From the official animal of Mustache Wednesday.

[NAME REDACTED] may not have been a lot of things when he was coach at Florida: beloved, coherent, successful when it counted, or even prepared. But one thing he was: a great recruiter. Right? THE MAN HAD A WATERPROOF CELL PHONE SO HE COULD TAKE IT IN THE SHOWER, dammit. (That’s dedication for you, there, though the idea of a grown man calling us when naked and begging doesn’t exactly appeal to the senses.)

We wouldn’t let facts complicate that, of course. Like the fact that Florida’s draft picks in the NFL dwindled each year, or more damning still, that according to the Gainesville Sun the 49 blue-chip recruits [NAME REDACTED] brought to the university in ‘03 and ‘04 have dwindled to 23 still with the team. We’d always assumed that as clueless as he was, the dunderheaded choke artist/waterski aficionado could recruit-it turns out he may not even be able to do that effectively.

“Keeping half your recruits is like losing half your bad ones. It’s correctable.”

On the flight back from Newark last night a pair of hasidim sat in front of us, and we can safely say that there’s something very cool about two guys who look like they just walked out of the 18th century fiddling around with their Blackberrys all night.

Which leads us to our jewish brethren in the Gator Nation, who now have their own distinctive headgear to combine two forms of ancient and revered faiths into a single symbol: the Gator yarmulke.

For those who REALLY think Saturday is a holy day. Image courtesy of Egokippot.com.

UPDATE: For those wishing to show that their team really are the chosen ones in multiple fashion, check out this site featuring sanctified Shabbas gear for the team of your choice. And no, we don’t think it’s a joke.

Frank Solich’s appeal for a new trial in his DUI case-deee-nied, but only after an expert suggested that he’d soaked his own hair in GHB to get off the hook. We think that’s a damn waste of quality GHB when you could have just copped to the plea in the first place. (HT: Devil Grad, who’s been giddy as a schoolgirl over this case. This only proves the rule that no matter how small your favorite program may be, someone out there totally hates your ass just for liking them .)

Solich’s quixotic attempt to challenge the charge likely comes to an end here, and thus also ends any and all probably coverage of Ohio football for the year, provided their equipment manager doesn’t get caught smoking peyote while driving a skid-steer loader down Main Street in Athens or something like that.

Raise a glass to the end of the Frank Solich saga. Some weasel took the cork out of my lunch…

With the season rolling in with the force of an impending thunderstorm, we encourage you to take cover in the last bits of frivolous satire before ACTUAL CONTENT rears its head and forces everyone to write about things that actually happen. The upcoming drama means you’ll have to familiarize yourself with your dramatis personae, the cast of characters for this year’s production.

Presenting: The ACC.

Bobby Bowden.

To be played by…

A fading legend in the twilight of his career. Has a fondness for odd hats, fancy eyeglasses, and the occasional bitchy dig at his rivals. Once threw Rod Stewart out of a limousine. Who knew that Elton John had so much in common with Bobby Bowden? We did, actually, since both are just fine with “boys being boys,” though for dramatically different reasons in each case.

Tom O’Brien

To be played by… (more…)

That five hour ass-branding of Buffalo/MidState Octagonal PolyTech/Citadel you’ll be watching in just a few scant days? It’s part of college football’s redistribution system where the running dog capitalist pig landlords-like Florida, for example-fill the slot of the 12th game with cupcakey games like Western Carolina.

Ahh, but the crafty proletariat wins here, thanks to the redistributive effects of the ever-larger checks they receive from big powers looking for easy kicking. The money builds new weight rooms and facilities. They leach the power from the overlords without them even knowing it!

Buffalo in particular made a patsy of the bourgeoisie this offseason, dumping dates with West Virginia and Rutgers to get worse beatings at the hands of Auburn and Wisconsin for nearly twice the money it would have made originally. This makes the Buffalo football team the most profitable punching bag for cash since Peter McNeeley, or possibly any one of Gary Busey’s ex-wives. The point of all this? Datwan Hemingway, the superbly named backup qb for Buffalo, gets a new weight room, which is all he really needed to send his Heisman hype into the stratosphere. The ground floor’s open, people-we’re just waiting for you to get on the bandwagon, comrade.

Datwan Hemingway: the people’s champ.

We’re back in full effect after a devastating swing through New York. The statistical line: 2 days, 7.5 hours of sleep, and one unfortunate visit to the Cherry Tavern where a night of carefully coordinated drinking became one pain-fraught down payment on a hangover the likes of which we haven’t seen since The Infamous Gold Schlager Incident of 1995. Thanks, East Village!

Muchas Gracias to all the people who extended invitations-between the office work and a bloggy post-work meeting, there wasn’t time to do much besides flag a cab back to the hotel and spend fifteen minutes trying the room keys on our floor until one worked. (Next time, we’ll just write the room number on our legs and arms in waterproof marker like we’re a triathlete so people will know where to drop our prone, unconscious body.)

Special thanks to Warren for the burgers and BJ Strykker for the drink coaching. We’ll be over here pounding Ibuprofen and weeping softly.

Hangover, day 2. We blame the Jews.