There is no need for a playoff OBEY.

We’ve already had some fun with them, and suggest you do the same without following them, because, you know…it would de-emphasize the already important daily updates and cheat the tradition of the bowl system or something like that.

Courage Wolf suggests you listen to EDSBS Live tonight and join us as we make chicken salad from the chicken shit that is week 12. 9:00 p.m. is when we put on what some people call a basketball hoop, and we call a cockring. Throw away the gum, chew the tin foil, listen here, chat there, and quit being such a pussy. Some call it cancer: we call it week 12, and it’s just something you haven’t ripped through yet.

Bergwood and Ham/Vincent/Lyingbastardface we don’t even know anymore. I don’t even know who you are anymore, Bergwood and Ham. Or should we call you…Vincent, your real name, Mr. Dick Whitman-I-Blew-Up-A-Guy-In-Iraq-and-took-his-name? That may be a secret only your Allstate agent knows because he is blackmailing you, First Ham unveiled his real name and his marriage, something Bergwood seemed more than justifiably disturbed by (”I don’t want to be your weekend lover, Ham,”) then the two whistled past the graveyard of their relationship by cooking hamburgers off the smoking torso of Bobby Bowden (who says advertising doesn’t offer effective metaphors for understanding the world?) and then finally…the death knell, and the hopeless attention-whoring by Bergwood as a final step to salvage the once-perfect marriage they shared built on Ham’s lie of an identity.

It’s like my naked body doesn’t even get your attention anymore, Ham.

Coldly poking at the hotter, fresher phallic symbols on the grill while ignoring Bergwood? Someone’s laying on the symbolism a bit thick now, don’t you think?

John Hancock Investments. Hey, swingin’ boomers with the swinging axe of imminent death retirement hanging over your head! You’re hep enough to IM your terror to your harried spouses in the middle of the workday instead of calling now.

But honey what about our twin clawfoot bathtubs we watch sunset from? What about those? I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE TWIN CLAWFOOT BATHTUBS AND YOGA CLASSES!!! Apologies. Thanks to your profligacy and basic lack of math there will be no twin clawfoot bathtubs for anyone ever in the near future, baby boomers. . Bud Light in cans on the causeway–which you biked to not out of choice, but out of necessity–will do for sunset watching. Watch for stray dogs. They rule most of our cities now. We suggest you deal with retirement the way countless generations of Americans have dealt with it: by drinking yourself to death inexpensively. Fuck these commercials and their bogus IM anxiety in the ear forever with a tie-dyed dildo, since we all know these people are all on AIM anyway.

Jack Links Beef Jerky

WHY YOU MESS WITH SASQUATCH? IF YOU REALLY WANT TO MESS WITH SASQUATCH, YOU CHANGE RATES OF RETURN ON INVESTMENT ON DEVELOPING NATIONS FUNDS POOR MAN! YOU NOT EVEN KNOW HOW WEALTHY SASQUATCH IS! SASQUATCH HANG IN WOODS AS PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY NOT NECESSITY! HAVE HOUSE ON STAR ISLAND AND A-FRAME IN ASPEN! JACK NICHOLSON OWN BEFORE SASQUATCH! SNORT COKE OFF ANJELICA HUSTON’S ASS ON OSCAR NIGHT ON DECK IN FRONT OF WHOLE PARTY TRUE STORY! SASQUATCH SAY HIS FUCK YOU MONEY LETS TINY TAUNTS FLOW OFF BACK LIKE WATER OFF FINE EXPENSIVE DESIGNER UNICORN LEATHER SATCHEL SASQUATCH CARRIES TO EXCLUSIVE PARTIES.

The Sonic Guys.

Clearly a franchise in decline like the Beatles post-Yoko, with the Yoko being the new woman in the new Sonic couple completely lacking the simmering sexual tension of bald guy and bargain-bin Geena Davis. They were always seconds away from ripping each others clothes off and covering each other in cherry limeade. Then they’d order a post-coital bag of cheesecake bites, and then cheerfully accept their 32nd arrest for public indecency after groinking each other in full view of the horrified families eating on either side of them. This is an easier charge to beat than the two guys’ criminal complaint–Sonic’s classic couple–who were clearly binging due to being as high as Rex Grossman in Cozumel and in need of some tots, pronto. The possession charge they will undoubtedly acquire won’t be their first, but it won’t be their last because only weed makes the silences of their subdivision more tolerable than the sweet embrace of death itself.

This is why we love these commercials: not for the witty banter, but for their depiction of childless, aimless, and aging suburbanites seeking succor through the only open window left in their lives: the car window at Sonic. Devastating, heart-rending work all around in its prime, but slipping somewhat.

Jimmy Football

Awfully complex for Bud Light drinkers: a mock-infomercial setup, a quick pace, and a complete lack of monkeys, disproportionately hot ladies dating cretins, and did we mention monkeys? Yes, let’s mention that one twice. There are no monkeys or farting monkeys in this series of ads. From Ad Age:

Bud Light drinkers profile as lacking in carefulness. They are grounded like their Bud brethren, but respect authority. Bud Lighters can also have frat boy-like personalities, particularly when it comes to personal risk-taking. In regard to others, these good-time guys and gals are accepting of most everyone and generally easy to get along with.

Bud Light drinkers are also 48% more likely than the average person to play the lottery every day and 34% more likely to never buy organic products.

They could have just said “prone to using the word ‘fag’ a lot to describe anything” with the last sentence, but sure. This series of commercials sucks because the minute you see the words “Bud Light” you tune out because a.) you think Bud Light is made from the urine of retired circus animals, or b.) because you’re confused by all the whatfortarnation goin’ on with your commercial and WHARR ARE THE MONKEYS IN MAH BUD LITE COMMERCIAL, DANGIT?

Before we stab in an unfair unidirectional manner: ahem, craft beer drinkers:

This group is more likely to spend time thinking about beer rather than work. They are more open-minded than most people, seek out interesting and varied experiences and are intellectually curious. Craft-beer drinkers also skew as having a lower sense of responsibility—they don’t stress about missed deadlines and tend to be happy-go-lucky about life.

We’d muse on this, but we’re behind schedule and thinking about the last Fat Tire in the fridge. Mmm, Fat Tire.

Regional Hostage Situation: ROTEL AND THE BIG TEN. We haven’t seen one of these because the day we pay for the Big Ten Network is the day we compliment Jim Delany’s haircut and tact. The situation is reportedly a dire one, though. The Big Ten Network even has its own RoTel recipes page, confirming everything you’ve ever thought about generic Midwestern cuisine (i.e. that cheese is to any dish what explosions are to a Michael Bay movie.) This seems to be the least of it, though, according to Brian from MGoBlog

Orson: What commercials does Rotel run on the B10 network?

It’s really dystopian, like there’s some alternate universe where people just lurch from store to store looking for someone who can give them their rotel fix. Requiem for Diced Tomatoes. I can’t believe they aren’t on the internet.

Hopefully we can remedy this. In the meantime, cheese and diced tomatoe zombies will roam the dark hinterlands of our nation’s heartland undocumented by the internets, spending cold nights in abandoned factories and their days barging into kitchens demanding “QUICK MEALS QUICK MEALS QUICK MEALS.”

Jimbo Slice says this is how a lawya eat, and you best get over to the Alphabetical. This week’s topic include the metaphorical relationship between lobsters and USC, the Simpsons Completion Theorem, the Michigan fanbase doing it to themselves, they do, and that’s what really hurts, and kind words about the city of Athens, as close a place to actual live college heaven for all demographics as is humanly possible. Treason, you say, fellow Florida alums? Perhaps, but with Jimbo Slice on our side we fear nothing.

The Alphabetical is up, including this LSUFreek brilliance from the South Carolina Tennessee game.

PARK-LIFE. We really didn’t drink that much DayQuil, since Orange Drank ain’t got quite the same spectral liftin’ power of that Purple Drank.

What You Missed at BwB 1.0: On Blogging with Spencer Hall from HHR on Vimeo.

Tickets may be purchased here. Prices may seem steep, but remember that they come with free booze, free booze, the promise of AJ Daulerio being pistol-whipped on stage by a drunken Sean Salisbury (GUARANTEED!), party passes, and yours truly doing his damnedest to derail any serious conversation as coordinator of the “State of the Union” panel.

OS: Let’s start with an important question: why didn’t you write a book about legendary broadcaster Tim Brando?

CT: Ah yes, the immortal Timmy B. I seriously considered it. The working title was, My third follicle in the combover goes crazy when I have two mich ultras and a zima, but publishers were iffy on the idea. They also told me that Zima didn’t exist anymore. I said, you haven’t seen the selection in Tim Brando’s man cave. Which came out much worse than I expected that it would…

OS: And now I’m thinking of what’s in Brando’s rectum. Besides his head of course. Next question: why Lane Kiffin? I mean that in a general sense, not just a coaching way.

Clay Travis: Well, if you listen to the people at UT, the amazing thing is everyone wanted Lane Kiffin. And I believe them. Washington, Clemson, Syracuse, word is he could have have any of the four. That’s the most amazing to me. Not just that one team could fall in love with Lane Kiffin, he’s a sexy guy, I guess–ask Brando–but that every team could.

And I think Mike Hamilton felt like he needed a homerun hire. He believes Kiffin is that guy. He also believes that if Kiffin doesn’t hit a homerun, the coaching staff alone is worth a double.

Part of me thinks, and I hate to say that, there’s a 50-50 chance Kiffin is having a press conference next year at this time, crying just like Rich Rod. That’s why Kiffin is so fascinating, he’s a spectacular failure or a spectacular success, there’s no middle ground.

OS: Have you talked to Fulmer lately? Has he read the book?

CT: Yes and yes. I told him he’s free to comment on the book as he sees fit. I don’t really want to be in the business of conveying his comments to me. Just suffice it to say he wouldn’t want to body slam me if he saw me in the street.
At least I don’t think so.

OS: He’d have to catch you first. As slow as you are, that might be possible.

CT: Well, given my forty time, yeah, it’s likely. He could probably catch you hopping on one leg.
After the Fulmer Cup, I don’t have to beat him, I just have to beat you.

OS: One-tenth faster, remember. Would you ask Monte Kiffin what it was like coaching the Union army’s defensive line at Gettysburg?

CT: Well, he favored the fish hook formation. And he was so glad that Ewell didn’t take Culp’s Hill on July 1, 1863.

OS: What is the oddest compliment you’ve gotten on the book?

CT: Well, you said, “When did you learn how to write?” Which was nice.

OS: I try. Where are you headed this fall?

CT: Mostly to SEC games. We don’t have the whole schedule laid out. And by we, I mean me. I’ll be in Knoxville the first two games. Then Gainesville, I think. Provided I want to sweat out my urine and die again. Ole Miss and Alabama for sure as well.

OS: What was your reaction when Dave Clawson was hired at Bowling Green?

CT: Complete and utter disbelief. I mean, I know he’s a smart guy, has been very successful many places. But how did he get that job? Seriously, who gets promoted after last season? That’s like a small regional bank giving the reins to the number two man at Lehman Brothers. Not even that small, one of the 100 biggest banks in America. If he’d taken that job from Richmond, no surprise, but from UT’s season, wow.

OS: What other purposes, if any, can your book serve besides being read?

Clay Travis: Well, if you don’t read, you can pretend you’re reading when you’re lying in bed beside your wife. It astounds me the number of women who are happier to sleep with their boyfriends or husbands if they think they’re reading a book.

Women actually read, most men don’t. But if you pretend to read, women will sleep with you more. In DC, while I was in college, no joke, some guy would ride the Metro and pretend to be reading Dante. Women picked him up.

They’d go out to coffee and he would pretend to talk about books. Eventually he confessed that he was using it to meet women on the Metro. Both most pathetic and most admirable thing I heard out of DC.

OS: That’s in DC. In Baton Rouge, you have to say “I have a full-time job.”

CT: Sadly, true.

OS: You did not attend an Ivy League institution, and yet were allowed to write a book. How did this happen?

CT: Interesting. I’m not quite sure. The fact that GW’s tuition is more than the Ivy League might have opened the door. We have snob appeal, just lots of dumb kids. Who, thankfully, helped pay my way through school. Thank you Long Island. I should dedicate my next book (if it ever happens) thusly: “To the dumb men and women of Long Island, who despite the manifold advantages given to them in life, ended up at GW paying full tuition.” The better question, when are you going to fool people into believing you went to the Ivy League.

OS: If and when I ever write a book, my dedication is going to be “to Ritalin: making shit happen since 1954″

CT: I’d like to get a lot of books out there so I could start screwing around with the dedications. “To Pacman Jones for making it rain.” As is this one is to wife and son. It would be hard to justify Pacman over them. “To Urban Meyer’s absent chin.”

OS: He wore it off giving head to the goddess of victory. She’s rewarded him well.

CT: Somehow I believe that.

Today we interview Michael Tunison, author of The Football Fan’s Manifesto and one of the founders of Kissing Suzy Kolber. His book is quite funny, and like all great reading fits on the back of a toilet for convenience of reading. It can also double as toilet paper in a pinch-strike unfortunate words-jiffy. You should buy it. Here’s the interview.

OS: What other purposes can your book serve besides tiring and unnecessary reading? Which fatigues the eyes, bothers the placid brain, and excites overly tense nerves?

MT: If you prop it up with a twig and place a small sliver of cheese with a string attached beneath it, there’s a good chance you could catch one of those sprites from Pan’s Labyrinth.

OS: You went to Maryland, therefore it is not your fault you don’t grok college football. What elements of the college game, though, would improve the soulless, corporate air of a pro football game?

MT: Definitely boosters. They really embody the innocent play-for-the-fun-of-it ethos of the college game. Also, a College Gameday-like broadcast would be nice.

OS: As unofficial arbiter of pro football fan ethics, what does one make of college fans who choose pro allegiances based on favored college players?

MT: I presume you are making reference to yourself and your eventual leap to Chiefs fandom when they draft Tebow and attempt to make him into a tight end. More to the point, I make the point in the book that as long as pro allegiances are made early enough in life, whatever asinine reason you have for liking that team is fine. In the case you mentioned, that could be problematic. Which one player do you use for the basis of your fandom? Once you commit, that’s it.

OS: Who is the more gay-friendly mascot: Steely McBeam or Sparty?

MT: Tough one. Steely’s got that retro-’70s charm, but Sparty has epaulets. Gotta go with Sparty. Did you ever see 300? More gay-friendly than 13 non shuttered gay steel mills.

OS: I pity pro fans for the cognitive damage inflicted on them by NFL commentary.

MT: /awaits question

OS: How many inches of bathwater could drown Merrill Hoge: three, four, or “he could choke facedown in a glass of water.”

MT: Trick question – you must drown him in wienie brine.

OS: As an amateur Sinophile and fan of all things East Asian, I must know: where did you get the ability to write in a completely authentic Korean dialect?

MT: Rockville, Maryland (D.C. SUBURBS HUMOR!)

OS:: Velly funny

MT: Numbel one funnytime broggel

OS: What are some tasteful NFL players names to scream out during the moment of greatest intimacy and pleasure?

MT: Channing Crowder and Stylez G. White.

OS: I like Peria Jerry of Atlanta. You can say in action it like a black preacher. PER-ya JER-ry.

MT: Only reason he’s on the roster.

OS: What NFL fanbase would turn to cannibalism first in a crisis?

MT: Raiders, obvs. In fact, they don’t need a crisis.

OS: You did not attend an ivy league college. Why are you allowed to write a book?

MT: I used to work for WaPo, so HarperCollins must have just assumed that I did. So let’s keep it down, huh?

Michael Tunison writes for Kissing Suzy Kolber and the Sporting Blog when he is not producing classics of American sports subgenre humor. He lives alone with a cat.

Ahem.

As of this month, EDSBS will be joining SB Nation, America’s largest and finest collection of blogs devoted to sports, sports, and in its spare time, sports. The mortal known as Spencer Hall will be joining them as well, for whatever he’s worth.

What does this mean for this site? More focus, certainly: spread out across two blogs does take its toll, especially when life happens to throw non-bloggy type things in your way. (See: “Bathing,” “Being human with other humans,” or “doing much of anything else.”) This is no complaint whatsoever, but instead a note on the influences forcing a bit of consolidation. A more focused writer is a better writer, even if the focus is on making sodomy jokes while discussing college football writing. Hopefully being full-time will alleviate some of the stresses and shortcuts one takes under extreme chronopressure. (Okay, we’ll still take shortcuts, but the stress will be slightly less than it was.)

Additionally, the site and its writers will be in very good hands, and allow for the freedom you’ve come to enjoy at EDSBS. Profanities, tastefully done as always, will remain present when necessary. Tech support, as good as it’s been on a volunteer basis, should be even better under the watchful eye of a full-time IT staff. Perhaps we’ll even try to bring the site up to, oh, we don’t know…2003 standards. Don’t hold your breath, but it might happen. Posting should increase, as we’ll just be doing EDSBS, and thus let loose on the internet to bound like the untrainable giant breed puppy we’ve always wanted to be. Otherwise: same url, same layout, same writing, only more of it.

We’re also thrilled to be working with the fine ranks of SB Nation suit-types and bloggers this brings, many of whom we’ve come to know, love, and occasionally fear since the inception of EDSBS: Jim Bankoff, Peter Bean, Joel Hollingsworth, and our old compatriot and online heterosexual same-sex-but-not-gay life partner, Chris Mottram. Let love rule, and let us hug as men do: it’s a fine crew of people, and we could not ask for better.

As for the other, more esoteric things we did for Sporting News under the Amateur label: those will continue, as well, perhaps even with passable camera work, especially in the offseason when we’re so desperate for entertainment that nearly killing yourself is preferable to the alternative of sitting around and missing football, sweet football. Hopefully these will form a book, and then you can purchase this book, and read it on long winter nights when you need something you can read, enjoy, and then burn for warmth.

In short, it’s a wonderful move with one sad aspect: we’ll have to leave our comrades at the Sporting News, since running this site and side work is a full-time gig. They are owed all thanks and due praise for supporting us over the past year and a half, and for the invaluable life experiences they made possible. Saying final goodbyes next Friday will be difficult, and there’s little else to say about that.

So: EDSBS remains, nothing changes except more and better content, and we still get to do this from our kitchen table and the IKEA chair in the living room. The only thing that changes? We’ve been asked to stop wearing the autographed Tebow T-back we type all posts in, and have deeded over to the Shanoff Institute for Tebow Studies. We recommend a bleaching and stout wash cycle before handling with gloved hands, sir.

In conclusion: thank you for letting us do this. It is you who are owed the cocktails, not us. A salute is in order:

And good for them: they managed to sell the same undoubtedly expensive product to three programs without altering the basic framework a lot, i.e. “having to do a lot of work.” The Colorado variation at least has two wrinkles in your name appearing on Ralphie’s blanket, and in Coach Dan Hawkins making what is by far the most JACKED AND ENTHUSED call to your phone. Making his third recruiting trip of the summer, Buttfuck McGee was impressed by the luxe facilities at CU, the array of impressive alumni appearing in the video (Hey! Joel Klatt! How many fingers am I holding up?), and the cameo by Bill McCartney. No, don’t be offended by the name. It’s pronounced “Philip,” a confusion created by the spelling in the original Icelandic.

Hawkins, by the way, just suffered a bout with kidney stones so tenacious they required surgery. Naturally, he refers to this episode as “a gift.” That’s usually the way we think about episodes involving tiny, barbed mineral deposits engaged in a slow, excruciating tumble through our urinary tract. Heck, that’s like Christmas, actually! A Christmas where blood comes out of your pee-pee and you put Dilaudid in your eggnog every ten minutes to keep from dying from the pain.

The new arrangements for the fall:

Matt Millen’s Inexplicable Employment Continues. What Matt Millen has to offer to college football that Chris Spielman doesn’t is clear: the stigma of reeking, carrion-strong failure from being the worst GM in the history of the NFL. If the stench is real, his new broadcast partners Sean McDonough will have to wear a gas mask. This would probably be just as good as most in-game commentary, now that we think about it. Holly Rowe moves over from ESPN to join them for ABC Saturdays, and it will probably be a bit blander overall than the Spielman/McDonough combo since Millen’s not likely to say anything as cool as “hunt, dog, hunt!”

Spielman moves to work with Dave Pasch and Bob Griese, and they’ll be working the noon game on ESPN.

The Champagne Crew: Nessler, Blackledge, and Andrews keep the ESPN Saturday Prime Time slot, a.k.a. The Ron Franklin Suite. Musberger, Herbstreit, and Salters on Saturday’s Blue-Ribbon game stay strong, as well.

Caucasian Menudo: The trio of James, Fowler, and Palmer remain together, who for our buck were the most gregarious, entertaining, freewheeling, and surprising crew last year in how much fun they had in the booth together.

Palmer gets additional face time as an in-studio analyst on Saturdays, thus expanding the Gator Nation’s reach into even our most hallowed halls of power like College Football Live. The Jort Illuminati grows in power; we approve. Andrews remains with them, and should really just start brandishing a combat shotgun everywhere she goes.

James will also see a shuffle as he joins Mike Patrick and Heather Cox for Saturday broadcasts on ESPN. Thus ends Patrick’s endless bellyaching over Blackledge’s immortal rabbit metabolism during “Todd’s Taste of the Town,” and begins the ascendency of Cox in the rankings of “soon-to-be-ruthlessly-stalked.” Buy options now.

Most importantly: DAVE LIVES. One of them, anyway. The new agreement effectively turning Jefferson Pilot/Lincoln Financial/Nigerian Space Program Television into ESPN Regional brings along one Dave, Dave Neal, who was forced to fight the other Daves to the death with the broken end of a pool cue by Norby Williamson dressed as the Joker. Neal emerged, bloodied and wild-eyed, and could be visibly shaken as he works with Andre Ware and Cara Capuano on the regionals.

This requires revision: The reverse negative of Ole Miss fan Shepherd Smith–Brock Huard–will proved commentary for the new Saturday night SEC game on ESPNU along with Eric Collins. Ron White belongs in this booth as a third banana, and be promises he’ll keep his Scotch off-camera.

CONSUME. Now available in selected regional newsstands across America, Gator Gridiron profiles the 2009 Florida Gators football team as only we can: WITH HUNDREDS OF NUDE PHOTOS. That’s right, nude photos of beautiful celebrities performing despicable but riveting acts with all manner of implements and other beautiful celebrities.

Sure, you like Dan Shanoff, but you’ll like him better when we take his piece Tebow: Great… Or Greatest? and pair it with a picture of Kristen Bell from her Veronica Mars days in a bikini soaping up a tranquilized American alligator! HEY-YAH!!! She’s a wiry one! Just wait until you get until the pieces by Chrison Charlie Strong’s defense and the evolution of Tim Tebow. They’re 100% genius, but wait until you see his brilliant analysis matched up against ACTUAL PICTURES OF NAKED ERIN ANDREWS NAKED ERIN ANDREWS.*

Order here: Holly, Joel, Scott, Ryan, T. Kyle, and some random anarchist named Spencer Hall are all included, and at 124 pages it is certainly more information than one might require about the 2009 Florida Gators.

*”NAKED ERIN ANDREWS” is Polish for “accurate diagrams of spread formations lining up against a standard 4-3 defense.” We apologize for any inconvenience. Also there are no other nude photos in the guide except for the author’s photo. You pay 12 bucks, you get exactly 12 bucks worth.

It is all very well done, though we might suggest one modification, brilliant marketing people at Arizona State: a filter. These are all screencaps from various submissions, and are not photoshopped. (Holly, of course, contributed mightily.)

Just a few things you can MARK my words about this college offseason…

Nick Saban’s Alabama team flopped down the stretch last year. If they go the wrong kind of 10-2 again, what stops a tide of unhappiness from sweeping Saban away? HMMMMM??? MARK my words, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better in Tuscaloosa.

Terrelle Pryor is a prima donna waiting to happen. Someone get him a tiara…MARK my words.

Poke!

If Dabo Swinney fails to be competitive, he won’t be given a lot of time by Clemson boosters, who’ll say “Yabba Dabo Don’t” to a contract extension.

The ACC as Entourage: Randy Shannon is Vince, Ralph Friedgen is Turtle, Jim Grobe is Eric, and Frank Beamer is Drama. Of course, it should go without saying that Frank Spaziani is Meadow Soprano, the little minx. Love that show.

I wouldn’t let Jimmy Clausen take out my daughter…but I think he’d be a fine prom date for my son!

Gay is catching. Just ask U-Dub! Oh, I’m sorry, that’s “losing”! HA!

Sorry, was was being Sarkisian. Whoops! I meant sarcastic!

Speaking of his former boss; no national titles since 2004, Pete Carroll? Maybe you should spend less time twittering and more time coach-ering. That he earns $4 million a year in the middle of California’s budget crisis makes me outraged in a way 140 characters only starts to express!

Bobby Bowden and Joe Pa: who quits first? Our money’s on Paterno. He won’t take a challenge Lion down…MARK my words, reader.

You know why they call him Downtown Mack Brown? Because that’s where he enjoys a quiet dinner with his family on Sundays!

MARK ‘em: Charlie Weis better put up (the donuts) or shut up this year, or he’ll need more than one kind of Hail Mary to save his job!

Mike Leach should shut up about NFL quarterbacks. He never even played in the league! The closest he’s getting to the NFL is in a mascot suit!

Bob Stoops to conquer, while Mike Stoops…to pick up an application at the Home Depot! [HD memorial day sale ad]

Speaking of Stoops: can’t wait to see him lose another BCS title game. When’s he gonna win his first one, huh? Better be SOONER rather than later, buddy!

Source: PIc is Unrelated.

The real reason Tim Tebow can’t take a snap under center? Two words: Prop 8.

Mike Sherman’s march in 2009 will be less Gone With The Wind and more Gone With The Win! Am I right?

You know what the BCS should stand for? Big Counterfeit Stink, that’s what! The Bowl CAN’Tpionship Series will mess things up again this year, just watch. At least they’ve got two of the letters right!

Your coach isn’t recruiting as well as he used to, and that’s probably a trend even though I’m not going to cite any real data in asserting this! But it’s true, and you can…MARK my words!
I