The Subcommandante needs not appear on this blog anymore thanks to the Redneck Rocker. Gimme blood! Gimme blood pollution!!! Your favorite Mountain Dew-drinkin’, hell-raisin’ redneck is back, and it’s seven minutes plus of pure FYAH.

“I look at Daryl Clark and see the nightmares he can open for Ohio State. And if that happens, Penn State will win by 30.” For the Redneck Rocker, every game is a Hellraiser Box to be opened with someone being ripped apart by chains, usually you, you non-Buckeye bitch. If a hipster needs to have their soul crushed today, just play this entire video and wait for Justice’s “Genesis” to crank through. Yes, he probably got it from the Cadillac commercial, but it should still reduce them to a fine, shimmering cloud of dust in a matter of seconds.

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

Our much-delayed Fulmer Cupdate runneth over with Ball State leading the way thanks to his offences both as a person, and as a Ball State football player.

Le board, courtesy of Brian, who as always is hung like Reggie Fuckin’ Nelson. Notes without clarification or apologies follow.

Notes:

Dane Cook’s refusal to pay a cabbie and subsequent arrest-related party tricks earn Ball State 4 points, a formidable total for Muncie, yes, but one that like a sprinter’s early lead in the Tour de France will likely be erased by serious, heavy lifting work from a large state school recruit who throws a fellow student into a tree shredder at a party, plows a forklift into the side of a water tower, or otherwise eclipses this total in one fluid motion. Ball State, you’re the Tom Boonen of this race: enjoy the maillot jaune while you have it.

An honorary point was assessed for Alex Boone, the Ohio State offensive lineman who was technically ineligible for points as he had played his last game for the Buckeyes, but who did such an outstanding job going apeshit and resisting arrest while blind Viking drunk that NOT honoring him would have been a crime in itself. A single ceremonial point is awarded to Mr. Boone and the Ohio State University; this point will not serve as a tiebreaker in the event of a tie, nor will it figure into the actual standings of the Fulmer Cup.

Jim Tressel is finishing the final leg of his journey home from a worldwide walkabout. He sold his passport for entry into a man-dog fighting tournament in Afghanistan, but borders are but figments of the imagination for the brave and determined.

THE UNITED STATES/MEXICAN BORDER. 9:12 a.m. MEXICAN SIDE

A crowd of migrant workers headed north mills around on a desolate patch of yellow earth covered in scrub. Three sad strings of rusty barbed wire mark the border. There is a sudden stir in the crowd. The men focus on a single hooded figure walking through the crowd carrying a jug of water.

Mexican one: Mira, mira! (points) Es El Escarlata!

(more…)

A phone rings in a large, darkened house in Ohio. A worried looking woman picks up the phone.

Woman: Hello?

Man’s voice on bad, third-world connection: Hey, honey. It’s Jim.

Woman: Jim…just tell me you’ll be home soon.

Man’s voice: Oh, sure sweetie. But you know I have to do this every year, and I have to do it alone.

Woman: I know…I just worry.

Man’s voice: Don’t worry about me, sweetie. Say hello to the poodles for me.

Woman: I love you, Jim.

Man’s voice: Oh, pooky, I love you too. See you in ten days.

[he hangs up. The wind howls indifferently outside.]

SCENE: The high plains on the Bamiyan Plateau, Afghanistan. Desolation. An encampment of tents surrounds a single well on the blighted landscape. SHEIKH MASOOD reads from the Chinese menu in his hand.

MASOOD: There’s no way they will deliver us our food out here.

Enter Masood’s second-in-command, AHMAD PASHTO.

PASHTO: But they promised delivery, no matter our location?

MASOOD: We shall wait another three days, and then cancel our credit cards.

A loud uproar goes up behind them. (more…)

O-H!

From time to time we like to invite a member of the Ohio State Fanbase to comment on their team’s campaign thus far in 2008. Today, we present Kevin Banks of Columbus, Ohio, a diehard Buckeye fan and guest contributor to EDSBS. Enjoy.

I had to come on today because we have kind of a crisis in the Buckeye nation, and I want to address it head on and just come out and hit it in the mouth, because that’s what we do at THE Ohio State University. We hit the shrugs and the weights and we then we hit people in the mouth like Andy Katzenmoyer. Just like I’m about to hit this red-hot topic right in the mouth like its name was Mike Hart.

Are you ready? Are you ready Ow-WAH-AH-AH-AH!!!! Get down with this sickness, Buckeye:

THE PISTOL FORMATION ISN’T GAY.

Can you feel that? Oh shit, there, I said it.

It started gay, sure. A lot of good things start gay. Like hair product, for example. I don’t hit the town without putting some shit in my hair to make sure I’m looking good, and it sure as hell isn’t my grandfather’s leftover airplane engine grease from World War Two. That shit catches flies in it.

No, I use a little bit of gel, which if you’re honest with yourself, is something that started with the gays. (more…)

Jim Tressel was asked about whether the inclusion of Terrelle Pryor at all limited what the Buckeyes could do on offense. The answer, presumably a simple one, instead revealed the soul of a man who both knows his limitations but embraces them as strengths.

“I’m not looking to have the biggest package in the world,” Tressel said. “I’m looking to have the most effective one. Give enough so you apply pressure to the preparation of the defense, but do it well enough so that you’re really applying pressure.”

An assassin like me only needs a dagger, baby.

Remember: winning the Tressel Way means using the most effective package, not the biggest, meaning he never really thought Santonio Holmes was that essential to the offense, and that he’s talking about football…but could be talking about his penis at the same time.

A debate about who’s really a Buckeye, and who’s working for the Canadian Muslim Terrorists over at the Sporting Blog.