There he stands, the lone coach of Death Valley. Part hound dog, he is a man with all the powers of hell at his command. When we say "hell," we mean Glenn Dorsey from a 3-point stance in full bull rush mode, with fires and lightning and sulfur and stuff.     Petwina Carroll: "Turn to the right! I think I just won me a national championship!" This little desert flower's program was a barren wasteland, a place where twopeatseed could find no purchase. On account of this terrible setback, Petwina "Pete" and "Mack" go off in search of a Waterfordbaby to complete their family.     H.I. Mackbrowndonough: "Two hours a day, either educational or football, so you don't ruin your appreciation of the finer things." "Mack" could never score the big one; he was a recidivist - committing the same offense over and over again, until he met "Pete." Together they would set off to find - at all costs - a Waterford baby.     Brothers Galebob and Evellemike Snoatstoops: Partners in relation, the brothers soon found themselves chasing baby Waterford, trying to steal the little fella from Pete and Mack. They also smelled of human waste. Some people thought this because they actually tunneled through a sewer main (i.e., Norman), but that's not true. The brothers smelled so bad that when they hit the sewage, the sewage gave off the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Evellemike can't really say "baby" too well, pronouncing it "Bibby."     Little Waterford traveled near and far until Leonardles Milesmalls saved him and brought him back to his rightful home...a place where all parents are strong and wise and capable, and all children are happy and beloved. A place like Baton Rouge. This week's foe, Felis silvestris, visits us from the desert, a place where there are no forests, except those that are petrified, presumably because they were witness to LSU's awesome domination in 2003. It was the most points scored by the championship LSU team against any foe, even against a UL school that season. In fact, most of the area was rocks until Joe Addai smashed and pulverized them. simulating epochs of time with his meaty charge. This Saturday finds the Wildcats coming from "the Old Pueblo;" as hot as it gets out in 'Zona, the Wildcats will find it hard to be in a more inhospitable Valley come Saturday, unless they can find scorpions that will "Tigah Bait" you. If such a beast is located, please know that we will pay handsomely for it and even name it LaRon. The capital of Arizona is Phoenix, which in mythology is a birdbeast that perishes in flames (in a nest of cinnamon - yummers!), only to be reborn again until it can, uh, just go up in flames again. Cinnamon ablaze, repeat. In other words, the death of the Phoenix is like being in a Pillsbury factory but only the part where they make the rolls not the part where they put the icing into those little plastic containers with those little metal lids which is where the real magic happens. While some may view the life cycle of the Phoenix to be powerful and indicative of immortality, we see it as an allegory to the game, where the Wildcats will be pounded into ashes and then grow anew, only to be pounded again. This cycle will repeat indefinitely or until the buzzer sounds. We don't have to have the cinnamon and the fire and stuff, but if it makes our visitors feel more comfortable, so be it. Heck, we let our last foe put a giant pepper on the field - we think we can handle your cinnamon. It will take more than a little magic to win this one, firebirds! Oh, sure, you say - but Arizona is from Tucson! Great - instead of "firebirds" we have to contend with "snowbirds." Do you know how "old folks" in Baton Rouge winter? They don't head off to the golf course, unless you're talking about the one where they park their trucks to scarf down pork innards and cheap swill. Winter is when there's football...there's no time for relaxing when there's PAC-10 bait about. Bring the snowbirds around! We'll let them chug some hooch and scarf down some cracklins before they head into Thunderdome. We were supposed to host another team from Arizona last year, but that didn't work out as planned. Not so this year - we are really excited to pound some PAC-10. If you bring Lute we're going to see if Big Baby will "Tigah Bait" him. We'll be on the lookout for if you try to throw sand (or cinnamon) in our eyes to trick us, you shifty desert bastards. Big cats pound little cats again - we can't wait! 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.