We have to get ourselves into some kind of shape to get to Louisiana. There are so many things to pack: raingear, the tropical medicine kit, satellite phone, rescue beacons, butter-scented cologne, and the stacks of cash to purchase the weapons we will need and the baksheesh we will have to pay to get through the numerous layers of bribery surrounding even the simplest of actions in Lousiana. (Average cost of public urination: $7 in NOLA, $4 in Baton Rouge, encouraged in Shreveport and free!)

There is no sense in trying to keep this game in proportion. The drama of whether a concussed Tim Tebow starts or not will become a sideshow, a pitiable afterthought the instant the Four Corners Salute hits the crowd at Tiger Stadium. The horns hit, the bourbon in the bloodstream and natural hysteria in the air combusts, and for a solid ten seconds or so everything in the stadium levitates and vibrates against the inky backdrop of what, with the lights of the stadium at full shine, appears to be jungle-level darkness. The noise is a howl, a disconcerting, blood-curdling and exhilarating ruckus of a festive boozy hell. It will and should take the top of your goddamn head off the first time you hear it.

Surround it with a purple and gold-clad Mardi Gras on the move, and there is quiet literally no place on the planet we’d rather be this weekend. We will see you there, documenting the daylight madness during the day. Then night falls, and the world gets set on vibrate for three hours or so. Let’s throw some gas on it, cover it in Christmas lights, set the whole thing on fire and see what happens.

The Tailgate Review of the Vol Navy is hyah. A few additional notes:

1. Tennessee women are beautiful, and our favorite outside of Florida (natch) because they seem to be there to actually eat, drink, and look casually and effortlessly hot while actually paying attention to the football game. We don’t mean this in the “Yo, brah! LOOK AT THE COCK-KNOCKERS ON THAT ONE!”

No, we mean this in the most respectful, loving way imaginable: you’re all beautiful, even the one with the fake tits who was clearly on her way to committing some form of life-altering mistake in the boat a row over. We wanted to give each of you a Lush bath product of some sort, a single flower, and just tell you how much we appreciated you all being gorgeous, football-loving women that you are.

2. We also mean this: the nicest fucking people you could ever hope for at a tailgate. (more…)

Probably want to skip “Drink and Drown” this year.

School officials from both NMSU and UTEP have issued warnings against going across the border from El Paso to the ever more charming city of Juarez, Mexico, where any gameday tailgating may inclue authentic Mexican cuisine (love those simple corn tortillas and green salsa!), the purchase of high grade pharmaceuticals from any number of cross-border pharmacies (ay, papi, love that percocet!) and perhaps being killed where you stand for no reason.

The travel warnings come as government officials and residents are asking the Mexican federal government to do more to stop a wave of killings across the state of Chihuahua believed to be linked to a raging drug cartel war.

More than 850 homicides have occurred in Juárez so far this year, including four killed in a shootout Wednesday afternoon and four men killed execution-style late Tuesday when they were handcuffed to each other, lined up and shot.

Students from both schools have traditionally gone over to Juarez to participate in “Drink and Drown,” which in the best of years sounds like a recipe for blanked memories covering Grand Guignol horrors and transactions involving STDs, stolen credit cards, and weapons with the serial numbers filed off them.

Throw in a city in the spasms of open public executions by drug gangs, and this is probably a very, very good year to skip this whole thing. Unless you’re stupid, and by all means, stupid finds its own level, meaning we couldn’t stop you if we wanted to, brah. Go ahead and tape three hundred dollars to yourself and walk across the bridge like William T. Vollmann on holiday. When a pit bull is chasing you across the river on your drunken, bleeding swim back to America, don’t say we didn’t warn you.

The season approaches, and you’re scarcely in credit card debt. Being American, this cannot stand. Your birthright is to work 35 hours a week, talk like you work 55, wallow in a sea of consumer goods funded by the Chinese and their 12 year old gymnasts, and then spend your leisure hours complaining about the cost of all the goods you spend your leisure hours playing with in the first place.

Nowhere is there a more spectacular chance to exercise this fundamental American right than in the field of college football fandom, where you can take your hard-earned inheritances and trust funds and pour them directly into RVs, walls coated in blazing flatscreen televisions, and barbecues large enough to cook other barbecues in while simultaneously prepping a whole brisket on the side. Ante up, skinflint bitches, and break out the plastic. It’s time to put a little red into your team colors in the form of debt-funded tailgate fodder for the fall.

Necessary things include, but are not limited to:

The Hitch ‘n View. Are you tired of hammering nails into your largest friend’s back in order to hang your flatscreen at your tailgate? Ashamed of the cost of all those vandalism citations from drilling holes in campus bulidings and trees for a good tv mount? Want a football-related excuse to follow someone at the NASCAR-approved distance of 3 inches from their rear bumper?

Enter your solution, the miraculous Hitch ‘n View.

RUMSFEEEEEEELD!!!

You could watch the game from a lawn chair with a cold one in hand, sure. (more…)

Credit goes to two people for this find: commenter hunglikehussain, and the Auburner, who went to the trouble of capturing Tommy Tuberville’s epic performance in a Golden Flake commercial that suggests Auburn football players run fast because someone is beckoning them towards an open bag of Golden Flake potato chips. (For the record: in certain cases, we believe this could be completely true, as in the case of Kenny or David Irons.)

Mesmerizing! Tommy Tuberville doesn’t even have to be in the same moment and place to hypnotize you with a bag of potato chips: all he need do is call, and you will hear his plea from across space and time.

P.S. Just because we’re having fun with Sir Charles today over at the Sporting Blog, a few Auburn relevant quotes from barkleyquotes.com that should convince you not only that Charles is one of the great bon vivants of our time, but also confirm any and all stereotypes about SEC and Auburn athletes and academics:

“When I was recruited at Auburn [university], they took me to a strip joint. When I saw those titties on Buffy, I knew that Auburn met my academic requirements.”

Those titties. An area of study no young male college student can fail to appreciate.

We’ll just summarize every Georgia fan’s retort to anything ever said during the current streak of Gator dominance of the Georgia football game:

Jean shorts Robert Edwards still leading series Lindsay Scott Buck Belue Spurrier gay mullet!

With that out of the way, we re-present Reggie Nelson scaring Mohammed Massaquoi onto the ground. Sit, Mo, sit! Good dog.

Boobs, or the worst song ever recorded: choose the right, reader.

Agenda:

1. Drive to Gainesville

2. DRINK. KILL. GLORY.

3. Come home in time for EDSBS Live on Sunday.

Enjoy your weekend and root for Florida. The choice is yours: root for the Gators, and you root for boobs on the internet. Root for Tennessee, and you get us singing “Rocky Top.” And no one wins there.

See below for details.

me: I, Orson Swindle, being of mind and body, do promise to record a version of “Rocky Top” upon the event of a loss to the Tennessee Volunteers for the Florida Gators football team on Saturday.

The resulting carnage will be photographed, and made available to the internets, within three days of the game. (more…)

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…)

Our daily affirmation salutes the adventurous soul of our rivals’ qb, the Baby Sex Cannon, the one and only Matt Stafford…known to some as the cuddly “Big Spoon.” (See here in case you are one of the three people who don’t know where that pic came from, ‘k thx?)