An inordinate amount of fight music’s been popping up in the inbox lately. Being the resident pepidemiologist of the blogosphere, we categorize, analyze, and then evaluate them based on the logical system of analysis we’ve created over the past two years of our studies.

Then, of course, we mock them ’till they bleed like Jerry Cooney on blood-thinners.

Kick the stuffin’ out of ‘em–in an amiable country music kinda way. We’re old enough to remember when country could in its own way generate a legitimate air of menace, even when a song sounded cheerful on first listen. “Fightin’ Side Of Me” by Merle Haggard? “Country Boys Can Survive” by Hank Williams, Jr? Or, most notoriously in our mind, “Copperhead Road” by Steve Earle, a song that makes us want to set fire to the nearest flammable object not attached to our body? They all have the glower of a dude in tight jeans skunked on gallons of beer ready to put a knockoff Tony Lama in your canines, or at least thankin’ about doin’ just that.

Totally wants to kick the shit out of you while wearing a silly railroad hat.

Unfortunately, country music is run by total, unremitting pussies, which is why you get Faith Hill instead of Loretta Lynn and Tim McGraw instead of Merle Haggard. (more…)

The Narrative dies a little each week–long live the Narrative! The best part about a system where 10 teams per conference compete for a single spot comes in the knowledge that while you may not win, your most hated opponent’s odds of winning remain steep and will likely explode in their face on national television.

This nearly happened as South Carolina almost beat Auburn 24-17, with only a clanking pair of traitorous hands keeping the Gamecocks from tying it up in the dying last seconds of the game. Brandon Cox was forced to convert 4th and 6 and 3rd and 21 in the third quarter to hold possession. The buzz line is that Auburn held the ball for the entire third quarter–astonishing, especially since Tuberville engineered the cock-free third quarter by going for an onside kick to get the ball back and eke out another Irons rushing touchdown.

Auburn: almost fumbled away the Narrative last night.

The pressure of a road game had Al Borges saying…strange…things: From John Solomon’s blog:

To say Auburn was relieved to prevail is an understatement. Al Borges spoke about “swallowing hard” if Tommy Tuberville hadn’t made two gutsy calls – then Borges acknowledged they were “swallowing hard” anyway at the end.

The general thought among Auburn fans we spoke with was that Auburn’s defense were the ones swallowing hard for most of the night, befuzzled by Spurrier’s going to a spread formation and passing at will despite Auburn dropping eight men into coverage. (This paragraph truncated in order to prevent embarrassing Spurrier man-love spewing across the page. There’s been quite enough of that.)

TCU lost last night, scrapping the TCU “BCS-buster” tag and the nation’s longest win streak simultaneously. If there’s a positive in all of this, it’s the fact that our campaign to get jets installed in TCU mascot’s eyes that spray red fluid may have just found some extra push, since we blame Super Frog’s inability to intimidate opinions for TCU’s loss. Thanks to Austin Murphy, we now know the red fluid is not blood, actually, but something even worse:

We’d spent the previous half hour killing time in the office of associate athletic director Scott Kull, who’d made several important points about the school’s distinctive mascot. “The horned frog — actually a spiny lizard — subsists on a diet of red ants.” It had long been believed that this creature was capable, when angered or frightened, of directing a four-foot stream of blood from its eyes. Kull tells me that’s not blood, but rather, pre-digested red ants.

An animal so filled with rage it vomits through its eyes. That is a mascot.

Kids, come say hi to SuperFrog…AIIIIGGGGHH GOD WHAT IS THIS!!!

The FAMU Band. Where does one begin? Start with the drum majors–even when you’re in the nosebleeds, you know something’s going on, since even from the distance of several miles you can look at the drum majors and guess that a.) they’re not gay, b.) they’re dancing better than you, even in your drunkest fantasies, ever have, and c.) they’re getting straight laid that night.

To properly appreciate FAMU, you have to see the choreography up close, and since most of the videos of the band on YouTube are straight pressbox shots sprinkled with occasional close-up shots, you miss out on plenty of quality pelvic thrusting and leg grabs. The practice videos show their whole routine, though, complete with crowd participation and singalongs. The best comes about a minute in, and yes, you get bonus points for getting people to attempt this in the office.

(more…)

Welcome to the final re-run portion of Pepidemiology… although it has been brought to our attention that we might need to add to the series to cover the inflatable mascots.  We’re not sure they are important enough, but it is under advisement. 

The stuff nightmares are made of.