So it is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will win a hundred times in a hundred battles. —The Art of War by Sun Tzu as read by Joe Mantegna (yes, that Joe Mantegna, seriously)
Brief recap for those of you not fortunate enough to watch the debate last night, but fortunate enough to have “Kindergarten Cop” on VHS:
Joe Biden: John McCain’s a poo-poo head.
Sarah Palin: Barack Obama’s a a poo-poo face.
Gwen Ifill: Dominic’s a ca-ca-poo-poo.
In other news, congratulations are in order for you, Frank Caliendo, as you have been able to do the impossible. Before I tell you exactly what that is, let me first begin by saying that I love postseason baseball. Feel free to ridicule, but aside from March Madness, I watch a greater proportion of the MLB post-season than any other sport’s, college or pro (I can defend myself later). What Frank has been able to do is supplant Dane Cook as the the most annoying and least funny “comedian” on the planet (yes, I have responsibilty for making these proclamations). This has been achieved chiefly through his overexposure to me during every single commercial break during the MLB postseason via TBS. It’s bad enough that they’re promoting his painfully unfunny “Frank TV” show left and right, but it’s worse because his Dish Satellite ads run non-stop as well. Frank is more of a hack than Lizzie Borden and he’s not helped by the fact that it’s kind of hard to imitate other people when you weigh 300 pounds. Throw in that other than Madden, W. Bush, and Barkley, he only vaguely sounds like his other “characters” and you have a recipe for awful soup. Honestly, in one of his Dish commercials, I’m not entirely sure who it is who’s trying to impersonate. I think it’s Shatner, but it’s so off I can’t be sure. Also, his material is of lower quality than Chinese milk (I like to keep things topical–like an ointment).
Now that we got that out of my system (the leaches sure didn’t do it), we can focus back on the national title in which we are destined to achieve. Kentucky struts down to Tuscaloser (see what I did there?!!! I’m ever so clever!) owners of an unblemished 4 and Oh! record and sporting a defense that ranks somewhere in between the ’85 Bears and the ’05 Ravens. Michael Hartline is starting to come into his own and the running game has looked markedly improved of late. The only thing standing in the way of Cap’n Brooks and the Cats’ first SEC road win of the year is Coach Nick Satan (see, I did it again) and the Alabamanians. Apparently, they are decent this year and even beat a team or two that some would consider, “not bad”. We applaud them on these achievements and metaphorically muss up their hair in a playful, though belittling, congratulation. For while they have been struggling to beat the likes of also-rans like Georgia, Clemson, and Western Kentucky, the Wildcats have been walloping opponents with greater reputations like Louisville, Norfolk State, and
Western Kentucky . The Crimson Elephants stand little chance this weekend and it’s time for them to receive their 3rd loss ever at the hands of a precocious and plucky punt returner of the name Dickerson Lyons, II. No one got last week’s theme song, so I’ll give you another chance: Doing it the best I ca-an, leaning on nobody but me, oh, seeing it from where I sta-and, Know Your Enemy!
The city of Tuscaloosa is named after the Choctaw Indian chief “Tuskaloosa” who’s name means black warrior in the Choctaw language. I am confused by this, however, because, if this were the case, I would have thought the city would be named, “Heshimu”. Tuscaloosa was the capital of Alabama from 1826 to 1846, when the capitol mysteriously disappeared and turned up in Montgomery. The fortunes of the local economy declined until the Bryce State Hospital for the Insane rolled into town (Is it odd that I’m treating these buildings like they’re on wheels?). The addition of the Insanitorium apparently livened up the economy by bringing the collective IQ for the town up by 20 points.
Bama comes strong with the incomparable Jim Nabors and Sela Ward, but we are ultimately let down thanks to the big pile o’ crazy that is Latrell Sprewell. You may remember Spree teaming up with Robert Horry and James “Hollywood” Robinson to lead the Tide to a series of disappointing finishes in the SEC West in the early ’90s. However, most of the world recognizes Spree as the “dude who tried to choke his coach, you know that one with the beard, he kind of looked like an Irish Bob Vila, come on, you know”. Spree did, in fact, assault (or batter–I don’t know the difference, just ask my parole officer) P.J. Carlesimo while they were with the Warriors, then proceeded to become a player in moderate demand, going on to play in the league for another decade following. Most recently, he is known for having made the following quote in summarily dismissing a $21 guaranteed contract offer from the T-Wolves that he found to be beneath him: “I have a family to feed.” Thanks, Alabama.
Cheerleader Scouting Report
Yikes, those colors just burned images into my retina. All in all, not bad, though I don’t understand the theme of wearing neon everything and hanging out with the symbol of the Republican Party. Either way though, Digger Phelps approves of the fashion choice.
None to speak of, really. OK, fine. They’ve had some success over the years, but folks forget that last year Bama limped down the stretch and finished with a 6-6 record. So keep that in mind, St. Nick, if you’re getting a little too big for your breeches. Bama’s football program dates back all the way to 1892 where they defeated Birmingham High School and…wait, I’m going to have to go a little Jerry Seinfeld here and say, “What is the deal with all of these colleges playing high schools?!” If I keep discovering these, I won’t be able to make fun of them as much. Luckily for me, Bama’s next two games were against the Birmingham Athletic Club which sounds pretty elitist so I’m going to envision that this team was comprised of all the WASP’s who made up the “landed gentry” of Birmingham and they played without helmets, but with monacles and dry martinis. The Tide made the Rose Bowl as early as 1925, but I don’t think they’ve done much since.
Where to begin? John Parker Wilson was on an MTV reality show and rocks Bama Bangs, Julio Jones isn’t of Hispanic heritage, Demetrius Goode is so thin-skinned that he backed out of a commitment to UK because he wasn’t “feelin’ the love” on UK message boards, Undra Billingsley’s middle name is “Armour”, Colin Gallagher’s name alone restricts him to playing kicker–he could not play any other position, Prince Hall’s parents either are royalty, have an inflated sense of self-worth, or love the movie “Purple Rain”, and South Carolina’s Chris Smelley can’t completely lay claim to the title of “Smelley-est Player in the SEC” until he vanquishes Tide tight end Brad Smelley.
Dicky decides to play in a mask a la Mexican wrestler so that Alabama won’t recognize him as the guy who has torched them for nigh on four years now. Alabama’s defense proves to be up to the task as they remember he wears #12, though. DLJ still ends up with 6 touchdowns. Hartline’s streak of 300 yard games comes to a beginning on Saturday as he ends with 348 yards…rushing and adds another 364 through the air. Sam Maxwell finishes the game a bit confused as we learn that the game film he was watching earlier in the week was switched out with “Forrest Gump”. Maxwell ultimately decides that #44 was scared and didn’t show up to the game.
Pack your bags, my little McNuggets, as our Felines desperately need support when they take Grandpa Brooks’ RV down to Tuscaloosaburg. I will most certainly be there (in spirit) and look forward to our boys giving the Tide a thrashing of a lifetime and continue undefeated and unabated in their quest for that big, crystal, oblong-shaped piece of glassware that you can only find at Macy’s or other fine department stores. Go Cats.