#11 Ohio St. at #24 Northwestern

HOLLY, QUASI-RATIONAL: Relax your bedtime grip on your Glocks, America. Ohio State has two losses, and the universe can breathe easy, safe from the specter of a third-straight Buckeyes champblahblahblahBig10bashing. Statistically, these teams are surprisingly well-matched, but….look, we’d all love to pick Northwestern, adorably ranked after a victory over Minnesota, but if pluck guaranteed wins, we’d be celebrating the single-digit ranking of Texas Christian (HOW DARE YOU PUSH US TO ACCEPT UTAH AS A LEGIT TEAM, HORNED FROGS).

ORSON, IRRATIONAL. The force is strong in the young one…

…but this is episode five, and he loses his hand to the Dark Lord.

Baylor at #4 Texas

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL. If Baylor had the chops on defense to hold Colt McCoy in check, we’d happily tiptoe over to the pond of tribute bets and salute Art Briles and Robert Griffin for revivifying Baylor football. We would, really, it’s just that Texas just lost to Texas Tech, something they’re not accustomed to doing, and will not play the part of scalded dog two years in a row. Baylor gets inflame-u-lated by a frothing mad Texas team.

HOLLY, QUASI-RATIONAL: Robert Griffin, most impressive. Howevah! Texas is clinging to their top-five slot with all their considerable strength, with the added incentive of having Something To Prove after last week’s heartbreak in Lubbock. Despite their sub-subpar pass defense, the Longhorns have more than enough personnel to keep bodies on Griffin all afternoon.

#13 Georgia at Kentucky

HOLLY, QUASI-RATIONAL: You could call this game on intangibles–Georgia will be as surly and smashy as they’ve been all year and have presumably reconstructed their collective throats since their most recent Cocktail Party debacle, plus their last visit to Lexington didn’t go so well–but why bother? The Dawgs are an all-right football team on their worst days, and outclass Kentucky in every category that matters. The Wildcats are bowl-eligible, to be sure, but it comes on the backs of such vaunted opponents as Norfolk State, Western Kentucky, and Loovill. This one won’t be close.

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL. Georgia is not the better team top to bottom; take THAT EXPECTED FOOTBALL CLICHE. Kentucky’s got the better defense, but too bad for them this is football, where sometimes one must score. Georgia can do that because they’ve got this offense, and do really well when they’re not giving up drives to opponents that start on their own one yard line. Kentucky fans prefer basketball ARP ARP ARP ARP.

Wyoming at Tennessee

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL: Joe Glenn’s market value peaked long ago, and in a five game stretch prior to breaking universal slump-buster San Diego State the Cowboys were outcored 207-30 by their opponents. We feel some FAIL comin’ on hyah, and would take at least 90 teams in division one over the Cowboys sight unseen. Holly will explain further reasons why taking the Cowboys borders on the tardbilly-ish.

HOLLY, ACTUALLY RATIONAL: If you managed to sit through Fulmer’s press conference on Monday without squirming yourselves completely underneath the couch cushions, you got a taste of the general tenor of the UT locker room. The players are bound to be out for blood, and to not particularly care whose blood. Tennessee by a hundred and fifty or so.

#1 Alabama at #16 LSU

HOLLY, IRRATIONAL: Instead of picking, let’s treat ourselves to a festive round of Nick Saban Projectile Bingo. Center square if he gets hit with an egg. Fill the rest of your card, in any order, with: bottles, batteries, dead bats, live snakes, pots of boiling peanut oil, actual shrunken heads, glowsticks, empty mace cans, and vials of plague strains. Oh, and here’s to an LSU win, because Alabama at number one is fucking awful, the end. Light ‘im up, Tigahs.

ORSON, IRRATIONAL. John Parker Wilson has taken the Brandon Cox Mantle of “OH MY GOD WE LOST TO HIM” Qb for this year. Bama Bang’d, rag-armed, prone to taking sacks with audible feminine shrieks, and with his supporting cast totally unbeatable thus far. The shame of victory will sting even more as he attempts 20 passes, completes 12 of them for piddling yardage, and yet gets to trod from the bourbon-soaked sidelines of LSU clothed in glory…and LSU fans’ spit, of course.

#3 Penn State at Iowa

ORSON, LUDICROUSLY IRRATIONAL SHONN GREENE SHONN GREENE SHONN GREENE.

If the weather’s awful, consider the Iowa victory a done deal due to the inverse relationship between crappy weather and the performance of white athletes. (Only remaining fields of dominance: cross-country skiing, biathlon, and blizzard wrestling.) We just don’t want Penn State in the national title game, are open about this, and don’t think Mark Dantonio and all the properly worn neckties in the universe can get the Spartans to beat the Nittany Lions.

(Final note: an undefeated Penn State team belongs in the title game. Logic overcomes homerism…just barely, though. It was wrong when it happened to Auburn; it’s wrong here, too.)

HOLLY, IRRATIONAL FOR YOUR OWN GOOD: C’mon, Penn State. Drop a game you shouldn’t lose and lose the ranking you shouldn’t have. Nobody wants to deny old what’s-his-name a title shot based on sentimentality and your bullshit schedule, so give us an excuse to slot in a more deserving squad and you’ll be free to enjoy a pleasant berth in one of the remaining big four bowls. Let’s not cause a scene, now.

Kansas St. at #14 Missouri

HOLLY, IRRATIONAL: We owe a debt of gratitude to Mizzou for dropping out of the top ten and saving us from the effort of shoring up our rapidly depleting stock of Chase-Daniel-is-old-and-delivers-pizzas-in-his-copious-spare-time jokes. For this, Tigers, and because KState is f’ing woeful, we ch-ch-choose you. Prevail, if you please.

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL. K-State is horrible, Missouri is not, grab a shovel as Mizzou makes a minced ass pie from the butt-end of the Ron Prince carcass.

#21 California at #7 USC

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL: Jeff Tedford, pre-season: icy genius, steely-visaged pro-style thinkbot waging cold warfare amidst the primitive ankylosauruses of the college football landscape, a technical scientist fighting against sloppy, emotive artists.

Jeff Tedford, mid-season: 6-2 and about to lose to Pete Carroll. Again.

HOLLY, QUASI-IRRATIONAL: Isn’t it entertaining, every November, to watch P-Car wax angry about how very number-one-y his team would be if they hadn’t dropped a cakewalk game for no reason? Like the return of the first robins of spring, only EVEN MORE REDDER AND AWESOME JACKED I’M LIKIN’ IT BRAH—yeah, whatever, USC’s complacent but they ain’t bad. Trojans.

#9 Oklahoma State at #2 Texas Tech

HOLLY, IRRATIONAL: [Lazy-assed OOOOOH, TAKE TEH OVER Y'ALL LOLZ bit] Texas Tech. Texas Tech will win this game, depressing Mike Gundy just enough to accept a generous offer from the University of Tennessee to become the next head coach of the Volunteers. He will bring Trooper Taylor back to Rocky Top; recruiting cachet will soar, the new clock rules will be abolished, Rick Neuheisel will go rapidly and unattractively bald, and unicorns with lollipops for hooves will roam the sidelines of all D-I schools at will.

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL: When faced with good defenses, Oklahoma State has refrained politely from scoring points by the gross: 24 against Texas, 28 against Missouri…strike that. Mizzou’s defense is not good,and they still sputtered against them. When let loose by the secondary and unpressured upfront, OK State will disintegrate a defense. With some pressure, though, they become only excellent on offense, and “only excellent” against Texas Tech will get you tortilla’d in Lubbock.

#5 Florida at Vanderbilt

Orson, IRRATIONAL. We’ll be there, and need tickets, because what has two thumbs, applied too late for a press pass, and wants to see Florida train a few orbital death lasers on an overmatched and offense-challenged Vandy team? THIS GUY.

HOLLY, IRRATIONAL: Vandy has a proud history of playing Florida tough when they have no business doing so. This, however, is no ordinary Florida team. Gators saunter through this one at a casual, deadly pace.

We care, just like a tiger does: with their claws and teeth first.

Tennessee has a minor, eeny-tiny-bit of a discipline problem, and not the sort that professional paste-eater and push-door puller Mike Freeman suggests should end up in the firing of Phil Fulmer. (Mike: Tyler Durden IS the narrator!) Fire him for being only good to excellent, sure; we’ve seen that in the SEC before. Fire him for blackmailing Trace Adkins with incriminating gay sex photos into performing at his daughter’s birthday party. (Unsee that, dear reader, and you have achieved enlightenment. We just typed it, and will not eat for several days.) Fire him for picking up field mice and bopping them on the head, and then dipping them in panko crumbs, deep frying them, and eating them during film sessions.

Fire him for any of these, but not the juvenile aborted Liverventures™* most Vol players get arrested for these days. The Vols just need a special blend of caring, discipline, and caring discipline outlined below. Because we care. We really do. In that kind of foster kid kind of care, the one where you don’t buy them fresh produce, turn on the heat for them in the winter, or buy them clothes that fit.

Actin’ Straight with EDSBS: Vol-arity Edition.

1: Pat Summitt. This doesn’t even have to take longer than 15 minutes. Simply invite Pat over, have the winningest coach at Tennessee ever come to a Vol team meeting and then allow her to rip each of the Vols’ gridiron types a new, perfectly torn second asshole. Summitt is the kind of thin-lipped, wiry, kerosene-eyed women who drove schoolbuses in my childhood: very, very quiet schoolbuses. There were rumors one kid, once, had spoken, and that only a red mark the birds liked to pick at on the school driveway stood as testament to her wrath. The team would be a lot like that schoolbus for the next year, at least.

2. Hedge mazes outside dorm entrances. Bull your way through fifteen rows of thorny hedge without bleeding to death? Do I smell starting defense?

3. The ChastiT belt. Fierce, made of stainless steel. Adorned with picture of John Chavis on codpiece for extra contraceptive power.

4. Additional cash bonuses for good behavior.

5. Instituting of naptime, with mats and graham crackers, to cut down on violent behavior after dark. We’d even throw in a few of those boss blue and red nap mats done in custom orange and white. If successful, consider implementing stop-light code in team cafeteria during training table meals.

6. Waiver of delivery fee on pizzas, wings, whores. It adds up, and it would keep them in the dorm.

7. Super Nanny She could have them singing the cleanup song in no time. Bonus: being British, capable of drinking 320 pound men into under-table tears.

8. Reading “The Secret” to unlock the power of wishing for wealth instead of robbing convenience stores. That’s Louisville’s thing this year, anyway.

9. Installing court-ordered breathlocks on their legs. When you blow into them, if drunk, your legs cease to work. Tracy Morgan hasn’t walked in months due to this technology. If it can keep him home, it can keep anyone home.

10. Give them all mini-ponies to take care of to teach them responsibility. It’s a bit like the egg experiment in civics class, or the time your parents gave you a puppy to test your ability to take care of things. And once it was over and you’d sold the puppy to the Bolivian space program, didn’t you feel so much more adult?

Plus: on first sight, people’s mind will be blown. Is it a little horse, a really huge man…OR BOTH?

11. Endow Urban Studies Chair for Chamillionaire, allowing him to lecture players about his theories on “riding dirty” while “staying clean.” If we want Chamilitary men properly trained, then we need a proper Chamilitary academy to train them. The University of Tennessee is just begging to be this place.

12. Turn players onto new video game sensation Wiisault and Battery. Feloniis and misdemiinors were never so harmless as in Nintendo’s latest party classic for America’s favorite video game system.

13. To prevent dogfighting, channel their energies into alternate fighting rings. Siamese fighting fish are a good proxy, or even better: theater majors, who will fight with feeling so long as they “know where they’re supposed to be in the scene” and understand their motivation. (”Your motivation is the five thousand dollars at the top of that ladder, motherfucker. Go get it!”)

14. When all else fails: send them to Up With People. Yes, they still exist, and they can still wilt a good solid erection from fifty paces with the sound of their melodious unity.

It’s all an excuse to see Britton Colquitt dance around with streamers. But at least we’re admitting it.

*Our failed VH1 reality series pitch starring Anthony Haden-Guest, Mario Batali, and legendary guzzler Kofi Annan. We’re praying it gets picked up by Fuel.

Houston Nutt should resign–just resign, leave, and go coach at some place where people don’t care as much about football. Care may be a weak word here; try “obsess,” “mull over 24/7,” or “pray to their secret arachnid overlord in the dark of night” instead. None still really cover how odd affairs at Arkansas truly are right now.

How about “football-haunted?” If that’s close, then Houston Nutt’s got a poltergeist on his hands. We dropped this in another entry, but someone used the Freedom of Information Act to get their grubby hands on Houston Nutt’s cell phone records, all game thanks to Nutt using an Arkansas-funded cell phone as part of his coaching perks.

Weirder–or more dedicated, depending on your relative sanity here–someone’s put together the equivalent of a legal brief detailing Nutt’s behavior and public statements as they correspond to his phone activity.

We mean this with gravity: don’t click on it unless you want to rearrange the cells in your brain to form new, frightening connections you may find disturbing. We don’t know if Nutt lied about any of the things he’s allegedly lied about over the past six months, or whether he’s allegedly banging a local anchorwoman, though we sure as hell would get in trouble for texting a woman not named Mom, TCOAN, or Madeleine Albright at 12:27 a.m. (Maddy and we are tight. Helluva drinker, that lady, but you probably knew that.)

But it’s hard not to feel like you’ve crossed some new, disturbing rubicon reading it. We’re caught somewhere between quoting Keats:

Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star’d at the Pacific–and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise–
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

…and just saying that the whole thing is just fucked, fucked, fucked up from ass to teakettle. Hey, Houston Nutt, we’re you for three seconds. Look at us realizing that the people around you are all insane. We’re leaving forever. Now, you’re back and resigned. Wasn’t that easy? Now you do the rest.

“If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself but to your own estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.”

Did we mention that Marcus Aurelius was an emperor? Anyway, the diagnosis didn’t even give the comfort of man points in the form of “It’s a torn ACL. I’ve been walking on it like it was nothing.” Runner’s knee at thirty: now officially and indubitably a yuppie blogger type.

We’ll be along in a bit with Jim Delany being a dick about the SEC. BTW, Jarvis Moss just sacked Troy Smith again in the shoe section of a Dillard’s in Columbus, causing him to fumble a pair of Tims he was buying, which were recovered by Derrick Harvey who promptly returned them for in-store credit.

We’re calling it blogger’s knee. Oh, the glamour!

Posting will be very, very light. We’ll hold off on the rest of the Michael Lewis interview, since transcribing the thing is like ten bitches in a bitch boat, so expect that on Monday. We may post some FSU-inspired invective, but after watching them lose to Wake by 30 points and getting shutout at home, the wattage for this game is going to be very, very dim indeed. Even we’re almost tired of watching Drew Weatherford get collar-tackled in the back of the pocket every other down (almost.)

Coaching deaths may rain down upon us quickly in the next week or so. Expect updates in that case. Paper maelstroms are already likely flying between lawyers, and should turn into blizzards following the final gun on Saturday. A few predictions:

–Larry Coker may just walk into the stands and leave via the visitor parking lot on Saturday. He could, since he’s going to be fired most mercilessly by Donna Shalalalalalala on Sunday.

–Amato: say goodbye to those sweet, sweet gazongas.

–Dirk Koetter: Norm Chow is taking your job, and leaving behind the flaming garbage scow that is the Titans franchise. Why not send your resume to Tallahassee?

–Shula: for all we know, Papa Smurf may well be a legitimate candidate. Like many Alabama fans he too eschews the wearing of shirt and shoes, a bonus in his compatibility rating for the job.

Enjoy the weekend. Remember, a frozen turkey placed into a deep-fryer will kill anything in a fifteen-foot radius. Whether this is preferable to spending another second with your family is your decision, but try not to take any innocents with you.

On that note, we are thankful for our readers, who remind us that you when you are sick, you are never alone. Oh, and for Reggie Fuckin’ Nelson, who worked his ass off through the boondocks of the college football world to get to Florida and play with unparalleled passion and joy. Here’s hoping he becomes the first man to intercept two passes at the same time Saturday. The way Weatherford and Lee are bleeding picks, it may happen.

Leave your own thanks below if you wish.

–O.

No, no, don’t thaw it, it’ll “seal the juices in.” Yeah, stand right over it. You’ll be fine. I need to go get a drink–be right back!