The U.S. House of Representatives certainly has never had a shortage of complete nutcakes, but ever since former Rep. Tom Osborne (R-NE) declined to run for re-election in 2006 (in favor of an ultimately unsuccessful run for governor), it has been regrettably short on former coaching legends. According to the Orlando Sentinel, though, next year the House may have a shot at bolstering its numbers in both categories: Former Notre Dame head coach and current ESPN talking/babbling head Lou Holtz has been talking to national Republican leaders about the possibility of running against incumbent Rep. Suzanne Kosmas for the Congressional seat representing Florida’s 24th district. Granted, there’s probably a case to be made that Holtz couldn’t be that much worse than must of the fruit cups currently representing us on Capitol Hill, but the mere concept remains so intensely, willfully surreal on its face that there can only be one possible purpose for it: grooming a suitably bonkers running mate for Sarah Palin’s inevitable 2012 presidential campaign.

Palin/Holtz ‘12: In your heart, you know it’d be hilarious.

What kind of a representative/VP would Sweet Lou be? Well, we already know he’d be a big fat no on the Kyoto Protocols. If his continuing close relationship with Notre Dame is any indication, we can also assume he’d swing solidly to the right on all the hot-button social issues — abortion, euthanasia, the right of Michigan and Ohio State fans to intermarry, that sort of thing. As far as clues from his actual coaching career, we can assume he’d be dedicated to building a strong national defense, but that he’d also follow a fairly strict non-interventionist policy (unless you can find any evidence that his South Carolina teams mounted any offense whatsoever). As far as we’re concerned, the wild card here is health care: If he’s going to run as a Republican, the obvious assumption is that he’s against Obama’s health-care proposal, but you have take into account his unclear stance on drug benefits and his casual distribution of advice (as a “Doctor” on ESPN) that was, at best, quasi-solicited — there’s a possibility he’d be down for a lot more government involvement there than the GOP would like. (All together now: MAVERICK!)

As for potential appointments or staff members, it’s probably early to be speculating on those as well, but one name seems like a pretty safe bet: Beano Cook as assistant for national security affairs, the Scooter Libby to Lou’s Dick Cheney? Yeah, you laugh now. Just see if he doesn’t.

Way off topic, from the It’s The Offseason And We Are So Bored We Will Post Pretty Much Anything RCR Sends Us Department: Louisiana man finds African wildcat in backyard.

He took it water, then slices of American cheese, then pieces of turkey wing.

[...]

He guessed that the cat’s relatively calm demeanor meant it was someone’s pet: “If it had been aggressive, it would have had my butt.”

[...]

“They told me to go back inside because the cat, you know, might have other options,” he said.

Area residents were, of course, unfazed:

Proving once again that Louisiana lives larger than anywhere else in God’s green America, and that we are all poorer for it.

Off-topic, but not far: The Arizona student paper has an arrest report in it that puts any Fulmer Cup contestant to shame. Some choice excerpts:

When police arrived, they saw a stopped, running car at a green light, facing eastbound on Speedway.When the officer approached the car, he saw the woman was asleep, with her dress pulled up to her stomach and her underwear pulled down to her mid-thighs.

[...]

Upon opening the door, he saw a three-quarters-empty bottle of Sailor Jerry Navy Rum on the floorboard of the passenger side.

[...]

After about two minutes of trying to wake her up, she awoke, saying, “No, Clint, not right now.”

Innumerable thanks to EDSBS lead counsel Ragin’ Cajun Rebel for passing this along.

Oh, there’s so much to do around here in the offseason. We could go outside…no, wait, outside sucks. Not as much as it sucks for you sad, bunker-dwelling Midwesterners, who for some reason decide to live in the middle of the fucking continent where nothing is and where the temperature dives to inhuman temperatures with a negative sign in front of them. Masochism lives, and its address is probably somewhere with IA or SD behind it.

Still, it shouldn’t ever be below freezing in Atlanta. That’s not part of the contract, which specifies all the other bad shit about living here. Which, specifically, is only one thing, really:

Tardbillies Keeping Us From Buying Alcohol on Sundays. You know what? God doesn’t give a shit whether you buy you booze in a grocery store on in a restaurant on Sundays. In fact, he’d probably prefer if we didn’t have to get in a car, drive to the bar, cloud our judgment, and then have three more drinks before getting in the car. You can get booze on Sundays IN ALABAMA FOR HELL’S SAKE. If Alabama has a more sound policy on anything than your state, consider disbanding into a series of independent city-states immediately.

Yet my jacknoramus governor–who actually chooses to call himself Sonny as an adult man–claims this would endanger lives. Fuck you, Sonny, and fuck that ignoramus old biddy trembling in her sunbonnet in some dingy church worried that Crazy Old Testament God will bring his thunder down on Georgia if we can buy a bottle of cheap Aussie Shiraz on Sundays and drink it with my family. And if we’re going to spend time with our family, WE GON HAFTA DRANK, Sonny. You want family values? Let us nip down to the liquor store to make ourselves pleasant for company. Believe us, it’s better for all concerned. God knows this, right God?

YES ATTENTION QUIVERING TARDBILLIES OF GEORGIA PLEASE LET ATLANTA CONTINUE TO BRING LIFE AND MONEY AND INTERESTING THINGS TO YOUR WORLD BY ALLOWING THEM TO BUY ALCOHOL WHENEVER THEY LIKE. ALSO, IF YOU WANT CONVENTIONEERS TO COME BACK, YOU SHOULD BRING BACK 24 HOUR CLUBS. PEOPLE LIKE BOOZE AND WHORES. THEY’RE GOOD FOR BUSINESS. GOD, OUT.

See? Even God wants that to happen. He might be willing to kill your firstborn to make it happen, Georgia! Or maybe not. You’ll never know, but why risk it? He’s done it before, and he might do it again if you don’t let us purchase a case of PBR on Sundays like the pansy failed hipsters we are.

Opening kickoff and WHOOOOP!!! Down to the 35 yard line and David Akers from…from….

Tom Jackson: (sighs) Louisville.

Berman: Tom, Jesus, sound like you gotta pair. Edit that out. Let’s keep going. (more…)

One can only hope that when the time comes, the obituary-gland won’t fail you in your hour of need. If necessary, though, just take inspiration from the sublime obituary of Wyoming’s James William “Jim” Davis, who you know is cool simply by virtue of having a “nickname” built into this name.

Read on for a man’s obituary written as a man should write it: (more…)

Well, if Lehman has to collapse, you might as well do something positive to lighten the mood.

As Chris Mottram said when I showed him this: “Even with our economy collapsing, fake gay is still funny.” This is truly our country. (HT: Dave.)

State fair deep-fried consolation for those whose teams lost this weekend: the Texas State Fair, where you can eat the death-row food of those who don’t want to make it down the hall to Ol’ Sparky, batter-fried bacon. There’s also this quote, which may summarize all you may need to know and never understand about state fair cuisine:

“This is the Chocolate-covered Strawberry Waffle Ball. It’s a plump fresh strawberry dipped in chocolate and then covered in sweet waffle batter and then deep-fried. Makes perfect sense.”

No, no it doesn’t, sir. Not in the least.