Somewhere in Louisiana late on Friday, a drunk hunter shot himself, fell on his knife, slashed his femoral artery with a jig, or otherwise mortally injured himself in the course of trying to catch a fish or convert a happy, walking live deer to tasty venison sausage. And rather than going to the hospital or even calling for help, he simply lay down on the deck of his boat or sat back in his tree stand, gazed at the purple sky, and said something to the effect of “Lester, you brought this on yourself. Might as well finish what’s in the flask.”
This is because there are things you do not know about going to an LSU game on Saturday night in Baton Rouge. We’ll explain all you need to know in a few simple bullet points.
Cheers from Baton Rouge. Mandatory remark about obvious homosexuality of opponent included on t-shirt.
Everyone’s there. Lester accepted fate as he bled to death, and just as well, since Lester was a dead man walking. No one was in the emergency rooms, nor in the morgues, nor in the dispatcher’s seat. Every single person in the state of Louisiana was in Baton Rouge, professionals, ne’er-do-wells, rapscallions, and professional ne’er-do-wells and rapscallions, to watch LSU play Florida in Tiger Stadium. Babies went unborn; ships sat unloaded at the docks. Dogs circled a spot on the floor three times and then lay down on the floor, passed out until their woozy owners returned 48 to 72 hours later.
On Friday night, a quick drive around the campus confirmed our suspicions. (more…)
You didn’t watch the Kansas/Kansas State game on Saturday. We’d bet money on it. Early there was Wisconsin/Illinois, in the middle there was the Red River Rivalry and Georgia suffering a collective aneurysm of the spirit in Knoxville, and late there was Florida at LSU. We know we didn’t watch it, what with the being chased by men attempting to feed us gumbo through funnels and the ritual LSU hello of being headbutted as a greeting.
So if we’re looking to what put Fat Bastard and the Jayhawks up, we could point to the Jayhawks rushing for 170 yards to the Wildcats 53. Or to the fact that while both teams tossed 3 interceptions each, at least Kansas threw three TDs to balance out the accounts sheet, while Josh Freeman only threw one TD on his end to finish with a 1/3 ratio on the day. Or (numbers blah blahbedy blahbedy blahsome.)
Or we could just rely on this video, which while less statistically descriptive, certainly captures the essence of the whole affair.
Again, go nowhere in the universe without your power towel, as it’s handy for wiping down tears of loss and feeding to a raging Mark Mangino when he’s wrecking the postgame victory buffet with two hands and a foot. (Little known fact: he has dextrous toes. He can’t see them, but he can manipulate objects with them.)
Pirates tend to have a raunchy sense of humor and should, what with all the wenching and pillaging of booty. Euphemisms make for romance! Remember that they both essentially mean robbery and rape, mind you, which is why real pirates are total assholes who don’t wear eyepatches and who do carry RPGs when they plunder Taiwanese freighters off the Horn of Africa.
(Seriously: vigilance, reader. Pirates are everywhere. Be aware.)
We remain fond of the fake variety, though, especially the ones in Lubbock who attend Mike Leach’s Pirate School. Oh, and they make festive t-shirts, too, like the one cocked up for this week’s game against Texas A&M. Did you know that, in addition to making huge bonfires, grabbing their balls in unison, and participating in complex group cheers, the Aggies have a collie as a mascot. Why? Because Lassie’s no commie, dammit, unlike that liberal pinko Alger Hiss of a dog, Rin Tin Tin.
FYI: We actually got an advance copy of this t-shirt from Dennis Franchione last Thursday. He’ll send you next week’s rival t-shirts for just twelve hundred dollars a year. You say crazy, but who was pimping this shirt on Saturday in Baton Rouge? Only Dennis Franchione’s official 145th best friend, yours truly, according to his Facebook page. We can feel the envy from here.
Your doctor prescribes two tylenol, ice, and application of one starlet for that broken finger. John David Booty’s prescription for the broken middle finger on his throwing hand on Saturday night was a tried and true one: shots. Booty was seen downing shots and hanging out with attractive ladiesat Leinart-approved club Les Deux following the loss to Stanford, which Brooks reminds us helpfully was the biggest upset ever in the history of college football since the introduction of points spreads.
Nuttin’ like Arkansas football. Houston Nutt and the Razorbacks won their game on Saturday, but lost the battle for air supremacy when this banner flew over the stadium:
Actually, Florida is 0-2 in the SEC West, too. You don’t see us flying any banners, now do you?
You do see us phoning in death threats, though. Not to the coaching staff, but to the towing company that claimed Tony Joiner’s girlfriend’s car, setting off the series of events leading to Joiner’s arrest. How the owner of Watson’s Towing discerned the hundreds of death threats he likely receives daily from the ones related to the Joiner case is a legitimate question; the only thing as despicable as towing companies in Gainesville are the students, who routinely park on top of newborns and puppies to save themselves a three minute walk to class.
Speaking of……there’s a lot of positives to take from Saturday’s game, according to someone who wasn’t personally punched in the balls by Jacob Hester on Saturday night. Florida, despite only running 58 plays to LSU’s 80, had 314 yards of offense and 19 first downs against the nation’s best defense. LSU also got to run 80 plays and hold the ball for 12 minutes in the fourth quarter, which may have contributed a little to the nutpunching and whatnot.
Mike Gundy’s rant lives on in the form of local car advertising. A fine performance here by a car dealer who, no, did not employ Sooner football players, in case you’re wondering.
(HT: Matt.)
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