From the Tennessee/Bama game, and toted into Bryant-Denny by reader CB. (Photo from SI; Credit Kevin C. Cox, Getty Images. Gallery: here.)

I told you thurr was a conspiracy! Toldja!

First I was right about Houston Nutt communin’ with the Trilateral Commission, and a then ah told you about the radioactive worms the NSA done put in my tomatoes to keep an eye on me. Then you laft at how ah spotted the Zionists workin on me through the presenze of their agent Seth Roggin in all them Judd Apataw movies tryn to tell me my penis was an atenna transmittin’ Palestian propagandah to the masses to give them a reason to make movies. The cops arrestin me fah showin’ it to ‘em that night at Slankey’s Tavern on 3 for 1 Natty Light night only PROVES HOW REAL THE PENILE BROADCASTIN’ WAS!

And now ah done got another one! Wake up, sheeple! Iss right in God’s own sport!

Lane Kiffin, in his first year in the SEC, got his second reprimand from the conference office today. The Tennessee head coach was scolded by commissioner Mike Slive for his public comments since Tennessee’s 12-10 loss to Alabama.

That’s a violation of the SEC Code of Ethics.

CONSPIRASAH!!! First they get Florda and Alabama in the game, then the Antichristabama appears in thah sky, then as foretold in tha Mothman Propheseez the Werechild dooz battle with the Tebowantichristabama till one of um goes to the BCS and takez control of the guvmint through nappin’ cells in the FDA and ATF. IT’S ALL CONNECTED AND CAN’T POSSIBLY HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH A GREATER FEAR OF PEOPLE BEING MASSIVELY INCOMPETENT IN AN ANARCHIC AN CHAOTIC WORLD NO SIR. I seez it all!

Editor’s note: Lane Kiffin moves one step closer to being Planet Doofus’ Stone Cold Steve Austin. He’s pointing at McMahon! Has he no respect for the Commissioner!

Orson: I was going to open by suggesting that I will wrap you in a giant sheet of latex, and then tell Tim Tebow you were an enormous penis in need of circumcision.

Holly: Tebow heard that. And he’s very disappointed. Not as disappointed as he’s gonna be on Saturday, but sad.

Orson: When your opponent lays down in the second quarter of a rivalry game for years at a time, it does disappoint.

Holly: Which is, in turn, not as sad as you will be when I link your 401K to Bobby Bowden’s retirement, and bring back David Cutcliffe to rain down fire and brimstone and perfectly executed indefensible slant passes.

Orson: Funny you should mention that. I just made a killing off selling Lane Kiffin a bridge I do not own. It has a hole in the railing where Johnny Majors drunkenly plunged off it in a Chrysler Cordoba, but he said that was fine, he’d take it as is. Also, if Cutcliffe came back, we’d just hire Richmond’s defensive coordinator. They did a fine job with him last week. (more…)

Balls: it is a bar in Gainesville, and also a state of mind allowing you to think of genius Hate Week moves like this:

(HT: GatorSports.) That is a stencil and not a sticker, so it will remain on the urinal until years of focused urine blast it off the porcelain. The average intake at Balls per customer is something around 38 beers per person per night, so this should only be a matter of a few weeks before it fades. Shame; pair it with a toilet stencil of Bobby Bowden with his mouth open at the bottom of a bowl, and we’d have the ideal bathroom for Gator fans everywhere. (Better yet, write “Music City Bowl” for maximum effect on the side.)

Lane Kiffin sometimes goes on runs before games. He claims he gets lost…or does he go somewhere else entirely? (Around the 10:00 mark)

KIFFIN jogs down a wooded Tennessee lane in the morning mist.

Kiffin: I got that boom boom wow/ tan checks and plaid turnstiles/ I’m coaching them up wow/ boom boom boom boom boom how…boom boom BOOOOOOOM…

KIFFIN notices he is lost.

Kiffin: Uh-oh. This looks as unfamiliar to me as

A bright light explodes from the sky above him. A charismatic man with flowing hair appears above him. The smell of Stetson cologne and cigarettes is overpowering and intoxicating.

(more…)

Burn…you will burn…you will burn in hell, yeah you’ll burn in hell…

There is a special place in our blackest of hearts for Tennessee, and it is entirely personal. We don’t especially like where we’re from, mostly because it’s one of those places where ketchup is considered spicy, the slightest wrinkle of oddity is cause for grave concern, and country music of deplorable quality bubbles from its pores like congealed fat hardening on the surface of fetid stew. You like it? Great. We don’t, and that’s why we live in Atlanta, home of Adult Swim, a quiet but huge adult industry, a horde of swamp real estate investors spending money poorly, and a crumbling infrastructure and half-assedness more suitable for our tastes. Interstates are magnificent things.

We have, from birth, hated Tennessee: the indigestible-to-the-eyes shade of orange, the somnolent pre-games, the sludgy brand of football designed to eke out wins by field goals, their abuse of a fine coonhound by putting an inherently curious dog in front of 100K and daring it not to go insane with overstimulation. (Watch Smokey sometime: he is seconds away from cracking into an insane rage. We can’t blame them.)

In terms of rivalry, though, things had gone limp in recent years thanks to Urban Meyer’s superior coaching acumen, Erik Ainge’s ability to cough up a game when you most needed him to, and Tennessee’s complete inability to score points when it mattered. It felt hollow, after a while: rivalry requires a certain degree of competence on the part of your opponent, a bare minimum of respect for their inability. It is difficult to respect an opponent who lets you play the part of Dr. Manhattan: you point, they explode, and suddenly you’re the child giddily holding the magnifying glass.

This all assumes you don’t find someone to genuinely loathe on the other team. Ahem.

(more…)

Brandon Carter, your new facepaint for the Oklahoma game awaits this year: Stephen Good, starting right guard for the Oklahoma Sooners, is terrified of Pennywise.

What’s something about yourself that not many people know?

I’m afraid of clowns. The movie “It” got to me.

It’s okay. We all float down here, Stephen. If you didn’t see IT when you were a kid, we can save you the trauma and summarize it thusly: you get scared shitless by a clown that talks to you from the drains and tries to persuade you to join him in the gutter, and then watch as it turns out he’s just a poorly animated stop-motion animation monster of little substance in the finale. In other words, he’s what every non-Tennessee fan hopes Lane Kiffin’s narrative arc as football coach at Tennessee will be. Glad we could save you the time, and good luck sleeping anyway thinking about a.) what will happen if that’s not true, and b.) Tim Curry talking to you from sewer grates. (HT: Barking Carnival.)

Urban Meyer wasn’t pleased with his SI cover, mostly because they used the equivalent of the “high school yearbook leather jacket photo” on him. This version, however, is much improved. (click for beeg)

(HT: Papa Shark)

YellaWood and Golden Flake present
an EDSBS/Hey Jenny Slater co-production

SCENE: A muggy midsummer day in an expansive backyard in a Knoxville suburb. Five young men occupy a treehouse high in the branches of a stately oak: Tennessee head coach LANE KIFFIN, assistant coaches ED ORGERON, EDDIE GRAN and LANCE THOMPSON, and strength and conditioning coach AARON AUSMUS. KIFFIN bangs a mallet on a wooden box.

KIFFIN: This meeting of our super-secret club will now come to order! Gentlemen, I have called you all here because you are my best friends and the perfect people to become charter members of the most secret club in all of Tennessee. You can’t tell anyone about our clubhouse or about this meeting, understood?

ORGERON: WHEDDUHSNAXXAT? AHWONSUMMOHTATTACHIPS!

GRAN: What’d he say?

THOMPSON: I think he said he wants some more potato chips.

KIFFIN: Dangit, Ed, you just ate the entire can of Pringles! If I want more, I’m gonna have to go all the way down and sneak some out of the kitchen, and my dad’s down there! Now, the first order of business is to decide what kind of club this is gonna be, and I’ve got an idea that I think is really —

AUSMUS: The superhero justice league!

KIFFIN: No, Aaron, that’s stupid —

THOMPSON: Pirates!

GRAN: Mike Leach already took pirates.

ORGERON: WAMPRATUNNAJUNGAFATTINFOWAHHSS!

GRAN: What’d he say?

THOMPSON: Swamp rat, jungle — OK, I have no idea.
(more…)

AP–LOS ANGELES. The Jackson family said they were moved by Lane Kiffin’s tribute to Michael Jackson yesterday in a formal statement issued through the Jackson family publicist.

“From one active recruiter of 13 year olds to another, we thank Coach Kiffin for his moving tribute to Michael’s work with youth,” read the statement. “We certainly appreciate it in this trying and difficult time, especially from someone so busy. Sincerely, the Jacksons.”

Kiffin could not be reached for comment, as he currently has his arm caught in a snack machine on the Tennessee campus.