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ALL HAIL BUCK-RAM. Donald Buckram: 165 yards, 2 TDs including the game-winner versus Tulsa last night, all done with a name so obviously awesome even Andre Ware could pick it out as being pun-worthy.

Watching games at UTEP is like watching footage from a remote mining outpost on Jupiter. There's desolate hills, odd radio towers in the background, people heaving mining implements up and down, and that classic sci-fi trope, Mike Price scratching his balls.

Grumbling. Who grumbles about being sent home early for a football game? UNC employees, of course.

Existential Hotness. It's a full eight screens (online reading), but Joe Posnanski's piece on Joe Paterno is well worth the wait, especially if you want to realize what a complete geek Paterno really is at heart. Geek cred, established: Paterno not only gave a copy of Camus' The Stranger to his wife during their courtship, he asked her to write a paper on it. Geek cred, bolstered: they compared papers for fun.

Understatement. It's always fun. The Orlando Sentinel gently suggests Florida misses Dan Mullen in the booth. Answer this: has there ever been an offensive coordinator who was better from the sidelines than one from the booth? Did we ever see Norm Chow looking up from his sixth brilliantly called touchdown of the day when he wasn't glowering menacingly from behind the plate glass of the booth? When we think "brilliant offensive coordinator," we inevitably see someone working silently from the aseptic, quiet environs of the booth, watching dots move around on the field like an indifferent, all-powerful deity. When we think "offensive coordinator on the sidelines," we see Ed Zaunbrecher. Two fun facts! Steve Addazio calls the offense from the field, and is leading an attack tallying 18 points less than last year's epic slaughtering crew.

Duck Voodoo returns. This time it's U-Dub, and a horse's ass is involved. We look forward to these in much the same way the San Francisco Chronicle editors used to look forward to letters from the Zodiac Killer: they're compelling, fraught with madness, written in code, and yet we can't look away.