It was a dark and stormy night.
The weather radio went off several times to issue severe thunderstorm warnings, in each instance indicating the risk of successively larger increments of hail size, from peas to pennies to quarters. The wind blew down enough limbs in my yard that I had to clear them off of the driveway to get to work this morning. Our power went out from about 9:15 last night until about 5:15 this morning.
My house at around midnight.
Let me hasten to add that we are perfectly fine, but the lack of electricity left me unable to write and consigned me to a sooner than usual bedtime, so, instead of having vivid dreams like Peter Bean, I wound up waking up early this morning and wondering, "What am I going to write today that I should have written last night?"
It then dawned on me that a vaguely formed thought about Friday night football had been kicking around in the back of my head, so, in the wee hours of this a.m., I put together a few thoughts upon the subject, sparking off many articulate and impassioned responses (most of which were retorts) in the comments here at Dawg Sports, from Orson Swindle, and from Orson's readers. The fine work done by everyone in rebuttal convinced me that I had been wrong and I thank all of you who took the time to refute my arguments.
This does, however, mean that I am a point down for the week . . . more than one point down, in fact, if you count the fact that I am trailing in the second-round balloting, so, clearly, there is lost ground to be regained.
Here are your Wednesday Random Crazy Ideas:
- Like many other denizens of Bulldog Nation, I am opposed to Il Duce's efforts to strip the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party of its historic nickname. At the same time, Orson Swindle is trying to popularize the "Saturday Night Live" Peter O'Toole impersonation involving the phrase "ONE HUNDRED COCKTAILS!!!!" I say let's kill two birds with one stone; if the Rose Bowl has a parade, the Georgia-Florida game can have one, too . . . and we can invite Peter O'Toole to serve as grand marshal of the festive jaunt through Jacksonville. (I would add, however, that no Bulldog quarterbacks, offensive linemen, tight ends, or linebackers should be permitted to attend the parade, just to be on the safe side.)
- Really, the second one isn't so much a random crazy idea as it is a leap of faith. I've been mulling this one over ever since Mark Richt revealed the following details to an interviewer:
So, I gave this real nice little devotion to my kids and I was feeling pretty good about life and I began to pray on my way to work and I said, 'Lord, I really want to obey you and I just really want to obey you now.' And my spirit just kind of said, 'Well, why don't you obey me?' I knew exactly what God was talking about. So I knew if I didn't do it now, I'm really going to find myself in a real heap of trouble.
I called Mike in on the Thursday of the game and he had to call the game on Saturday. I told him, 'I don't care what happens in the game, but all I know is if I don't have you take over, I'm in direct disobedience to the Lord.'
I like that attitude and I think we should take it out for a spin, so here's my idea: I think Damon Evans should call Donald Ratajczak or Dan Radakovich or Grigori Rasputin---whichever one is the athletic director at Georgia Tech---and offer to swap season openers.
The Yellow Jackets can host Oklahoma State on September 1. We'll take their game in South Bend. Those haughty Notre Dame folks think they're the Chosen People because their school is named for a church and they have "Touchdown Jesus" painted on the side of a building? Sorry, Charlie . . . God told Mark Richt to make Mike Bobo our offensive coordinator.
Granted, I told him the same thing, but it carries a little more credibility coming from the Almighty.
An offensive coordinator chosen on high against a defense as bad as that? That's as safe a bet as Jake and Elwood saving the orphanage!
Those are the somewhat batty notions rattling around in my noggin this evening. Let me know what you think of those ideas.