As for the games that I watched, check out the drinking schedule. It was unadulterated with the exception of that vicious 12:30PST slot – went with a mustached Sparty versus clover-holding sissies. The night slot played out perfectly and I am not referring to my buzz.
As usual, study up, read on, and tell me I am an idiot.
Then is now: If you listen to QFM religiously, you are about to get a boner. That holy nexus of late ‘70s rock and Brutus that you always pined for has finally been located. If this verse does not give you heart palpitations, you are the living dead (or born after 1975, like me):
Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions
I keep my visions to myself
It’s only me
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and...
Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?
Dreams of loneliness...
Like a heartbeat... drives you mad...
In the stillness of remembering what you had...
And what you lost...
And what you had...
And what you lost
Elder statesmen, rejoice! Classic rock and Ohio State are inextricably tied, at least for one season. I heard the above sage verse courtesy of iTunes radio tonight. It may take a little creative license (not much, though) to see the prognostication skills of Stevie Nicks, but it seems pretty clear – unrequited love exists in college football.
Despite all that, tOSU reappears, if only for a week or two.
Radar watch: Penn State and Texas have looked very good against hapless opponents. The Longhorns get Petrino’s band of nincompoops this weekend, and we will be looking for a Tide-esque whipping. Meanwhile, PSU plays a team with a pulse, if by “pulse” you mean an offense and no defense.
We told you so: If you noticed the conspicuous absence of the Mountaineers, it is for the second straight week as we previously told you they sucked out loud and would lose to Colorado. Yeah! What’s up? [Chest bumps; and complicated handshakes/high fives abound]. Sup!
The other FSU: Do you realize I kept Fresno State in the poll this week after a near miss with Toledo? If you did, you are way ahead of me. By the time I did become aware of their positioning, I simply shrugged, finished my wine, and thought about growing a handlebar mustache.
Think about it.