Looking for the SEC WARS: The Courtesy Flush? Right here.     "As triple option clouds hung below a pickle slice sky, the Georgia Dome was saved by Yellow Jacket, who in righteous fury screamed, "No more will our sandwiches be plain! No more will condiments be relegated to a grimy bin! We have mustard! We have ketchup! We have mayonnaise! WE HAVE A TRIPLE OPTION, MY FEW, MY HAPPY FEW! Let he who would not dress his sandwich be mirthless and forever regret his absence on this day, St. Crispy day!"     When your fanbase really likes livestock, well, sometimes they fight back.   The darkness ebbed from the hills as it always did; like a counterweight, it slowly pushed the sun into the morning sky, streaming light across the plush plains. Far away, shards of sunlight lanced off of the gilded domes of Gridironica. A few birds pecked their pittance from the worn stones of the Colonnade, encircled by a tight arc of 119 massive flagpoles, all with golden finials gleaming. Only a few flagpoles still contained banners, which hung tired and a bit worn, woken only by the warmed wind. Two small makeshift flagpoles stuck out of a compost pile - simple pieces of colored paper that read "2003 West Co-Champions" and "#1 ricrooting clas #1 spring game champs got twelv got ricroots?" A dog urinated on these flags and the paper began to break down into a fulvous mush. The wind picked up, and an odd sound was heard; it was like a kiddie pool of oatmeal, dried red beans, and finishing nails were being sucked into a shopvac, all while a donkey was being hit in the gut with an oar. The sound was coming from behind a slight rise to the west; standing atop this small hill, a clear bowl shape had been formed. At the center of the bowl stood a pedestal. The pedestal was surrounded by busy cloaked men, furious at work. On the pedestal was the just-slaughtered tapir of the fatted furrows; the creature was painted in tiger stripes, but in black and gold. He was being dusted in flour which was being flavored by the bowl of seasonings, for bowl season. When he was lowered into the deep-fryer, a jubilant cheer erupted. Foil pouches were prepped - things were about to get interesting. Is there enough in the tank to even analyze this game? Are we in a pickle? A swift kick to the spigot sends a few chunks of chum belching out, and lo-and-beehold, we gots just enough to sting. What used to be a peach of a game is now sandwiched between the old and new years, in a world where chickens are sold by cows. LSU has spent plenty of time in Atlanta as of late; they've won there more often than not, sometimes in this same game, and even against Georgia Tech. But that was in the waywayback...heck, since then, LSU has won a couple of real trophys. Enough to make a sandwich, kinda. To find out more, we sat down with to learn from GTech's Institutional Magistrate, Minister and Internal Counsel's Kith: GIMMICK: Hi there! Welcome to Atlanta? Did you have a nice trip? TROUGH: Maybe...who is asking? GIMMICK: Uh, we are. TROUGH: I see. It was alright. It took us a long time to get here because of customs. GIMMICK: Customs? Why did those guys hold you up? TROUGH: What guys? GIMMICK: Uh, the guys in customs? TROUGH: We meant superstitions. We have a lot of superstitions. They take a long time. GIMMICK: Oh. Like what? TROUGH: Well, it starts with the Coronation of the Ponce on the first fallow moon, where the root children drink the Peach Schnapp's of the Mistral. But since y'all changed the name of the game, we didn't use Peach but instead went to McDonald's because we don't have a Chik-Fil-A close to our house, but their new chicken sandwich thingy is pretty close. So we grounded that all up and poured gin in and let that sit. Cosmic Pruno. GIMMICK: Uh...so it was an ok trip, otherwise? TROUGH: It was fine once we were able to quaff down some chickenwine. Was yours trip alrighty ok? GIMMICK: Um, sure. Given that we optimized the traffic route and took into effect thoroughfare flow rates and light timing as well as gas mileage, we were able to arrive here in exactly 12 minutes, 19 seconds. TROUGH: Are you like smart or something? GIMMICK: Ha! WE'RE TECH. TROUGH: Is that a cinnamon for "drunk?" Tech? "Dude, let's smoke some moss and get all tech!" GIMMICK: Do you mean "synonym?" TROUGH: Whoa, dude, that's way too smart. Y'all built robots and stuff, right? Think you could make me one that'll...you know...[nudging elbow] GIMMICK: Of course we could. WE'RE TECH. Surely there are easier ways to get that done than a robot, right? TROUGH: I don't know. Making boudin is such a pain. If we just had a robot. I would love him and pet him and squeeze him and name him GeorgeGodseyTron, and he would make the bestest boudin ever. GIMMICK: Boudin? You need a robot to make boudin? TROUGH: If you could make his mouth a meat grinder, that would be awesome. His rear can be the sausage output hose. I think that would be an interesting conversation piece. GIMMICK: That is disgusting. TROUGH: If you ever talk like that about boudin again, I will slap you in your whore mouth. GIMMICK: What? What is this? Are you here to talk about football? TROUGH: Oh yeah! There's a game! Last time we were here we won the game and then went to the big game and we won that. Before that, we came here and played in this very game and beat the other team so bad that they fired everybody. Also a fight broke out and we won that, too. GIMMICK: Yeah, well, you didn't have to face our offense! TROUGH: Probably because we played Miami and Ohio State. GIMMICK: No, I meant...never mind. You guys have had quite the fall, huh? TROUGH: Yeah! A hurricane and snow! GIMMICK: No, I meant...never mind. TROUGH: So you guys play in the ACK, right? I make that sound sometimes when I accidentally try to eat my corndog stick. GIMMICK: It's the ACC, and yes, we play there. Almost won it this year. TROUGH: YOU GUYS SUCK. GIMMICK: We beat Georgia, who hammered you. TROUGH: Don't try your mind games on me, smarty! Hey, is it true that bees poop honey? GIMMICK: What on earth...? First, we're yellow jackets, not bees. Second, no, bees don't poop honey. TROUGH: Yellow jackets? GIMMICK: Yeah. They're wasps. TROUGH: WASPS!? Where? I hate bees. They sting! GIMMICK: [sigh] That they do. TROUGH: Though they do poop honey. It's probably not the polite thing to say, but I would let bees poop on my toast. I like honey. GIMMICK: Yikes. Uh, did you know the ancient Egyptians used to mix honey with alligator dung and use the mixture as a contraceptive? TROUGH: Hmmm...I think I tried that dip at a tailgate in Gainesville. It was terrible. GIMMICK: Ok, we keep getting away from this. Football. How will our incredible offense be stopped by your squalid defense? TROUGH: Well, we've had several weeks to get away from the squalene. GIMMICK: I think you mean "squalor." "Squalene" is a 30-carbon compound that appears in cholesterol synthesis. It appears naturally in shark liver oil. TROUGH: Is that a good contraceptive? Is it good with corn chips? GIMMICK: Triple option. Our offense. Are you going to be able to slow it down? TROUGH: We're going to try. But we need something sticky if y'all are fast...something like honey. Know where honey comes from? GIMMICK: I'm...I'm so confused. TROUGH: Sorry, I'm just so intimidated by your brains; I'm a rambling wreck. GIMMICK: Hey! That's the name of our fight song! And that's another name for our mascot! TROUGH: Your fight song is about pooping honey? GIMMICK: Listen, maybe we should really stop this; this is getting out of hand. I don't think you're cut out for this. TROUGH: Ok, look, I wanted to try to impress you, so I tried to make a GeorgeGodseyTron. You put the pork in here. GIMMICK: Is that just a Teddy Ruxpin built around a meat grinder? Is he wearing a Capsela helmet? TROUGH: YOU GUYS SUCK. Don't steal my patent, whoremouth. GIMMICK: That's it. Get out. TROUGH: Fine. Here's some boudin. Thank you, GeorgeGodseyTron! GIMMICK: [tasting, wretching] ACK TROUGH: Hey, honey mustard! That goes great with chicken sandwiches. Crystal balls, bowls and brawls, Deep-fried hunk of meat. Charles Bronson, Calvin Johnson, The triple option is neat, hey! Lesticles n' Honey: 34 GTecmo Bowl: 28 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.