Spartans, Joe Pa kicks
Onside like a true master.
So yeah, you are fucked.

(8) LSU at Ole Miss

Orson-tsu Maru, The Delinquent Hello Kitty Character.

Coming off big win.
Favored. Should have easy win.
GIGGITY! You lose.

Holliikittabura, The Ancient Art of Belly Lint Calligraphy:

Favored by four points
(or any): Nutt’s kiss of death.
And have a great day.

Vanderbilt at Tennessee

Holly, Whose Boyfriend Is The President.

Vols’ clean record was
Looking almost Vandy-esque
Thanks a bunch, Nu’Keese

Orson, chugging whole cans of “Black Boss” Coffee.

Vandy has nearly
Perfect scoring strategy
If football were golf.

(25) California at (17) Stanford

Orson, Singing “More Than This” in an inside-out shirt.

Harbaugh tries two point
Conversion on a field goal.
Pac-10 refs: “Okay!”

Holly, Destroying Scale-Model Tokyo In A Foam Rubber Shark Suit.

Add new program: Stop
Toby Gerhart. TedfordBot
Shows blue screen of death

Kansas State at Nebraska

Holly, Giggling and Nodding Furiously In High-Pitched Voice.

Both teams still alive
In hunt for chance to lose the
Big 12 title game

Orson, Being Drowned By Hitman Monkey.

The autumn leaves stir.
Leaves fall. They lie, dead. Just like
Nebraska’s offense.

(11) Oregon at Arizona

Orson, Wishing a North Korean Motherfucker Would.

Tucson is a great
town for home invasions. This
will be one of them.

Holly, Breaking A Rude Gentleman’s Arm In Subway Car.

“Mike Stoops loses foot-
ball games” is a thing of the
Past. Except today.

Category one: Nebulous Statistical Comparisons of Dubious Validity. Colorado has lost ten games in a row on the road, a streak surpassed only by Washington Generic and Washington State With Vibrating Rings For Your Pleasure and Most Definitely Not Theirs. They rank last or next to last in passing efficiency, punt returns, fumbles lost, rushing offense, scoring defense, scoring offense, total offense, turnovers lost, and turnover margin. This team allowed Toledo to score over fifty points on them. This team attempted to stop for a busy crosswalk, hit the gas, and is now wondering why there is a screaming old woman embedded in their windshield. This team is horrible beyond any concept words can convey, and thus we resort to song. Terrible, excruciating Chinese song:

Dan Hawkins’ recruiting is Chinese karaoke howl bad, and it is coming back for an encore thanks to the university being too broke to buy him out, meaning they’ll be sending out the Weber State Men’s Water Polo Team for another year of savage beatings at the hands of the Big 12, but without prize recruit Darrell Scott. He overcame a two year delusion that he was a white water polo player, and transferred him to a school that would allow him to play football.

Oklahoma State, in contrast, is not Colorado.

Advantage: Oklahoma State.

Oklahoma State, You’ve Been Factor’d!

Category Two: Mascot: Oklahoma’s Pistol Pete falls into the category of mascot only describable as “accidental grotesquerie.” Is he going to awkwardly ask a young girl if she’s had the menses yet? Did he hear tell of a mysterious half-cougar, half warlock creature that lived in the old abandoned mineshaft out yonder guarding a pile ‘o Confederate gold, and is he going to tell you about it while staring at you just a bit too intensely? Is he second away from gunning your family down with a cold glint in his eye for no reason whatsoever? Didn’t you last see his face bobbing down the street in a Spanish religious festival’s procession that ended with dozens of spectators being burned alive by a collapsing bonfire?

You datin’ yet, sweetie? You’re twelve. That’s about right.

Ralphie is an ornery Buffalo she-bitch who tramples her own trainers and once threatened to charge Tom Osborne and the entire Nebraska team in the tunnel in a prior incarnation. Additionally, her meat when cooked would be low in fat, high in protein, and wouldn’t taste like spoiled muscadine wine and cigarettes like Pete’s would.

Advantage: Colorado.

Colorado, You’ve been factor’d!

Category Three: Aura. The passionate OSU fanbase will be on top of the Buffaloes tonight in Stillwater, a place constructed for maximum noise and proximity to the crowd, an important factor if you’re going to be making enthusiastic fellatio gestures at the opposing team indicating their deep degree of suck.

Also, we remind you that Colorado is terrible and slow.

Advantage: Oklahoma State.

Oklahoma State, You’ve Been Factor’d!

Category Four: Names.

Oklahoma State: Ugo Chinasa, Daytawion Lowe, Patrick Hoog

Colorado: Zach Grossnickle, Maxwell Tuioti-Mariner, Douglas Rippy

Advantage: Colorado.

Colorado, You’ve been factor’d!

Grudges? Scores to settle? Sheer cussedness? Does it matter? Colorado has every reason to be able to steal this game in the intangibles category, because Oklahoma State has to be overlooking them on an oddly scheduled Thursday night game in mid-November against a sludgy, thin, banged up Colorado team with a rolling atrocity of an offense and absolutely zero chance of competing head-to-head with the Cowboys at any position. So every gutty, hunch-driven bone in your body is telling you to pick an upset. This is the gambling equivalent of “listening to your body” when you’re hungry, because shockingly your body needs cupcakes, beer, and fried chicken, and not things that won’t clog its circulatory system and leave you waiting for someone to bust out a wall and snake a tube down your throat for six weeks of an emergency liquid diet. If you’re thinking this you are bored and belong nowhere near a bettin’ window. (We’re typing this as much for us as for you.)

Oklahoma State, you’ve been factor’d!

EDSBS FACTOR FIVE FIVE FACTOR PREVIEW SUM: 3-2, Oklahoma State, You’ve Been Factor’d! This game will be horrible, but between Gundy and Hawkins the Rant Potential Factor is through the roof, so if anything tune into the postgame pressers out of morbid curiosity.*

*Please note that an earlier tally erroneously granted mascot to OSU. This was an error, because counting to five is really, really hard.

Take a bow, Woody. From his comfortable, scarlet and gray bungalow in hell (”Heaven: too effeminate for my liking. Schembechler loves the place. Pansy.”) Woody Hayes gets the necessary salute this morning, both for dotting the I in a smashing pair of grey slacks, but also for helping to create Urban Meyer, blessed be his name and his chins. Mille gratz, Coach Hornrims.

Everyone does that, sure. Mark Mangino can be rough, sure. This without context certainly qualified as “rough” talk to a player, with a possible toe across the line of baseline dignity infringement (even if Mangino were black, from a terrible upbringing, and saying this from a position of commonality.)

“Don’t yes sir me, or I will send you back to St. Louis so you can get shot with your homies,” Brown remembers Mangino saying.

What takes this quote from former Jayhawk Raymond Brown into the Asshole-o-sphere is that when Mangino said it, Brown’s brother was recuperating from being shot in St. Louis. Mangino also threatened coaches with their jobs in front of players and generally behaved like a complete asshole to everyone and anyone around him. Defend it by saying “it wins games,” and then look at 95% of all other coaches in the universe who do not act like complete assholes.

Partial assholes, cyborg performance evaluators without souls, hopeless charisma junkies (COUGH COUGH Houston Nutt,) fast-mumbling braheims, sparkle-eyed lunatics, outright con men, and earnest paternal types: they’re alll part of the coaching ranks, yes. But how many of them are sold for spare parts the instant they hit a rough patch?

He chose…poorly.Zach Collaros failed to attend a mandatory diversion program required by the court that heard his fake ID citation in May, and should appear in court today to explain why/how that little oversight occurred. Collaros received the citation while presenting a fake Tennessee ID at a bar called “The Holy Grail” in Cincinnati. Advice for facing the judge today and surviving with your head intact and without receiving a maximum (though unlikely) 180 day jail sentence? The penitent man kneels.

Football r dum. If you know a heel who insists on the stupidity of football, just show them this and encourage them to fuck themselves with a route tree. (HT: Smart Football, of course.)

Mmmm, a delicious fisk. Besides foiling potential hotlinkers with pictures of a man exposing a good stretch of his lower intestine, the internet’s oldest trick is the fisk, the line-by-line dismantling of a shoddy piece of rhetoric. It’s old, it can be done very, very poorly, but fortunately BHGP is very good at it, especially when hitting up Maisel, who normally borders on the unfiskable.

Bonus Dog Strangulation Anecdote. In response to yesterday’s post on how much harder Harvard/Yale used to be (you know, before tetanus shots, antibiotics, and padding ruined our fine sport,) Alasdair (a Harvardian himself) wrote in to let us know just how little of the hardness we really knew about. 1905 may have involved deaths, but 1908 got straight to pagan animal sacrifice. Jackie Sherrill, you ain’t shit:

I saw your post on Harvard football being gangsta, and I must say that any discussion of turn of the century Ivy League football would be woefully incomplete without mention of Harvard coach Percy Haughton’s motivation techniques before the 1908 game against the Yale Bulldogs. To wit:

Considering Yale’s other nickname is the Elis, I believe current Harvard coach Tim Murphy would probably have to choke a certain New York Giants quarterback before this week’s game to even compete with his predecessor.

Don’t answer the phone, Eli. Those Ivies are trixy, and you don’t want your bleached white skull to become a prop in a Skull and Bones initiation ceremony before it has to. (And it will, Eli. Oh, it will.)

(ps. Strangling a bulldog in front of a horrified crowd isn’t a big deal, as Florida does it in Jacksonville all the time.)

Bergwood and Ham/Vincent/Lyingbastardface we don’t even know anymore. I don’t even know who you are anymore, Bergwood and Ham. Or should we call you…Vincent, your real name, Mr. Dick Whitman-I-Blew-Up-A-Guy-In-Iraq-and-took-his-name? That may be a secret only your Allstate agent knows because he is blackmailing you, First Ham unveiled his real name and his marriage, something Bergwood seemed more than justifiably disturbed by (”I don’t want to be your weekend lover, Ham,”) then the two whistled past the graveyard of their relationship by cooking hamburgers off the smoking torso of Bobby Bowden (who says advertising doesn’t offer effective metaphors for understanding the world?) and then finally…the death knell, and the hopeless attention-whoring by Bergwood as a final step to salvage the once-perfect marriage they shared built on Ham’s lie of an identity.

It’s like my naked body doesn’t even get your attention anymore, Ham.

Coldly poking at the hotter, fresher phallic symbols on the grill while ignoring Bergwood? Someone’s laying on the symbolism a bit thick now, don’t you think?

John Hancock Investments. Hey, swingin’ boomers with the swinging axe of imminent death retirement hanging over your head! You’re hep enough to IM your terror to your harried spouses in the middle of the workday instead of calling now.

But honey what about our twin clawfoot bathtubs we watch sunset from? What about those? I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE TWIN CLAWFOOT BATHTUBS AND YOGA CLASSES!!! Apologies. Thanks to your profligacy and basic lack of math there will be no twin clawfoot bathtubs for anyone ever in the near future, baby boomers. . Bud Light in cans on the causeway–which you biked to not out of choice, but out of necessity–will do for sunset watching. Watch for stray dogs. They rule most of our cities now. We suggest you deal with retirement the way countless generations of Americans have dealt with it: by drinking yourself to death inexpensively. Fuck these commercials and their bogus IM anxiety in the ear forever with a tie-dyed dildo, since we all know these people are all on AIM anyway.

Jack Links Beef Jerky

WHY YOU MESS WITH SASQUATCH? IF YOU REALLY WANT TO MESS WITH SASQUATCH, YOU CHANGE RATES OF RETURN ON INVESTMENT ON DEVELOPING NATIONS FUNDS POOR MAN! YOU NOT EVEN KNOW HOW WEALTHY SASQUATCH IS! SASQUATCH HANG IN WOODS AS PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY NOT NECESSITY! HAVE HOUSE ON STAR ISLAND AND A-FRAME IN ASPEN! JACK NICHOLSON OWN BEFORE SASQUATCH! SNORT COKE OFF ANJELICA HUSTON’S ASS ON OSCAR NIGHT ON DECK IN FRONT OF WHOLE PARTY TRUE STORY! SASQUATCH SAY HIS FUCK YOU MONEY LETS TINY TAUNTS FLOW OFF BACK LIKE WATER OFF FINE EXPENSIVE DESIGNER UNICORN LEATHER SATCHEL SASQUATCH CARRIES TO EXCLUSIVE PARTIES.

The Sonic Guys.

Clearly a franchise in decline like the Beatles post-Yoko, with the Yoko being the new woman in the new Sonic couple completely lacking the simmering sexual tension of bald guy and bargain-bin Geena Davis. They were always seconds away from ripping each others clothes off and covering each other in cherry limeade. Then they’d order a post-coital bag of cheesecake bites, and then cheerfully accept their 32nd arrest for public indecency after groinking each other in full view of the horrified families eating on either side of them. This is an easier charge to beat than the two guys’ criminal complaint–Sonic’s classic couple–who were clearly binging due to being as high as Rex Grossman in Cozumel and in need of some tots, pronto. The possession charge they will undoubtedly acquire won’t be their first, but it won’t be their last because only weed makes the silences of their subdivision more tolerable than the sweet embrace of death itself.

This is why we love these commercials: not for the witty banter, but for their depiction of childless, aimless, and aging suburbanites seeking succor through the only open window left in their lives: the car window at Sonic. Devastating, heart-rending work all around in its prime, but slipping somewhat.

Jimmy Football

Awfully complex for Bud Light drinkers: a mock-infomercial setup, a quick pace, and a complete lack of monkeys, disproportionately hot ladies dating cretins, and did we mention monkeys? Yes, let’s mention that one twice. There are no monkeys or farting monkeys in this series of ads. From Ad Age:

Bud Light drinkers profile as lacking in carefulness. They are grounded like their Bud brethren, but respect authority. Bud Lighters can also have frat boy-like personalities, particularly when it comes to personal risk-taking. In regard to others, these good-time guys and gals are accepting of most everyone and generally easy to get along with.

Bud Light drinkers are also 48% more likely than the average person to play the lottery every day and 34% more likely to never buy organic products.

They could have just said “prone to using the word ‘fag’ a lot to describe anything” with the last sentence, but sure. This series of commercials sucks because the minute you see the words “Bud Light” you tune out because a.) you think Bud Light is made from the urine of retired circus animals, or b.) because you’re confused by all the whatfortarnation goin’ on with your commercial and WHARR ARE THE MONKEYS IN MAH BUD LITE COMMERCIAL, DANGIT?

Before we stab in an unfair unidirectional manner: ahem, craft beer drinkers:

This group is more likely to spend time thinking about beer rather than work. They are more open-minded than most people, seek out interesting and varied experiences and are intellectually curious. Craft-beer drinkers also skew as having a lower sense of responsibility—they don’t stress about missed deadlines and tend to be happy-go-lucky about life.

We’d muse on this, but we’re behind schedule and thinking about the last Fat Tire in the fridge. Mmm, Fat Tire.

Regional Hostage Situation: ROTEL AND THE BIG TEN. We haven’t seen one of these because the day we pay for the Big Ten Network is the day we compliment Jim Delany’s haircut and tact. The situation is reportedly a dire one, though. The Big Ten Network even has its own RoTel recipes page, confirming everything you’ve ever thought about generic Midwestern cuisine (i.e. that cheese is to any dish what explosions are to a Michael Bay movie.) This seems to be the least of it, though, according to Brian from MGoBlog

Orson: What commercials does Rotel run on the B10 network?

It’s really dystopian, like there’s some alternate universe where people just lurch from store to store looking for someone who can give them their rotel fix. Requiem for Diced Tomatoes. I can’t believe they aren’t on the internet.

Hopefully we can remedy this. In the meantime, cheese and diced tomatoe zombies will roam the dark hinterlands of our nation’s heartland undocumented by the internets, spending cold nights in abandoned factories and their days barging into kitchens demanding “QUICK MEALS QUICK MEALS QUICK MEALS.”

You may remember these adorable and yet soccer-lethal scamps from Outcasts United, Warren St. John’s book about the struggles and triumphs of a refugee soccer team located here in Atlanta. Well, they don’t call it non-profit without reason, and the fundraising never ends. Please take a moment to go to the Fugees Causes page on Facebook, where they’re engaged in a fierce battle for a $10,000 prize matching the number of donations made before 2:00 today. They’re about 35 donors behind, so take a moment to check out Fugees Family’s website, watch some ridiculously tough children introduce themselves, and then give whatever you can via Causes on Facebook here.

The recommended donation is $25, but you can give $10 or $100 or whatever you can, because it’s flexible like that. Fearless leader kicked in $50, but that’s because he keeps track of receipts come tax time and also happens to care about this cause very, very much.

Hit it, drunken soldiers of charity.

Ealey says he doesn’t agree with those who have said the suspension was not stiff enough. He said on Tuesday Spikes “shouldn’t, I think, get suspended at all.”

YOU GOTTA REINVALUTATE YOUR THANKIN’, SON! STAY ON MASSAGE! KEPT TO YUR TALKING PINTS!

LeGarrette Blount met with the Pac-10 commish yesterday to discuss his possible reinstatement, but he’s a sideshow at the moment to the bombardment Oregon rolls out on opponents week-to-week. QUACK BITCHES.

Peter will continue the discussion with Tex over at Burnt Orange Nation tomorrow night at his place, so do be the inquisitive sort and listen to whatever other high crimes he accuses the Oklahoma coaching staff of enjoying. Kevin Wilson always seemed like a wire fraud kind of guy to us.

MP3 File

It wasn’t raining tonight, bitches. (Img: photoshopper Solarcane.) This is your overnight thread. EDSBS The Magazine and the Alphabetical begin cooking now, which is why we’ve placed them both to marinate in a bath of vodka and psychoactive medication. See you tomorrow.

Hitman Monkey doesn’t like doing this, but it is his job: EDSBS Live is off tonight due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control. We promise to make it up to you in several ways.

1. We have a guest for next week’s podcast working who should be spectacular.

2. We’ll buy you a beer if we see you in person. Really, we will, even if you’re into the quadruple-brewed Belgian monk nectar made from hops rolled on the clean, peachy ass-cheeks of Brussels’ finest maidens.

3. We’ll have a show next week of exceptional length and outstandingly mediocre execution. You know, ladies, like most of the really well-hung, good-looking men you’ve ever slept with. (Average men: like Avis, we try harder.)

We’re a bit backed up by actual life today, but please know that we do have our annual Stabby Stab-off with Holly pending, and the above video of Peyton Manning’s history of IMMENSE SUCCESS against Florida to tide you over. Oh, he has a Super Bowl ring! We’ve never heard that retort! It’s like he never failed three times in a row with increasingly miserable results! That all–POOF!–goes away! <—NOT AT ALL EVER