With the towel, like a gentleman.

Keenan Jones of Hawaii has been arrested and charged with unauthorized entry into a motor vehicle and second-degree assault. The two counts are both felonies, and total seven points for Hawaii in the Fulmer Cup. Seven, you ask? Why add a bonus point on top of the three points a piece for the felonies? As usual: style, sir, sheer inescapable style, brought to this case by the inclusion of some low-quality PPV pr0n.

A court document on the latest charges noted “the catalyst” for the domestic problems between the two stems from Jones allegedly using the woman’s cable provider to rent 13 porn movies resulting in a bill of over $300.

Lady, you don’t understand: this is how the deal works. Keenan gets porn, you pay for it, and when you complain about it, I shut a door on your toes and break two of them, because your bill must be mistaken. And those charges must be from your chick movies like August Rush and shit, because everyone knows porno is free–you press a button and it just shows up there on the tv. Amy Adams, though…damn. That girl can play Keenan’s cello anytime. Or share the couch with me when I crack out the butter churn and get to work on the couch, which I would do with a towel under my ass just like a gentleman would. That’d be some positively Enchanted shit there.

Ron Paul: ’bout that bling.

Our guest columnist today is Presidential Candidate Ron “Dr. No-Huddle” Paul.

Thanks for having me here. I’m not sure who you are, what you want, or why I’m even here. In fact, I don’t know who I’m writing this to. Why do people send me letters? Why do people on the internet like me? I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. Someone picks me up from my house in the morning, takes me places, and I just start talking until someone claps. These are all things I don’t know. Where am I? Really, where am I?

What I do know about is freedom and 1970s standards of gynecology. That’s why I still believe in two things: the Dalkon Shield and the Constitution. Especially the Constitution. I may have had my hands in more vaginas than any other member of congress except for John Boehner, but at least I got paid for doing it, and not the other way around. Is that a joke? Why are you all laughing? I’m confused? Yes, I’m confused!

Hey, why’s my name on a blimp? A blimp? Really? I’m thrilled about the possibilities of dirigible travel. It’s one of my passions, but I’ll tell you this: you won’t see me telling you that the government should be involved in making blimps, unless they’re blimps equipped with machine guns to put up along the Mexican border, because it’s a well-known fact that Mexicans fear both guns and blimps. It’s natural law, just like the Constitution and the rules of Yahtzee.

Speaking of games that involve hitting your spouse: football. I’m here to talk about football? Really? Okay, I’ll talk about it. Ron Paul likes football, but doesn’t like a few things about football as it stands in America. (more…)

Context is everything. We know, for example, that it’s likely that the first available photo of Antonio Henton the local station could find once they found out he’d been arrested for attempting to contract a little street lovin’ for himself on Monday night was a crappy old team program photo of dubious quality. It is, in fact, a photo so bad it resembles a mugshot photo taken after the arrest.

I-O! H-O! If we do this, that is.

We also know that Henton wasn’t arrested wearing shoulder pads. However, our imagination has the habit of attempting to make the world more interesting than it actually is, and in this case it’s rolling the tape in our heads of Antonio Henton, standing on a street corner in cleats and pads, trolling for rental pussy in full Ohio State regalia and yelling about somebody needing to put the “H-O” in “Ohio” before his 10:00 p.m. curfew–which, by being arrested at 8:30 p.m., he was clearly not violating.

(A note to the ladies: a man who wears his shoulder pads to bed is damn serious about sixty minutes of full-contact action, ladies. This being the Big Ten, that would be a pounding run up the middle 60 times a game for two scores or so…which ain’t bad.)

UPDATE!!!BULLETBULLETBULLET!!! Charges dismissed!

UPDATE!!!! BULLET X 4 File accidentally closed–new file open, charges NOT dropped, prostitution jokes may resume.

We must all learn from the example of the Oregon mascot, and that example is that when someone else wants to playfight, you need to put the -fight into the word with a capital WHAM, MOTHERFUCKER!

The only other possible explanation is that the mascoteer was high on PCP, believed they were really a duck, and that Shasta the Cougar really was a cougar. This would make total sense because Cougars would eat Ducks, and in case you didn’t know, ducks are mean as hell especially when threatened.

Though shame on Shasta for not putting up more of a fight. Houston brought us the Geto Boys and UGK, dammit–Bun B simply won’t stand for it. (Perhaps Shasta would have been tougher with a Paul Wall grill installed in this toothy grin.) Someone’s got to rep the 281, which is why the Duck will likely be shot sometime in the next month by someone zanked on purple drank in a Lincoln Navigator.

(HT: Larry Brown Sports, who points out that the Duck has been suspended.)

The winner of this year’s Fulmer Cup for the Most Feloniously Frisky College Football Team is…

…Illinois, who rode the diligent efforts of Jody Ellis and Derrick McPhearson to victory in this year’s competition. (Yes, they were dismissed from the team. Good for them. But they were on the team at the time this happened.) This means the solid gold AK-47 Dennis Erickson Trophy Sponsored by Hosea Williams’ Bail Bonds Fulmer Cup Trophy now makes the long trip from Huntington, West Virginia to Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, where it will reside in a local Arby’s until next year’s competition.

Illinois went up by a huge score early and then fell into a soft zone, nearly allowing the competition to catch them (as Penn State nearly did.) This sounds familiar to anyone with an understanding of [NAME REDACTED]’s NFL-tested coaching philosophies. Yet Illinois got this on the cheap, we think–the points add up, but fine work by other programs deserves mention, as well.

The Ellis T. Jones Award Golden Taser for Individual Achievement goes to… Florida’s own Ronnie Wilson, who ensured that we’d get at least eighty annoying emails with the subject line “CHANGE THE NAME OF THE CUP, ASSHOLE” by firing off an AK-47 in downtown Gainesville, Florida. A nine-point offense pales in comparison to the award’s namesake, but sometimes merely discharging automatic weapons in front of horrified nightclub-goers is enough to get you the award.

The Golden Taser is yours, Ronnie. Use it well.

The Ben Siegert Award for most amusing arrest goes to Stephen Garcia, Gamecock rapscallion who keyed a visiting professor’s car in Columbia just weeks after arriving on campus and thus gave us this beautiful mug shot.

Chill, baby. Just chill.

With that, we feel obligated to mention that it, too, does not live up to stealing a gay sheep. Still, the Golden Ram With Leather Guy Hat goes to Mr. Garcia, who will be riding the bench for the Click Clacktacular one in Sakerlina this year.

Thanks as always to Brian, who maintained the board this year and is hung like Reggie Fuckin’ Nelson, and to the boys at SAS Wiki, who assisted with the scoring. Both were indispensable. Readers are owed thanks for their diligence as well: Tomek and Dave W. in particular deserve our thanks.

It’s officially a slow news weekend when you have to note the story of a BYU player getting a traffic violation and–gasp!–finding out they have an unpaid traffic ticket on their record. But here we are, confirming you missed absolutely nothing by spending the entire weekend thinking about Shark Week and wondering if wearing Capri pants was acceptable for men. (Thanks, Rafael Nadal. For the record, you can wear Capris, but only while carrying a broadaxe.)

Add broadaxe=acceptable.

From the Deseret News:

PROVO — Brigham Young University running back Manase Tonga was arrested after a traffic stop early Tuesday morning for allegedly failing to pay a traffic ticket and giving a fake name to Provo police.
A warrant was out for the arrest of Tonga, 23, because he had not paid an $82 ticket for running a stop sign in August 2006, according to court documents.
Dewey said Tonga told the officer Tuesday morning that his name was Fifa Tonga.

Wily of him to fool the officer by using the name “Fifa Tonga,” which sounds nothing like “Manase Tonga” at all, except for the same last name and overall Polynesian-ness of the whole thing. He should have gone great guns and gone for a real fake name like “Mudslide O’Houlihan,” or “Wang Fei-Schittenheimer.”

Or better still, if the cop was Mormon, he could have tapped into the Mormon historical tradition of important documents disappearing completely and said that the ticket had been “taken back by God.” It worked for Joseph Smith, after all, and if you’re at the point of giving fake names made up of international sports organizations (”Name? Ioc Swindle, sir”), you may as well try it.*

Divine intervention pending, one piddly point for BYU here in the Fulmer Cup will be assessed for the fake naming and overdue tickety thingy.

*Orson, lay off the Mormons! It’s not their fault you’re a heathen! Simmer down, as we jab all religions equally, since they’re all equally probable. For the record, we’re a follower of the cult of Galactus. He’s coming, and they’re nothing we can do about it.

Phil Steele is off the press. Without the structure of practices and the watchful eye of coaches, player arrests are mounting. And the low-hanging fruit which are Stewart Mandel mailbags are back on our internets. (Wait… savoring that one… Okay. Stew! Love ya babe!)

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. (more…)

South Carolina, which for all we know isn’t so much a state as it is a whole chunk of Suriname that some genius grafted onto the continental United States, gives us Cock trouble again. No, it’s not a state agriculture official running a cockfighting ring out of a state building, since that is sooooo done to death already.

This time, a good old pyramid scheme like mom used to make ‘em strikes South Carolina, proving that success in one professional field does not guarantee professional competence in another. The pyramid scheme in question is BurnLounge, a sort of network alternative to ITunes where investors were promised profits in return for sponsoring sites where music was traded. The SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission in this case) has accused BurnLounge of being a pyramid scheme, and investors include former Clemson coach Danny Ford, Heisman winner George Rogers, and son of current head Cock, Steve Spurrier, Jr.

Mr. Bond, I have a business proposition for you.

A less than brilliant cameo is made by Bob Stoops in the story, who flashes Kirk Kerkorian-like business acumen in this quote:

“When Bob Stoops got me, he said, ‘I’ve spoken to a lawyer about this. I’ve spoken to my agent. I’ve spoken to some people to find out if this is a legitimate thing. And everything they told me, this is a legitimate (business). Put your name on it and go do it,’” said Spurrier Jr., a member of Stoops’ Sooners staff from 1999 to 2001.

It’s dumb, but not the dumbest investment we’ve heard of someone relatively successful making. That would be congressman and former San Diego Charger Jack Kemp’s decision to invest money in Au Magnetics, a company that promised to extract gold from sand. Alchemy! It’s what’s for dinner.

The SEC will continue their investigation, but it doesn’t seem like any of the big names associated with this are guilty of being anything other than gullible. (GOLD!) That may not be the case with Todd Ellis, Gamecock football announcer and former quarterback, though–he’s identified as a primary point of contact for the scheme in Columbia in the article, and that ain’t good for him.

(HT: Marc Isenberg, who has his own take on the story.)

Blogtoberfest! Linky linky linky!

Montana Crime Arms Race Takes drastic new step. Shame both aren’t D-1 teams, or they’d be booming ahead of the field in the Fulmer Cup race. Montana State had the early lead in a series of six drug-related arrests of current and former Montana State players, precipitating the firing of coach Mike Kramer. (Kramer’s now insisting he was railroaded unfairly, which means a seventh MSU player will be arrested snorting yayo off the ass of a donkey in the middle of a convenience store parking lot in the next 48 hours. Mark our words.)

Montana, crime, cocaine, murder…football?

Montana, thanks to cornerback Jimmy Wilson, has responded in the intrastate crime race whether they like it or not. He’s charged with murder following an altercation “earlier this month” in Palmdale, California involving a man and a woman related to Wilson. Wilson shot the man at his home, and he died from wounds to his upper torso later.

Wilson turned himself into LA County Police, who set a bail of one meeeeelion dollars for his release. He was Montana’s starting cornerback last season. Guess that roster spot’s wide open, aspiring Big Sky walk-ons.

Dan Hawkins is a complete failure… for not making his full distance in his attempt to run a marathon in Australia. LOSER! Hawkins, who trained for the race as the result of a bet with his daughter, will only run the half-marathon because he is a complete failure. This donut we’re dining on, by the way, is simply fucking delicious.

Dan Hawkins: a real Spartan would have run a full marathon just to kick someone down a well.

Hawkins plans to atone for his failure by running an ultramarathon…on the moon. (Without a helmet, pussies.)

Speaking of donuts… Toledo’s Tom Amstutz will, as reader DevilGrad sagely notes, have his donut budget cut somewhat as the Rockets’ President has ordered a complete revamp of the program. (more…)

Mind your blackberries–you may be booted from the nearest sports event of choice for representing the events of the day. Louisville Courier-Journal reporter Brian Bennett was ejected from the NCAA Baseball Tournament for blogging about Louisville’s eventual 20-2 victory over UConn, and his credentials might not ever be restored. The NCAA regards his blogging about the facts of the game as a de facto rebroadcast of copyrighted material, and said as much in a pregame memo.

Bennett went on anyway until the Dorkstapo found him:

I continued blogging until the bottom of the fifth inning, an NCAA representative came to my seat on press row and asked for my credential and asked me to leave. I complied.

Blogging patriot? Brian Bennett, now-rebel blogger.

Somewhere, Walter Benjamin is wandering the streets of the afterlife in a leisurely fashion and laughing to himself. Everyone in the stadium holding a Blackberry or cell phone who said as much as a peep about the game in a digital medium stands guilty of what Bennett did–relaying live information about a copyrighted event. As the Courier-Journal pointed out, the semantic triple lindy here is this: the NCAA seeks not to protect its broadcast rights, but to copyright the actual live facts of the event:

Once a player hits a home run, that’s a fact. It’s on TV, everybody sees it. They (the NCAA) can’t copyright that fact. The blog wasn’t a simulcast or a recreation of the game. It was an analysis.

Thus…our liveblogs of games could be verboten. Along with any updates we send to friends over the internet, any discussion, a picture we snap at the game that gets posted a website with fifteen readers and .38 cents of monthly revenue…all sacrosanct property of the NCAA, or possibly ESPN, or Fox, or whomever holds the broadcast rights to the event. It’s a stance only the finest minds of the 18th century could have invented.

We didn’t care at all about the College World Series now, but just to piss off the NCAA we’ll post a live update while watching the game just to chafe their harbls right good. This is the glorious age of amateurs, and not its centripetal phase, either. Until the NCAA starts taking away cell phones at the gate, Brian Bennett or any other blogger can perform the nastiest of protests: they can buy a seat and immediately start texting away.

Unless the next step is cell phone jammers at stadiums. Don’t put it past them.

The big board is in need of some updates. Follow along below.

First, old business. A weekend of Vegas debauchery delayed this score, but Bobby Maurice Purify polished up an already impressive resume of offseason naughty (two counts of assault, failure to comply, resisting arrest and trespassing five weeks earlier) with an arrest on suspicion of drunk driving at 12:25 am last Friday. Purify, already Nebraska’s leading scorer for 2007 without putting on a single pad, racks up another two points pending further details on the incident. Coach Bill Callahan has indefinitely suspended him and offered no further comment other than that he remains smarter than you can ever hope to be, you fucking redneck.

UGA’s Fulmer Cup points never come from a dark, malevolent quarter of human nature. (more…)

Texas Longhorns reserve safety Robert Joseph (name: Ricky Bobby Category, strength rating 6 on Cuddles Swindle Name Scale) had the kind of fun normally reserved for merry alcoholics by stealing cars from the parking garage of the Omni Hotel in Austin, Texas this weekend. Or perhaps we should say he half-stole cars:

According to the report, an off-duty APD officer working a security detail got a report of someone banging on cars in the parking garage. Upon investigation, the officer found Joseph sitting in a car that did not belong to him. Joseph initially told the cop that the car belonged to a friend of his…
A little later, the officer heard the sounds of another car alarm..and found Joseph sitting in a different vehicle. Joseph then told the cop that he was breaking into cars to get away from someone who attacked him on 6th street at a club.

Sometimes, you just have to break into a car: Robert Joseph, Texas Longhorns reserve.

Ah, the safety of a Toyota Nissan Altima–it can survive nuclear blasts, much less the assault of a drunken clubgoer on your person. (We blame Vegas for the error!–ed.) Joseph has already enjoyed the thrill of half-stealing cars, but he will be assigned full Fulmer Cup points for himself and his team, the Texas Longhorns: three points per charge of a burglary of a vehicle totalling a sum of six points for Texas.

Congratulations! Police are very interested in speaking with you. In case you wondered, this is not a good thing, which means the congratulations was completely ironic. Chances are this whole thing will suck very much badly for you, LSU football player Chris Mitchell, since at the least you’ll spend a tense couple of hours sweating out police questioning in a Louisiana police office. And if that’s not on your list of things to avoid going through in this lifetime, it damn well should be on it.

Acknowledging they have more questions than answers, Jefferson Parish sheriff’s officials said Tuesday they are eager to speak with LSU football player Chris Mitchell about a weekend drive-by shooting and gunfight outside a popular but controversial Metairie nightclub.

The Sunday morning melee outside Kenny’s Key West in Fat City left two men wounded, 50 bullet casings and a few live rounds in the club’s parking lot and surrounding blocks.

Fifty bullet casings? FIFTY? Archenemies don’t have fifty bullets worth of hate attached to them, much less anyone hanging out at “Kenny’s Key West” in Fat City. Some John Woo movies haven’t featured the firing of fifty bullets. (Completely false. That’s usually the first ten minutes, including peaceful exposition scene.) Like a John Woo movie, whoever fired all those bullets likely did it with a 9mm handgun. Gun nuts, remind us–does that mean this person reloaded? Several times?

Even Chow-Yun Fat Thinks you’re being excessive.

Mitchell isn’t charged in the case, but police have hit a dead end in their investigation, and know Mitchell was there at the time of the shooting. This could be because no one at the scene is “snitching,” and thus allowing someone who discharged up to fifty rounds in public indiscriminately to walk around eating sandwiches. That is so completely and totally cool of all of them! YAY SNITCHES GET STITCHES!

Thanks to In the Bleachers, who we’re guessing actually has a wire on someone in the courtroom today: all charges against Justin King in the Penn State case dropped. No comment from the prosecution on why charges were dropped.

Serious adjustments in Fulmer Cup points to follow. Oh, and ass, too. Pictures of ass are coming, people.

King: points-free, as of today.