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Jon Gruden has interviewed many of the top prospects coming from college football into the pros before tonight's NFL draft. Let's review the highlights, starting with the best moment from his interview with 1974 Kenny Stabler.


The Snake. Man, oh man, you look horrible. You live on the edge, don't ya? You live on the edge's edge. You park on the edge's edge and build a fancy condo made of gingerbread and dynamite and then light up a cigar and think about building a deck over all that edge. You're like a knife without a handle.

Needs to be a word for that. I know what I'd call it, though: A STABLERBLADE. Don't steal that, because I'm gonna copyright that and my idea for a cardboard box that turns into an cyborg eagle. Don't tell me it can't be done, Stabler.


I'll be honest with you. I don't even know where I am, or who you are. 


Maybe you haven't thought about it, but it'd be so beautiful, man. Cardboard cyborg eagle. Just picture it, up there in the sky. Majestic. Recyclable. American, STABLERBLADE. Damn American if you ask me.


I...I think I'm supposed to play San Diego today. Is there a boat around here? I need to get to work.


Man, you had some moxie, Snake. Veritable font of moxibustion, that's what you were. Some of those throws you could make? It's like you didn't even read the playbook, just like ol' number penis, Brett Favre! Out there wingin' it like a cardboard cyborg eagle flying through the sky!


I don't know who that is and I don't care, mister. All I know is that I've got to get to Oakland for the game by noon, that my driver's license is in my pants which are somewhere in Sausalito, and that I need a beer. I need a beer right now like a hobo needs a can of spraypaint to huff and a crowbar. My head feels like John Madden crapped out a pound of corn into it. You don't know how much corn one man can eat until you see him eat. I've never felt pity for plumbing. But here we are. 

God, I'd kill your mother for a beer, mister. What time is it?


Man, we're just a week out of the 2011 NFL Draft, and you're just out there, man! I can't decide whether you're a frickin' genius or a moron.


I'm from the Gulf Coast. Pretty common down there--wait, did you say 2011?


I did. Did I tell you you smelled like an ocean full of whales with food poisoning?



Shit, that's the last time I go drinking with Harry Nilsson.


YOU'RE TRAPPED IN TIME KENNY THE GINZU-COBRA! Show your outs. Your sight reads. Slide some protections. Move some asses here. Show me how you make a conveyor belt of ass moving yielding the finished mass-produced assonomics genius product we know you can make. Make me call you John Kenneth Assbreath, Kenny, from all the ass you've moved around this board. Let's keep the Asspidistra Flying, if you'll pardon the reference.