…and we have our new favorite linebacker in the Big 12, because anyone who appreciates the Ghost Town DJs and who form tackles well is a friend of this site. (HT: Mizzourah.)

For lack of a better term, we’re calling this the “Kiffin Effect.” Pop quiz, hotshot: Coming off a 4-8 season and a 45-0 vivisectioning by your big in-state rival in which you netted all of 37 yards, what do you do? What do you do? Evidently, this:

Houston Nutt phoned in just now to say he has sucked it, as a matter of fact, and the Delicious Creamsicle of Immediate In-State Superiority was everything he thought it could be.

The pressure of being the preseason #1 for the Fulmer Cup must’ve gotten to them. I know all you EDSBS regulars have been waiting with bated breath for the first time I’d make a blatant plug for my dear Georgia Bulldogs, and here it is: For what feels like the first time since I was an naive, apple-cheeked freshman, the Dawgs have gone an entire offseason without a single player getting arrested. One hundred law-abiding cocktails to all of you, gentlemen! By contrast, the Dawgs’ season-opening opponent, Oklahoma State, won’t be suspending two offensive players arrested for pot possession in June. Note to Mike Gundy: If you’re going up against Georgia and you’re the one that looks slack on player discipline, there may be a problem. Unfortunately for the Dawgs, that righteous indignation plus two bucks will get Willie Martinez a grande Pike Place roast at Starbucks.

Your “Suddenly My Problems Seem Pretty Minor” moment of the day. The Tulsa World profiles Tulsa QB G.J. Kinne, whose dad, a high-school coach in Texas, was shot to death by the angry parent of a player four years ago. By contrast, I’ve spent most of the past 24 hours raging at having shattered the screen on my iPhone, and officially consider myself humbled.

We have met the enemy, and he is Tony Franklin. I mean us. We knew the Auburn coaching staff was a wee bit divided during last year’s 5-7 debacle, but evidently so were the players. Why was that, you think?

“The offense had their problems and some guys started hanging their heads – just stuff of that sort,” said defensive end Antonio Coleman. “That led to a 5-7 season. It was just the little things that led to seven losses. Coach Chizik came in and corrected that; and all the guys have their heads up.”

Yeah, it was just the little things — you know, division, not having any semblance of an offense, that sort of thing. You drop off by a few hundred yards here and there, pretty soon you’re going 5-7. It happens.

Hasn’t Detroit suffered enough? With the cash-strapped Big Three automakers pulling their sponsorship of the Motor City Bowl, Little Caesar’s Pizza may be stepping into the void, meaning “We’re gonna probably be known as the Little Caesar’s Pizza, Pizza Bowl,” according to bowl co-founder George Perles. As a Birmingham resident and much-put-upon supporter of the Papajohns.com Bowl, I have but one thing to say: YOU BASTARDS. Can’t you just let us have this?!?

It beat out other mottos including “Bereft,” “Unfulfilled,” and “Empty-Feeling.” Ole Miss’s team motto going into 2009: “Unsatisfied,” taking a commanding lead in the Most Depressing Team Motto of All Time competition. Tip: If it sounds like something you’d circle on a restaurant comment card after a particularly disappointing meal, it probably shouldn’t be your team motto.

The anthem to which the Rebels will be charging into Vaught-Hemingway in ‘09.

Failure to plan means planning to fail. As for the Early Bird Award for Most Absurdly Diligent Scheduling, Oklahoma and Army have won that one in a runaway by agreeing on a home-and-home — in 2018 and 2020. Congratulations, Black Knights, on being the first D-IA program to earn a guaranteed loss in a season that won’t even begin for another nine years.

Now, you go back to doing something latently homoerotic, all right? We’ve already posted Still Life With Shirtless, Oiled Football Players and Lamborghini, the curious poster Tennessee is using to arouse . . . uh, interest in the 2009 season, or something; turns out there’s a “making of” video. Go click the link yourselves, pervs, we’re not posting that nonsense here.

File under “Up, Nowhere to Go But.” UCF offensive coordinator Charlie Taaffe is “pleased” with the improvement his team has shown heading into ‘09. Considering that the Golden Knights finished 120th out of 120 in DI-A in both total yardage and first downs, the fact that there has been improvement at all is probably reasonable grounds for pleased-ness.

Twelve-pack? Better go ahead and make that a case. Scott Wolf compiles every single college football game that will be on TV opening weekend. If you can look at this and not devise a way to remain laid out on your coach from noon straight through midnight on September 5, you’re not really trying.

Ladies, I’m sorry to interrupt the party. I’m gonna have to ask you to quiet down, ladies. I know, I know. You’re having a bachelorette party, and you want to have some fun.

But we’re working on film next door, and discussing coverages, and it’s all really distracting for a group that could become the best linebacking corps in the Big Ten. The offseason is particularly important to us. It is the time when we gel as a team, study the opposition, and prepare ourselves physically and mentally for the rigors of the upcoming season. I know this is a special time for you, ma’am. Congratulations on your special day coming up.

We have a special day, too. It’s our opener against Northern Iowa on September 5th. What position will I be playing, ma’am? I’m a linebacker, though if you need me to switch positions, I will. Especially if you ladies happen to need…

This music starts playing.

…A QUALITY TIGHT END FOR THE EVENING. WOOOO!!! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED COWBOY STYLE!!!

The camera fades as he begins to gyrate toward the bride.

FIN.

HT: Doc Saturday.

Us to Jordan: “Send a photo, and do not. Half. Step.”

Jordan: “BAM!!!” (Click for big.)

CLAPPING IN 360 DEGREES SIR. Happy Mustache Wednesday, motherfuckers!

Lack of protection may be an issue for the Georgia offense, especially up the middle.

Sir Stanley: Gentlemen! I seek philosophical entertainment!

Elrick, Duke of Necessity: Certainly. Today’s fox: What is sexy? Discuss!

Sir Stanley: Why sir, I had no idea you would play right into my hands! In my studies of the colonies and their primitive yet exotic derivative of our own culture, I have come across one thing they do excel at: the iconography of the sexy. I attribute to their mongrel blood, as they are too close to the base passions that rule us all, and therefore incapable of escaping it in the fine Alpine tower of reason as we do.

Elrick: Quite. But you have diverged from our path of inquiry, have you not?

Sir Stanley: So easily lost in the thorns, Elrick, and yet a nose away from the rose! Not at all, Elrick. For instance, I will show you using an experiment of PURE SCIENCE what sexy is. A sample from the colonies I believe you’ll find especially compelling. I will apply the following picture, a sample of pure sex, to the following array of items arranged on that table over there. Are you prepared, Elrick?

Elrick, Duke of Necessity: As ever, friend. Experiment away.

Sir Stanley: And…begin:

Sir Stanley unveils the picture.

Sir Stanley: And we observe its effects!

Elrick, Duke of Necessity: Why, the panties seem to have a particularly strong reaction there.

Panties: Wheeeeeee we’re flying!!!!

Sir Stanley: Yes, let’s turn it now–careful, don’t get in its path, the rays could be quite powerful–and point it at that row of champagne bottles over there.

Elrick Duke of Necessity: Wait, now, that’s our morning’s ration there–

Silence.

Sir Stanley: Um, why, I….

Elrick Duke of Necessity: We’re not speaking for a week. Also, I’m off to drink all the cooking sherry out of the cabinet and rumpus around with your maid as revenge. Your lack of objections to my plan will be your apology.

Sir Stanley. Why, um, yes. Yes.

(HT: FOTP.)

Director: …and we’re rolling in 3…2…

Lou Holtz: Wait, wait. This feels…wrong.

Director: Okay, Lou. We’re cut for time here, so make it quick.

Holtz: Don’t tell me we’re in a rush. I taught Sam Peckinpah everything he knows about movies. The rape scene in Straw Dogs? My idea from the start, though mine involved an octopus, a pinata full of bees, and Shelley Winters with a bullwhip.

Director: I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you–

Holtz: Listen up! I know movies, and this film lacks something. A spark. A little pizzazz. You got nothin’! A big poor kid, Sandra Bullock with a bad Mississippi accent, and not a pirate, hot dame, or gunfight in sight. What’s a movie without these? I’ll tell you what it is. A vagina for the eyes.

Director: I don’t even know what that means.

Holtz: ‘Course you don’t.

Sandra Bullock: Hey, I have a dialect coach from Steel Magnolias, I’ll have you know–

Holtz: And a dancing coach from the Pegleg Olympics and Amelia Earhart for flying lessons. Neither one will get over the Pacific or onstage with an Emmy, sweetie.

Sandra Bullock: Oscar.

Holtz: No, it’s Lou, but thanks. Listen, amateurs. I did all my pitching to recruits with my best foot forward. And by foot, I mean 12 inches. So that’s how it should be done.

Director: Um, if you could just put your pants back on, Lou, we’d really like to–

Holtz: This won me the bar bets that got me the Arkansas job, my wife, and my own private island off the cost of Bimini. It’s how I pitched recruits in real life, it scared Tony Rice into signing an X on that scholarship agreement, and I’ll be damned if it’s not going in a movie that’s supposedly about real life and me and football.

Sandra Bullock: [stares, mouth agape.]

Director: …and we’re rolling.

Lou Holtz: Hi, Michael. I’m Lou Holtz, and I’m here to get you play football for the University of Phoenix.

Sandra Bullock: [makes 'call me' sign with hand]

Director: …and cut.

Photo source: here. And Freek, of course. Holtzian translation provided by Holly, who speaks lisp fluently.

Hey, folks. I’m Vince Young, and I want you to eat my meat! Vince Young Foods announces its custom line of meat products, a product line guaranteed to give you the most emotional mouthful of meat you’ve ever had!

From our tasty Bawling Brisket, to our succulent Ribs of Regret, to our delectable Suffering Sausage, I, Vince Young, guarantee you won’t have a more temperamental or unpredictable dining experience than my custom line of meat. Put it in the freezer for up to four years to enjoy the erratic flavor, but after that? Who knows what you’ll get? THAT’S PART OF THE FUN.

As for health?

That numbness and tingling you’re feeling on left side? That’s the sadness and confusion getting into your veins! TASTE VINCE YOUNG’S MEAT AND YOU TASTE HIS SORROW PEOPLE! And it’s the tastiest sorrow in all ah Texas.

(Vince Young Meats, the best college football meats ever, are available in Texas only, and tend to spoil when shipped elsewhere. ORDER NOW.)

ACC official and game-speed-retardant Ron Cherry begs to differ, as he’s givin’ the business more effectively than ever:

Just fine with his swollen staff size: Ron Cherry.

Ladies and gentlemen, leave it to Dan Savage to turn even the twisted mind of Lewis Grizzard on its end:

I recently visited the University of Georgia in Athens, where the kids asked me to come up with a dirty meaning for “between the hedges,” which is their football stadium’s nickname. Off the top of my head, I said, “The boy in a girl-boy-girl three-way could be described as being between the hedges.” But upon further reflection, I think the term is a better description of going down on a woman with a particularly hairy bush—and the tongue, not the boy/girl doing the tonguing, is “between the hedges.”

Lewis would approve, if his marital history is any indication of his fondness for going between the hedges. (Or perhaps not, actually. Refusing to play home games between the hedges could shorten a marriage by a considerable margin.) Looking around the rest of college football, there’s certainly promising territory.

Death Valley. If an LSU fan hasn’t already called her vagina this, we’ll eat a bowl of driveway gravel, because you know “scoring in Death Valley” is low-hanging fruit for the degenerate minds of LSU fans.

The Big House. Oh, that’s not kind.

The Swamp. Too easy.

The Shoe. Kind of a rugged endearment for it, but sure.

Home of the 12th Man. Now we’re talking! Wait, whaaaa…

(HT: JCCW.)

Ladies, shield your ovaries.  Gentlemen, cling fiercely to your wives lest they be led astray by its weapons-grade babymaking prowess.

Pillowfights aren’t always sexy. We reserved a special pillow for Boy Scout camping trips: the Hammer. The Hammer was an ancient down pillow that had, over the course of decades, surrendered much of its fluff to the atmosphere, leaving the remainder as a sack of rock hard feather stems and assembled grit. It had zero give as a pillow, and may have accounted for years of nightmares we had as a child about clowns crushing us in the watery pits at the bottom of elevator. We’re actually not sure it wasn’t just a sack of corn husks and gravel with a pillowcase around it, now that we think about it.

When swung with the appropriate amount of force, though, the Hammer could shatter testicles, evict teeth, and turn a raging pillow fight into a 360 degree swath of prone bodies around you. It was our preteen Mjolnir, and worked with the kind of force that Nebraska defensive end Barry Turner must have applied in a mighty alleged swat of a pillow at his girlfriend on Friday night. Ordinary pillows don’t get you third-degree assault charges.

According to the police report, Turner and the woman fought on Friday night, when Turner allegedly picked her up in the entryway and carried her into the apartment. There, he asked her about a phone call, and when she did not answer, allegedly hit her with a pillow. The report said she grabbed a candlestick and hit him in retaliation. He allegedly responded to that by biting her on her arm and refusing to let her leave.

The universe gives you a FAIL on the Rhett Butler move, Barry, but awards points for the attempted candlestick murder by your girlfriend, Miss Scarlet. As for biting: when your relationship reaches the point where emotions run so high you can only communicate with biting, then it’s true love. We suggest proposing immediately, because that kind of fire does not die.

Nebraska is awarded one point for their efforts in the Fulmer Cup, bringing their total up to a respectable two points in the early innings of the Great Race.

…yeaaaahhh. Don’t act like you don’t like it.

When a shy girl is hungry, and bored with studying…

…who else is she gonna call but…THE PIZZA BOY?

Shy girl wearing Northwestern sweatshirt: “Yes? I’m hungry for something hot. Now.”

DING. DONG.

Shy girl wearing NW sweatshirt: “I’m not wearing pants. Oh, well, I’m so…hungry…”

Pizza Boy: I heard you needed a Meat Lover’s, and you needed it…now.

ANNOUNCER: He’ll give a smart girl all the learning she can handle. She’ll get it back because, beneath his brusque exterior, this scoring machine has no defense to offer up whatsoever. In the end, though, he’ll deliver all the extra sauce she can handle until she’s full, because in this metaphor you’re supposed to figure out that Northwestern will score but can’t possibly keep up with a fully engorged Mizzou team suffering from the blue balls of failed expectations HOLY ENTANGLED CULINARY GRIDIRON SEXUAL METAPHORS.

Rated NC-17 for overextended sexual conceits and violence. THE PIZZA BOY, from Pinkel Sensual Enterprises and Lawn Care, LTD.

Tagline: The only delivery where you beg for the tip.

The Alamo Bowl is on ESPN at 8:00 p.m. EDT tonight. It is family-safe…we think.

So I was running the Sweaty Wishbone with this Filipina in the back of her car the other day when I thought: this girl has got some fight in her! Just like the Arizona defense. They’re eighteenth in the nation in total defense, and if the vaunted USC defense doesn’t stop Willie Tuitama two weeks ago, we’re talking about them being the dominant unit in the Pac-10, not the Trojans. Whew! The way that girl threw it around I thought we were going to knock the buttery brown skins off those luscious adobo-powered love onions.

God, just thinking about that gets me sweaty and desperate. I’m gonna take care of this in the car where the bank teller can see it. Thank God the boys aren’t here.

PHINEAS! J.! HOGGFATHERRRRRRR!!!

Sorry, I just had to take care of that. I mean, what’s with the Pac-10? It’s a complete muddle, and even USC can’t seem to throw it down like they used to do. I was at a swingers’ party talking to a guy about it, and how we just couldn’t figure it out. He was a fat accountant named Stu, and while he was playing pink thermometer for Nancy–er, sorry, “Randy Rita”–he asked me, “Hey, ya think Dennis Erickson lost his touch?”

I thought about it. Maybe he has: just look at Erickson’s dismal in-conference record. The woman’s friend was busy with him while I kept myself in a holding pattern. “The Sun Devils are 1-4 in conference games this year. I mean, that’s just not gonna get it done at ASU!” He agreed with me. Then, ready to go, we hosed those ladies down like angry riot cops and went to the buffet.

(The kids are mine. Donald’s in the Navy because he can’t support them and they’re mine. I can’t help myself. Daisy was like a remora. Twice a day for seven years. Insatiable. Like a she-wolf in constant heat. Don’t judge me.)

I mean, Oregon State’s in line for the Rose Bowl: that’s right, Oregon State, the team that got killed by Penn State 45-14 on the road. I don’t want to downgrade what they’ve done, but that’s not exactly who you’d guess was in the catbird seat, now would ya?

You know what else I you wouldn’t guess? I’m having sex right now with my hairdresser. In drag.

We’re friends with benefits. I get free haircuts, and she gets nine inches of gratitude in multiple, rapid installments. I’ll be done in a second.

RUTHERFORD! B! HAAAAYYYES!!!!

Whew! Where was I? They do have Jacquizz Rodgers, who almost proves that size doesn’t matter. Almost, because it does, ladies. I’m thick like great steak and can use it to roll bread dough. Pants fear me. Sometimes I just drape towels on it not to brag, but because it’s useful. Call me. I’ll ruin you for other men. Ducks. Whatever.

Speaking of the Ducks: talk about perseverance in the face of a curse. They get down to their third stringer at qb and still make it 6-3? Way to make sausage out of shinola, Ducks? Doing the name proud. I used that pride to push through a difficult menage a trois the other night. I was on the ropes, but Chandra and Jessica had to tap out after I caught my fifth wind and put them into submission holds. Oh, yes. Duck is kosher, and still undefeated in the Cocktagon.

I’m sorry. Just one second. I have to finish pleasuring the maid. Ludmila, lift your leg, sweetie.

HERCULES! P.! BUTTERWOOOOOOORTH!!!

God, thats’s refreshing. How bout that Stanford? Jim Harbaugh, you’ve got them at 5-4 and looking at a bowl. That’s a great rebuild job, dude. Man, anyone can win this conference! Hey, you. Yes, you. Meet me in the back of the hangar in two minutes. I’ve got to pick up Mr. McD in fifteen minutes. I can have you barrel rolling in four. Let’s do the math together in two. Any landing’s a good landing, and judging from those support hose, you’ve had a few crashes in your day. I’ll bring you home in one piece, baby. Trust me.

Don’t forget about Cal? Anyone trust them to show up for two games in a row? Not this guy!