1) Texas #1
2) Florida #2
3) Utah #3
4) Bama #4
Note: Tech back has faded back into obscurity where they belong.

Hook ‘em!

You’re pretty close on my All-Hell backfield.

QB: Adolph Hitler, “the Carryin’ Aryan”
FB: Genghis “Crazy Legs” Khan
RHB: Joseph Stalin, “The Georgia Cabbage”
LHB: Thomas de Torquemada, “the Castillian Stallilon”

I’ve seen the scouting reports on Manson. He’ll never be anything more than a scrub. I have him slated to be the target during team cleating practice.

To close the deal with Bill Clinton, I agreed to let him be drum major in “the Goin’ Band frim Brinstone land”–pussy. He and Switzer visited on the same recruiting trip. I threw them one hell of a party. There was plenty of blow, and just for kicks, I had Lucretia Borgia and Cleopatra romance each other. Later that night I caught Switzer screwing Mrs. Mephisto while Clinton shoved a cigar up her ass and jacked of! When they finally get down here for good, there’s going to be hell to pay.

One wonders whether the belly give to Genghis Khan would be more dangerous than the pitch to Manson.

Or what the call by the Fox network would sound like.

Today, I thought I would chime in to support brother CTJ’s sermon from the text of Matthew 16:26. You’re probably wondering why I’m willing to give away the game. It’s simple, really. I’ve always had a soft spot for Longhorn Fans for the sole reason that I have a tough time corrupting the generality of them, the guys like CTJ. Oh, there are always weaklings who I can pick off, but for the most part, Horn fans are like CTJ, irrascible and incorruptable sons of bitches. Besides that, I have plenty of suckers willing to fall for my pitch in Okahoma, Southern California, and throughout the SEC. Even Texas’ coaches are customarily hard to sell. When I made my pitch to Royal, he had me run windsprints, and when I offered Muschamp the same deal Stoops took, the sumbitch head-butted me and then kicked me in the balls. It caused my ears to ring so that I couldn’t quite make out what he shouted at me, something like, ” doom bloody sucker.” It wasn’t always so.

Think back to 1983. Nebraska a solid #1 (Coach Osborn wouldn’t come on board until the Lawrence Phillips days), and folks thought they couldn’t be beat. Your Longhorns seemed destined to finish #2 even if they remained unbeaten through the Cotton Bowl. Only a twice beaten Oklahoma and what most thought to be an overmatched Miami team stood in Nebraska’s way.

It was in these circumstances that I was able to lead the Children of Texas astray and persuade them to root for Oklahoma. What did it profit Longhorn fans to exchange their souls in order to root for Barry Switzer? To begin with, they were smitten with a Craig Curry fumble in the Cotten Bowl. Just to twist the knife a little, Nebraska fell to Miami that very night. The celestial application of retribution can be cruel. Two years later I paid the final installment on the deal I had cut with Switzer and OU won another national title.

But it didn’t stop there. The tribe of Darryl was forced to wander in the deserts of college football for two and twenty years before Saint Vincent was finally able to lead them back to the promised land. So fair warning to a fan base I have grown to admire, the next time I whisper in your ear that an Oklahoma win will benefit Texas, and as a result, you even momentarily consider rooting for those sorry bastards, say three Hail Muschamps and five our Darryls. Then go forth and sin no more.

I lived in Calif for several years and know some good SC fans. Most of them, however, are bandwagon fans who know nothing about the game. While people in our part of the country are playing bridge, SC fans are still at the level of crazy eights. They just believe the L.A. team is always supposed to win, like the Lakers. When Pete Carroll retires and SC hires Ted Tollner, Jr. to replace him, they’ll go back to spending Saturday afternoons playing beach volleyball or sitting in the perpetual parking lot that is the 405 Freeway.