Looking for the SEC WARS: The Courtesy Flush? Right here.     Croombacca the Suckie is a smuggler but hasn't won much, so...you know.   "Citizens of Starkville! With this victory, we have made eggs...the devil's eggs! Come and ingest them, with their creamy evil centers and light dusting of demon paprika! Gaze with wonder at the garnish, a small sprig of dill, which is Lucifer's herb! See how it represents the forked tongue? EAT, CHILDREN, EAT." Editor's Note: We have no idea either. Help.   Golly, you almost had us there, scions of Gridironica! When that meaty secondary beanheaver took his turn, toting with him an arm that was more like a scented trash bag full of boudin skin and gerbils, we thought for sure that we were going to have to watch toilet paper flying through the air while cousins made out 'neath the tree. We were in the process of jamming a wooden spoon end into our mouth to stifle the gagging, when all of a sudden we got to watch our own version of Hatch a Wonderful Lee, where everytime a starter gets his bell rung, the backup gets his wing. And the bell ringing did summon a gunslinger with a beer-pong-powered sheathed piston of efficiency, and the pom-poms did subside, and Under Armour executives did verily declare, "What are we paying those halftards all that money for again?" Last week we wondered about the flavored smen versus Plain smen, and we can now say that only flavor is Loss smen! In your face, Tulane! Which brings us to STAYHT WEAK! Clang, clang, clang goes the cowbell; suck, suck, suck goes the 'Dawgs. To rile up the home troops, we are given a full day to put encased meatstuffs to flame and drink heavily from our tankards of swill, and pour ourselves a discreet toddy within the stadium from our surgically-implanted manpouch. There will be much revelry, followed by a lot of shouting, and some going to the bathroom, maybe on ourselves. And then after that we will amble about, looking for a hug...we'll need some consolation after having to watch an entire game of Stayht football. WOE, WOE UNTO US! THE CROOMANITY! Within the SEC, the Bulldogs continue to dig holes, hit bottom, and then pee on the bottom to soften the dirt up so they can keep digging. It's the opposite of "success," we hereby claim the term "SUCKSEC" to hopefully capture a bit of the putridity. To get to the bottom of this...er...bottom, we sat down with a member of State's University Council Kinship...an Information Technology representative and a Bulldog Impressive Graduate. TROUGH: Hi pal! Welcome to our part of the snapped woods. SUCK IT BIG: Wow, there's still a lot of destruction here. TROUGH: Yeah, we kept telling Charles Scott to quit running the levees and surrounding pastures, but it was no luck. Next thing you know, we're without power for a fortnight and there are slaughtered cows everywhere. SUCK IT BIG: [gasping] TROUGH: I know - your version of Match.com's server crashing. SUCK IT BIG: So many unsuckled teats... TROUGH: Yeah, totally. We were going to ask you if the snapped trees reminded you of anything. SUCK IT BIG: Um, not really... TROUGH: Femurs? Your skill players' femurs, post-Rahim Alem? SUCK IT BIG: Uh, I guess. TROUGH: Or they could be dreams. Dreams once full of hope and promise but are now broken and chopped up and covered in rot and mold and teeming with all sorts of insects. I guess "hopes" could be leaves, and those are dead and have started to break down into a brown mush. I guess "promise" could be some birds that left, but on the way, they pooped on the dead leaves. So it's like those new Oreo Cakesters, but the top cake lid is off, so all you see is a base of brown and some white. Except instead of cake, it's made from decomposing wood. The creamy center is likely the same. SUCK IT BIG: So you're saying the trees are for a State a very powerful metaphor? TROUGH: METAF whore? Like a weather chick? Why is she a whore? Is she going to slut up the Gulf and make another storm come here?! Don't toy with us, swinelicker! SUCK IT BIG: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down. I have no idea what you're talking about...look, I know that you're probably a bit edgy because this is the first game that's fairly normal. TROUGH: Talk about normal. You guys are squalid. SUCK IT BIG: Hey, we held that team you played last week to only 3 points. TROUGH: Yeah, we know. Found a diddy just for you. They're no friends of ours, either. Did you lull them into a powerful stupor with your hypnotic pendulum of suck, which is housed inside of a majestic trapezoidal, handled structure? SUCK IT BIG: Our defense just played great, and our offense wasn't terribly productive. TROUGH: And how did that work out for you last weekend? SUCK IT BIG: Not so good - tough loss to those Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets. You could say we got stung pretty good by the hornets. TROUGH: Holy smokes, really?! Wow! You actually got picked up for soliciting a prostitute? Was it even a chick, or was it a dude dressed like a chick? Or were you so distracted by the fishnet coveralls that you couldn't even tell? SUCK IT BIG: Wait, what? I don't understand...oh, no. Ugh. I said "hornets," not "whore nets." You know, hornets...uh...kind of like a wasp? TROUGH: White Protestants? Why were they selling their bodies, and why were you paying? Where were you, Oxford? Seriously - you should stick to cows. Fewer udders, though without your teeth it's probably not much of a concern. SUCK IT BIG: I...I don't know what to say. TROUGH: Teat got your tongue? SUCK IT BIG: Very funny. This has been a tough season; I really thought Coach Croom had turned the corner last year. TROUGH: When you say "turn the corner," do you mean he's playing hide-and-seek? What's he hiding from? Is it Ricky Jean-Francois? SUCK IT BIG: That guy is pretty scary. TROUGH: Yeah, those eyeballs...like glassy milky globes of fear, punctuated by a black hole through which no running back can escape. Fret not, though, we think he can only count to 206. SUCK IT BIG: What? TROUGH: The number of bones in the body. He knows them all so he can break them. Sweet, sweet Ricky. SUCK IT BIG: I am so confused. TROUGH: Why? Dogs like bones. SUCK IT BIG: It would be awesome if we could upset you. TROUGH: You have upset me. Look at yourself, with your overalls and your cowbell...and is that a teat keychain? SUCK IT BIG: It squirts mace. TROUGH: Really? [sniffing] It's Tabasco. SUCK IT BIG: YOUR DEVIL SAUCE BURNS MY COUNTRY MOUTH! TROUGH: Probably because it just gets in those rotting sockets where your teeth once held residence. SUCK IT BIG: At least we have sockets that you can plug, you know, stuff into. TROUGH: Is that some kind of crappy post-Gustav electricity joke? SUCK IT BIG: No. Maybe. TROUGH: I see how this is going to be. SUCK IT BIG: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I actually had a serious question. TROUGH: Yes, we did temporarily have a panda at the vet school that we named Sylvester, and yes, we did cook him for North Texas. Panda is a lot greasier meat than you might think it kind of stinks like the locker room old lady feet. SUCK IT BIG: I...what...no, I was going to ask about the tarps. Why are they blue? TROUGH: You know how stingrays and sharks have light underbellies, so that they can't be seen as easily when looking up towards the surface? Well that concept can work in reverse or upside down or whatever. Imagine that there were some old drunk men up in the sky that liked to urinate on you and your domicile, especially if your LSU room was exposed to the elements. Wouldn't it be hard to find the exposed room if you couldn't see it because the sky was blue, too? So it's to prevent that football god magic urine. Try to reach our Tiger Den now, you relentless crackling sorceror stream! SUCK IT BIG: Magic sky urine? TROUGH: Yes, we call it MSU. You simple peasant folk in your shanty towns call it "lightning." Ever had lightning hit a cow? SUCK IT BIG: [sullen] Yes. Killed my Sadie Hawkins date. TROUGH: Aw, that's so sad. But I bet she smelled great. SUCK IT BIG: She did - she had just been milked... TROUGH: No, I mean when the burst of electricty split her and seared her tenderloins and charred her ribeyes. Yum. SUCK IT BIG: We tried to save her; I even called 9-1-1. [pulls out cowbell] CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG CLANG CLANG. TROUGH: Anyone show up? SUCK IT BIG: Yeah, I think it was actually a Baton Rouge paramedic who had evacuated to Starkville for the hurricane. He his First Aid kit and gave her a syringe of what I thought was some kind of medicine but it was just A-1. He also sauteed some mushrooms with the debrillator paddles. This is all so hard - I'm not sure I can go on. TROUGH: Ever thought about sharing that advice with your football team? SUCK IT BIG: Is this over? TROUGH: Yeah, you looked uncomfortable, which is crazy. I mean, you cheer for Stahyt...surely you know discomfort. SUCK IT BIG: I've had enough. I should be going. [opens small container, removes cow dung, and begins to smear across lips] TROUGH: New lipstick, eh? SUCK IT BIG: Yes, it's called Pasture Moulds. TROUGH: Skip that - here, take this. You'll have much better luck. SUCK IT BIG: A crawfish sack with cowbells around the opening? Are those Lil' Smokies at the bottom? What is this? TROUGH: It's a whore net. Who adds tomatoes to their Croombalaya? Not us. Tigers: 45 Castrati: 3 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.