Dumbidity

The Second Letter of schmed to the Sabanites

(First letter here.)

Whosoever cast his eyes upon the Oracle at Canton where prophesyed the Apostle Al and John the Bussed-in knoweth in his own heart a truth: That St. Nick of Saban, now in the House of Enneffel, looks like he's been there since the day of his birth.

Honestly people, that guy looks every inch the NFL coach, and in retrospect, almost looked out-of-place on a college sideline. It may be prophetic that he started out in Canton, because it won't surprise me if he does get his bust in the HOF.

His Poliness, The Hope

I am not capable of expressing the profound effect the late Pope John Paul II had on me during his time, nor could I, if given the opportunity, properly thank him. Instead, I'll describe how the news of his election hit me in October of 1978.

I have always been fond of spoonerisms, and they tend to fring sporth, unbidden, into my mind. In the wake of the election of JPII, the media were making quite a big deal out of his nationality - more that he wasn't Italian than that he was Polish. So when I first concocted "His Poliness, the Hope" out of "His Holiness, the Pope" I thought it was doubly amusing.

Little did I know how prophetic the "hope" part would be. As has been chronicled so well by so many, his return to his Polish homeland in 1979 planted such fruitful seeds of hope for those oppressed by communism that his legacy is defined by it.

I'm irritated by the media's collective judgements on our next Holy Father - as if they're the least bit qualified to handicap those eligible to be St. Peter's successor as if they were presidential candidates. As if Gallup poll results matter one iota. I like how the cloistered process is driving the media nuts - serves 'em right. It's probably a sin to like it this much.

I can't wait for the white smoke.

A Reading from the Letter of schmed to the Sabanites

And I say unto ye, the time of wailing and gnashing of teeth and rending of garments and beating of brestes is come to an end. For of the time of St. Nick, who among ye disrecall his Twenty-Fourth Hour Commandment? Whether festival song or dirge, St. Nick shall countenance but one day, lest ye fail to focus on thy next task.

Grieve not! This trial, this tribulation is of no moment. Since the earliest days of the SEC Nation, did not the legacy of the Prophet Bernie Moore be taken up by Tinsley? And did not Tinsley's dim torch be rekindled by St. Paul of Dietzel into blazing NCAA Glory and from thence depart to the Armies of, uh...well, Army?

And lo! His faithful Disciple, Cholly Mac, did hold forth for a generation, only to be spurned by his flock - many of them among ye in this time. Only thence did MaClendon preach his final sermon in the City near the Land of the Mouse and held a Wake in the Forest of the Decons. And he brought also Glory to that florid city by his works.

Look not for the uncertainty that came with Jerry, the Prodigal Coach. Pray not for the like of the aged mercenary Arnsparger, who raised up a false prophet, Archer the Usurper, who then fomented the vast darkness of Curly. Sing no praises for magicians who would clothe the Tigers in false raiment (like those awful purple pants) from the House of Dinardo.

Instead, lendeth ye positive vibes to the teacher of teachers, Stanley of the Five Rings, who seeketh the next prophet to Lead the Tribe of Tigers in the Valley of Death.

For it has ever been so, that the prophets shall be of a time and then no more, as shall each member of the Striped Tribe in their years of four or one. Though they depart, the Flame of LSU Football is kept by the Faithful who shall be in number as the blades of hybrid turfgrass.

I tell ye, the reign of a glorious coach is at an end. Prepare ye, ye of faith wavering or strong. Thou knowest when the Saturday cometh to again put the flesh of unblemished beast and fowl to the embers, and tend thy kettles of rice and meats and boiling pots for more times of plenty. And thou shalt raise thy voices with horns and drums in exhortation and song, clear and slurred, in the reign of a new coach.

Letter to St. Nick (Saban)

Dear Mr. Saban,

Like most LSU fans, I am dismayed that the collective set of rewards offered by my alma mater's head football coaching position are not sufficient to keep you in Baton Rouge. I will not pretend to understand all the factors that motivate you to pursue goals in the National Football League, but I will acknowledge them.

Who can say what another 10 or 20 years might hold in the LSU/Saban relationship? You know as well as anyone that the relationship between a college fan base and a successful coach is as complex as it is fragile. I remember quite well how shabbily we treated the late Charles McClendon at the end of his long tenure in 1979. We all watch as Penn State ignores the elephant in the living room and allows Joe Paterno to linger. I also recall great coaches leaving the game after having influenced countless disciples who demonstrated through accomplishments the true legacy of their mentors.

I do not think you should remain because we want you to stay - for golden chains and velvet ropes still a prisoner make. Stay only because you are satisfied that LSU is where your legacy and legend should be made - that you would prefer a legion of purple and gold clad Sabanites, players and coaches, marching from Tigerland to excel in all phases of football over a bronze bust in Canton.

The speculation and doubt surrounding your position that has become an annual media circus can only be ended by you. If the opportunity in Miami is not what you seek, make it your last such quest. But failing that, go - and go now with my most sincere wishes for success in achieving your highest aspirations. And take with you my thanks and the echoes of the many thousands of Tiger Faithful who will always remember St. Nick.

Very truly yours,

Schmedulov Jostikovitch

The Easter Funnies

In addition to the BeasterBunny™ scoop on BNN a few weeks ago, here are a few more bits related to the season:

One...

Mass had ended on Easter morning in a little community in south Louisiana, and just outside the church, Monsignor Arseno (pr. "Arceneaux") overheard two parishoners:

Tibido (pr. "Thibodeaux"): Hey Boodrow! How y'all are dis fine Easter mawnin'?

Boodrow (pr. "Boudreaux"): Mais, we fine, an' y'all?

Tibido: We fine too. How y'all's Lent it was?

Boodrow: Shee-aww! Man, we had a tough time.

Tibido: Fo' true? What y'all gave up?

Boodrow: Huggin' an' kissin' and (winks) all dat.

Tibido: Dat musta been hard t'do fo' foty days an' foty nights, no?

Boodrow: Waal, we didden make it no how.

Tibido: Oh, no...

Boodrow: Yah, I saw Marie ben' down to pick up a bag a' rice, an' her skirt lif' up a little, an' dat was all she wrote. We skip dat huggin' an' kissin' and went to all dat (winks) right dare on de flo!

Tibido: Poo-yi-YI! Warn't y'all 'fraid of gettin' excamunicated?!

Boodrow: Excamunicated?

Tibido: Yah, you know, t'rown out de church.

Boodrow: Waal, I doan know 'bout gettin' t'rown out de church, but it dam sure get you t'rown out da grocery!

Ta-hoo...

Click the thumbnail...

Tha-rrrree!...

Props to Gracie, our oldest schmedlet, for finding this...

Ahem, HOPPY EASTER EVERBODY!

Smash, Trash, Crash, Gnash Wednesday

What a way to start Lent.

SMASH - Over the weekend leading up to Carnival, two ships failed to pass in the night, leaving one deck-down blocking the Southwest Pass of Ol' Man River. That's the pass at the mouth of the Mighty Mississip' having the deepest channel and port traffic has been stopped for 5 days, going on 6. At latest count, there are over 50 ships waiting in both directions. There is at least one Carnival (no pun intended) Cruise Ship sittin' at the dock in the Big Easy, one that was diverted to Gulfport and another to Mobile. It wouldn't have affected The Mississippi Queen because she was down around Vicksburg and isn't ocean-going anyway.

TRASH - Mardi Gras has left its usual mess. Despite the stormy weather, city officials pronounced Mardi Gras a total success (I don't ever want to find out what it would take for them to declare it a total failure). They measure the degree of success in terms of the TONS of garbage collected. How terribly scientific. Then again, the city's expectations of success are put in economic terms, and economic theory tends to be fairly chaotic, so why not. They haven't announced how many tons of soggy, barf soaked trash they've picked up since the midnight hour, so don't hold your breath - unless you're near where the trash is.

CRASH - So some poor mizzable creature(s) made a wreck on the spillway portion of I-10 East this morning. For those of you unfamiliar with this, it is a stretch of interstate covering 12 and 12/10ths exit-free miles where the Bonne Carre Spillway pours overflow from the Big Muddy into Lake Poncho Train on the rare occasions the US Corpse of Englandeers actually opens it to keep New Orleans from getting the levee blues and being washed away when it breaks. The good news was that the idiot traffic reporting morons decided it was worthy of mention, seeing as how the Laplace Police Force had blocked off their on-ramp, so I had a chance to cut over to revisit Airline Highway (US 61). The bad news was that all the other lemmings thought it could be very easily done, had put some bleachers out in the sun and had it out on Hiiiiighwaaaaay Sixty-One...

GNASH - My teeth, sitting in traffic concentrating on not losing my religion.

WASH - Still rainin', still dreamin'... OK, so wash doesn't rhyme with -ash but it looks good. Adding to the traffic woes was what they call a "severe thunderstorm." Bubba, any piece of weather moving at 45 miles an hour or so that's dropping hail and leaving tornado-like signatures in the Doppler Radar machineries is at least "severe." Calling it "Hunker Down," "Lay Low," or "Wait an Hour" might make even more sense. Driving in a hailstorm is not something I would recommend, even when it's a light, pea-sized hail.

And that, ladies and dentalmen, concludes our musical interlude for this moaning.

Terrorist Whales!?!

Recently I shared with you that Keiko the Killer Orka (aka the Free Willy, and I'll touch on that in a minute) was actually a WMD because his carcass was alleged to contain alleged Deadly PCBs. This was alleged by a Norwegian environmental group, not US Intelligence Services, so you know it has to be true.

This presence of toxic chemicals, while allegedly terrorizing all the nearby alleged Norwegians, has so far proven to be uneventful. To date, not one horde of Norwegians has besieged hospitals looking for the alleged antidote to alleged PCB intoxication.

An isolated incident? Allegedly Assumedly. Unn-tillll... NOW!

A suicide sperm whale (like I said at the beginning, I'll come to it later) exploded in Taiwan (a free, democratic subnation) on a busy street. Apparently, this islamofacist-cetacean died on January 17 in its fanatical efforts to terrorize heretics, but did not immediately explode. Obviously because it sought to fool weapons inspectors at air and sea ports, the fell beast did not use ordinary explosives, but instead conspired to have its internal organs ferment on a flatbed truck in a populated area until it blew up.

This link has some very graphic pictures. While no Taiwanese were killed, many were allegedly terror-stricken, or at least massively grossed out.

The link also contains a final element, an element the terrorist whale could count on to ensure that as many potential alleged victims as could possibly be allegedly victimized, would be - even 3 weeks after it was dead and unable to otherwise influence the outcome of its treacherous deed.

Apparently people, men especially, were attracted to view this whale up close and personal because it post-mortemedly displayed its most personal "attachment" rather prominently and they wished to "experience the size of it..."

OK, OK, OK - it measured some 5 feet long, but it's a WHALE for pete's sake - whadja 'spect?

Discorporate: It Means to Leave Your Body

LSU ......... 21
Oklahoma 14

The LSU Tigers are National Champions again.

I was prepared to be proud of the Tigers in a valiant effort had we lost.

But we dint.

I figured Jason White could play like Jaleel White (Did I do that?) against the fearsome Chinese Bandits.

I saw Marcus Spears run for a touchdown last Saturday in my mind's eye.

I thought I was gonna blow chunks when we punted with 9 seconds left.

I cannot describe the feeling, but an out-of-body experience is about as accurate as any other.

EL ESH SHU!
EL ESH SHU!
EL ESH SHU!

GEAUX TIGERS!

Tweaking the BCS Formulæ

To those who say the BCS needs to be modified, I say: You're right.

Of course, the devil's in the details, and maybe there are a lot of ways to work it, but I'm going to focus on rectifying the things that bunched up more boxers amongst the football crazies in society than anything else.

First: A team that didn't win its conference championship got into the title game (yea verily - was even ranked No. 1).

Second: A team lost its Quality Win Bonus because it had to beat the ranked team again, thus knocking it out of the Quality Win Bonus range.

Third: (And I figured this one out all by my widdle sewf) There is no distinction between losing a close game to a quality team and laying an egg against a turkey.

The first one is relatively easy, despite the fact that there are two methods used by the various conferences to decide championships. In order to reward those teams who win their conferences, simply deduct a point from their BCS total.

The last two are a little trickier and would involve freezing the BCS ratings positions for the Quality Win Bonus at whatever they are for the last regular-season games.

The regular season position freeze would also be used for the soon-to-be-controversial Quality Loss Adjustment. The idea here is to award one-tenth of a point to a team defeated by the number 1 BCS rated team - in essence adding only nine-tenths of a point for that loss. Like the Quality Win Bonus, the adjustment would float week to week depending on the ranking of the victor.

Unlike the QW Bonus, the QL Adjustment would include all teams in the BCS top 25, with adjustment increments of 0.004. A loss to BCS number 1 is adjusted by 25 x 0.004 or 0.100 while losses to the number 5 team gives an adjustment of 0.080, 10th would be 0.040, 20th 0.020, etc.

If these tweaks had been in place for the 2003 season, the top 4 teams and their scores would have been:

LSU - 4.54 Take LSU's final, unadjusted BCS Subtotal (FUBS) of 5.99, subtract 1 point for being SEC Champs, subtract 0.4 points (just once) for Georgia's 7th place ranking in week 7, and subtract .048 to adjust the loss to (week 7) number 14 Florida.

USC - 5.15 The Trojans finished with a FUBS of 6.15, subtract 1 point for being Pac 10 champs, with no QWB and no QLA.

Michigan - 9.57 UM had a FUBS of 11.23, less 1 Big Eleven champ point, a QWB for defeating over5thranked Ohio State of 0.6 and a QLA of .056 for (week 7) number 12 Iowa.

Oklahoma - 5.07 To their 5.61 FUBS, no conference champ award, but a QWB of 0.5 against (week 7) number 6 Texas and a QLA of 0.044 for their humiliating loss to week 7 number 15 KSU.

So you see, my dear friends, even conceding both of the subjective poll rankings to USC, they would still have been the third place team, trailing number 2 Oklahoma by 8/100ths (instead of trailing LSU in the actual BCS by 16/100ths) - closer, but no Sugar.

None of this matters a whit to the Associated Pandering Sportwrithers of America whose only commitment to the BCS is to pay it lip service when it's conducive to ratings, readers, viewers and advertisers. And let's face it, the meager media markets of Louisiana and Oklahoma COMBINED can't touch the highly populous mega-metropolitan Southern California market.

Like the man said, bowl games are all about the bucks.

Mad Cows, Part Three - Bovinofacism on the Hoof

The biped society we know and love may be doomed. Yes, Mad Cow disease might simply be an early indication of the gathering danger of Bovinofacist Cows infiltrating everywhere.

Did you know that cattle are found on all populous land masses? These cattle are not monitored in any centralized system. Tracking is done only as a convenience of inventory, with little or no reporting to responsible governments (assuming there is such a thing).

In 1994, the obscure singer/songwriter Dana Lyons produced a prescient little ditty about the real and potent danger of Bovine Rebellion titled "Cows with Guns." I recommend you check out this animated version. It takes a minute or so to load, but we should all heed its warning.

Not that it isn't funny enough all by itself, but I was particularly gratified when I read the end credits to note that it was drawn and animated by one Bjørn-Magne Stuestøl who was undoubtedly among those sacked some 20-odd years ago in the infamous movie subtitle-contractor purge that vaulted the career of "RALPH" The Wonder Llama.