EDSBS Live will be postponed until Thursday because Peter’s being given a little chi-chi by law school. in the meantime, you will have to settle for Kige Ramsey’s best coaches of all time. Try not to get your mind blown.

Bowden over the Bear? Fatwa, Tide fans! A fatwa must be proclaimed!

Part two of “What Bloggers Do” is over at the SB with Mottram and Shanoff kicking in, as well. Tipsters, ripsters, and zipsters: it’s the new tripartite catchphrase.

Remember one thing. If we learned anything from all of this, it is that angry words only hurt. Angry dancing, though, heals us all.

Shantih to you all.

In the wake of the NFL draft, we thought we’d do our own draft-themed show, albeit with a twist: extending the draft not only to college, but to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. (A store now closing forever, something we’d weep over if we ever bought single item at the place. Wait: garbage can, 2002.)

Our four questions for the evening are as follows:

1. Name the player for your team who, once “drafted” by your team, never really panned out. As a Florida fan, our list of signees who came and never blossomed into even the measliest of roses is long and distinguished. However, the pinnacle of disappointment came in a pair of Parade All-Americans destroyed slowly by the “performs best when entering with little talent or ego” Spurrier system: Bobby Sabelhaus and Tim Olmstead, the next Great Distributors in the Fun ‘n Gun who both bombed out of the program before doing so much as throwing a single wobbly fade to the corner.

Olmstead was merely immature, blowing off classes and refusing to learn the playbook before transferring to Vandy where he sat on the bench behind Greg Zolman. (Read that again. If that doesn’t sink in, well, read it again.) Poor Bobby Sabelhaus suffered a worse fate: he got depressed, got bipolar, and then got gone, transferring to West Virginia, and then finally to San Jose State. Just thinking about them makes us emo boy weepy sad.

2. Name the most overrated draft pick from your own school. Gerard “Big Money” Warren. What? The big fat guy who did nothing? Really? Are you interested in drafting my uncle, perhaps? He won’t even ask for a signing bonus, sir and sirrahs. Gerard Warren, on the other hand, will cost you the third pick in the first round of the 2001 draft and ultimately end up playing for the Raiders. (Butch Davis, draft genius, your fingerprints are all over this one.)

He does look intimidating riding off on an injury cart, though.

3. You get to draft a quality you lack into your life. Whatever: more patience, a horn in the middle of your forehead, or even the answer most of you will undoubtedly give, the all-consuming desire to have your huge, pavement dragging dick reduced to a more manageable size. Just answer the question and the puppy doesn’t get harmed.

For the record, we’d draft abs. Never had ‘em, never will. It would be nice to flaunt them for a month, and then bury then under a solid layer of merrily-added beer fat.

4. Draft something foreign into these United States of ours. We want Australia. The whole thing, fangs and all. Failing a continental transfer, we’ll just take its assortment of fanged/poisonous animals, since Florida seems too safe to us these days: no coke wars, no one slaughtering German tourists in Miami for sport, years since a decent hurricane.

Talk to you tonight, which you may do by clicking here or by simply hitting play on the Now Live Widget in the sidebar.

EDSBS Live is on tonight, and our theme is: Doom. Cue the return of four questions!

Tonight’s show, live from Mt. Doom.

1. What player spelled doom for your team? From our perpective, no name filled us with dread more than the words “Starting quarterback…Doug Johnson.”

2. What is your career-ending injury? Ours would be a spectacular compound fracture of the tibia, like Joe Theismann, but not as side-splittingly funny.

3. What is the most doomed matchup you’ve ever watched? Nebraska versus Kansas, 1997. Ice storms. Flags flying stiff in the breeze. Temperature something like nine thousand below zero. It looked like they were playing football on Hoth, and the Huskers were playing the part of the AT-AT.

4. Name a doomed thing you love despite yourself. The entire city of Miami. It’s going underwater in a hundred years, everyone hates everyone else, the primary product of the economy is dodging one form of government accounting or another, and parts of it are Port-au-Prince destitute and twice as dangerous.

And yet:

Doomed, and lovely.

See you at 9 tonight.

An ode to ADD-stricken, vagabond coaches over at the SN: that’s the latest column over at the office, where we extol the virtues of those coaches who, for one reason or another, can’t stay stationary.

Just like one old bandito we know:

Schnell-dogg, he runnin’ this shit.

Join us over at NowLive.com, or simply press the play button at 9:00 p.m. EST to join us for EDSBS Live: Mystery Edition. It won’t be as cool as the original Mystery intro, but it will be close because of guest Bruce Feldman.

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Talk to you then.

..no matter what them latte-drankin’ yuppies at Forbes say! You just have to like college football. We’re off to get a latte, now. A manly one, served in a skull and topped with the froth of our enemies. And we won’t be paying for that, by Crom’s beard, we won’t.

(Our fave Conan quote: “Conan, why do you pray to Crom?” “Because he always answers my prayers. He always says NO!”)

Three things:

One: Patrick has your Final Four Previews a comin’ over at Thirty-Five Seconds, including a barbecue-flavored spicy review of Memphis.

Two: People love making the same mistakes over and over again, especially in the NFL Draft, as we point out in the SN this week. Tim Te-blow! Oh, how droll!

Three: LD stole Pete Fountain’s mustache and goatee. Someone alert the authorities.

Four: This was on the Wiz this morning, and taken by Shane Durrance: a photo of the tornado that hit the Georgia Dome while we were in it. Go to his site for the big one.

Can you say INDEPENDENCE DAY?

That? That’s a random photo. Tonight? Tonight marks the return of EDSBS Live at 9:00 p.m., our new swanky late night hour designed to be more inclusive of our West Coast/Central Time Zone brethren, and also to ensure you’ll be good and cranked by the time you get to the show.

No plans, no agendas, no special guests. In other words, pretty much what you expected. Be there by pressing yon button over on the right sidebar, or popping in at the link via Now Live.

You’re not going to like it when I say this…

Furman Bisher is very, very old: 89, in fact, and still writing columns for the AJC. To be very, very honest, we respect his longevity but have never particularly enjoyed his work, making him the Bob Dylan of Atlanta sportswriting: around, allegedly legendary, and never really doing anything for us. Then again, when we were growing up he was already sixty, so admittedly we’ve never seen him close to his fastball.

The rule at the AJC has been, since time immemorial: Cut Bisher and die. This seems an immensely stupid rule for anyone, since if you line up at a typewriter every day you’re bound to make mistakes. (See our corrections, or perhaps this entire blog for examples thereof.) However, it might be time for someone to begin at least proofing what the guy types before entering “RUN” or whatever command publishes on the FORTRAN-rigged website the AJC has:

“Eight springs ago the Mets and Cubs opened the season, not in Cincinnati. Guess where? Tokyo. That Tokyo, the guys who gave us Pearl Harbor. Some people don’t like you to bring that up, trade with Japan is so hot. But I’ve got a long memory. I saw what a few bombs can do to our property.”

Gadzooks: not only does Bisher anachronistically invoke the Rising Sun paranoia of the late eighties (The japanese will own your brain! They’ll own everything!), he…he says that. Rather than fire up the facile righteous indignation wagon, we simply sent a tattered rising sun flag and this note in an envelope to Bisher at the AJC this morning instead.

Deal Westeln Devir,

Lieutenant Hideo Takeda
Japanese Army
Zambales Mountains, Philippines.

When Furman Bisher takes the red-eye to Manila later this week with a flint-lock rifle, a canteen, and a map in hand, and you hear laughter emanating from the Atlanta area, that would be us.

We all make mistakes. In fact, some of us specialize in them. Thus, we present the EDSBS Corrections for the week through 3/28/08.

Mistakes: we make ‘em.

On Tuesday, we mentioned that Bo Pelini’s middle name was “Steven.” This is incorrect: Pelini’s middle name is Wrathhammer. We regret the error.

On Monday, we quoted the number of sacks allowed by Notre Dame last year as 58. This was correct, but left out the other stat lines.

Pressures: 324

Disembowelments: 15

Decapitations: 7

Drawn and Quartered: 9

Thrown off cliff in Iraq by U.S. soldiers: 3

Strapped in chair and forced to watch Ang Lee’s The Hulk: 1

Again, we regret the error.

On Wednesday, we referred to Bobby Bowden as a former lover of Rudolf Nuryev and “one of the most notorious power bottoms in the Castro’s jet-set weekend crew in the 70s” This was based on false information and bad sourcing, and we regret the error.

Also on Wednesday, we implicated Bobby Bowden in the shooting of Tupac Shakur. This, too, was based on bad information. (Thank god we didn’t actually do that…unlike the LA Times actually did to someone.)

On Tuesday, we referred to our consumption of Tylenol Orange Flavored Cough Medicine in Las Vegas. This was a misrepresentation. We were actually smoking moonrock and huffing benzene at the time and chasing it with the Orange Drank. We regret the error.

On Monday, we suggested that Rutgers coach Greg Schiano was lactose-intolerant. This is not accurate. He is just naturally gassy and has a problem processing complex starches. We regret the error.

On Thursday, we reported on the death of Brent Musberger in a Texas hotel room following a squabble with Mexican drug dealers and an unstoppable, shadowy killer fond of coin flips. This did not actually happen, and was instead the plot of the Oscar-winning No Country For Old Men with the words “Brent Musburger” put in place of “Josh Brolin.” Again, we regret the error.

We’re off to Vegas to cover the first weekend of the tournament for The Sporting News, and it promises to be Con Air awesome, minus the Nicholas Cage Skynrd locks. Follow our descent into madness–and really, the aim is to destroy this gig and never, ever let anyone come close to our rapid mad post rate ever again–one of several ways.

The Sporting Blog. Not only does it have our interview with Ric Flair, but it will have our posts on what Vegas during the first weekend of March Madness looks, feels, smells, and feels like, including the part where we wind up drinking $2000/bottle cognac from goatskins with the sheikhs of Dubai at a live man versus panther death match in the hills of Nevada.

Step One, this. Step Two, fire up laptop. Step three: MASSIVE PROFITS.

Flickr. I’ll be posting photos live from the fracas, as well, so keep up by following here.

Twitter. For those too ADDled to even get through this blog post, we’ll be posting on the EDSBS Twitter feed muy rapido all day and most of the night.

Your guest host will be Oops Pow Surprise from Black Heart, Gold Pants , a demented gent who promises to not only provide the Curious Index, but an installment of “Things Black and Gold People Like,” the latest in our series of fan profiles. We will usurp the Iowa jokes by saying the only one we know for sure: meth.

Godspeed. And wish the same to us. If we fail to come back from this mission, know that we went to bat country happily.

Blind Item Thursday is on at 35 Seconds, and includes these awesome tidbits:

WHO IS FORMER BIG TEN STAR will appear as the star of an erotic legal fiction series in an attempt to rehab his image in the public eye?

When I call you bitch, it’s a love thing.

We’re extremely late on this, so we have to double up and dash out two awards at once. Andiamo!

Best SEC Blog, Runner-up: Dawg Sports. Again: the leading policy wonk and brief writer of the SEC blog world deserves all of the kudos you care to heave his way. However, he suffered a narrow defeat to the Vols, just as his team did this year.

And the winner is…. The papa….The Papa! Joel of Rocky Top Talk takes the crown in the SEC this year. No one spans a greater range of core competencies in blogging, a resume line that while worth hundreds of cents in real life is most definitely worth at least $583.92 on the blogosphere. Don’t laugh–that’s certainly worth more than this site, laughing laugher-type person laughing at that.

Joel’s quick with the stats, comprehensive but not a bludgeon with the numbers, armed with a subtle but sardonic wit, and is an absolute monster with the Flash animation. Early adopter does not begin to describe him: if it’s a widget, gadget, thingamabob, or other new wrinkle, it will appear on RTT in hours, not days. A constant tinkerer from the MNC Races to his willingness to dive in headfirst on products with bearded lunatics, he’s the most dangerous of dangerous people: the quiet one no one sees coming. For that and more, we salute you, Joel. Salut!

Double up: The MNC.

Runner-up: MGoBlog. CFB’s frostiest blogger: stats, icy wit, and the best hair beard combo to get a person interrogated at any local airport of your choosing. MGoBlog could have easily won this award, were it not for….

Sunday Morning Quarterback. We already lauded him in an earlier post, but this but be mentioned again: There is no other writer on college football who comes close. Any other praise heaped on him would make us seem a little gay, and that’s fine, because we’re a little gay for SMQ and his indispensable writing. We’ll wear sleeveless tees and call you awesome all day, man.

Your writing…it makes it work!

Head over to Joel’s house to admire his shiny trophy and hear the winner of the People’s Champ Award around 6ish.

…has your morning roundup and weekend summaries from college hoops, including the sailors-meet-cargo-hold-of-sheep treatment Kansas gave Texas Tech. ARRR!!! Ruptured lower intestine, matey!