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It's impossible to properly gauge Houston Nutt's accent. It may be a bit Arkansas, but there is some kind of mid-continental Okie/North Texas in there, and some weird generic Evangelistic Southern sprinkled in there. The closest comparison is George W. Bush, but that's mostly because Nutt comes to the end of his sentences like a crash test just like the former President, hammering his consonants and spilling crash test dummies all over the place. Half of the man's appeal may be in his voice and the eyes; in his own way, he is the conference's own Hypnotoad. (All hail his glory.)

The strange thing about Nutt is how little you remember him actually saying in the middle of all that verbiage and gesturing of his astonishingly long fingers. (They are each no less than eight inches long. If he poked you in the eye, you would die quickly and with little pain.) He mentioned that Ole Miss has the most beautiful campus in America, which yes is a covert pitch for ladies in sundresses who put on makeup before they shower and reapply more makeup. He mentioned that Barry Brunetti had a slight lead in the quarterbacks race. He admitted he was associated with oversigning, and then said something about Jeremiah Masoli being "awesome," a statement that must apply to his extreme dedication to recreational management more than his 4-8 record as a starter in the SEC.  He is, you will be shocked to hear, against the notion of multi-year scholarship agreements because signing the release agreement "really lights a fire under a player."  He implied Dan Mullen was wasting time with billboards. (You may not want his full attention, Coach Nutt, if he has been wasting time.)

Other than that, Houston Nutt getting on the podium is a lot like a real life revival meeting, but one you attend with a severe concussion. I know Houston Nutt is a talented nuts-and-bolts football coach. it is impossible to get to the point where he is in life without being one, and his track record more than supports that statement. But watching him speak is a form of enthusiastic amnesia. I'm not sure what he said. I'm not sure what exactly we're all supposed to be so excited about: the best days of our lives, or things that need to be done the right way, or excellence and valor or something? I'm certain Houston Nutt could corner a ficus tree and, after an hour or so of spellbinding oratory, convince it that it was capable of flying an Airbus passenger jet. I have no doubt of that. I also have no doubt that the seconds before landing in a plane with Captain Ficus Plant and Co-Pilot Hootin' Dale would be the most terrifying and uncertain landing of your life.