He would leave entire $100 bills out of their duffel bags. He would show them pictures of Navigators and only buy them used Tercels. He would hire their high school coaches and give the coaches cubicle offices even when he knew there were window offices available. He would swerve to purposely run over animals. He is Alabama Football.     "Rollllllllll Tyyyyyyyyyde!"     "Ray, we finally exorcised some of the demons, Ray. We finally did it. We beat back the banshees by a day and a bagel, I couldn't be happier. I know what you're thinking, Ray - I got to win at least 1 every 2 years instead of 3 or 4. You're right as rain, Ray. Right as rain. I had to let Joe Jackson go back into the ether - it was a parting gift to Shula for the win. That's right, Ray, it's now Shula's Joe Jackson." Chubby! Checkers! The orange beast has fallen and sweet, glazed revenge is ours. JaMarcus' arm-apault slung the bean through the Tennessee defense like a battle axe through ambergris, leaving the Vols' porcine steward's jowls "extra-crinkled." The Tigers pounded several players so hard that the players had to take to starting a bar brawl, you know, just to feel like they dropped the painmallet down on something. Another week, another slab of festering foemeat upon which Mike may feast. This week's bounty comes to us directly from Loosaslutsca - that storied program of yore, Alabama! The Crimson Tide is coming off of a most-stunning defeat at the hands of squalid Mississippi State, a result that must have Tide fans pining for those halcyon days, when the worst news was only several years of crushing NCAA sanctions. Maybe Bama fans should have taken the "death penalty" - surely that would have been easier than watching the helmetnumbers wretch the innards of their program all over the field after a bitter swig of Croom. On the plus side, when the Tide is this low, you can often find some good crabs - not that was ever an issue in Loosaslutsca. This loss reverberated through the SEC and the college football world, serving notice that the Tide don't just suck, they REALLY SUCK. The Tide must be kicking themselves (and this probably doesn't hurt much since with their kicking "game" they'd miss a lot). Instead of composing some grotesque sweaty vignette detailing the Tide's suck, we thought we'd revisit a Trough-honored tradition and extend a boudin-scented manus to the SPIRIT OF BAMA, and let them explain the situation themselves. We met with our gaffer Captain Coot and sat down with the SPIRIT OF BAMA (who we'll refer to as SOB for brevity) to discuss life, love, football in the SEC, that weird dead skin you get on your feet sometimes you know it's real hard and you can't even like feel it (SOB kept calling this "the Bear"), and the cuisine of Loosaslutsca, which centers around a veritable rainbow of "dippin' sauces" for fried tenders. Without further ado... TROUGH: Welcome back, you big SOB! Sit, sit - please! Do you like our new digs? We call it The Trough. SOB: Oh holy of holies, what is that smell?! Seriously, it's like - oh damn, I don't know. It's like... TROUGH: Like a triple-lined trash bag of bait shrimp and crawfish peels mixed with 10 lbs. of bulk sausage, 2 lbs. of bananas, and 3 dozen dirty diapers left out in a hot parking lot for 10 days? SOB: Uh...I don't...um... TROUGH: Because that's exactly what it is. Look under your folding chair. SOB: Oh my...(gagging)...why would you do something like that? TROUGH: I had to have something to offset the mephitis of your performance last week. SOB: ... TROUGH: Ok, Croylie. Whatever. Captain Coot, can you take away the hors d'oeuvres? Seems our guest isn't interested in our interpretation of fine Bama eats. CAPTAIN COOT: Ingrate. (takes bag to corner, tears it open, and begins scooping out handfuls of maggoty contents, forming them into sturdy pile) SOB: (dry heaving) What is he doing? TROUGH: Making you a kicker. SOB: I'm outta here. TROUGH: No wait. I'm sorry. Seriously. Sit down - it's ok. I was just making a silly joke, you know, like your offense. SOB: ... TROUGH: Ok, my bad. Really - let's talk about the game. So, last week - you lost to Mississippi State and former Tide player Sylvester Croom. IN BRIAN DENNEHY STADIUM, to boot. Get it? I made a kicker joke again. SOB: First of all, it's BRYANT-DENNY STADIUM, and... TROUGH: Whoa! Are you seriously going to sit here and NOT RESPECT Brian Dennehy? Um, hello? COCOON? Next you'll be telling me that you hate Don Ameche and you've never slept with Wilford Brimley, which I should note I would rather do than lose to State. SOB: Whatever. Look, this team has taken some real hits, and I know it's just a matter of time before we get back on track. Our quarterback is a young guy and I have confidence that he'll represent the Tide well. We just need a lucky streak. TROUGH: Well, your quarterback John Walker Texas Ranger is likely going to have a Beckwith-induced streak in his pants this weekend...not sure how "lucky" it will be. SOB: It's John Parker Wilson. He's Tide through and through. TROUGH: Wow, you mean he sucks from the inside? I bet that hurts. He's terrible - he should just hand the ball off to Terence Trent D'Arby on every play. SOB: Jeez - his name is Kenneth. TROUGH: I thought he changed it to Sananda Maitreya? That's an awesome football name. Can you imagine that coming from a press box? "Sananda takes it to the barn! Sananda-rama!" SOB: I have no idea what I'm doing here. Honestly. This is...I'm repulsed. TROUGH: I bet it felt good for Croom to win his first SEC game in like 40 years, especially against his old team. Where do you think he celebrated? I bet he went to a Shula's Steakhouse. SOB: Yeah, sure, whatever. TROUGH: In the past, he might have ordered a steak, and when the garcon inquired about doneness, he'd say "like the Crimson Tide." And the waiter would know that that meant "crimson in the middle," or medium-rare. Now if he asked for his steak "like the Crismon Tide," it would come out stuffed with grubby dollar bills and slathered in dog feces, sitting in a pool of stripper perfume. Houndstooth napkin, of course. SOB: All of a sudden, I'm starving. TROUGH: Oh, I wish I had some breakfast left over. I made some Francakes, but they don't hang around too long. You think they're going to be there when you turn around, but they're gone. Poof. CAPTAIN COOT: Poof! (fanning rear) SOB: Look, this was a bad idea. TROUGH: Blah blah Bear Namath Kolber. Let's talk about Alabama football - what phrase would you use to describe Gene Stallings? I thought about it this week and I came up with "old lady's tongue upon waking." SOB: He won a championship, which is more than your coach can say. TROUGH: Hey, hey - regardless of your opinion of Miles' public speaking ability, surely you don't actually think he would have problems saying "He won a championship." It's only 4 words. SOB: Your guy over there in the captain's hat looks like he's...well, he looks like he's soiling himself. CAPTAIN COOT: He chun a wampionsheep...no, he wund a chapstick...I thinked I got it! I got it! I can be coach! It's "He wanded a cheaptrick!" TROUGH: No, that was Mike Price. CAPTAIN COOT: Looky! (lifts shirt, revealing pasties) SOB: I'm going to be ill. TROUGH: Do you really need to DuBose? I'll get you a trashcan or something. SOB: I should really be going. This is ridiculous. TROUGH: What do you think it's going to take for Alabama to return to glory? SOB: Hold on - that's a real question. Really? TROUGH: Yeah. Is it going to take Tom Berenger, like in that Junction Boys tripe? He was good in Major League. Did you know that the guy who played Pedro Cerrano is the same guy that was on 24 as President David Palmer? That's your quarterback's name, right? SOB: Oh good heavens. I really have to get going. TROUGH: Go where? Back to the "Wishing Well," Sananda? Back to Loosaslutsca to avoid the scourge in Tiger Stadium? My hope is that Laron velvethammers Darby out of the backfield and leaves a white stripe on the helmet, like a minus sign. Minus-34. Yeah, that sounds like a good rushing number for our top-ranked defense. SOB: Anything could happen in the SEC. TROUGH: Even Bear's return? Doubtful - you would have to get a stand-in, probably. If Tom Berenger isn't free, I think Brian Dennehy might be a good choice. SOB: This was miserable. TROUGH: Roll Croomson Tide! Seriously, thanks for coming by - we do appreciate it. I mean, we're going to crush you like a rotting melon and I just wanted to give you a chance to know that. Have fun in Baton Rouge - try all of our dippin' sauces. Check it out - Coot's making some now. CAPTAIN COOT: Sauce burns! (squeezing contents of navel into small plastic cup) SOB: I have never seen anything so disgusting in my life. TROUGH: You have seen that Tiffin kid kick, right? You have seen State play in ALL other SEC games, right? I can't wait to see Laron yellow hammer your players all over the field. I'm glad we'll give you the chance to warm up before the Iron Bowl. SOB: This...this is over. TROUGH: Bye bye, Bammer. Here's a cowbell I painted in elephant blood for you. SOB: ... (rises, leaves) CAPTAIN COOT: (sobbing) He forgot his sauce. TROUGH: It's ok, Coot. He's forgotten his victory, too. He's forgotten that memories are like the autumn breeze and chili is like water but with meat. He'll remember soon enough. He'll remember. Elephants never forget. Pachyderms: 6 Tigers: 24 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.