BALL THOUGHTS: These balls are for sale.

The following e-mail was sent to University of Florida athletics director Jeremy Foley early Sunday morning by King Cockfight’s cousin, Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight, the head coach of the Southwest New Mexico A&M University Skeet-Shootin’ Owls, or “Skeet-Owls” for short, following the announcement of Gators’ head coach Urban Meyer’s resignation.

Within hours, Meyer had decided against resigning, instead opting to return after an extended leave of absence.

From: Edward T. Cockfight II (blackpenis228@hotmail.com)
To: Jeremy Foley (jerecurl61@uf.edu)
Subject: Fuck yeah! Hire me as your coach!

Dear Mr. Foley:

My name is Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight. You may remember me as the man who pissed on your lawn a few years back after you refused to hire back Steve Spurrier as coach without an interview. I assure you that I meant that as a sign of respect, making your territory mine as well in respect for your professional integrity as an athletic gate-keeper unbeholden to your program’s history or tradition when it comes to finding the right, most vibrant coach for the job.

But I am also the head coach of the Southwest New Mexico A&M University Skeet-Owls, the 2009 winners of NAIA Division II’s Johnson & Johnson No Tears League conference and playoff semifinalist. As I sat here in this Houston strip club with my attorney trying to shore up my program’s 2010 recruiting class, I was shocked to hear of Coach Meyer’s apparent retirement from a stripper who was reminding me quite emphatically about the tyrannical “No touch” rule. While I am sure you are to speak to some of the hottest names in Division I coaching in the coming hours and days, I would like to ask that you think outside the box and consider me as a possibility for your next head coach.

BALL THOUGHTS with Eddie ‘Puffin’ Cockfight #4: Strong of heart and true to her name.

By Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight
Semi-employed college football coach

During the college football season, King Cockfight has asked his much-closer-than-comfortable relative Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight to write a weekly column on the sport for his Weblog.

A former standout walk-on fullback at Jacksonville State, Puffin is head coach of the NAIA Division II Southwest New Mexico A&M Skeet-Shootin’ Owls — or, more popularly, “Skeet-Owls” for short. He is currently serving a 25-year ban from coaching at NCAA schools for recruiting violations stemming from an embarrassing incident in which he took an NCAA investigator to the same strip club in which he was (rightfully) accused of taking recruits and often their families.

With his column, Puffin hopes to regain his credibility as a coach, open conversation of a lesser sentence for his past wrongs, gain more visitation access to his eight illegitimate children, and spread awareness about the troubled and often tragic lives of men who find themselves addicted to the sight to half-nude women jiggling aimlessly to the folk-stylings of John Denver.

Take me home…

So Cousin King isn’t terribly happy with the direction of this column. He wanted this to broaden the appeal of his Webdoohickey or somethin’ and says that what I’m writin’ is “maybe a little too depraved” and “doesn’t seem to really have much to say about college football as it does about titties and. cocaine and violence and fucking.”

“I’m worried that by the time we reach the BCS title game this column is just going to be a bunch of clips of the Faces of Death movies with Tim Tebow juxtaposed underneath them,” he wrote in his e-mail and shit. “I get that exact kind of shit e-mailed to me by Uncle Carter every Sunday morning now, but I don’t put it on my Weblog.”

So I guess I can kind of see his point but I can’t help but feel a wee bit insulted: What the fuck’s so wrong with the Faces of Death movies?

I love those things! Watch ‘im on the motel pay-per-view all the time! There’s a surprising amount of time on recruitin’ trips when you’re disillusioned by your job and you don’t care about your family and shit, and when you’re used to the gals jigglin’ right in front of you on a nightly basis, porn just ain’t cuttin’ it no more.

Anyway, we’ll write on somethin’ Christian and football-like this week talkin’ about one of ‘em stories that drove me gator-fuckin’ insane last week: Why can’t Hawaii’s coach call Notre Dame faggots?

BALL THOUGHTS with Coach Eddie ‘Puffin’ Cockfight #3: Let’s really focus on the balls.

By Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight
Semi-employed college football coach

During the college football season, King Cockfight has asked his much-closer-than-comfortable relative Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight to write a weekly column on the sport for his Weblog.

A former standout walk-on fullback at Jacksonville State, Puffin is head coach of the NAIA Division II Southwest New Mexico A&M Skeet-Shootin’ Owls — or, more popularly, “Skeet-Owls” for short. He is currently serving a 25-year ban from coaching at NCAA schools for recruiting violations stemming from an embarrassing incident in which he took an NCAA investigator to the same strip club in which he was (rightfully) accused of taking recruits and often their families.

With his column, Puffin hopes to regain his credibility as a coach, open conversation of a lesser sentence for his past wrongs, gain more visitation access to his eight illegitimate children, and spread awareness about the troubled and often tragic lives of men who find themselves addicted to the sight to half-nude women jiggling aimlessly to the country-stylings of Merle Haggard.

They don’t smoke marijuana in Muskogee. This could be a problem after the past week.

Y’all can break out all your weird Mexican ’shrooms and your Injun whorin’ rags — the Skeet-Owls are the most undefeatedest motherfuckers on the  quarter of a city block that our fuckin’ school splits time with a Verizon Wireless call center.

It wasn’t easy. The Tractors of the Mesa Heights Miners College For Women gave us a real hard fight and until their quarterback passed out of dehydration in the end zone to put us ahead 8-7 in the final seconds of the game. No matter how nice my ol’ pal Hal Mumme made it look, that’s why don’t play a big fat fuck at quarterback  — they can take a hit, they look tough, but they’re fat. Fat fucks aren’t good quarterbacks. ‘Cause they’re fat. They’re better at basketball.

Anyway, it was great.  The kids in the student section kept singin’ that Lil Jon song I keep hearin’ in the club,  we let all the kids who are on our team but technically don’t go to our school talk the media, and then somebody brought out some drinks and the next thing I know I wake up naked on my kitchen floor on Labor Day mornin’ watchin’ my Ol’ Lady shoot heroin into her eye.

At least I think that’s my Ol’ Lady.

Cousin King said it’d be best to probably just round up my thoughts on what was an interestin’ first week of college football.

So I reckon I ought do that and shit now while the wart-ugly Tuesday night girls are warmin’ up.

♦What the fuck, LeGarrette Blount?

No, seriously, what in the fuck, LeGarrette Blount?

I don’t care who disrespects you, you don’t punch him in the face like a puss.

You swing your helmet at ‘im.

Right at his jaw. Preferably his temple.

Learned that workin’ for Dennis Erickson at Miami.

BALL THOUGHTS with Coach Eddie ‘Puffin’ Cockfight #2: Let’s talk about the balls.

By Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight
Semi-employed college football coach

During the college football season, King Cockfight has asked his much-closer-than-comfortable relative Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight to write a weekly column on the sport for his Weblog.

A former standout walk-on fullback at Jacksonville State, Puffin is head coach of the NAIA Division II Southwest New Mexico A&M Skeet-Shootin’ Owls — or, more popularly, “Skeet-Owls” for short. He is currently serving a 25-year ban from coaching at NCAA schools for recruiting violations stemming from an embarrassing incident in which he took an NCAA investigator to the same strip club in which he was (rightfully) accused of taking recruits and often their families.

With his column, Puffin hopes to regain his credibility as a coach, open conversation of a lesser sentence for his past wrongs, gain more visitation access to his eight illegitimate children, and spread awareness about the troubled and often tragic lives of men who find themselves addicted to the sight to half-nude women jiggling aimlessly to the rap-stylings of Lil’ John.

Aw skeet skeet goddamn.

One the reasons I decided to write this column for Cousin King — at least, I think he’s my cousin — is because these kids I recruit these days use the Internet a lot — at least from what I hear.

And the text-messaging. Before the big bad college football big brains decided the text messaging between coach and the kids was not in the best interest of the “student”-athlete,  I “used to” get ‘em all the time.

It always be like “i’ll cum play 4 the skeets-owls if u get me a bag o WEED, coach” and “u best get me some pussee if u want me 2 play defunseve back!!!!”

And I’d text, “Yeah, I can get you some puss!

“But you’d better watch out!”

BALL THOUGHTS with Coach Eddie ‘Puffin’ Cockfight #1: Let’s start thinkin’ with our balls.

In advance of the college football season, King Cockfight has asked his much-closer-than-comfortable relative Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight to write a weekly column on the sport for his Weblog, now regarded by the Alabama Weblogosphere as its eighth-most credible member — mainly because it updates mostly every weekday and hasn’t suddenly dissolved within three months of starting.

A former standout walk-on fullback at Jacksonville State, Puffin is head coach of the NAIA Division II Southwest New Mexico A&M Skeet-Shootin’ Owls — or, more popularly, “Skeet-Owls” for short. He is currently serving a 25-year ban from coaching at NCAA schools for recruiting violations stemming from an embarrassing incident in which he took an NCAA investigator to the same strip club in which he was (rightfully) accused of taking recruits and often their families.

With his column, Puffin hopes to regain his credibility as a coach, open conversation of a lesser sentence for his past wrongs, gain more visitation access to his eight illegitimate children, and spread awareness about the troubled and often tragic lives of men who find themselves addicted to the sight to half-nude women jiggling aimlessly to the rap-stylings of Juvenile.

Howdy, America. I hope y’all doing all right in the right part of the South. Here it’s all fuckin’ peppers on Big Macs and weird Mexican-Injun shit like that.

I prefer a world where I used to watch my favorite uncles  roll off the couch they slept on and into a bottle of bourbon, paint every inch of their naked body in purple and gold, then drive to Baton Rouge where they’d grill up the alligator they caught drunk the night before and scream “FUCK YOU! WE FUCKED YOUR MOTHER TO DEATH WITH A SHOTGUN, YOU COCKSUCKING FAGGOTS! GEAUX TIGERS!” at opposin’ teams female fans — for teams they kinda liked anyway.

Yeah, I miss those good family values and other Christian shit like that — the kind of stuff that college football is made of.

Anyway, Cousin King asked me to write y’all up somethin’ real nice about the AP Top Five that got released over the weekend, so I guess I can do that now.

1. Florida
Does Timmy Tebow understand how much pussy he’s missin’?!

A thoughtful and intelligent commentary on the state of Auburn athletics via economic analysis.

Colonial Bank filed for bankruptcy last night.

36-0.

You don’t wanna make me sketch your ass.

Mine.

Look.

Look, son.

If you’ve been in the Alabama Senate as long as Hank Sanders, if you’ve been writing “Senate Sketches” for Christ knows how long, you reserve the right to run for your Senate seat for as long as you fucking want.

You might believe it’s unfair for someone to tell people asking him for an endorsement for their own candidacies that you could just pop back in if you wake up one morning and break wind in the right direction, but Hank Sanders has earned the right to be the Brett Favre of the Alabama Legislature: He’s been there forever, mildly accomplished, beholden for how he does things and stuff, and draws hundreds of pageviews to barely literate Weblogs that barely hint at the possibility of him being shirtless. Such as someone writing the phrase “shirtless Brett Favre.”

Or “shirtless Hank Sanders.”

Whatever.

(It’s just as hot.)

Meanwhile, former For the Record host Tim Lennox tells The Birmingham News he’s enjoying the CITIZEN JOURNALISM! right now and that he and his glorious hair could have a real journalism job again soon.

I finally have something to restore my faith in the power of prayer.

Crazier than it sounds.

The University of Alabama is still mulling the conditions the State has set for the school’s potential $80M+ purchase of Bryce Hospital*, where Alabama keeps its criminally insane people that aren’t related to me.

While University leaders are not terribly forthcoming about what’s taking so long, it’s not hard to see why given how much it’s going to cost to fix  and upkeep:

Simply maintaining the Bryce campus, of which the vast majority is unused, costs the mental health department $2.7 million annually, not including the tens of millions of dollars needed to renovate and restore the main domed building, which, under Sawyer’s proposal, UA would agree to keep.

Cleanup of diesel fuel and chemicals from laundry dry cleaning — used when Bryce was a self-supported city — that has since seeped into the groundwater is expected to cost a minimum of $300,000 annually. More likely, the actual cost to UA would be higher, since administrators want to restore the land for unrestricted use, unlike mental health officials who have no future plans for the contaminated portions, according to Sawyer’s report.

The polluted groundwater has seeped onto 2 acres of UA’s campus, and the more stringent cleanup UA wants is expected to cost between $1.9 and $2.5 million, according to Sawyer’s report.

So we didn’t care take of our buildings, we polluted our land, we polluted your land — and you’re going to have to pay us over $80M and then have to clear up everything we shit on while (presumably) keeping our crazies out of your freshman English classes.

I know the University from which I purchased my law degree is in need of more land for things and the equally as important stuff, but is it really worth the cost?

Unless…

Jump pass for glory.

PRESS RELEASE

July 27, 2009

FAMILY OF INFLUENTIAL ALABAMA FOOTBALL FANS RECOMMENDS EXPLOITING NEWFOUND WEAKNESS OF UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA QUARTERBACK TIM ‘TEBOW’

Gets no sex.

NATURAL BRIDGE – The Cockfight Family, one of America’s oldest and  most influential group of University of Alabama football boosters, today formally encouraged supporters of the Crimson Tide football program to find a way to coax decorated University of Florida Quarterback Tim Tebow into a night of superb, irresistible, wang-breaking sex in advance of the 2009 college football season.

Asked about his virginity at last week’s SEC Media Days in “Hoover,” Tebow, also a lauded evangelical missionary, admitted that he was saving his biggest rhinoceros-like pounding run up the middle for a score for his wedding night.

“I don’t know who came up with it first, but we all pretty much concluded at Sunday supper that he plays so good ‘a football because he ain’t ever got his willy wet,”  said Carter M. Carter, a retired Lowndes County Commissioner who was banned as an Alabama booster for an undisclosed incident in 2006.

“So if that’s what’s between the Tide winnin’ the SEC, we reckon that we ought to do whatever we can to hook ‘im up with a lady or two to sex him ’til his balls explode.”

Thank you, Cam Ward, for being stupid.

My ignorant hero...

Today, for the most part, appears to be a damned slow news day in Alabama.

The Legislature’s not in special session yet. Democrats haven’t made more serious efforts to recruit a hamburger to run against Artur Davis next spring. Jefferson County is still bleeding out on the floor, but they’re in that slow, boring part where the shock of seeing someone with their wrist and guts split open and oozing all over the linoleum is gone, leaving you just to ponder about how big of a mess it’s going to be to clean up.

From what the al.com tells me, SEC Media Days is going on, but even that hasn’t been that interesting yet — they haven’t even got to the point where the other eleven coaches hold down Tennessee Head Coach Lane Kiffin and stuff a pair of Old Navy flip-flops up his white ass.

(Give it time, though. Give it time.)

I also don’t really give a shit about Erin Andrews Naked 9/11 — it’s her chin, man — or that a lawsuit says Ben Roethlisberger might have raped some girl and Disney-America Sports Behemoth hasn’t been reporting on it.

(Though they should.)

And there’s not even that much to say about the Family. Hell, we’re still processing the Parliament of Cockfights. There’s a hilarious story why, but you fucking  dirty pagan lessers ain’t ready to know that yet.

So what is there for a young, mildly employed Weblogger to post on during a hot summer day like this?

Wait, what was that Representative Ward?

Beware Politicians: Don’t Ignore the Web World

Oh thank God.

And other stuff.

Don't cry yet, Big Al. Your face would likely mildew if it gets really wet.

Readers learned last week that revered/despised/fantasized Birmingham News Alabama reporter Ian Rapoport* would be departing to cover the New England Patriots for a Beantown newspaper.

How are fans, players, coaches, and others around the SEC reacting?

• Alabama Head Coach/Overlord Nick Saban is trying out new “favorite” beat reporters by punching local press in the face “to see who takes it like a man.” Doug Segrest is next.

• Adding needless ellipses and exclamation points to their daily conversations to make up for the loss, such as “I’m going to lunch … and other stuff!” and “I think we should stop being married … and other stuff!” and “I sell my body for crack … and other stuff!”

• Louisiana State University Head Coach Les Miles has decided to tone down his plans to subpoena a live elephant into a shirtless, oiled wrestling match at SEC Media Days in “Hoover.”
• Making jokes about doing it with Ian’s new wife. 

The pope will now take your calls.

ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!

Monday’s Mobile Register had a front-page story about efforts to start a Catholic AM radio station to broadcast in Alabama’s coastal counties.

I know what you’re asking yourself: Why the heck is this so important? Is anything related to AM radio deserving of front-page news these days? Why the hell do they call them BayBears anyway? Does the bear actually live in the bay or just swim in it? And if he doesn’t live there — you know, like some big, hairy miniature whale — why doesn’t he start, since I doubt you can be a BayBear just by living by the bay and swimming in it sometimes, right? I mean, wouldn’t it be more accurate if they were called the Bay-AdjacentBears since the bear probably doesn’t actually live in the bay? Does gumbo cause esophageal cancer?

Well, Catholic Radio Association President Stephen Gajdosik has the answers.

You know, on the Catholic AM radio stuff.

Not the stuff about the accuracy of the term “BayBear” or esophageal cancer.

Perhaps.

Gajdosik said that aside from supporting and informing an area’s Catholic population, he thinks Catholic stations offer universal messages and moral stances that answer the general public’s need for ‘real hope.’

‘The point of view, the perspective, is one that isn’t carried in a secular show,’ he said.

Yes, because if there’s one thing Alabama is missing, it’s talking heads who are against abortion and premarital sex.

It’s really a terribly thing…

Because if you get a free fleece for a $10 a month subscription, you obviously have enough money to buy four people lunch.

It’s a slower news week, so it’s time for a bunch of mundane shit that only I care about that’s billed as news.

Or as much of the rest of the Weblog-o-sphere would probably call it, it’s time for some…

ITEM! I’m really damned tired of watching that stupid ESPN The Magazine commercial with the dude in the fleece  hanging out with those athletes at the pizza place. I’m not saying that watching SportsCenter during the day has become a huge part of my job at the Historical Society, but, yeah, it has, and I don’t really give a shit if reading a half-assed merchandising magazine makes some early 30’s white dude feel like he’s hanging out and eating a pizza with his favorite athletes — a category that seems suspiciously similar to three overpaid fuckers a Disney-owned conglomerate could find on short notice because they want the cash and have no shame.

First of all, it’s Chad. It’s Chad Johnson. Not Ocho, Ochocinco or Chad Ochocinco, it’s Chad motherfucking Johnson. Look, my cousin Collins once told us he wanted to change his name to Galvatron Cockfight II. But as I vocalized for the Family then, you can be immature and call yourself Ass-Pants No. 7 if you want to, but I’m not going to play your game and I’m going to call you anything except what I’ve called you for forever because it’s your real name, so grow the fuck up and go to hell.

(In fact, Collins wrote a little book in his fake Bible about it. It’s called “The Book of Tears”. Maybe Shithead McIdontwannabeabengal can do the same.)

Second, no, Chad Johnson playing against PIttsburgh is not more impressive than having to play the Lakers at Staples Center or pitching your way to the World Series. Did you see Chad Johnson’s stats last year, dipshit? He sucked. Ryan Fitzpatrick or not, he really sucked. It’s not impressive unless you’re fucking good at it, dipshit!

And he has to pay because he got some shitty fleece that says ESPN on it? These guys are actually impressed by that? Multimillionaires who drive chromed-out custom Cadillacs and draw hot women by default? What the fuck?!

I don’t think the derogatory use of the word “gay” describes this commercial accurately and derisively enough. There should be some other word that rips this commercial on point and remains utterly offensive to homosexual people.

Maybe “extro-gay”…

Citizen journalism!

ITEM! Why is it that Krystal’s only hires the stupidest assholes they possibly can at every one of its restaurants?

When I’m around one, I swear to Christ that I have to make sure I have an extra 15 minutes in my day if I get a hankering for Krystal’s. And if you ask for a custom order — say no pickles or no mayo — I’m half surprised the drive-thru operator doesn’t say, “Yeah, well, what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!”

It’s almost as if they went to an employment center or whatever and told the people who run it, “We want to hire the most useless, utterly unemployable dumbasses you have around. You know, the type of people that, if they held up a gun to your head and said ‘Give me a job or I’m gonna shoot you!’ and they seemed serious enough that you believed them, you’d still giggle like a Japanese schoolgirl and say ‘No!’ That is the type of underworking, unfriendly people we at the Krystal’s Corporation are interested in employing in our hamburger business, good sir.”

…

The food is good, though.

Citizen journalism!

ITEM! I don’t really have trouble finding stuff on Google, Microsoft.

I’m sure you and the desiccated corpse of Webcrawler and AltaVista or Ask Jeeves could try to tell me I do, but no, I find everything perfectly fine with a Web page that isn’t as noticeably uber-horny on Java and loads faster than pretty much anything else on the Web.

And I refuse to “Bing” anything.

…

Unless she’s hot.

CITIZEN JOURNALISM!

http://kingcockfight.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/citizen-journalism.jpg?w=389&h=132

Hopefully they won’t screw him up like Deadpool in the Wolverine movie.

Does have time for a shitty movie...

University of Alabama Head Coach and cold-blooded professional hitman Nick Saban will play himself in the upcoming film adaptation of The Blind Side, a book that tells how being black and homeless in Memphis can work out if you’re big, can play football and able to endear yourself to white people. Tim McGraw and Sandra Bullock star to extra emphasize the white part.

Former Ole Miss Head Coach Ed Orgeron also appears as himself in the film, beating out a shaven polar bear infected with the Rage virus for the role.

Also playing himself in the movie is former University of Tennessee Head Coach Phillip Fulmer, though only because the large shit-bleeding daemon proved too expensive to balance with McGraw and Bullock’s salaries for the film.

Alabama fans on al.com — the source of all rational conversation in the State — seem to be reacting cooly and appropriately to Saban’s big screen turn.

I hope he didn’t have to wear an LSU shirt

YOU DON’T EVEN GET TO PRETEND! YOU’RE WITH US NOW!

WE REFUSE TO WEAR THE WIG FOR YOU …. !

‘I’M AGAINST IT!’ with Candidate Carter Cockfight #5: Don’t choke my chicken’s rights!

King Cockfight’s uncle, former Lowndes County Commissioner Carter McCarthy Cockfight, plans to run for president in 2012 on the “NO DAMN IMMIGRATION!” Party Ticket.

He provides readers of this Weblog a short policy speech most weeks in advance of his campaign.

HOW DARE THE ANIMAL-FUCKING HIPPIE QUEERS MESS WITH THE RIGHTS OF OUR CHRISTIAN CHICKEN DANCES AT TALLADEGA!

IT WAS BAD ENOUGH YOU CAME AFTER THE RIGHTS OF ENTREPRENEURS SUCH AS MYSELF WITH YOUR “THAT GUY SHOT PEOPLE BECAUSE HE WORKED IN A MEAT PLANT” BULLSHIT. HORSE MEAT STILL TASTES REAL DAMN GOOD!

BUT NOW YOU COME AFTER A BIG CHRISTIAN CHICKEN DANCE AT THE SECOND HOLIEST SPORTS SITE IN ALABAMA BECAUSE IT’S SPONSORED BY KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN?

NOTHING CAN BE MORE RIGHT WITH AMERICAN THAN CARS ZOOMING AROUND A TRACK AND A CRASHIN’ A WHOLE LOT BECAUSE WE BUILT SO THAT THEY’LL CRASH A WHOLE LOT AND THEY MIGHT DIE.

NOW YOU BUTT-HEADS WANT TO MESS WITH IT?!

EXPLOSIONS ARE CHRISTIAN, YOU FUCKING PAGANS!