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Lane Kiffin did receive death threats in his flight from Tennessee, but that kind of insanity does pass for affection in the state of Tennessee. For instance, our middle school girlfriend once told us she'd kill us if we ever kissed anyone else. When we did*, she had us arrested**. It was crazy! 

So we are deeply familiar with the loving vengeance the place can generate, and how someone might misinterpret "We want to eat your firstborn child" as some kind of simple threat. (It's actually a complex process, especially if you season the child and demand a first-rate sauce and sides, you picky, picky thing you.) It also reminds us that Lane is in a better place now, one more suited for his subdued, low-key approach to things. 

/is this on?

/getting my good side?

/I really do look better from the right no really

/Evian? What am I, POOR? 

That place is USC, the school that could see an NCAA ruling on transgressions in the Pete Carroll era handed down this week, or the next, or sometime in the next five months. This ambiguity won't stop us from predicting the likely outcomes of the case, which this week is leaning towards our close friend Jack Schitt and his sum total punishment of a wink and a waggle of the Finga Gunz. 


Remember, USC fans: if we could have it our way, we'd just punish Kiffin for this arbitrarily, and have him coach the next four years on the sideline in a soundproof plexiglas box filled with biting flies, we would. Instead, nothing will happen, Lane Kiffin will be Paul Hackett (Doofus Remix), and DEAR GOD $4 MILLION REALLY---

[/vomits through eyeballs] 

*She was 42, had a stoma, and worked in the school's cafeteria. We would have run, but our legs were short, and she had a Lark Personal Mobility scooter capable of getting quite a head of steam behind it. It took us years to find that kind of passion again. 

**For bending forks in the cafeteria. ***

***And meth production.****

****She had a lab in a utility closet behind the gym.*****

*****Okay. We didn't actually go to middle school. We spent ten years in West Virginia after fourth grade working in mines, and our father called it "Middle school."