Oh, like you never thought of this as a kid.

We slammed a fifth of Powerthirst after waking up this morning, and the Curious Index is now the FURIOUS INDEX! Thus, it’s only fair we start things off with something satisfyingly harsh, like Pantera in front of tens of thousands of angry Russians. Mind the language, of course, but it’s likely your boss might care a bit more about the fact that it’s Pantera than if an F bomb gets dropped. Plus you can’t even understand any of the lyrics anyway.

Who the hell is “Terrelle Pryor”?: Recruiting minutia for those of you who care about this stuff… some Pryor kid, who seems more interested in basketball than football, has committed to the “University of Ohio State.” aren’t they in the MAC or something? Regardless, we expect this to have absolutely no effect on the college football world for the next four-five years. None whatsoever. We’re certain that Michigan faithful would rise up with pitchforks and torches and throw Rich Rodriguez into Lake Huron in 2010 anyway. Anyway, worst kept secret turns into not secret at all, and the other members of the BXI now have their excuse why they plan to lose to Ohio State 90-0 for the next four years.

June Jones cares about defense, pants: An alert reader sends us this tip:

But here was the big surprise — June Jones was coaching the defense. Seriously. I expected him to be right behind the quarterbacks talking to them about everything, but instead he had a notebook in his hand and after each play he’d flip it open and show something to the defense — I’m guessing a formation he wanted them to line up in. He even lined up as the right end a few times and at the snap would take a couple of steps into the backfield, like a rusher.

Picture evidence, which is too large for the constraints of this site, is here. There is no denying, now, that SMU is controlling Jones like Scientology. First, the clothes: Jones, who used to dress like a bad mix of a Jimmy Buffett fan and Bernie Focker, is posing in suits with the SMU brass. Now the former Hawaii coach thinks he’s a defensive guru. Don’t be surprised when, by July, Tom Cruise hears June’s name, thinks he’s a girl, and instinctively gets him pregnant.

Did we say “aggravated murder by arson?” We mean “misdemeanor.”: Charges against a Penn State player have been dropped. No, this is not a repeat. This time it’s Tyrell Sales, cited last Saturday for hollerating, and charges have now poof disappeared. This follows a long line of exorbitant Penn State charges that haven’t even come close to sticking, which just goes to show what happens when you hire Fericito as your attorney general. The Big Board will reflect the adjustment, assuming it was ever changed in the first place.

Did you have a good day with your bracket?: Yes, so did everybody else. It’s not like you had Georgia in the Elite 8 or any… oh God, you did, didn’t you. It’s okay, you didn’t need that money. Your wife can live off canned food for a while.

This post is brought to you by Three Inches of Bloodsport (WARNING: Pops directly to loud audio, workers beware), the greatest concert you will attend today. Click the link, leave it open for 15 minutes, and bask in the glory. There’s nothing you can pay money to see that’s half as entertaining. Nothing.

Goodbye, gorgeous: Those of you who are still members of the Virginia Tech Hokies, please raise your hands. Not so fast, Brandon Ore. Or Marcus Vick (What’s he still doing here? Security!!!). Ore was unceremoniously dismissed from the team by Frank Beamer yesterday, citing factors that, though comprising dozens of words, all sound exactly like “tired of his shit.” Ore is a redshirt senior, which means he’s about to make a I-AA team very happy next fall. Until they tire of his shit too, of course, but whatever. In the meantime, SMQ breaks it down harder than the fifteen seconds before Hammer Time.

Nothing going on today: Boy, it’s just a lazy Thursday, isn’t it? Football’s over five months away, most teams aren’t in on the spring practices yet, baseball’s a few days away… not much to talk about in sports at all, is there? Nope.

Oh, that: Yes, it’s the greatest day for college basketball, and here I am running EDSBS. This makes so much sense. Orson has taken the correct approach to filling out his bracket: a massive dose of firearms. Good luck with Belmont!

Hey look, the trustees think they have a say in the matter!: Penn State trustees have announced that they’ll be looking at the Joe Paterno situation at their next meeting, which is adorable. Joe Paterno will take the field at Happy Valley next fall, either under contract or by Napoleonic force. Mock his diminutive stature and zoological classification of “mangoblin” if you must, but Paterno has the resiliency that only comes from absurd science fiction, like Rocky or Rudy or The Little Engine That Could (in real life, all three would have been sold for spare parts). Plus the last time PSU AD Tim Curley tried to talk to JoePa about leaving, his marriage was ruined.

We’ll open the bidding with a question: what’s hard, made of cocaine, and looks like crack and was found on the dashboard of walk-on Tennessee football player and rhymes with crack? If you said crack, you’re obviously a felon. Turn yourself in now. If you do it in Knoxville, you might share a bunk with Justin Jackson, who can now look forward to being sexed by inmate Barry and his delightful selections of homemade toilet wine.

It’s crack. It gets you high.

Tennessee football walk-on Justin Jackson has been dismissed from the team after he was arrested on charges of selling crack cocaine, university officials said Thursday.

He sells cocaine! Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-kaayeaahhaawwwww!!! Phil Fulmer, who is very, very fat, has kicked Jackson off the team, a punishment Urban Meyer described as “harsh.” For actual selling of motherfucking holy shit CRACK, the Tennessee Vols will receive 3 points for selling narcotics and one point for the longstanding crack bonus. (Crack always gets a bonus point, because crack is…crack, worthy of a point unto itself.) He also got a generic weed charge, tacking two points on for a total of six points in all for the Vols.

Not enough to even get them on the big board amidst this year’s stiff competition, but enough to make us feel like the world is close to spinning on its correct axis. We feel like we just woke up to the promise of a new day, as if the universe were made suddenly whole and right in a single act. (Exhale.) We would like to ask you to join us by standing up in your office chair right now, clicking the jump, and engage in an office dance party to celebrate the circle of life, and deliver an important anti-drug message, too. Remember, people: you don’t have to smoke crack to have a good time.

Remember: we’re real cool, we chill to the max. We might act crazy but we don’t smoke crack. (HT: A few people, Doug, Jeremy, Holly…we’ll add links as soon as the internet tubes aren’t on the fritz.)

Call off the guards. Tell the protesters to stand down. Theismann: staying with the NFL.

Dance, monkeys! Let’s get rocked!

We’ll be boldly testing the theory of whether doing sports radio causes instantaneous weight gain tomorrow night as EDSBS Radio on BlogTalkRadio gets underway.

It promises to be a trainwreck, so tune in as we run through survival techniques of the offseason and also discuss anything and everything leaping into our minds at any given moment.

Who: Us, of course. Peter Bean of Burnt Orange Nation has been intrepid enough to join us for the trainwreck of an inaugural broadcast, as well. Both of us are on prescription medication. Be afraid.

The particulars:

What: EDSBS Radio. Like you’ve got anything better to do.

When: 8:00 EST–9:00 EST.

How: To call in, you mean? But of course. Live calling is a feature on BlogTalkRadio, and you should call in. In fact, we’ll be having a contest to see who can make the most cliched sports talk radio call-in tomorrow night.

The number: (718) 664-6532

You won’t be able to call in until showtime. Until then, feel free to submit topics for discussion in the comments, or click the BlogTalkRadio Button to visit our channel’s site.

It will probably sound a lot like this looks:

–Every Day Should Be Lemsday. Go to it. Now. An excerpt from the goods if you don’t believe us:

Aw de bowgame comrawndhea. Owe Miss aintinna bowgame! ORGERAWANNABOWGAME! Bamainnabowgame, Tennseeinnabowgame, evin Kentkainnabowgame! Isa putta rebah innabowgame! Wepla ennawar. Shrepor, Jackvul, Canta, youname! Rebah manah ha agresaysen, butrebah travrewel! Brindamanah! Brindafan! Ow Miss Rebah fillyostadum ritup!

Gicotchogeonachan, or hecommaritroun anstrinyawup!

It’s the greatest thing since Chewbacca’s website. Gigantic accolades to Brian and Trev and the boys for rigging up something that truly defies description.

Datratdeyer izzahelluvawebsayyyyeeet. YallhavahappeeLEMSDAY!!!

–In other bayou-ish news: Tulane, fresh from what Tony Barnhardt called a “scandalous” firing of Chris Scelfo, hires retread Bob Toledo as coach. Scelfo was the coach who juggled chainsaws in getting Tulane’s football team through Katrina despite lacking facilities, a field, and proper funding for substitutes. Karma points surely give him a nice bonus on whatever the next roll of life’s 20-sided die brings.

–House of Heat brings us a comprehensive guide to surviving the wilds of Glendale, Arizona. They’re also quite cautious but also optimistic on Arizona State’s hiring of slut/genius Dennis Erickson as their coach for the next two years. (max)

–We missed the inimitable Clay Travis post-game at the SEC championship game, but we hope that’s understandable since the Nutt/Meyer trickfest left us too weak to speak coherently. Clay shares his lessons learned from his season-long swing around the SEC, including this canny observation about the benefits of publicly-subsidized Georgia educations:

. University of Georgia girls have bigger breasts thanks to the Hope Scholarship. With other southern states like Tennessee and South Carolina adopting lottery-funded scholarships, I expect this trend to spread even faster.

Take that, Harvard!

–Adrian Peterson, playing in la Fiesta Bowl. We’re not sure we can really advocate this, since given his long history of freak injuries and bad timing, a smiting at the gun just as AP extends his arm into the endzone for the winning score might be inevitable.

–Urban Meyer’s counting to 10 before he answers questions that make him mad. He’s also getting all postmodern and ironic with us:

“See, I’ve learned. I made comments in this room before (that were criticized). Watch how mature I am. You’re going to hear a lot of nonsense out of my mouth from here on out. … I’m going to start talking like a lot of these other coaches. … I think we’re going to take it one game at a time. We’re going to play very hard. Ohio State’s got great players. How’s that?�

Sounds like Jim Tressel, actually.

–Speaking of Sir Sweatervest…Buckeye Commentary has graphs of Smith’s landslide of the Heisman award leading up to the voting. The actual voting looked like Haitian election results with Troy Smith playing the part of the well-armed strongman.

–Dem Heizman Boyz: Another reason why living in the South is like awesomeness cubed. Actually, at any point in the Southeast spontaneous, coordinated, and oddly goofy dancing can break out at any point, though never without the participation of at least one black person. The only exception to this is the electric slide; otherwise, white people in large groups, like programmed Sims, just start playing horseshoes happily.

Brian’s got his videos, but we’re partial to this Florida-themed variation we found on Youtube. You know it’s college–check the lamp in the background and the blinds. We know this because we can still smell the odor of a tremendous spider falling to its fiery death against the bulb in a dingy Gainesville apartment.

Our inner Marxist wins the morning hour. BTW, if anyone makes a Urban Meyer Che Guevara shirt, we’l buy one the second it goes for sale. ¡Viva la revolucion!