It's That Time of Year Again.

Football season dawns like an ass crack from a plumber's pants. Multitudes of gladiators in steamy arenas of sod and brawn break forth in a cascading display of strength and agility. Another Razorback campaign is upon us, and I humbly bequeath my ruminations to your visual senses.

Much more than bacon is shakin, my friends, as hope again permeates the soul of the Hog Nation. The king is dead, 'tis true. What seemed like but a beautiful dream last season is now concrete truth - Houston Nutt is no longer the coach of the Arkansas Razorbacks, and our wrath will be born upon the countryside of the southeast. No man, woman, nor babe shall escape the flaming sword of history's booming wrath. A history yet to be written, but still foretold in the anals of other history that has already been written - Petrion. The kicker of asses.

Like a touched cock grows, our spirit swells with pride. Our potential knows no limits and our destiny is wonderful. 22 warriors clad in their plastic armor will gather at the line of truth to face their worthy adversaries, only to emerge victorious! At least 7 times. The crushing blows of defeat will be tasted with less frequency, but the moist embrace of our adoring fans will carry them above every obstacle, for we are RAZORBACKS. And we know no fear, except that of Tebow, and we attack with humility, grace and trepidation.

My dear friends, enjoy this time of wonder. This time of unbridled enthusiasm and feminine emotion. Embrace your hate and your love and give in to the Red Side. I'll be right there with you, carrying the banner of bacon and the sword of pork.

Bacon Out