Jackie Sherrill's triumphant return to Starkville was...er...cut short when he passed too close to the Bulldog practice field. The sheer suck of the team acted like a black hole, pulling Sherrill into a wormhole. At the moment that Sherrill was about to be pulled into like 40 different dimensions (incredibly, the same theoretical planes that Urban Meyer's offense occupies), the Bulldogs actually gained positive yards when a running back tripped and fell forward. The wormhole closed up with Sherrill still half-hanging out, swinging in space, like a cosmic cowbell. These floating, writhing legs will soon have a Dairy Queen beneath them because everybody loves Blizzards even continuum-warped JackieSherrillfeet. THE MAN USED SEVERED GONADS TO MOTIVATE HE DESERVES A DQ     "Ray, people aren't coming. They aren't coming for reasons they can't fathom, but I would wager that it's our unbelievable ineptitude that's keeping them away. I've decided to ditch this useless sandwich bag of toenail clippings we call a team, and use these fellows. Ray, this the 1919 White Sox team. Now, I know what you're thinking...I only got 9 of them and I need 2 more. Well, the way we're playing, does it matter? Ray, I can see it in your eyes - you're worried about that fact that they're dead. So is our offense, Ray. And our defense. The one constant through it all has been our suck, but you and me can change that. These guys have two things going for them...one, they cheat. Two, they're ghosts, Ray. You can't tackle a ghost, can you?" At this point, the head groundskeeper decides it better not to tell Coach Croom that his name is not "Ray," but "Earl." Earl watches Coach Croom hand the ball to one of the ghosts. The ball just falls to the ground, because ghosts can't hold anything. Earl wants to yell "FUMBLE" real bad but holds his tongue. Literally. It feels weird. Coach Croom tries to hand the ball off to several more ghosts, and each time the ball kicks up dust as it hits the ground. Coach Croom simply walks off into the pasture, one lonely cowbell clanging in the Starkville air. This week's tussle welcomes the Bulldogs from "STAYHT" into Tiger Stadium for one of the dreaded 11:30 a.m. kickoffs. While this time is ideal for a light brunch, a pre-noon kickoff and LSU football go together like STAYHT and first downs. Maybe the sun will be high and bright and will affect the Bulldogs' eyesight just enough so that they don't have to watch the melee. This has all of the markings of a Peach - Bowl - Miami - oh - sweet - heavens - that - was - awful - you're - all - fired type of game, but you can never understimate the emotion of a conference game, especially at a time of day when LSU fans haven't even had Second Sausage (the pork ingestion period that typically follows breakfast and brunch but is before lunch) yet. State has some serious issues; the biggest of these is of course that they are State. The Bulldogs lost to Tulane, which means LSU may score over 63,000 points if we are able to exploit State's most obvious weakness: getting off the bus. The human nose can distinguish more than 10,000 smells, none of which apparently are "Bulldog Football," because people still continue to watch. Neil Peart, the drummer for the rock band Rush, uses cowbells in his drum kit? This is the closest that Bulldog fans will ever come to seeing their team and the words "progressive" and "rush" appear together. Kalik, the official beer of the Bahamas, has cowbells for a logo? The word "Kalik" is a play on the sound of cowbells clanging. It takes over 30 Kaliks to watch a State game without jabbing your eyes out with a spork. When a football player is hit really hard and dazed, it's often referred to as "having their bell rung." State fans could eliminate the need to smuggle in cowbells and just enjoy the resounding clang when LSU pounds on the State players. It's like Zales and Jared had a Starkville baby. We wish we had more to say; we tried an in-depth analysis of State's offensive output but realized the numbers are incomplete. Oh wait - they are actually complete. Yikes. This one is ugly-like. We're sorry if the Trough sucks...maybe we can't compete for laughs with the Bulldog offense? Prediction Second Sausage, 49 Croomers, 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.