This will be received in a cool-headed, rational manner, we’re sure.
Also, your new top 25 is hyah. We can’t decide if sharing so many similar picks with the hivemind is a sign that we’re more wrong than we imagined, or that everyone communicated the same talking points so quickly the consensus snapped into place. We’re ahead of the curve on one thing, however: at least we didn’t throw in votes for Rutgers (6 votes) or Notre Dame (1 honking, stee-ew-pid like them fancy British ladies would say it vote.)
Blogtoberfest: defending you from tigers like big strong Russian should.
The use of parachutes to put mascots and/or gameballs into stadiums has now gone too far. (Via The Sporting Blog. )
The reason it has gone too far should be obvious: a mascot will get tangled in some lines, then they’ll fall, then they’ll catch on fire, then they’ll get attacked by the live mascot, and it will all end badly. And our first reaction will be to laugh, thus punching another hole in our ticket to hell, and it will all be your fault, skydiving mascot bastards.
We’ve already reserved WannstedtSouth.com. Mike Sherman promises he’ll win. He just doesn’t know when, or how, or against whom. But take comfort in this, Aggie fans: he promises that they will win. At least one game. Sometime in the span of his coaching career. Wait for it. Here it comes.
“I’ve been doing this long enough to know … that I have complete confidence in how we do things, what we’re doing, the manner in which we do them,” Sherman said. “I have no doubt we will win. When that is exactly, I can’t pinpoint, but I know for a fact it will happen.”
Ole Miss was unusually festive this weekend, and Friends of the Program was there to document it.
Jessie Palmer’s tie says nothing about his manhood. Just look at the gesture Craig James is making here for proof of that.
Wannstedt Death Watch: Commenced. By both reputable and quasi-reputable sources alike.
It is never too early to get excited about Duke football, especially if you turn him into your football Obama. Beware! He worked with Phil Fulmer for years, and is just a part of a machine like them all! He’ll take multiple 51 yard field goal attempts in a game! He’ll punt when he should go for it!
Wow, that story got no traction. ESPN had the story of the year late Saturday night: Hawaii’s immense upset of Florida on their home field, a huge blow for mid-majors and BCS-busters everywhere. (Click for full size.)
Probably want to skip “Drink and Drown” this year.
School officials from both NMSU and UTEP have issued warnings against going across the border from El Paso to the ever more charming city of Juarez, Mexico, where any gameday tailgating may inclue authentic Mexican cuisine (love those simple corn tortillas and green salsa!), the purchase of high grade pharmaceuticals from any number of cross-border pharmacies (ay, papi, love that percocet!) and perhaps being killed where you stand for no reason.
The travel warnings come as government officials and residents are asking the Mexican federal government to do more to stop a wave of killings across the state of Chihuahua believed to be linked to a raging drug cartel war.
More than 850 homicides have occurred in Juárez so far this year, including four killed in a shootout Wednesday afternoon and four men killed execution-style late Tuesday when they were handcuffed to each other, lined up and shot.
Students from both schools have traditionally gone over to Juarez to participate in “Drink and Drown,” which in the best of years sounds like a recipe for blanked memories covering Grand Guignol horrors and transactions involving STDs, stolen credit cards, and weapons with the serial numbers filed off them.
Throw in a city in the spasms of open public executions by drug gangs, and this is probably a very, very good year to skip this whole thing. Unless you’re stupid, and by all means, stupid finds its own level, meaning we couldn’t stop you if we wanted to, brah. Go ahead and tape three hundred dollars to yourself and walk across the bridge like William T. Vollmann on holiday. When a pit bull is chasing you across the river on your drunken, bleeding swim back to America, don’t say we didn’t warn you.
Since today is our belated, five-day review day, we’ll save you the trouble of having to watch the mostly wretched UK/Louisville game and present the necessary bullet points for you:
-Louisville qb Hunter Cantwell’s four-series streak in the fourth quarter when Louisville had scored zero points and need something to get back into a 10-0 game: pick/pick/fumble for TD/pick.
-Kentucky scored 17 points in the fourth through very little real offense of their own.
-Kentucky qb Mike Hartline’s leading receiver was the second row of the stands.
-Louisville scored its only points of a 27-2 blowout on a safety.
-310 pounds of glory: it happens in the form of Myron Pryor who had five tackles, a TFL, a forced fumble, and this run for a giant imaginary red velvet cake dancing in the endzone.
Give that man cake, dammit, and all the cream cheese frosting he deserves.
Our blogpoll ballot for week one follows. The requisite attempts to justify a hodgepodge of power polling and gut instinct follow, as well as some serious jiu-jitsu in wrestling with the relative import of non-conference games, first-game stumbles/moonshots, and what the hell to do with the Kansas and Wisconsin bracket of teams in our poll.
I’m pregnant…with victory. (AP Photo, Dave Martin.)
Courtesy of Orangebloods member b0nedry: Will Muschamp, as seen on the sidelines versus Florida Atlantic after cutting himself taking his headset off violently.
State fair deep-fried consolation for those whose teams lost this weekend: the Texas State Fair, where you can eat the death-row food of those who don’t want to make it down the hall to Ol’ Sparky, batter-fried bacon. There’s also this quote, which may summarize all you may need to know and never understand about state fair cuisine:
“This is the Chocolate-covered Strawberry Waffle Ball. It’s a plump fresh strawberry dipped in chocolate and then covered in sweet waffle batter and then deep-fried. Makes perfect sense.”
PAC 10 FOOTBALL CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP. The mike’s all yours, gorgeous.
Somehow stunning and craptacular at the same time. The only possible explanation for UCLA coming back-excluding Tennessee’s sphincter-seizure and the grand folly that was the Clawfense-is this: Norm Chow mind bolts and the extremely low resting heart rate of Kevin Craft. Nothing else explains throwing four picks in a half and then zipping off 18 of 25 passes for 193 yards after halftime, or how Craft got off many of those passes with meaty paws inches away from his throwing arm.
He even got slightly snarky with the media in the postgame, which is just fine considering his portrayal in the media as a JUCO Simple Jack who, when pressured by Tennessee’s defense, would attempt to peel the ball like a banana and eat it.
“I didn’t get rattled at halftime,” Craft said. “I have played this game before.”
Noted, but even then UCLA was outgained by Tennessee 366-288 and only averaged 0.9 yards a carry rushing. This remains, even in the stunning glow of betwinkled glittery upset, the result of a cripple fight. We just didn’t know how much of a stubborn bastard one of those cripples was, or how fatbrained the other was.
(BTW: every time you see a fisheye cam of Chow in the booth, you see the MCP from Tron. You’re fucked: it’s just a matter of time before he svengalis his qb into hitting some indefensible seam route.)
And Psalm 130 says: Pants. Again. From the depths comes great wisdom, or at least one of the most concise and humor-coated balls of sadness post-loss we can remember reading.
The present was covered in opaque, shiny foil wrap with a giant orange bow on it. The card read, “TO: Vol Fans, FROM: Coaches Fulmer and Clawson, P.S. Don’t open until September 1st.” We were drawn to the gift. When we picked it up and shook it, it made a glorious noise, but it didn’t offer any clue as to what was inside. Surely, it was something wonderful. Something worthy of a nickname. Fresh. New. Exciting.
It was pants. Another pair of pants. Same thing we got last year.
We beg to differ. It was a different pair of pants, a pair of skinny hipster jeans handed to a big-butted Southern frat boy who took them and, egged on by an encouraging but loveblind spouse, slammed their fat giblets into them. Monterrio Hardesty averaged 5.5 yards a carry; Arian Foster averaged 7.4 last night.
But sure, go right ahead and pass 41 times with a first year starter on the road. We think that’s a brilliant idea. The jeans look fabulous, too, especially they way they cut your balls in half and make it look like you’re smuggling a life preserver in your pants. It’s a great look. [/shootsselfinSEChomerhead]
Beanie Wells: Influenza of the Foot, 2 weeks. The inconclusive nature of Beanie Wells’ injuries remains inconclusive: no broken bones, a boot on his foot, and “nothing definitive to report on his diagnosis or prognosis timeline” per tOSU’s sports information director.
Subcommandante Wayne thinks this is all a brilliant ruse by Tressel, who will keep Wells under wraps, fly him out coach under an assumed name to USC, and then just when USC thinks they’re going to get the Buckeyes without him, BLAM! He skydives into the stadium and the Buckeyes win 70-14 and Wayne gets laid by a crying Song Girl or hooker or something like that because chicks in L.A. are eaaaaasy, man.
Louis Murphy’s new status message: MRRRRRMMPH. Louis Murphy gets a gag order from Urban Meyer for trash-talking the U, which he should really save for after any hypothetical future defeats of said U, since Florida hasn’t beaten the U in eleventybillion years, and because we won’t believe we can until the clock hits zero and the lamentations of their ample-assed women are audible and sweet in the air. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
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Orson Swindle and Stranko Montana are two men pushing thirty who should know better than to run a college football blog, but evidently don't. Both graduated from the University of Florida, and both agree that college football is far too important to be left to the professionals.
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