The offseason survival guide would like to help you through this long, football-free offseason. In order to speed up this process, we’re all going back to 1979 to learn to be smooth. Crack open the champale and get your SMU jersey out. It’s about to get smoother than you ever imagined, albeit in a non-football way.

A Smooth House. The whole idea of smooth is to pretend you’re living on a houseboat in California, or in a ski house in Vail. (Not Aspen–that’s so 80s, man.) If you don’t have a houseboat in California, that’s fine: purchase a houseboat somewhere else. The houseboat should come equipped with a hot, lanky woman who wakes up in a bikini on it four or five days a week. She should be a marine biologist, or failing that,

If you can’t find a houseboat equipped with a hot, lanky woman in a hip-hugger two-piece, or just can’t find a houseboat, you must consider purchasing a home in the woods. The home should be made of pine cut into boards set at 45 degree angles, and it should feature wraparound decks, huge bay windows in geometric shapes, and an irregular offset roof with a window across the top. It should be decorated in mostly browns, feature lots of rugs and wicker furniture, and have a hot tub you can go into naked with some pink champagne and a brunette majoring in ecology or some shit like that.

Oh, and a fireplace with a rug in front of it, because that’s where you get your smooth lovin’ on. It’s as key as blow, backgammon, and Dallas on Friday nights.

Fondue. No class smoothness can happen without fondue. It’s important if you’re classing up to the Smooth Life to have a primo fondue set. (more…)

Tooter Sooner!

SI’s got their archives mostly open and running, a boon for tweedy archvists like ourselves and something that had us sprinting straight for rock star Rick Telander at his most glorious: the February 29th, 1989 article “You Reap What You Sow,” which for the EDSBS underclassmen will serve as a cheat sheet (pun!) for what we mean when we say something is “Barry Switzertastic” in terms of program mismanagement and lax discipline.

We remember the exact instant when we read this article: sitting in a Fantastic Sam’s in a strip mall in Franklin, Tennessee, waiting on a haircut with Mom and vacillating between adolescent moral horror and unabashed admiration for the gusto Oklahoma’s football players displayed in their abuse of petty privilege.

A few of the finer cuts:

Earlier that week he had lectured children at a nearby grammar school about the evils of drug use. “Regardless of what anyone has told you about drugs,” he told the youngsters, “they’re the quickest way to end your life, the quickest way to be in jail.”

Three days later the FBI charged Thompson with having sold 17 grams of cocaine for $1,400 to an undercover agent on Jan. 26.

And:

Parks, who reportedly had been drinking, barged in and angrily confronted Peters about a cassette tape that he claimed Peters had borrowed. Peters told Parks he didn’t know what he was talking about. The two had gone to high school together in Houston, and Peters knew of Parks’s volatile temper. But Peters was much bigger—240 pounds to Parks’s 176—and once the shouting turned to shoving, Parks was on the floor.

In a rage, Parks bolted from the dorm and into the parking lot. He returned with a Harrington & Richardson eight-shot .22-caliber revolver. He threatened Peters with it and was taunted in return. “You’re not going to do anything,” said Peters. “I dare you! Go on, shoot me! Shoot me!” Peters stepped forward and pushed Parks yet again. Parks shot him. The bullet missed Peters’s heart by three inches. Parks fled to neighboring Jones Hall, where he was apprehended by university police officers. “I’m the one who did it,” police quoted Parks as saying. “I had no choice.”

The next time someone complains about “kids these days,” just send them this link and remind them that “crazy-ass motherfucker” has never gone out of style.

Brian presents the big board for the week. A smattering of notes on what was a quiet weekend follows.

Remember: Illinois and Mizzou are both victims of one player’s outstanding contributions. Depending on your semantics, then they’re not really winning as a team effort. That award would, at this point, go to the West Virginia Mountaineers and the nine points they earned last week for a large “intent to distribute” marijuana arrest. Tennessee is just a disorderly conduct or DUI charge away from nipping into the team lead, however, a move that would restore the earth to its proper axis, return to the king to his rightful place in Gondor, and get Arrested Development back on the air again.

Missing in action: A few obvious preseason faves miss the list completely, making them sleepers just waiting in the weeds to explode onto the board, or otherwise tranquil programs with shockingly little to worry about in the discipline department. Where’s former champ Marshall? Or heavy preseason favorite Arizona State? Or even Purdue, a team with consistently high scores throughout the short history of the cup? And whither Florida, Florida State, or Miami? Florida’s already got a point for a piddling underage drinking charge, but none of the big three has anything to show in the way of taserings, drinking while flying a blimp, discharging weapons in crowded daycares, or trafficking in exotic animals.

The Florida points are on the way in an update, so don’t bitch about it in the comments. This ensures one person at the least will bitch about it in the comments.

The Big Board for this week, brought to you by Brian, who is hung like Reggie F’n Nelson.

The new charges, notes, and clarifications:

The Vols pick up two for Faison’s DUI and continue to win the team award: five arrests in total only have them at the eight point mark, meaning they may be kings of the junk bond market, but in points alone they’re trailing due to the spectacular tallies of Missouri and Illinois.

Oregon enters due to the weird charge of “running a drug house,” a charge that must be from the civil code of Oregon or something since we’ve never heard it before. On paper, it merely looks like receiver Derrick Jones was arrested for contempt of court, so for the moment we’ll assess the Ducks with a mere two points. If the charges blossom into something spectacular–JONES HAD LIVE TIGER, WORLD IS MINE NEON FOUNTAIN SCULPTURE IN DRUG MANSION–then we’ll modify. For now, two points it is.

Note that Missouri and Illinois are up there for individual accomplishments, and so may both end up being Ellis T. Jones III candidates for individual achievement, not Fulmer Cup winners.

This week’s cup runneth over with points for Missouri and some bonus foam on that rapsheetaccino for Tennessee. The Big Board is, as always, brought to you by Brian, who is hung like Reggie F’n Nelson.

Missouri earned points we neglected to include last week, mostly because we couldn’t believe anyone not named Robert Downey, Jr. could be caught with such a diverse array of recreational drugs. And yet he exists: late of the Missouri football team, backup defensive tackle John Stull was arrested on Jan. 11th and is charged with two felony counts of drug possession, one misdemeanor count of drug possession, suspicion of possessing drug paraphernalia, possession of intoxicating liquor as a minor and use of a false identification.

Felony drug possession is a step above your average weed-toting Gator-inhalator charge, especially when you’re talking about coke and pills, which is precisely the case in Stull’s case. Three points each for those, one point for the misdemeanors, and we’ve cooked up a 10 point kilo of points for Missouri that was miscounted as 3 last week. We, like the Gainesville Sun, regret the error.

The asterisk by the score is significant, though: it indicates an early watch on the Ellis T. Jones III award, meaning the award for the single largest score for an individual. If Missouri stays clean for the rest of the Fulmer Cup race, we would award Stull the ET3 award, and give the program award to someone else. The point is to account for programmatic, patterned bad behavior ind a single program, not one outlier on an otherwise well-behaved team. Thus the little octopus hovering in the northeast corner up there.

Officer, I don’t like your tone. Tennessee lineman Anthony Parker picks up a bullshitty disorderly conduct charge, but a point is a point is a point here. Why is it a a bit bullshittish? Because Parker’s biggest crime seems to be hollerin’ and cussin’, a time-honored pasttime in Tennessee from what we can remember from our tenure in the Parallelogram.

Knoxville Police Department spokesperson Darrell DeBusk said Parker, 21, was arrested in the parking lot of the Sutters Mill Apartment complex just after midnight Saturday morning.

Henard then arrested Parker and took him to the detention center . . . .

That’s why it’s bullshit, but you don’t quiet down when the cops come a-callin’, and you get-a disorderly conduct charge and one point for the Vols, who are already making an outstanding claim in the early paces of the Fulmer Cup race. Tradition never graduates! WOOOOOOOOO!!! This is ourrrrrr country…..

And remember…Ole Miss picks up points for disorderly as well. We still think they’re blameless due to the intoxicating effects of erotic chicken.

P.S. Texas A&M’s points were an error, as well–the incident occurred during the season, and is not eligible.

How the hell does Hawaii’s coach end up sitting in Dallas today? We have answers.

We have inside information. Read along.

(Scene: a nattily dressed man with a bourbon gut enter the room from a hidden door. Visible through the door: a bed with silk sheets streaming off it and onto the floor, a woman’s naked legs seen to the knee. Ed “the Scrapple King” Pestara zips his expensive pants.)

Ed: Hey, baby. Don’t clean up. I like you walking around smelling claimed. Other men smell it on you like monkeys and back off. Or like Meerkats.

Woman, from the other room: Okay, King.

Ed: And stay out of here while the men are talking. Take the back stairs and go buy yourself a smoothie. Low-carb, though. I don’t want you gettin’ cottage cheesey on me.

Woman: Okay, baby.

(Ed’s secretary pops her head in the door. She is a stunning Latina with a skin-tight black skirt on and a white oxford shirt open down to ample cleavage.)

Secretary: Coach Jones is here to see you.

Ed: Send him in. (more…)

It’s the last call for Da U at the Orange Bowl this Saturday night when Miami hosts Virginia under the lights. I’m not a ‘Canes fan but I’m a football fan and if I had to name my most vivid college football memories, half of them would be housed at the OB.

The ‘84 National Championship Game: Greatest game I ever saw. The call Osborne made to go for 2 at the end was like a perfect storm of stones, musk, and arrogance [for the young pups, see: Miles, Les]. This is the game that hooked me on college football and it’s an addiction I’m still battling today.

The ‘87 Orange Bowl: Brian Bosworth stalked the sidelines while on suspension from the team sporting a wicked haircut and wearing a t-shirt that spelled out N.C.A.A. with the words National Communists Against Athletes. On the field, the Sooners laid the wood to Arkansas 42-8 but all I remember is the Boz and his stance against the man, trying to hold a brother down.

The Brawl and The Call: Not one word needs to be said.

It’s not just about the games, it’s about the fear, loathing, and feral atmosphere that permeates the old joint. When they come out of the tunnel, I used to wonder if it wasn’t fog at all, but rather a blizzard of crack smoke. The electricity in the air isn’t something synthetic (unless you count the fans, players, coaches, and broadcasters fueled on Charlie and Cris) either. There appears to be something very real that turns people into maniacs with a riot mentality when they enter the hallowed walls of that place. It may look like it’s on death’s door, with the crumbling walls, dilapidated toilets, and mysterious yellow fluid that leaks from its bowels, but if you look her in the eye, there’s still a fire raging in there that will take all you got, all night long, and laugh in your face when you’re done. Kind of like Peter O’Toole.

But thanks to criminal city management, fiscal nightmares, and $2 whore, Donna Shalalalalala, the OB is shutting her doors. What’s worse, the ‘Canes’ new home will be Dolphins Stadium. The thought of the ‘Canes playing in that synthetic place makes me sick. The concessions serve tater salad and tapioca; it’s like a goddamned nursing home. Look what it’s done to the Dolphins! But alas, this isn’t about the future, it’s about the past, so this weekend, when you’re tailgating, whether you’re at a game or on the couch, do a rail of blow and pour a little out for a fallen homey. You don’t have to love her, but you gotta respect her.

Recognize.

Press play to hear precisely what our brain sounds like right now.

MP3 File

Proceed.

Things are about to get extremely hectic around here. A three day weekend with a sprawling slate of football games (summarized so well here by Hannibal) requires some serious organization and planning. Therefore, the EDSBSOOB (order of business) over the holiday weekend will be as follows:

Saturday: At Taco Mac in Decatur from 12 to 4ish. Orson will have a great red beard and an EDSBS shirt on, and could possibly be covered in the blood of victory. This is often and easily confused with Buffalo wing sauce, of course, but do not be mistaken. War is hell. People die. Stuff happens.

Sunday: Spot rundown of Saturday to be posted with all due haste, along with picture of sad Big Red, the Western Kentucky mascot. PLUS!!! EDSBS Live! online radio, which is our first Sunday edition of EDSBS Live from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. EST, where you can curse with impunity and be the first demand your coach’s firing. Guests will join us of a mysterious and impressive nature.

Monday: Extremely light posting–essential deaths, injuries, and major conflagrations covered as needed. Heading at night to Clemson for the Florida State game, where we win either way thanks to someone named Bowden losing.

Tuesday: Posting with extreme fury and frequency. “Buys and Sells” returns, this time with guest editor Hannibal Montegna taking the bulk of the Stranko role in our discussion of who deflated/ballooned their value over the weekend of action. Stranko, in between earning an unholy assbeating from us for posting Jenn Sterger pics, may live to chime in from time to time. May.

We’ll also have pics and some WOOOO!TV from the Clemson tailgate. Given that Clemson is located in South Carolina, we may be forced to ask Miss America-style questions about the fate of the world to drunk tailgaters. This will yield positive results, we’re sure.

Hydrate. Stretch. Enjoy. This is college football. Cue James Wright, the strains of “O Fortuna” by Carl Orff, and blow the goddamn whistle. It’s sturm und drang time, people, and we’ve got our Siegfried helmet polished up and ready to go.

Autumn Begins In Martins Ferry, Ohio

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.

Wait…holy smoking popes. Mike Vick can be found running a Man v. Bear fighting operation in Port-au-Prince and it wouldn’t be bigger than Joe Paterno getting arrested for this. We mean…this is it. This is huge. This is the story that flips the enormous turtle the world rests on upside down, thus flipping the whole universe into disarray. Just…just hold yourself while you read this.

Say it ain’t so, Joe!

Joseph Paterno, of 1245 Palm Bay Rd., was charged with trafficking cocaine after Palm Bay police spotted something being tossed out of the passenger-side window of a car he was traveling in on Monday, reports show. Paterno is being held on a $50,000 bond at the Brevard County Jail in Sharpes, reports show.

First of all, JoePa’s been living a lie. He’s actually 23, thus disproving the zombie theory of his longevity and entering a new variable into the equation: the heartbreak of progeria. This means that there might have been several coaches named Joe Paterno, each cloned from the same proto-Joe who died from the disease somewhere around the year 1949…just as the original Joe was getting his first job coaching. (Manhattan Project connection? Hitler’s brain? They’re all involved, too, but we don’t have time for that here.)

Second, Joe’s facing a mandatory minimum of three years if found guilty, meaning Penn State must find a new coach as in like, now.

Wow. We’re just soaking it all in. This is…what. Joseph Paterno?

Some 23 year-old who’s not… So it’s not…and he’s not the coach of…

FAAAAAAAHCK! We mean: oopsie! Thank God we haven’t posted this yet. Whew! Would that be embarrassing! HA-ha. Wearing the shiny slacks of failure, now that’s what that would be!

(HT: Mike and Run Up The Score.)

The big board for this week, looking much the same as it did last week due to a spurt of good behavior or poor enforcement by the university police of this nation.

Notes, apologies, and addenda follow.

Boise State makes the big board per Tomek’s tip on the odd DUI arrest of John Helmandollar, Boise State running back who was picked up by Boise PD for driving under the influence of “something other than alcohol” at 11 a.m. Friday morning. Even odds on the substance, posted by EDSBS Wagers Ltd:

–Weed 2:1
–Meth 3:1
–Masturbated self into spunk-drunk stupor 4:1
–GHB 8:1
–Cocaine 12:1
–The people’s choice, Purple Drank 14:1
–MDMA 15:1
–LSD 18:1
–Nutmeg 35:1
–High on Jesus 50:1
–Under the intoxicating influence of intoxicating T-Payne ballad 75:1
–Delusional from all night reading session with bootleg Harry Potter 500:1
–Quaaludes 600:1 (He found the last one!)

Boise gets two Fulmer Cup points for DUI without using any trick plays at all.

Michigan will need some adjustment since the marijuana charges against one of its players have been dropped completely.

The Orange Bowl’s been rotting at the seams for years, so much so that a leak in the roof caused a short circuit in 1991 that then caused a small fire in the broadcast booth during the Miami/Nebraska Orange Bowl.

The NBC team had to switch to the Japanese feed, which luckily was not turned to teacher/student bondage porn at the time. You can hear the Japanese announcers for a second:

“And the smells-like-butter rapist gives the ball to smells-like-butter rapist number two…Miami, Japanese listeners, is full of cocaine! Cheap and affordable cocaine! I have consumed piles of it in between using my crazily overvalued yen to pay for fat-buttocked prostitutes! Invest now!”

Then Gayle Gardner and Paul Maguire gamely attempt to keep up with the grainy footage from the studio, with Gayle asking if Paul could help out with translating the Japanese. The only shame is that Dick Enberg is not shown running from the booth in flames, since we agree with Quentin Tarentino that every film needs a man on fire running through the background of at least one shot. Director’s commentary tracks for Kill Bill represent! That’s something a Miami crowd would definitely clap like mad trained seals for, dear reader.

“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…)

We’ll be in Vegas for Cuddles Swindle’s wedding. It’ll all be good fun ’til the fear kicks in…and that’s when the learning begins. But checkin should be fuuuuuuuuun.

Stranko will be along with the cheesecake at 10, but other than that, we’ll be out today and here with light posting on Monday. In case you wonder what the perfect wedding gift for a young couple getting hitched in Las Vegas is, the answer is perfectly clear to us: a reasonably priced hooker, of course. At least that’s what Cuddles and the soon-to-be Madame Cuddles are getting whether they like it or not.