Tennessee is slogging through a miserable, sad bog of a season, and yes oh my isn’t that a shame. For those of us who take joy in watching the denizens of Helm’s Deep on the Tennessee River weep, there is but one regret, and that is watching bastard-killing, kerosene-swilling, heart-thrilling Eric Berry labor away with more wattage by himself than the entire offensive eleven combined.

Berry inspires men and weakens women’s wills. He pleases the eyes of children and the noses of dogs. He is awesome, and you should tip your hat as he passes, even if it means stealing someone’s hat to do it–even if it is a policeman’s hat. He’ll understand what you’re doing once you explain it to him. Trust us.

Apocryphal stories are the best, since even when they may not be completely true their semantic strength holds up most of the time. Why? Because somewhere in that crusty Combo of potential fiction lies the delicious nacho-flavored vegetable shortening of truth.

Like that, times ten.

We received this story about club-rockin’, alleged money-launderin’, baby-kissin’, wife-stealin’, and wheelin’ and dealin’ Ryan Perrilloux, LSU qb and bayou sybarite. The following takes place in a strip club, and has been edited to include two abbreviated profanities and protect the identities of those who may have seen it.

SCENE! And in (silent finger count 3-2-1…)

West BR strip joint last week when RP and Shomari Clemons came in. The two of them behaved themselves (evidently smart enough to know that being tigers won’t keep them from getting an ass whipping if they screw up in a bar. Come to think of it, RP has personal experience with that.) RP told the guy that he is still on the team and will be starting QB next fall.

Then as RP is leaving he yells at the top of his lungs “You motherfuckers are looking at the next 60 motherfucking Million Dollar Man!”

King Kong ain’t got shit on Ryan Perriloux! As the tipster points out, Perrilloux’s of drinking age and has every right–yes, dammit, a right–to be in a strip club and can consume alcohol legally as an adult. (A guy who’s stealing our strip club exit line, though, has got to get some new material. We’ve been saying that shit for years.)

LSU fans should treasure the golden jewel they have, though: a rampaging jewel of a man-beast with passions for all the finest things in life. His strip clubs, you must open them to him; your Hennessy and Hypnotiq, you must mix into a tasty green brew for him. Your abundantly gifted ladies of pleasing proportions, you must bring to his crib in numbers. His empire shall be called Perrilousiana, and it will be be flyer than the United States Air Force high on mushrooms. All else is but frippery, my friends. Let the luxuriaciousness begin.

The next 400 pound LSU quarterback starting in the NFL is en route. Make sure to pave the way with pure platinum, Baton Rouge. (God, this is going to be fun.)

To close out a dreary Wednesday, what better than internet humor transposed to the pastime of your choosing? LOLCFB 4 U KTHX BAI.

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