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This being the practice offseason, let's go ahead and follow Twitter's lead and begin ranking every single mascot in terms of edibility. This goes all the way down to the least edible, and counts up twenty or so slots into the cannibal category. We do rank humans as being edible, but only as a near last resort, and even then grade by hypothetical quality. Yes, we would rather eat a rocket than a yellow jacket.

104. Navy Midshipman. Perfectly tasty, but the experience is ruined by the crushing sense of betrayal to one's country.

105. West Virginia Mountaineer. Do you like your meat with a faint tinge of tobacco product and recently consumed bear meat? Now if you said yes, would that also be worth a prion disease? You better, because you already have one.

106. UCF Knight. An Orlando hobo wrapped in putt-putt grass and old Penny Hardaway jerseys. Roasted and served family-style for $78.00 at Downtown Disney.

107. San Jose State Spartans. The superior Spartan, mostly because they only shop at Whole Foods and shit.

108. Wyoming Cowboy. Comes in a simple tin, labeled only "FOOTBALL/MEAT." Is it one? The other? Neither? Death in the wilderness will render all these questions irrelevant, friend.

109. Michigan State Spartans. Fed diet of Faygo and raised inside Soviet-designed pens in Canada. Happy animals make happy meat, and this is not happy meat.

110. Rutgers Scarlet Knight. Chemical-laden meat loaded with toxins. Difficult to remove carapace. Carapace contains panini press and David Guetta CD.

111. Wake Forest Demon Deacon. Has an almost subtle poultry taste, but is known as "Montezuma's Revenge Of The North" for a reason.

112. Texas Tech Red Raider. Difficult to slaughter, but will save you the trouble by cutting its own head off several times a decade.

113. UNC Tar Heels. Better in smokeable form. Subject to recall by government authorities every few years.

114. UNLV Rebel. Lifetime of alcohol brining makes the unpalatable semi-edible. Is never served in bowls.

115. Ole Miss Rebel. Better suited for sausage production. Wrap in casing of Vineyard Vines shirts and season with the LIberty Bowl for four years.

116. MTSU Blue Raiders. A collection of quarterbacks personally drowned by Al Davis. None of them have been properly preserved or seasoned.

117. San Diego Aztec. Meat reeks of corn. NOT HARD PALEO, BRO.

118. Virginia Cavalier. It's not a well-marbled steak if it's just fat and bone.

119. Indiana Hoosier. Greasy. Belligerently bland. Goes bad at the first cold snap.

120. Tennessee Volunteer. Long-pig rankings bottom out with the skoal-infused, flabby, anger-tinged human-steak of the Smokies.

121. Tulsa Golden Hurricane. The "golden" might add a hint of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to the proceedings, so it gets a spot higher than ISU's maelstrom for edibility.

122. Iowa State Cyclone. We interpret this as a storm, and tropical storms probably taste like salt, spilled industrial fuel, and dead fish. [YOUR MOTHER JOKE GOES HERE]

123. Toledo Rocket. Technically inedible. If you ate the whole thing, you might luck out and eat an MRE or some astronaut ice cream, but be honest: it wasn't that good to begin with, and certainly not worth eating three stages of a Saturn V.

124. Yellow Jacket. Categorically the worst-tasting mascot due to two factors: its stinger, which does hurt in the mouth like five hundred burning suns swallowed with a shot of tequila, and two, its actual foul taste. We know this from hard experience, having eaten one that flew with exquisite timing and landed between our clenching jaws and a peanut butter sandwich when we were nine. They taste awful, and you're lucky if your throat doesn't swell shut from the sting. THE WORST.