Happy 4th from Orson, Holly, and the fiendishly talented LSUFreek, who put that stirring tribute to our country together. Barstoolio asks: “HOW IS LSUFREEK NOT PRESIDENT YET?” In time, friend; in due time.

Hey, man. Have a seat. How’s class? Good? Great. Good to hear. That thing in the club the other night? Don’t do that again. I know she slapped you first, but next time? Back of the legs. No bruises, just like the bottom of the heels. Either that or hit them with a phone book. Lou Holtz taught me a lot of things, and the most important one is that if you have to beat someone inconspicuously, let your fingers do the walking with the sledgehammer you keep on your bookshelf.

Anyway, I want to talk to you about your 40 time. You’ve done a lot of work. Sprints. Box jumps. Strengthening your hamstrings. Mickey says your work ethic is beyond any of your peers. But it’s not the top one percent of one percent. It’s just not.

We’ve hit a wall. I have a solution. Don’t freak out when I say this. I’m just going to show you a picture, and give it a thought, okay? Promise? Seriously, I will beat you down with a phonebook if you attack me when I show you this picture. Because I love you. Ready?

I’ve already talked with the medical staff about it, and it’s beyond doable. A simple operation compared to some of the stuff they do. We can set it up however you like. You’ll get ass for the rest of your life with the story we’ll cook up: saving a puppy from getting hit by a semi, fighting off a gang of bikers trying to rape a pair of nuns, something like that.

And he flies in these things. Have you seen him? 4.6, and he’s white. Imagine what you’ll do in these. I want to make the edges serrated on your playing legs. Just for the extra edge. Get it? Edge?

I can see you’re thinking about it. I like that. Just consider this: what have your legs done for you lately? We can make the legs look any way you like, too. Orange and Blue. Little LEDs in them. You’ll never have to worry about an ankle or heel injury ever again. Imagine that.

The recruiting angle will be incredible, too. We get to be heartwarming and on the forefront of football technology.

Just think it over. I know you’ll do it. For the team. You just need time to think this over. I’ll let you have it. Let me just finish with this: you’ll have robot legs. Don’t you want super robot legs? Isn’t that what champions want? Super robot champion legs? We’re offering that to you and a free college education.

Think about it. I’m done here. The rest is up to you…super robot champion.

Mistakes: we make ‘em.

On Tuesday, we mentioned that Bo Pelini’s middle name was “Steven.” This is incorrect: Pelini’s middle name is Wrathhammer. We regret the error.

On Monday, we quoted the number of sacks allowed by Notre Dame last year as 58. This was correct, but left out the other stat lines.

Pressures: 324

Disembowelments: 15

Decapitations: 7

Drawn and Quartered: 9

Thrown off cliff in Iraq by U.S. soldiers: 3

Strapped in chair and forced to watch Ang Lee’s The Hulk: 1

Again, we regret the error.

On Wednesday, we referred to Bobby Bowden as a former lover of Rudolf Nuryev and “one of the most notorious power bottoms in the Castro’s jet-set weekend crew in the 70s” This was based on false information and bad sourcing, and we regret the error.

Also on Wednesday, we implicated Bobby Bowden in the shooting of Tupac Shakur. This, too, was based on bad information. (Thank god we didn’t actually do that…unlike the LA Times actually did to someone.)

On Tuesday, we referred to our consumption of Tylenol Orange Flavored Cough Medicine in Las Vegas. This was a misrepresentation. We were actually smoking moonrock and huffing benzene at the time and chasing it with the Orange Drank. We regret the error.

On Monday, we suggested that Rutgers coach Greg Schiano was lactose-intolerant. This is not accurate. He is just naturally gassy and has a problem processing complex starches. We regret the error.

On Thursday, we reported on the death of Brent Musberger in a Texas hotel room following a squabble with Mexican drug dealers and an unstoppable, shadowy killer fond of coin flips. This did not actually happen, and was instead the plot of the Oscar-winning No Country For Old Men with the words “Brent Musburger” put in place of “Josh Brolin.” Again, we regret the error.

My friends and fellow Americans,

We come here today to transcend the awards of old and move to that shining city on the hill we all want to live in: the College Football Blog Awards 2008, where no good blog goes unrecognized, where we all feel the prosperity of hundreds–yes, hundreds!–of dollars of Google AdSense income.

The CFBA would like to thank you for submitting nominations for this years awards. No one person reads them all, and it takes a village to bring this effort along. We would also like to thank Joel, our fearless leader, who brought the whole endeavor together as only he could. He deserves your applause for his fine work, coding, list-keeping, and his amazing ability to help those who have difficulty keeping their pants on straight put on an award process despite the issues with the pants, and the straightness thereof. Kudos and applause.

The Cabal met via chat and, after the hard deliberation and decisions that deciders have to make, a final list of nominees emerged. Cabal members used reader nominations and pared down from there as objectively as they could. Human weakness did emerge: the topic of Stewart Mandel incited some passions, as did Orson’s opinion of one blogger he would, on meeting in person, punch in the uterus. (No, it’s not who you think it is, and no, it’s not a woman, but a feminizing joke.)

Any time nomination posts mentioned or the gizmo spat out one of our own names, we either abstained or argued against ourselves and in favor of someone else. Committee members also attempted to balance bringing the true, echt best of the 2007 to the forefront while also highlighting new but lesser-known blogs.

So in short: while all nominations were considered, not all nominations were included in the end, because there’s no way to include every nominee.

Oh, and while not eliminating anyone, open campaigning for votes by bloggers was considered “in poor taste” by the Cabal, and “aggressively whorish” by Orson. Please refrain from it in gentlemanly fashion, twiddle your handlebar mustache with style, and join us at the bar for a Pimm’s Cup and some strawberries with creme fraiche while we wait for center court to open up for a match, will you? Right-o.

The schedule:

Nominations announced today, beginning at EDSBS at 10:00, then at MGoBlog at 11:00, Dawg Sports at 12:00, Burnt Orange Nation at 1:00, and Rocky Top Talk at 2:00. All times EST. After that, come back to EDSBS for voting instructions.

Reminder! Last year’s winner in any particular category is ineligible to win that category this year, with the exception of awards for individual posts (as opposed to entire blogs), so hold your criticism on that. Send all other complaints to myscrotumismadeoffruitrollupsbiteitandsee@yahoo.com.

Okay, so send in the clowns.

Orson:

Head over to MGoBlog at 11:00-ish EST for the official nominees for Best National Blog, People’s Champ Award, Funniest Blog, and Best YouTube.

1. Your schedule: hyah.
2. Your therapy session: EDSBS Live. Sunday night, 7 p.m. EST to 9 p.m. EST.
3. Win or lose against Georgia, the OBC’s playing through, slowass. FORE!!! CLICK-CLACK!!!

Leave your thoughts below. We’ll talk to you Sunday night.

Syracuse: Um, the Washington of the Big East? Even pitching here, but played in the Carrier Dome, which Syracuse actually inflates with pure helium during games. Unaccustomed to the pure, toxic form of the gas, Washington dies a squeaky little death in this game. (Don’t believe it? You come up with a better explanation of why good teams go bad in the unassuming Syracuse game environment.)

Ty Willingham and the Huskies: this year, they dine in hell.

Boise St: Beat a better Pac-10 team this past season in Oregon State, which looked like ashen heaps of shame for the Beavers until the Statue of Liberty Game. Now they’re the favorite here, which means they’ll have difficulty dealing with the pressure, stumble, and still win this game running.

Ohio State: Loss. Will not get ugly after the second quarter. Because it will be 20something to three then, and Tressel and the Sweatervest Mafia will call off the dogs. Fortunately, as this will be Tennessee/Florida week, no one will watch this game anyway, so it will be a quiet death.

UCLA: Loss. Fire Karl Dorrell!

USC: Hmm…are we mad to think that after a 26-20 near miss for USC last year, that Ty Willingham and company can pull this one out at home? Are we? And those purple gargoyles eating the curtains–they weren’t there five minutes ago, right? HUGHHHHH!!!

Arizona St Win! Why not. They’ll win one of these midseason games based on sheer spite acquired from the gauntlet of the first five games. Or they’ll be crushed, burned-out husks of themselves already. Hard to tell, really, but we like to think pink here at EDSBS.

Oregon Loss. Distrust this pick, however, as Dennis Dixon has a tendency to look very, very sleepy at times. (Hell, distrust them all…)

Arizona: Win! But only because Willie Tuitama, spinning wheels in the first year of the Mike Leach offense, throws four picks in his 62 attempts on the game.

Stanford: Jim Harbaugh, declaring himself eligible for a fifth season of eligibility, suits up and drives the Cardinals to their only win of the season, repeating their record of 1-11 from 2006. When asked why, Harbaugh simply answers “Because Jim Harbaugh bows to no man.”

Oregon St: Loss. We think, on a serious note, that beating USC transformed this team for good last year, or at least was the on-field manifestation of Mike Riley slowly rebuilding this program after the sugar binge of cheap success Dennis Erickson took the program on at the turn of the millennium. Plus they have a lineman who stole a gay sheep. We can’t, by rule, root against that.

California: Loss. Jeff Tedford fields the same team of Tedfordbots every year, and most years they beat Washington. It’s superior technology. Can’t fight that.

Wash St: Um…win? Who knows-both teams are treading the same miserable path out of the bottom of the Pac-10. These games usually come down to turnovers. That’s announcer-speak for “both teams are about even, but we haven’t done our homework due to an unfortunate drinking incident with Musburger at the Coyote Ugly last night. You do NOT want to see that man with his shirt off pouring shots down his chest. It’s something a man shouldn’t have to see.”

Hawaii: Hello, 22 year old athlete. You’re in Hawaii, and you’ve just undergone a season’s worth of federal, “pound you in the ass” prison football in the brutal Pac-10. In addition to that, you played Boise State, Syracuse, and Ohio State, and lost to at least two of them. You hurt. Your body’s tired. You’re defeated.

And then, you get on a plane in rainy Seattle, and walk out in paradise. Palm trees; sunshine; hot, beautiful flesh moving tantalizingly under very small bathing suits. Someone puts a drink in your hand, and you’re at a bar kissed by the salt breezes of the Pacific, which looks so much friendlier here a few time zones over.

When’s practice tomorrow? Yes, practice…why am I here again?

LOSS.

That’s quite a homefield advantage you have there.

That’s pessimism illustrated, there. But if Washington goes bowl eligible after that schedule, someone get Ty Willingham his pre-Notre Dame Taoist genius buzzcap back, because that is honestly the nastiest schedule this side of the Tournament Map in Mortal Kombat 2. 6-5 at Notre Dame got him fired; 6-6 with this twelve game schedule would be an act of alchemy meriting Nobel consideration with the Coach of the Year nomination coming as a nice bonus.

Blake Mitchell, dancing, sweaty fool.

This immediately went straight to the Department of Gloriously Stupid Ideas in our head, so we contacted someone who might actually make the video. The conversation went something like this:

Orson: Joel, can you make Blake Mitchell dance?
Joel: Yeah. It’ll look like JibJab, but yeah, I can do that.
Orson: That’s awesome. Why don’t you get started on that great idea I just had? Like, now?
Joel: Um, sure.

And so a classic was born. Frankly, we deserve no credit on this one, since we merely told a Tennessean with a rudimentary working knowledge of Flash the idea, and he ran with the rest. And if you haven’t seen Graceland, the story of Mary the Murderous Elephant and Her Unfortunate Hanging, or seen a Nashville-area Golden Corral at 5:30 p.m. on a Sunday, you’ll have to understand that things get out of hand and get out of hand fast in the Volunteer State once the enthusiasm kicks in for a bit.

We now present Blake Mitchell, who contrary to the soundtrack, feels like dancin’, dancin’. For those of you who have the Youtubes blocked at work, try Joel’s embedded Flash file after the jump.

What we likely both agree on is that Clay Travis–and his Red Bull Flugtag entry, Makin’ It Rain–are destined for greatness this weekend. If you don’t believe us, watch Clay and company warm up by literally making it rain on them literal hoes.

We’ve really only learned one solid fact writing this blog: attorneys clearly have too much time on their hands.

Columbus, Ohio.

Scene: Bear, walking the tear-gas stained stained streets of Columbus following a game.

It’s one of the world’s harshest environments: Columbus, post-game. But you do have some help here. Fire is abundant, and since so much of survival is about keeping your spirits up, you’ll need to start one as soon as possible. Fortunately, the local environment is filled with it: just look for a dumpster, trash can, or anything that will burn, really. It will likely be on fire.

You’ll also need to find water, or risk dehydration. Even in cold weather like this, you’ll have to find water, and find it quickly. If you can’t find a river or creek, you may have to resort to desperate measures in a waterless environment. Find a styrofoam cooler, remove the top, and then perform an old Bushman’s trick to give yourself an unpleasant but possibly life-saving refreshment. (These coolers are usually loaded with feces, a last-ditch source of water for survival.)

One warning, though: the liquid you squeeze from this may be pure beer, which may dehydrate you. If anything, it’s a quick fix until you can find a real water source.

Miami, Florida: The Orange Bowl.

Scene: Bear is dropped into gameday in the Orange Bowl.

Stripping off parachute. The first thing you must know about this environment is how incredibly dangerous it is. The indigenous wildlife here shoots lead pellets at astonishing speeds without warning or provocation. Many German explorers have found this out the hard way. People have been known to survive for years, even decades here, though, with the help of some sound survival tactics, a little luck, and the help of a wily tax attorney.

Be sure to dine on the local frogs, turtles, and wild birds, which are all excellent sources of protein. Do not, however, eat the local primates–they’re either too old to consume, or too laced with silicone, which will poison you and kill you quickly, or worse still, covered in gold chains, tanner, cologne, and gel, which makes them nearly indigestible.

Pass them by, and look for a tasty frog before heading north to look for a way out and, if we’re lucky today, a wily tax attorney.

Stuck in Starkville Mississippi.

Bear stands in the middle of Starkville, Mississippi.

This is a not a real result for me here: as you can see, I’m surrounded by miles and miles of absolute nothingness. The obstacles here are immense, indeed. No obvious water sources, no obvious food sources, and little to no possibilities of shelter. This is as close to a real wasteland as you’ll find, but you can survive. Collect rainwater when it comes, and be sure to eat maggots from the carcass of corpses you find. It’s protein in an environment without a lot of advantages, so take it while you can.

If you’re looking for a dead animal, just look for their football program, one of the few obvious things in this desperate landscape.

Challenge: Lawrence, Kansas.

Bear approaches a huge, blue object.

Survival throws up a thousand obstacles. This is just one.

We’ll have to climb it. Not the best option, but this stands between us and survival, and we’ve simply got to get around it. When climbing, use your legs for power, and keep your arms straight and relatively relaxed. Conserve your energy in a resting position when possible.

This could take a while, so be sure to bring whatever food you’ve foraged with you.

Knoxville, Tennessee.

Bear trots at a nice pace along the streets of town.

Sometimes, survival is a matter of doing what you have to do. And sometimes that means hunting, even if you’re squeamish.

Fortunately, the mountains of East Tennessee are full of well-marbled protein on the boot. The local wildlife is slow, large, and often clueless as to what’s going on around them until the last second. Be careful, as once they are aware that you’re hunting them, they can become really, really violent, and are armed to the teeth with all kinds of naahhhsty sharp things.

They also make nice shelter, as you can eat them, and then climb inside the huge carcasses for a warm night of sleep. Their bright orange hides make excellent signals, too, for potential rescuers to spot you by. A slingshot will do, provided you’re stealthy and don’t arouse them.

Remember, if you can’t hunt one, you may be able to find a fresh carcass to eat off of for a quick boost of energy. Remember to only eat fresh kills, identified by vultures waiting nearby, the absence of maggots, and a freshly planted shiv or pool cue rammed through a body part. Also check the pockets–if their valuables are still there, then this is truly a fresh East Tennessee kill.

Grab your pocket knife, dig in, and most importantly, keep moving, survivor.

Yes, college football is on the horizon. We’re not exactly close, but we’re getting close to the time when it’s close. Fall practices will kick into gear in six weeks. Conference media days won’t be far behind. Preseason polls (for 2008) should be available for perusal any day now.

We. Are. Getting. CLOSE! (Sort of.)

Our nightmare is soon to end, college football fans. Ignore the baby on the ceiling.

Before we get too close, though, and the excitement of it all overwhelms us, Peter Bean and Orson Swindle humbly offer a set of proposals, which we pledge to follow. If you’re inspired to join the Movement and sign with us, there’s more than enough room on the train.

However, as we’re suspicious of any movement that would have us as a member, don’t join. It’s surely disreputable, will cause hives, and will ruin your credit. Fair warning.–O.

Proposed:

1. We will not participate in the Conference Wars. We won’t be shy to look closely at schedule strength in talking about our dear sport and the ranking of teams therein, but we solemnly swear to avoid the tired, generic Conference War Chest Thumping.

2. We will actively abstain from 1=1 thinking/writing. Wins are good, losses are bad. You’re smart enough to figure this out on your own. We’re here for the curly fries, please, and not the standard potatoes you can find anywhere else.

Mmm. Curly fries.

3. We will abstain from constructing an All-American team. Until our requests for film of every game played gets approved by every university, we’ll politely decline the temptation to construct such a list. Truth is, we don’t know. There are better ways to talk about the keepers.

4. We will not break down a Stewart Mandel mailbag. This was a hard one for us, but damnit, we’re drawing the line in the sand. When we fry fish in 2007, we’ll be gunning for dolphins, not minnows, dig? Plus Braves and Birds has already perfected this form, anyway.

5. When referring to a team’s ranking, we will use the BlogPoll. Two years of Beta Testing were enough to let us know that the bloggin’ types pay a lot more attention to their ballots than the jaded, overworked sportswriters. Furthermore, as far as we’re concerned, the Harris Poll doesn’t exist. And let’s not even bring up coaches voting on other coaches except in the name of sporting satire.

If it’s up to us, Brian’s BlogPoll takes its giant leap forward in year three. Join the revolution, compadres.

6. We will mercilessly ridicule BlogPoll voters who fail to live up to the BlogPoll’s ever-improving standards. Wack balloteers who fail to justify their opinions will be openly mocked. Or, pending Brian’s approval, banished to Oxford to serve a one-year sentence as Ed Orgeron’s translator. LEMMETAIFOOTBAWYAW!

7. We will tirelessly promote the work of Sunday Morning Quarterback until he is rightly crowned College Football Blog King. No explanation needed here. Right?

Two chicks, at the same time: SMQ, the best in the non-business.

8. We will focus on the brutal facts of the matter. None of this nancy pants psycho-babble that’s best reserved for Reader’s Digest. You didn’t lose because of some ghostly otherworldly spectre of “intimidation.” You lost because your left tackle is not stronger and faster than the man he is facing. Readers are smart enough to accept this. If something silly like this is invoked, it will be in an admittedly silly fashion.

9. We will kneecap the weak-brained, starting with ourselves. And in the spirit of the rule, we’ll admit our errors freely. Even proudly. (Because there will be plenty of them, especially for Orson, the Harry Caray of blogging re: accuracy.)

10. We will focus on what is interesting/fun, not on what is traditionally important/powerful. If Hawaii-Boise State is The game… so be it. There’s a zillion games a weekend, not one. Find your bliss somewhere between DirectTV channels 305 and 360, because it’s a universal slate now. You truly live in golden times, reader.

11. We will challenge the paradigms which govern mainstream football thought, starting with LD’s “GameDay Recap.” You’re all on notice–especially you, um, ourselves.

12. We will never let “Did you play football?” end an argument. That. party. is. over. Surgeons don’t cut off the wrong leg and then ask you if you went to med school. They write your lawyer a check for 3 million dollars and quietly slink away to practice medicine in Belize.

13. Unless we inexplicably decide to write a post on the NBA, Bill Simmons name will never appear on this site. We’re as tired of the too-easy Simmons bashing as we are of the Simmons columns themselves. (Plus he doesn’t give a shit about the game anyway, so fuck him in the ear. -O.)

14. We are not serious. If we are, disclaimers will appear. Tuberculosis has the job of being serious. That position is taken and tired.

15. We will limit our complete ad hominem hatred of a coach to one man and one man only. Orson drafts Bobby Bowden. Peter selects Bob Stoops. You may grab your own Free Parking pass on one and one coach only.

(Why make promises you can’t keep… there is no way you cease the Phil Fulmer ad hominems… no way. –Stranko)

Oh, how we hate this man.

16. We couldn’t care less about season-end awards. The Heisman Trophy is dead to us. Unless and until they put Kyle in charge, we’re indifferent.

17. We are fans of the game, above all else. This is s’posed to be fun, y’hear? Those who try to ruin our sport will be brutalized. Amen.

Signed,

Peter Bean and Orson Swindle

This time, the Toledo Blade police blotter reporter does their damnedest not to touch our hearts with the bare facts, and fails miserably in the misty-eye-making account of Marques Parks, BGSU footballer,

Bowling Green police said Marques Parks, 21, of McDonald, Pa., walked out of Ziggy Zoomba’s just after midnight Tuesday and saw his girlfriend hugging her ex-boyfriend, Benjamin Bohland, 22. Angered, Mr. Parks allegedly began punching Mr. Bohland in the back of his head until his friends pulled him away.

What better way to show you still care, than by striking someone who merely wants to perhaps grunt out some kabuki mucilage* with your ex-girlfriend’s assistance once, possibly twice on a drunken night while trawling for new flesh in the meantime? And who’s already undoubtedly done everything you could have possibly done with her anyway?

His cell phone was undoubtedly as clogged as a Calcutta sewer with messages from strange females who’d witnessed this and were moved by his passion, ardor, and dedication to the woman he loves.

Too bad no one had nunchuks or pepper spray. That shit works in situations like this.

Two points for garden variety assault in the name of love for the fightin’ Bowling Green Falcons, who would do anything for love, including that.

*Contorted Japanese theatrical face + something sticky, wet, and yet dry all at the same time that comes out of a semi-cylindrical tube. Duh.

Even Musburger couldnt’ work up the nerve to say “If he breaks that tackle…”, a sentence only appropriately completed with “he goes another two yards and collapses due to a pulmonary embolism.”

Courtesy of reader Matt and the Wall Street Journal Law Blog…

LAWYERMUSTACHE-A-PALOOZA!!!

Motion approved–you may begin your day properly now.

Presente: Doris Mar, as rec’d by DC Trojan. Sure, she’s cheesecake, but cheesecake with an environmental conscience, as evidenced by her posing in a skimpy swimsuit in an ad campaign imploring mexican men to not eat sea turtle eggs. The ad is persuasive enough:

Don’t eat turtle eggs, or women who look like this will not sleep with you.

Doris also got involved in a unique immigration case which should (more than any other case involving botched visa applications, snaking, endless airport security lines, or government waste) convince you that the Department of Homeland Security is the worst fucking idea ever.

From Wikipedia:

In 2006, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security abruptly deported in handcuffs, Dorismar and her husband/manager Alejandro (Alex) Schiff to Argentina, asserting that she was an illegal alien in the United States. Dorismar has contested this effort, claiming that her physical attributes place her in the category of “alien of extraordinary ability”, which would allow her to seek residency in the U.S. based on her talents.

More examples of her extraordinary ability below, which are barely safe for work.

Rural lady motif! Kant reed= dubbul hott!

Latina cheesecake always requires the combo of hot pants/ass shot/expensive car.

And finally…

Jeebus. There’s supposed to be a proper caption here, but there’s not.

You thought this was going to be the actual tape, didn’t you? You dirty, sick person. We couldn’t find one, actually, despite looking and asking around for one. However, we can offer up things we think WKRP could stand for in this case: We Kings of Random Penetration, perhaps?

The player, one of many [NAME REDACTED]s in the article, claimed the sex was simply between himself and the woman mentioned in the case, something that without breaking the laws of physics was clearly untrue given the evidence the committee had. His own accounts of the evening contradicted other testimony gathered during the investigation. Sadly, testimony will not be made public, so we’ll have to present our own EDSBS: True Athletic Disciplinary Committee Transcript Simulation below.

Student: Then I finished with a Houston Oiler, and we were done with the sex.

Student: No, no, I certainly remember that. That shit was awesome.