Someone is benefitting from the entire Erin Andrews video scandal: hackers, who have taken the internet’s finally fulfilled obsession with ERIN ANDREWS NAKED and played it to their advantage by posting links to the peephole camera video taken of Andrews by a reprehensible person at a hotel, and then feeding requesting PCs a bushel of viruses.

The official EDSBS policy on this is that Ms. Andrews has been wronged grievously, and that the person behind this should be bankrupted not just for their invasion of her privacy, but also for their intrusion on the privacy of others. From what we understand, this was a completely random act, and in an alternate universe could have been you or us standing there getting our goods pasted all over the internet for profit. That her celebrity has exacerbated the initial violation is an even sadder occurrence, and far exceeds the reasonable cost of fame in its severity.

With that said, we feel we need to publish what we have in the name of full disclosure. New information has come to light, and we cannot sit on it any longer. We did not film this, nor do we intend to sell it. We do not claim it is in fact anyone in particular, and will not comment on any resemblances other than to say this: we have made this SFW, and that if this is who we think it is, then this could very well be the media scandal of the century.

You have been warned. (more…)

In this week’s published excerpts from Brent Musberger’s forthcoming autobiography, his ABC broadcasting partner Kirk Herbstreit revealed that they train as triathletes in the offseason to stay in shape, and that Musberger has rescued Herbstreit from archaeopteryx attacks in open water on four separate occasions. We have since been informed that our transcript was in error, and that Musberger rescued Herbstreit from sharks. The archaeopteryx has been extinct for millions of years. We regret the error.

“Clever girl.”

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Harper Collins is excited to announce they will be releasing Brent Musberger’s You’re Looking Live!: A Life On Air. Previews here are made available courtesy of Harper Collins and Mr. Musberger, whose colorful life story leaps off the page in a series of anecdotes told by the man himself without a ghostwriter or editor. Take it away, Brent!

Havana, 1973. The crystalline blue waters of Havana: they heal the soul. I’m there with Fidel, and the good times are flowing between the two of us like so much cheap government-subsidized rum in our glasses. I kid, folks: Fidel only drinks Bacardi Gold, and leaves the Cuban insecticide-laced pisswater to the little people who make it all happen. Natural leaders get natural privileges, Woody Hayes used to say, and I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I let him take my first wife for three years without saying a peep. Sometimes you fight for ‘em, and sometimes, you just let the bigger bear take the salmon.

“Brent, I’m thinking of turning this entire island into a rollerderby theme park.” He pissed off his balcony as he said this. Old Fidel just let it fly wherever. He used to tell me the podium at the UN had a groove worn in the back of it from his stallion’s stream he fired while giving one of his four hour speeches there. I checked one day. He wasn’t lying. The whole thing smells like cigars, rum, and gasoline. The smell of man.

I told him it was a great idea, and then threw the bottle off onto the sidewalk. There was a scream below. We laughed! Oh, how we laughed. Here’s the two of us last year at Fidel’s birthday. His hand does that in every picture of him, no matter what camera you’re using.

Kruger National Park, South Africa, 1990. I’m not saying our love was always right. But it was never wrong. (more…)

Hi. You know who I am. This thumb’s for you, Colt McCoy, because you’re a champion who takes my breath away and turns in slow motion away from onrushing defenders bent on crushing you. You took the highway to the danger zone but took the exit toward Victory Lane, and for that I’m buzzing your tower and oiling myself up for a one-on-one volleyball game. You’re invited.

No more playing with the boys, Colt: just you and me, a Colt and a Maverick out in the field doing what animals do. I’m bringing this thumb. Let’s role play: this time, you be Sam Bradford, and I’ll be Brian Orakpo and Sergio Kindle.

This is your open thread for the afternoon. We don’t judge you, whatever you’d like to do with or to Colt McCoy and the rest of the magnificent Texas Longhorns, who played the finest game of the year thus far against the Oklahoma Sooners. Boom. Motherfucker.

Scene: an unnamed Latin American urban center. Raw sewage flows through the gutters. A hopelessly beautiful child is held at gunpoint by armed thugs who, in addition to being evil for holding up a little girl with an AK-47, are ugly and wearing ugly clothes.

Bandito: And now, amigos, we’ll see if the girl gives up the candy!

Girl: Chinga te, cabron!

The girl kicks the bandito in the balls. He crumples. She runs, and turns down a dark alley. The gang scrambles after her. The alley runs into a dead end. The girl stops, her face lit dramatically from above.

Bandito, limping in: And now, chica, I will teech you sohm reeespect!

A wiry, handsome form comes into the frame behind the bandito. It is BROCK CARDINAL, ex-Navy SEAL, Congressman, and former car thief and chemist. (more…)

Today is Repeal Day! Hip Hip, Hooray!

On this day in 1933 prohibition was officially repealed when Utah, of all states, signed on to the 21st Amendment, paving the way for nearly a century of great tailgating. I’ll drink to that.

Let’s install a bidet, people!

You can’t have a modern bathroom without a bidet. I know what you’re saying, now: what kind of man uses something French to lick his ass that can’t be charged anonymously to a credit card as “PERSONAL SERVICES, INC” from a Lyon hotel room? Not me, you say!

Wrong. It’s time to show some modern fluffy sensitivity and stop smearing the brown ghost of last night’s pot roast around your ass and get with the squeaky-clean, watery goodness of a behind blasted immaculate with the gentle but firm touch of a bidet.

We’ll even show you how to make your very own, extremely masculine Ohio State bidet just like the one that keeps Tressel’s trundle clean every week on ABC. Ready?

Step one: the bidet. Be careful–you can overpay for your bidet, as some built-in toilet/bidet models can run into the thousands of dollars. We can only say that the decision is yours, but for value’s sake the extra water you’ll use with a separate bidet is negligible. We say keep them separate to save a few bucks, and pick up a model such as the Kohler “San Tropez” for no more than $500 total.

Step Two: Installation. Don’t make the mistake of just drilling a few holes in the floor, hooking up a pipe, and firing away at the old log-mouth with a poorly installed bidet. Precision matters here. First, make sure your tiling is level, and that you’ve got your piping lined up accurately. Trace the outline of the bidet on the floor, and crack out the chalk line and level to make sure the bidet is attractively and evenly placed next to the toilet.

Now take a drill and make two 3/16″ holes in the floor for the anchor. Don’t forget your sealant! This all-important element will save you from nagging leaks and drips in the future, and you’ll thank yourself for the extra effort later.

Connect your pipes, drain, and you’re almost there.

Add some style. In this case, we’re going to jazz up the bidet with a familiar loving face. We’ve taken an image off the internet, printed and laminated it, and blown it up on an 8X12 scale. Then we we did a quick outline of the image on some pressed 1/16 inch aluminum, matched up the image, and cut a quick 1/2 inch hole to allow for the bidet faucet to poke through. Make sure your faucet hole is just big enough–a tight fit is essential here.

Take the mounting and run a quick solder and seal job around the faucet, and we’re ready to scrub. Oh, and don’t forget the waterproof sticker at the bottom of the trough for effect.

Step Four: Get that undercarriage Musburger-clean! Pardner, even in defeat no one washes your Buckeye balls more thoroughly and forcefully than the Brentster. You’re looking live! At my ass being cleaned just like Jim Tressel’s is on a weekly basis! Turn on thE water and feel the force of America’s announcer getting you a squeaky kind of clean only previously possible
with four hours of feverish man-amour. (more…)

I’ve known señor Swindle since around 1992. I like the guy. Really, I do. But sometimes he needs a little tweaking now and again. On that score, we bring you Orson’s least favorite cheesecake option of all time to celebrate the end of the offseason when we desperately need the weekly distractions. Without further ado, EDSBS’s Friday Cheesecake is the distinctly non-latin, silicon-filled, college football lovin’, Bobby Bowden worshiping Jen Sterger.

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Our daily affirmation for the starving college football fan comes LOOKING AT YOU LIVE from Hope Stadium, location 52 short days away.

As pointed out elsewhere, Washington’s got a testicle-busting schedule on their hands. (Holy mixed anatomical metaphors!–ed.) Ty Willingham and company have decided what a good day to die is, and that is on Saturday. To wit:

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.
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