In the wake of the NFL draft, we thought we’d do our own draft-themed show, albeit with a twist: extending the draft not only to college, but to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. (A store now closing forever, something we’d weep over if we ever bought single item at the place. Wait: garbage can, 2002.)

Our four questions for the evening are as follows:

1. Name the player for your team who, once “drafted” by your team, never really panned out. As a Florida fan, our list of signees who came and never blossomed into even the measliest of roses is long and distinguished. However, the pinnacle of disappointment came in a pair of Parade All-Americans destroyed slowly by the “performs best when entering with little talent or ego” Spurrier system: Bobby Sabelhaus and Tim Olmstead, the next Great Distributors in the Fun ‘n Gun who both bombed out of the program before doing so much as throwing a single wobbly fade to the corner.

Olmstead was merely immature, blowing off classes and refusing to learn the playbook before transferring to Vandy where he sat on the bench behind Greg Zolman. (Read that again. If that doesn’t sink in, well, read it again.) Poor Bobby Sabelhaus suffered a worse fate: he got depressed, got bipolar, and then got gone, transferring to West Virginia, and then finally to San Jose State. Just thinking about them makes us emo boy weepy sad.

2. Name the most overrated draft pick from your own school. Gerard “Big Money” Warren. What? The big fat guy who did nothing? Really? Are you interested in drafting my uncle, perhaps? He won’t even ask for a signing bonus, sir and sirrahs. Gerard Warren, on the other hand, will cost you the third pick in the first round of the 2001 draft and ultimately end up playing for the Raiders. (Butch Davis, draft genius, your fingerprints are all over this one.)

He does look intimidating riding off on an injury cart, though.

3. You get to draft a quality you lack into your life. Whatever: more patience, a horn in the middle of your forehead, or even the answer most of you will undoubtedly give, the all-consuming desire to have your huge, pavement dragging dick reduced to a more manageable size. Just answer the question and the puppy doesn’t get harmed.

For the record, we’d draft abs. Never had ‘em, never will. It would be nice to flaunt them for a month, and then bury then under a solid layer of merrily-added beer fat.

4. Draft something foreign into these United States of ours. We want Australia. The whole thing, fangs and all. Failing a continental transfer, we’ll just take its assortment of fanged/poisonous animals, since Florida seems too safe to us these days: no coke wars, no one slaughtering German tourists in Miami for sport, years since a decent hurricane.

Talk to you tonight, which you may do by clicking here or by simply hitting play on the Now Live Widget in the sidebar.

Them’s the numbers for the spring games, compiled by the guys at the Big Red Network who, understandably, are quite proud of the massive attendance for Pelini’s first spring outing. Insert jokes about “places with nothing to do” leading the list, though we’re wondering about Iowa State being so low on the list: shouldn’t more people have attended just to huddle for warmth? Chizik-nickels don’t buy as much kerosene as they used to, we guess.

[/basking in glorious spring sunshine]

Connecticut is extremely precise with their degrees of badness in the criminal code. Blame that on having daffy Yale law so close by-how else does one get “sixth-degree larceny,” a crime that seems just a hair off from “accepting a gift in an awkward fashion?” Whatever the hell “sixth-degree larceny” is, Connecticut cornerback Joshua Massey caught a case of it for taking exactly $31.34 worth of goods from the UConn co-op. We’re betting it was blades for his nine-bladed razor, the Gillette Agent Orange (”Deforesting Your Face Nine Lethal Goddamn Blades at a Time.”)

The Gillette Agent Orange: It’s Like Deforestation For Your Face.

One point for UConn, whose measly total doesn’t bring them close to the big board.

Perpetually fun Iowa tacks on a point for underage possession, and we don’t mean the Roger Clemens type of underage possession. Defensive tackle Cody Hundertmark broke through the guard of local criminal code and got his hands on some booze, but was charged with holding and fined with fifteen yards and an underage charge. One point for Iowa, though the good news is that they did not lose a player in the incident.

And finally…100 parking tickets for Sam Baker during his time at USC. As someone who parked their car everywhere on the Florida campus, up to and including a primo spot in the aisle of the Latin American History section of Library West, and kept himself warm on cold winter nights by burning piles of parking tickets, we only have this word: hero.

It is bad enough that Florida hasn’t won against Miami since 1985. Now Ms. “Oooh, Look at me I was head of Health and Human Services” is talking shit.

“We don’t admit thugs anymore. We do admit people that like to suntan, but those students are usually in the sun with a book in hand, and I think that’s a difference people overlook,” Shalala said. Right now UM is ranked at 52 and the University of Florida is ranked at 50, according to U.S. News & World Report. One of Shalala’s goals is to not only get into the top 50, but to do so before the football game in fall, so “UM can beat UF twice.”

OHHHH, IT IS ON BUREACRA-BITCH. Sure, you gave children access to health insurance with SChip, but Tim Tebow does not care about your puny bureaucratic accomplishments, nor your fine Ph.D from Syracuse University. We can take trash talk from the braided-up badasses from Miami Northwestern-respek, sirs-but yapping from a hobbit Clinton appointee? Warren Christopher gonna start some shit next, huh? (If so, Warren: Rwanda, asshole. Your bitch status=QEDMF.)

Don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit, Donna. But now you made us call Bob Graham and Bill Nelson, two dudes who bring bike chains and mad krues to the fight. There wasn’t going to be blood, Donna, but now you gone and done it. Bernie Machen’s gonna be waiting at the fifty with a stapler and a sack of nails…and not even your canny welfare reforms will save you, then.

P.S. See Barstoolio’s entry for the RambutanShalala. Eerily similar.

Fools! Imbeciles! You dance like puppets on strings whilst I, THE ONE AND ONLY LIMAS SWEED, prove my evil genius once again! Tie-er of maidens to railroad tracks, shadow emperor of the Philippine Islands and several provinces in Paraguay, inventor of the Hydraulic Dream Factory and The Tesla Coil Inverter-Weather-Controller, and internationally renowned rapscallion-at-large…I HAVE DONE IT AGAIN!

Limas Sweed: Dastardly Svengali, Impressario, Lothario, and Genius-ario.

After successfully laying incognito for years here in this unsuspecting bumpkin buffet of humanity called Austin, I have not only extorted HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS out of the government by threatening them with my Tesla Coil Inverter-Weather-Controller—see the ferocity of just one of my puniest creations, the cyclonic storm system that disrupted the SEC Basketball Tournament in Atlanta, formerly known as Terminus, for evidence thereof-I have conned the wealthy fatlings who run this sham of a country into paying me as a WIDE RECEIVER IN THE NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE!

This cover shall give me the freedom to only work six months of the year at most, freeing up my fecund brainbox so that it may pursue new and even more dastardly methods of expanding my ROGUE EMPIRE.

Mu-HA!

MUHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA!!!!

When I’m not hauling in passes adhered to my hands with my fantastickal Electromagnetic Gecko Hand Stick-o-Mittens or outrunning defensive backs with my Flubber-Jet-Jackboots, I shall be in my laboratory, devising new and even more maniacal methods of bleeding the beast we call authority with my mind-daggers. Quake at mere hints of what is to come!

The Celestial Sky-Tie! A railroad floating in the sky, so that I may tie maidens to tracks lying not just in the path of trains, but also in the direct line of flight of a fearsome biplane!

The Frame-jumping Motion-Stutter Comical Discombobulator! Uses the forces of molecular hilarity to take any group of uniformed policemen and make them run at what appears to be twice their normal speed. Also makes them unusually clumsy and prone to running in one group, so that any turn around a corner turns into a comedy and a dastardly getaway! HAHAHAHAHHA!

A really superb egg-slicer. I’m planning on selling it on late-night television. It’s not one of my more dastardly projects, but people seem to buy them…um… IN A MOST DASTARDLY WAY, OF COURSE!!!

I’d like to crow longer, but a rogue’s work is never done. The authorities are coming after me. Now! To flee in my hot-air balloon before they capture me and exile me to Devil’s Island, which I’ve once escaped from, and shall do again if necessary!

Fly, my beautiful air-chariot! Hie me to higher ground so that I might continue my villainous ways before fresh, virgin eyes unsuspecting of my true nature. Quickly, into the basket, Ribbons! What is a rogue without his pet Orang-U-Tang? A lonely evil genius, indeed!

SEE YOU NEXT TIME, LEGAL EAGLES! To the pain, crusaders! TO THE PAIN!!! You’ll ne’er cage this wily raven, do-gooders!

Yours sincerely,

LIMAS SWEED, ESQ.
Dastardly Genius and Citizen of the Sweedian Empire of the Leyte Gulf and Oriental Mindoro