way. He didn’t like those as much.

The islander left a Honolulu Passport on his cheek for life. Only cost the islander a sock in the gut and a chair over his head. This seemed like a fair price even in wartime dollars. He spent that night in the hospital getting stitched up like an old baseball. She went home with a Dago named Sully. No one said beauty had taste or even needed it.

The window fogged up as he waited for the engine to warm up. Everyone has scars, he thought. Not everyone has memories. At least he had that…for now. It wouldn’t be cold in Hawaii today, he thought. It never is, especially for sad men dreaming of blue skies streaming endlessly above the casket of grey clouds covering their limited days.

He pulled out of the driveway. He went to work. That was all there was to do.