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Every Day Should Be Saturday



Updated: 2017-07-21T11:33:38-04:00

 



HUGH FREEZE MEETS A SNARE

2017-07-21T11:33:38-04:00

IT’S A SHAME THE FUN FOOTBALL WAS BUILT BY SUCH A FLAWED DUDE IN SUCH A FLAWED PLACE If you could separate the person from the football that’d be great. Ole Miss under Hugh Freeze beat Alabama twice in a row from 2014-2015, something no other team did in the same span. The 2015 game in particular is a peak: It’s at Bryant-Denny, it involves Chad Kelly, and it involves Chad Kelly and freakish plays capable of infuriating Nick Saban at the mere thought of how they actually happened, and can never be taken back. src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rSzOXBXvl0k?rel=0&" style="border: 0; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute;" allowfullscreen="" scrolling="no"> They took years off Nick Saban’s life. When he retires at 109 instead of 114, say a silent thank you to Hugh Freeze for that. They were fun, and not just for Ole Miss fans. They ran a glorified high school offense with spotty but occasionally brilliant passers. They wore the powder blue helmets and let wideouts like Laquon Treadwell run rampages through opposing defenses. Hugh Freeze recruited Robert Nkemdiche to Oxford, and then let the 6’5”, 305 pound defensive tackle play snaps at running back. They were fun for outsiders for other reasons. Ole Miss would beat Alabama in 2014, and then eventually lose 30-0 to Arkansas later in the same season. They would outsprint Alabama again in 2015, and then with all the momentum in the world lose 38-10 to Florida. They were what you want an eccentric, talented, and erratic cousin from Mississippi to be: No inheritance unblown, no comeback too large, and no plotline without a series of improbably but verified reversals. It’s also perfect eccentric Mississippi cousin form to take out loan after loan after loan, get those loans co-signed by your close associates, and then default on it grandiosely, possibly sinking your partners in the process. The administration backed Hugh Freeze at every turn in an NCAA investigation, answered almost every request he made for more funding, and publicly defended him against accusations of dirty recruiting. In return, Freeze conducted embarrassing business on a company phone. It hurts to type because it is so obvious and straight from central casting. It really does, because everyone in this case will one day be portrayed sweating in a courthouse and covered in vaseline like it’s A Time To Kill. Still, every part of this is true: Hugh Freeze was accused of paying amateurs, but paying a professional is what ultimately destroyed his career. And it gets worse. It does, the more you dig, and the more context you give it. There’s just cartoon in every direction, no end to the caricature. The AD in the case is a Twitter brawler who just got his otherwise outstanding credit rating nuked by vouching for his doomed football coach. The president of Ole Miss is the brother of David “The Shitter” Vitter—an irrelevant but still startling detail here, since apparently you can’t have one sex scandal in the Magnolia Belt without having at least an indirect relation to another. The reason we know all this in the first place: Their ex-coach, inaccurately blamed by Freeze for the NCAA case he was facing, got the phone records by public records request. Houston Nutt knew to do that because he’d been torched by by a FOIA of his phone records ten years earlier at Arkansas. He’s working a defamation lawsuit against Ole Miss for Freeze’s allegations against him, and for everything else that happened after his firing. Somehow in all this, Houston Nutt just got Hugh Freeze fired, and evidently wanted Hugh Freeze fired, and really doesn’t stand to benefit from it beyond a simple but brutal piece of transactional revenge. He just wanted blood, and he got it, and that’s probably all he’ll get until his suit gets settled. In all this, that’s the most shocking thing. Not the extremely theatrical man of God being a philandering hypocrite, since that’s a storyline so tired it crosses over into reliable archetype. Not Ole Miss stepping [...]



REAL MASCOT SECRETS: TEETH

2017-07-20T15:32:53-04:00

DR. MOREAU WOULD BE PROUD “Stay humble, and you will stay out of danger”, my mother told me. I was still in the nest when this warning came down. I cheeped for a worm, but she held firm, staring me right in my hungry eyes. She wanted to know that I had understood the gravity of her statement. “I’ve seen it happen too many times. I’ve lost too many friends. You are downy and new now, my son, but you will come to see that the world is full of dangers for a young bird. There are cats. Snakes. Birds of prey. Windows.” She paused, and stared off into the distance for a moment. “And there are greater evils, too. Ones of which I dare not speak.” I pretended to understand, but I just wanted her to finish. I wanted to eat. I was always hungry, and the things she brought never seemed to satisfy - but for the moment, with a fire burning in my little belly, I wanted whatever she’d provide. “We are ground feeders. Seeds. Grains. Fruit, perhaps. The occasional beetle, cicada, grasshopper or snail. Leave adventures in the human world to pigeons. They fear not the savagery of man, and they often suffer the consequences.” I peeped, meekly. Hungrily. Finally, she relented, and regurgitated a dinner. As advertised. Seeds. I drifted off to sleep that night, sated for the moment, but dreaming of better foods. It was perhaps a few weeks later, after I had left the nest, when I floated over the rich man’s estate. It was massive, unlike anything I had seen. I had been foraging by the riverbanks all day, finding paltry pickings of the usual foods, but I suspected a place like this would be a garden of delights. I alit just behind a manicured hedge. Through the leaves, I spied a gathering. There were perhaps two dozen people, but it was clear that one was the host. He was confident. Boastful. He carried an air that demanded attention, and his guests seemed almost in his debt. I watched as they dined. Plates filled, then emptied. Quantities of food the likes of which I could only dream, back in the nest, suffering down another crunchy, tasteless cicada. My mother’s words hung in my ears. Savagery. But the rich man, how dangerous could he be? This did not seem a savage place. Still, I held cautiously. Waited for the party to break. Surely, there would be something left when it was safer to move in. Perhaps an hour or so later, the last guest had staggered to their car, and it seemed I was alone. I hopped past the hedgerow, and began pecking at the crumbs that had fallen onto the flagstone patio. There had been breads. Cakes. Even feasting on the humans’ discarded detritus, I was more sated than I’d ever felt. I was deep in the thrall of a bit of baguette when a voice from behind startled me. “Well, hello there, little friend.” I froze. “Looks like you’re awfully hungry, aren’t you?” I was too terrified to move. “Come on, now, little fella, don’t be afraid. Look at me, won’t you?” I spun around, face to face with the rich man. “I never let anyone go hungry, not even my bird friends. You’re on my patio, so you’re my guest, and guests shouldn’t have to peck at crumbs. Besides, I’m known for my food. I bet you’ve never had something like this.” He rang a small bell, and within moments, a butler appeared at his side, bearing a lidded silver platter. I was still afraid, but at the same moment, I salivated at the thought of what could be under there. He opened the platter, and I nearly recoiled. The stench was overwhelming. I knew wild garlic from my foraging, but I’d never smelled it quite like this. It bubbled with something thick and viscous on the top. Limp vegetables appeared trapped, like flies in a malevolent spider’s web. I wasn’t sure what to call this disc of food in front of me, but I had no intention of tasting it. “Come on, now, don’t be shy. Try a bite.” My mind raced as I sought a way to politely demur. I had entered this man’s property. I had gone against my mother’s wishes and put myself in great peril. I feared wh[...]



SHUTDOWN FULLCAST! WE DINE ON THE PAC-12 NORTH

2017-07-20T09:59:03-04:00

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WE SAID BRING BEER ONLY, WAZZU, DO YOU NEVER LISTEN

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Think of the Pac-12 North as a summer backyard meal at your friend's house.

  • Cal is the napkins, noteworthy only if they don't show up for some reason and the gimme item you assign to your least trustworthy guest.
  • Oregon State, you're potato salad. Totally fine to ignore rather than risk getting food poisoning.
  • Wazzu is the hard liquor your cousin brought even thought you said BEER ONLY GOD DEREK DID YOU LEARN NOTHING FROM LAST YEAR.
  • Oregon's flag cake - might be better than you expect, but let's keep the ceiling appropriately moderate and if this is the best thing there, something went very wrong.
  • That leaves Stanford and Washington. They're burgers and hot dogs. Which is to say we don't know which one's actually better, we just want to gorge.

At least one of these metaphors is in this episode! The others are just free bonus content. You're very welcome.

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CLASSIFICATION: BURLY DAD

2017-07-19T10:39:32-04:00

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OUR LIFE’S WORK IS TO CLASSIFY EVERY DAD, AND BURLY DAD IS AN IMPORTANT CLASS

Tennessee: Brie-land Stadium because it starts out solid and goes soft in the middle

Washington State: Fartin’ Stadium

Penn State: Beaver Stadium (no change)

New Mexico: It’s really named “Dreamstyle Stadium” no changes needed

Michigan: Well Actually It’s Just Called Michigan Stadium Thank You Very Much

Ohio State: 31-0hio Stadium

Kansas State: Krill Snyder Family Stadium because your family will have a WHALE of a time here okay this needs work be sure to remove it before we publish, Ryan

Georgia Tech: Bobby’s Odd Stadium (that’s why he went to Georgia Tech)

Wisconsin: Camp Handle Stadium

Oklahoma State: Boone Pickens Stadium

Arkansas: Frank’s Boils Field

Kentucky: lol it's really called Kroger Field

UCLA: More like the Woes Bowl

Michigan State: Shartin’ Stadium

Arizona State: Sonned Devil Stadium

South Carolina: Williams-Lice Stadium

Idaho: The Kibble Dome

Notre Dame: Notre D4me St8ium

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