Blogtoberfest: Sometimes, we do one.

Jim Grobe is jowly enough for tradition at Michigan, who plan on getting one of those fax dealy-bobs in the office as soon as they get off the belt massager at the gym.

Rick Neuheisel at Duke? You betcha, per da Fanhouse.

Kyle notes in just one, just one we say, of his ongoing and superb series of bowl previews that it was a bad year to be a morbidly obese offensive genius. Sir, Mark Mangino disagrees vehemently! And is eyeing that tasty samosa you left in the Indian take-out bag!

Two entered. One left.

Colorado State quietly replaces the retired Sonny Lubick with CSU alum and former assistant Steve Fairchild, current offensive coordinator for the Buffalo Bills.

3rd Saturday in Blogtober has the proper name for Bobby Petrino now: Pignocchio.
Cocktails, distributed in great and indiscriminate quantities in your direction, sir.

Gerry Dorsey lightens the whole nervous, boiler-room feel of the Coaching Tilt-a-Whirl by pointing us toward this LSU performance artist, who is actually a superb dancer.

21st century Washington football in pictures.

Fired Washington AD Todd Turner-who “resigned” suddenly in a coupish tilt with boosters at the university-didn’t leave quietly, and bully for him for that. When you’re fired, you should take a few things with you, like paper clips, some stationery, a quickie with a co-worker in the bathroom, or half the building taken when you detonate the belt of C4 you’ve got wrapped around your penis for just such occasions. (Be prepared!)

Turner opted for the simple letter, where he bemoans the creep of boosters into the sport.

Frankly, I’ve grown concerned recently over the growing imbalance between what the public (i.e. fans) expects and the true purpose of intercollegiate athletics. It’s a frightening time to be in your positions if you truly believe in the ideal of the student-athlete within the framework of higher education…In recent days, I’ve seen a side of athletics that sickens me with the incessant interloping of uninformed, unenlightened, self-anointed experts who look upon intercollegiate athletics solely as entertainment to satisfy their own self interests.

…the same boosters who help pay your $325,000 salary as Athletic Director, a salary with bonuses built in to take it up to $425,000. Football pays for most other sports at big universities, and the Faustian deal you make when soliciting donations remains true across the board: when someone writes a check, they buy a share. And shareholders are cranky bitches when they don’t get wins or the proper funding for a stadium renovation, something UW needs for the octogenerian Husky Stadium.

Martin insists his firing has nothing to do with the vouchsafing of Ty Willingham’s job last week, and went to great lengths to say this in his interview.

“There will be a number of folks who will want to, I’m sure, integrate this somehow around coach Willingham. And that’s not the case at all,” Emmert said Tuesday. “I’m completely comfortable and confident in our decisions surrounding coach Willingham, and I look forward to him being our coach next fall.”

Using the recent standards for football/public relations as shorthand, this means it has everything to do with Willingham, and that boosters pitched an unholy fit when the news came down that Willingham was getting one more year.

This will be the last Petrino post before we move on to other business and merely end any story re: Petrino with “Bobby Petrino says he wants to be at Arkansas, it’s where his family wants to be, and he’s staying at Arkansas.” It’s LSUFreek’s impromptu photoshopping of Jesus Camp crossed with the Petrino press conference, and you know we can’t resist the siren song of homegrown surrealism.

EDSBS is not responsible for any seizures or convulsions resulting from this.

If you’ve ever wondered what the inside of an SEC fan’s head looks like most of the time, well, this is frighteningly close. Just plug in the appropriate mascot head and coach, and that’s about 45% of the brain activity of any given day. Titties, beer, batter, and rivals.com pretty much soaks up the rest.

A crowded singles bar in an urban setting. Bobby sits at a bar in a red tube dress, drinking a cosmo and swirling the straw around in his hand.

Bobby: BARTENDER! Another Screaming Orgasm over here.

Bartender: You’re really pouring it on.

Bobby: Fuck it, I’m drunk. And put another one on that old guy’s tab over there. He’s not even paying attention.

Mr. Blank, at the opposite end of the bar watching tv: Love ya, babe!

Bobby: Kiss my ass, limpdick. See? He didn’t even hear it. Limpdick!

Mr. Blank: (Blows kiss, winks.)

Bobby: Fuck. (downs shot)

(A stiff, tweedy middle aged man fiddling with his cell phone approaches the bar and the empty seat next to Bobby.)

Bill Martin, Michigan AD: Good evening, madam. Mind if i sit…

Bobby: Go right fucking ahead. ANOTHER! (taps empty shot glass)

Martin: Bartender, a Latour ‘64, if you’ve got it?

Bartender: (Stares, pauses, continues.) We have wine coolers.

Martin: Ooh! That sounds quite refreshing. I’ll try one.

(Turns to Bobby)

The weather has been delightful this year. Perfect for some late fall sailing, don’t you think?

Bobby: Sailing? Who the hell are you, Captain Ron? (more…)

For a bit of historical perspective, please recall the fabulous “Mr Petrino” song from last year.