Looking for the SEC WARS: The Courtesy Flush? Right here.     Breedin' Winners.   The temple of the football gods is eerily quiet. Absent are the sounds of the favorite game monkeydumps; the gerbil jai alai court is still. The manacles for a quick game of Wynonna, Where Is My Crunchwrap Supreme? lay motionless on the anatomy court. A brief rustle of a bush reveals a figure in robes, peering out through a few branches. A close look at the foliage shows all of the hidden gentleman, carefully hidden. From afar, one voice quickly cries, "Is it over yet?" If this were a movie scene, it would be some villain trying to shoot Jet Li with a nailgun, and Jet holds out a straw to catch the flying nail and quickly turns the straw so the nail flies out of a window. It lands in some guys head, and he falls on the steering wheel and the truck lurches left. The truck is carrying propane tanks which start flying off in all directions like fiery clunk bullets. One of the tanks slams onto the cargo deck of a tanker carrying fireworks. Fireworks rockets out from all directions and torch buildings all around, including a convent and a dog shelter. A helicopter flies over to try and extinguish the flame, but it gets hit by a propane tank and knifed in half, and falls onto a sewage treatment plant, which erupts, spraying waste everywhere. A waste slick runs onto a road and a guy doing 100 on a crotchrocket slips and he goes flying through a window Jet Li is fighting another guy but scissor kicks the motorcycle guy, who it turns out is Jet Li's brother Curtis, who is a cyborg who can deploy robot spiders from his orifices and one of the spiders leaps for Jet Li and it gets taken out in midair from another nail. That's the first quarter. We need to fill in the rest of the game, so we sat down with The Resurgent Alabama Squad Head. TRASH: Whoo doggie! Whoo! ROWL TAHD! TROUGH: [chewing] TRASH: What you got there? I'm gonna take it like WE TOOKED YOUR COACH! TROUGH: [extends hand with treat] TRASH: A corndog! Dayum, corndog! I am gonna eat it and celebrate! [bites] Oh my gawd - oh my [gagging]...it's...it's a dog turd! TROUGH: No, it's a deep-fried dog turd. On a stick. TRASH: Ugh...ugh, you son of a...give me that cup! TROUGH [extends hand with treat] TRASH: Oh gawd, rowl tahd, ugh. Ugh. What is this flavor Snapple? TROUGH: Dog urine. TRASH: I like it. TROUGH: You have something on your mouth. TRASH: MAYBE IT'S DOG POOP? TROUGH: Maybe. But it kinda blends in with the other poop. TRASH: THAT IS NICKSCHARGE, and it's an honor to have it on my mouth after this week's Pep Lick. TROUGH: I see. Glad to see that it's working out for you. TRASH: Working out?! Corndog, do you see what we're ranked? Do you see what's happened? Coach is returning to Baton Rouge with the TOP RANKED TIDE and he is going to stomp his former team! [panting, gently squeezing own nipples, lightly tugging, lamenting third, fourth, and fifth nipples are going untweaked] TROUGH: Yup, probably right. I see us losing this game by at least 60. It will be worth it, though, to see him striding the sidelines, yelling, all gorgeous-like, showing us the truthpath. TRASH: You are so jealous that he's ours now. You are so jealous. You are so...[rocking, slightly] ROHL TAHD ROHL OH ROHL ROOOOHHHHLLLLL....[drooling]. Oh my gawd spring game. TROUGH: Yeah, he's definitely missed around the afterschool program. He was so great reading stories to the kids; I remember how he would all lead them in Hey Fightin' Tigers. TRASH: Wait...really? TROUGH: Yeah, he would get so fired up; he would ask all the kids if they wanted to be a Tiger, and they would tug on his Huxtable sweater. Then he would stand and they would kneel so they could see eye-to-eye, and he would give them a big Tiger hug, muss their hair, and tell them that they had a heart of gold, wrapped in purple. TRASH: R...really? TROUGH: Yes. He used to decorate the best cupcakes, too. One day, he took a big glob of purple icing and put it on this little boy's nose. Everyone just stared for a second and then everyone started putting icing on their faces. It was so funny, and heartwarming. We took a big group photo, all of us with icing on our faces! What a special day. I remember one time the kids had to use popsicle sticks and cottonballs to create a frame to hold an egg. It was a competition - the teacher would drop the frames to the floor to see whose eggs broke. Coach's egg never broke. We thought it was magic, but he used yarn to surround the frame. He called it his "nest egg," so it never broke. TRASH: That doesn't sound like...wow. We haven't seen that side of him yet. TROUGH: Well, he's busy rebuilding. I bet it's something to see when he yells "Roll Tide!" He was so passionate when he yelled "Geaux Tigers" - you wanted to strap on a helmet and bust some noggin. So how does he yell "Roll Tide?" Is it with quick yell force, or does he use his bold timbre to slowly build into an a beautiful, passionate resonant call to arms? TRASH: He's not like that. TROUGH: Oh, so it's like a righteous angel with fiery blade, descending from Mt. Cody to slay the slovenly heathens? I bet his "Roll Tide" yell is so full-throated, so full of passion and goodness and pure football fury, that it is a clarion call to the Crimson to charge the gridiron, hearts soaring. It certainly was like that when he would stand before the entrance of Tiger Stadium and lead the fans in the Alma Mater, then personally unlock the gates to the student section. TRASH: No...he...uh... TROUGH: I remember how a riot started when he left; his assistants all wanted to follow him but the little Huizengaplane wasn't big enough for any of them. They fought with sticks and poles and one guy had a chain with a grape cluster of cue balls on the end. Called it his "Willing Ham." Coach of course tried to calm them with his steady hand, but all he did was put an equipment guy and a video guy to sleep like Paul Hogan did to that bull. TRASH: I get that totally! I named my dog after him and I can't wait to get my tattoo. TROUGH: A tattoo is just like a colorful hug on your skin. I do miss Coach's healing embrace. I remember the day the paper showed him delivering that foal. The day Coach left, that poor little pony died, probably of a broken heart. TRASH: I'm sorry to hear that. TROUGH: Don't be. We fed him to the tiger. TRASH: Uh... TROUGH: It was so sad to see Coach change like that; I think his genteel personality was just not a good fit in the pros, where the language is more coarse. Coach's meek demeanor made him easy prey; though it was perfect that he ended up with the Dolphins. Those little guys are like the slippery teddy bears of the sea. TRASH: This is all so strange to me. TROUGH: Yeah, like when you find panties in your bed and you can't tell if they are your brother's or your sister's. TRASH: Exactly, can I get a ROHL TAHD ROHL. TROUGH: Yeah, no. TRASH: You are lying about all of this! TROUGH: Hmmm...where did you learn about lying? WERE YOU COACHED?! TRASH: You are such a corndog; y'alls is so obsessed with OUR COACH! HE'S OURS HE'S OURS HE'S OURS SPRING GAME AMEN. TROUGH: Yup, you bought him fair and square, and you both deserve each other...that way you can put your gnarled inbred maw into his hand, and take that victory walk. TRASH: You should be appreciative of everything he didded for y'all! TROUGH: And why should appreciation and loathing be mutually exclusive? Hey, Phil Fulmer won a championship for Tennessee. By your logic, they should lift him high now, if they could lift him. Right? TRASH: Uh...YOU'RE JUST WINNING WITH HIS PLAYERS! TROUGH: Probably so. What was it that your old boy used to say, something about taking mine and beating yours, and taking yours and beating mine? All of that's fine and well, but last year we beat his with his. So if you win, does he now beat his own with his own? Or is he beating him with his? Which his? Who's on his? TRASH: You are so jealous and obsessed. TROUGH: If - as you suggest - we shower him with praise in appreciation, is that obsessing, since he's not here any longer? What about if we point out which players are his, even though he's not here? Is THAT obsessing? If we mention his name in a discussion of how we're not obsessed, is that obsessing? Is his in yours? Because you've been in yours. TRASH: [looking around for help] TROUGH: You stupid sack of bitch. You've missed the point entirely, and it's one that's salient here. Coach's tenure here was brief and often brilliant, but it was also filled with rumors he himself refused to quell because there were kernels of truth. Worst of all, he had the temerity to complain about said rumors. In those moments of brilliance here, he said he understood how important the Tigers were to the state and her citizens; I would imagine that at some point he'll say the same thing to you. We believed him, because we knew he knew. He left ugly, sucked, lied and obfuscated, and then landed in a blur of pearly whites. Mere moments later, after celebrating his prevarication at the press conference, he huddled the reporters around and pissed diesel on the fire. TRASH: This stupid "coonass" thing again? TROUGH: No, you stunted clod. He could have called us ULM Warhawks for all we cared. The point is: with a feces-eating grin, he attempted to ingratiate himself with the only group who wouldn't tear him down, and he did so in a personal and condescending way. He tried to be cool for the cool kids, and at our expense; he then stood there, small shoulders shrugged, and just couldn't understand why we'd be so upset. So you tell me, dogcorn, if he even at one point understood the state, her citizens, and their football, but couldn't understand why some LSU fans were upset, does that make him an idiot or a liar? TRASH: He's...he's a genius. TROUGH: Yeah, that was rhetorical. TRASH: Yeah, you should never field it inside the 10. Just let it go, or fair catch it, but don't go backwards. TROUGH: Right. Look, Alabama's passions and pride are strong, just like Louisiana's. He tweaked ours as the final mark of an era of platitudes, rumors, belligerence, denials, heartbreak, fabrications, manipulations, machinations, innuendo, greed, arrogance, and condescension. And of course wins, which are like duct tape on the feelingpipe. But that's your thing now. TRASH: It's different now! And yeah, we love the wins! TROUGH: No doubt. But remember: deification is creepy, and so is this. TRASH: What's that? A white flag of surrender? TROUGH: Coach's panties, I think. They were left on my car door handle. They say "Sabannick Bryant" on the elastic - must be Coach's work skivvies. TRASH: Oh, those aren't Coach's. Those are my brother's. That's his name. A desire for contact, 21 A contact for desire, 10 Welcome to The Trough, a place that really gets to the meat of LSU's opponents. Ok, not so much the meat, but the sinewy gristle and thick connective tissue. We then feed these funbits through a grinder to get a coarse meaty bounty, and that's what is on display here. It should be a given that while The Trough is loosely related to LSUChicageaux.com, it's more like a Baton Rouge uncle than a Tuscaloosa cousin. In other words, what's in The Trough is obviously not endorsed by any official LSU entity. They've got better sense than that.