She’s very good at her job, and we respect her immensely. We have to. We’re what a feminist looks like.

That said, HEY LOOK HER BOOBS!!!

Always, always ask for a light test unless you want dorks on the internet to point these things out. (HT: The Starter Wife.) Also, mad daps for looking that good after two kids and pushing fifty. She’s no Nigella in the midlife-mistress department, but it needs mentioning all the same. BTW, Nigella Lawson can still use us for medical experiments anytime she likes. That’s standing policy.

Love has stepped on both of these people with a hobnailed boot. Larry Munson is the sole property of the Georgia Bulldogs we envy openly and shamelessly, an announcer with just a pinch of Minnesota nose to him who sounds like an ages old tortoise sipping whiskey while broadcasting the game from somewhere deep inside Mammoth Cave. He’s a national treasure, he broadcasts Georgia football, and the combination of the two facts is proof that God blesses even the wretchedest on this planet with something good and pure.

Paul brings us the news and audio behind someone paying Munson to do a voiceover for their wedding. Personally, we think given the divine desperation Munson can summon up in his best moments, his narration of a divorce would be even better.

For the uninitiated, here’s a compilation of Munson’s finest lunacy. Even with all that blasted, scabrous red all over the screen, it’s still run-flat awesome. OH MY GOD A TOUCHDOWN MY GOD A TOUCHDOWN–even the teetotalingest finger-wagging Baptist forgave him for that, which you may see around the 2:07 mark.

NCAA officially files their mea culpa. Rule 3-2-5-e, which suffered a severe aneurysm in March, gets the official DNR order signed and approved by the NCAA. Spit on the ground twice in its memory.

Way more effective than that old ‘G’ Formation. It’s the offseason–help yourself to a little football history as Corn Nation examines the history of the wacky ‘T’ Formation. Not explained in the article: why the hell the Seahawks have it in Madden.

SMQ is Jacob wrestling the angel, and you’re not even watching. Sunday Morning Quarterback is rolling through every team in the land again and you’re not even paying attention. You owe him makeup sex, a nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and at least two romantic comedies for your negligence. And no, The 13th Warrior is not a romantic comedy, even if we told you it was. (Because nothing gets us in the mood like Viking Death,, but we’re not normal.)

Best. Shirts. Ever. Take sporting debate on the road with you with Dan Shanoff’s stellar array of Gator/Duke debate shirts. Or, if you’re less inclined to debate, you could just wear one of ours (click to go to the shop and buy, say, thirty of them for your friends:)

Tang still double-entendre funny! Gravity pulls down! And Nick Saban? Still a raving asshole to everyone and anyone around him. He’d try to talk to you a bit about this, but he hasn’t got time for this shit, even if he made time later to make time for this shit.

An anonymous tipster who did get a peek in Saban’s practices though says the coach is livid with the front seven’s lack of…well, just general lackness. But how could that be? You hired a coach who is the son of a great coach? Greatness is genetic! Look at Freddie Prinze Jr. if you don’t believe us, or Robin Thicke.

Again, repetition is the key to communication again. Pete Carroll: again, not going anywhere. Ever. For any reason. Except he’s got to stop by Whole Foods for some Newman-O’s, because they’re the best organic cookies everywhere. If you need him, he’s taking the golden unicycle.

Fuck your couch, Ed Orgeron. Via the Wiz, the best walkoff decision we’ve ever seen comes from Cliff Davis, now former backup qb at Ole Miss:

“I gave it up since they didn’t put me in the damn game,” Davis said Monday in a telephone interview. “Fed up. Football’s not paying my damn bills, so it’s time to get my education, join the working world.”

Davis left the game early in the fourth quarter, walked into the locker room, and then walked out of football for good. Coach Ed Orgeron was so shocked he didn’t even burn his house down in retaliation for his disloyalty.

Nigella Lawson: We’d still ride it like the MARTA. Cheesecake is coming, but we’d like to reiterate that Nigella may still use us for medical experiments any day of the week.

Houston Nutt: still crazier than sack of rabid weasels.

Wally Hall of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette writes a column. (HT: Will Collier.)

This column appears in single sentences, and not whole.

Paragraphs.

Like a lot of columnists.

Like to do.

Column says Nutt blames the media for his troubles, including some hyperventilation over Arkansas’ ninth-ranked recruiting class in the SEC. Nutt then calls in to a local talk show where

Wally Hall.

Is.

Making.

An appearance.

Nutt, disarmed by the host’s frequent use of the intimate “Houston Dale,” feels comfortable enough to rail on the air about how underhanded and inaccurate Hall’s column is, though never mentioning its punctuation or structure, its most damning traits, really.

The reference to “Houston Dale” is something people born in the South will do whenever seeking a certain amount of comfort or intimacy with someone, digging for the middle name to imply familiarity. We even do it, like when we warn our buddy, as in “Phillip Michael Thomas, put down our fucking cognac!” That guy’s crazy! If we do it, everyone else must be, too, since fundamentally we’re as Southern as proper nutrition, David Schwimmer, or civil rights.

In conclusion, though, remember: Houston Nutt is crazier than a sack of rabid weasels.

Your pointing makes us uncomfortable, sir.

Les Fuckin’ Miles has something to fuckin’ say, assholes. Imagining squeaky Les Miles cursing at all is funny; in fact, to us it’s much like imagining a Muppet Baby hotwiring your car, or picturing a Snork selling their body for meth money. However, it happens, and usually over rubber chicken dinners:

“We’re looking forward to playing Florida,” Miles said, his voice gaining momentum and volume. “We’re looking forward to playing Auburn. But we have a new rival in (expletive deleted) Alabama.”

The last line — a clear reference to Saban’s presence in Tuscaloosa — drew a standing ovation from the crowd.

We bet you two American dollars that profanity is either “goddamn” or “fuckin’”, with our heart leaning toward “fuckin’.” That would make Les Miles so much harder than we thought he was, and also validate his ever-suspect choices in headgear.

Reggie Bush Thinks Your Petty Rules Are For Mortals Who Cannot Outrun A Diet Pepsi Machine. Again. Reggie Bush may have contacted signing day’s number one attraction, Joe McKnight, during the recruiting process, a clear violation of NCAA regulations. No response from college football’s version of the League of Nations yet.

Following Bush’s advice, however, McKnight took free uniforms and tuition money from USC before switching his allegiances and signing with LSU this afternoon. “Gotta make the most of your opportunities,” said McKnight. Les Miles also chimed in by noting that the event was “totally fuckin’ awesome.”

Randy Newman concurs. Urban Meyer dares to suggest Florida’s academics are superior to LSU’s during the recruiting process. As pointed out by numerous commenters, Randy Newman was on this a long, long time ago in the song “Rednecks:”

We got no-necked oilmen from Texas
And good ol’ boys from Tennessee
And colleges men from LSU
Went in dumb. Come out dumb too

Randy Newman’s pimp hand is strong and you’re wearing leopard print tights and standing on the corner in a snowstorm to appease him, objecting or dissenting reader. Argue with the man who wrote the soundtrack to Toy Story? That’s how lawyas get killed, son.

Got child molesta glasses and he still stay fly: Randy “ReddBonz” Newman.

Anyone got any white-out? Jerimy Finch’s national signing day letter is posted at the MZone. In case you wondered how a recruit as mercurial and indecisive as Finch managed to change his mind so many times, Yost et. al have the simple answer: he was signing each time in pencil.

Bret Bielema, EDSBS man of the year, is buying the drinks tonight. We support this move strictly because he stuck his smartass thumb in the eye of rule 3-2-5-e this year by onsideing away the last dregs of the first quarter: Bret Bielema receives a five year contract extension at Wisconsin. He’ll need a few thousand of it for testicle warmers alone: the low tonight in Madtown will scrape three degrees below zero Fahrenheit.

Yes, you may use a sample of my brain tissue for your recipe, pretty lady. Nigella Lawson has liberal attitudes toward sexual morality. We’ll let Les Miles comment for us: “Fuckin’ awesome. She’s so fuckin’ hot. Just fuckin’ awesome.”

Let Urban be praised. Enjoy your weekend.

Holy smoking hell: English Muffin Nigella Lawson.