"Well, I'm not usually one for speeches, so goodbye." - Ron Swanson

It's not you, it's me.

The only Van Halen that truly matters y'all...

Historically, I've long hated change. It has been my standard operating procedure since even before Van Halen transformed into Van Hagar and also well before something called New Coke hit grocery shelves.

Yes, whoever coined the phrase, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!" is one of my favorite philosophers.

Sure there were signs of cracks in my exterior; small instances that one could point to and say, "Hey, you're not so scared of doing things differently after all." For instance, as I grew up I liked to rearrange my room at times, move furniture around and see what space opened up. In adulthood I also once had a brief, uneventful, and sublimely lacking affair with something called "decaf" coffee.

But for the most part, I've long enjoyed living each day in comfortable and familiar environs. That said, as I age I've noticed a need developing; a need to appreciate opportunities to stretch my horizon, challenge my own status quo, and take different paths through this jungle of Life.

A large part of that is why this blog has throttled down to a virtual halt. When my girls were young they would be in bed and asleep by 8:00pm most nights. I'm not much for mainstream television, so that left me the better part of two hours to write about my Alma Mater, her athletic developments in particular.

I got a real charge out of prepping a couple posts, scheduling them to publish about the time the ol' Dawgbone.com woke up, and then seeing the stats climb. There's some of you that have had this little blog bookmarked just about since its inception. Others have joined up along the way, some of those have even stuck around. I truly appreciate your visits, your comments, the emails, the criticisms, the laughs, the lows endured together that have made us stronger, and just the camaraderie along what will have been a ten year journey next month.

No, today is not the very end of Bernie's Dawg Blawg. But today is the start of something new for me that will mean...yes, somehow...even less posts here.

You see, one change I've been working on for some time (really ever since this post a few years back when I expected to go on a little hiatus) is broadening my writing into other avenues. And while some of those topics may have been broached here, it just seems a better idea to pivot rather than force content that doesn't always fit into what we've built here.

So no Ron Swanson, this isn't a good bye so much as a chance to introduce you to a new venture. It's something I guess I'd knew I'd always get around to...one of these days...

the Sunday Misery is moonlight through the pines

"Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers..."

Love me some Skynard. But this week, like no other, I prefer just an old sweet song.

My tell-tale Dawg heart
In elementary school, teachers invited us to the front of the room to either show or tell. You had an option to show the class something that was important to you, or tell them something that was important to you.

Can you guess what I usually chose?

In 1972 my parents moved to Athens GA. I was two and a half years old. I didn't move away until I went off to college.

In my grade school years I remember passing the railroad tracks on the east side of Sanford and seeing it full of empty beer and whiskey bottles plus the occasional worn-down recliner on the way to Sunday School.

After the National Championship in the 1981 Sugar Bowl, I remember all of the billboards around Athens featuring the Junkyard Dawgs and the phrase "Hunker Down"!

Somewhere around 1983, I remember the house that was built adjacent to the Dooley's home near the intersection of West Lake Dr and Milledge Cir. The joke was that Coach was building it for Herschel. I was almost young enough to believe it.

Later, I went to Cedar Shoals High School. I was a couple years behind Athens Good Samaritan Bryant Gantt. He's the guy you've seen on the Georgia sideline probably since the Donnan years. As a lifelong fan turned employee of the University, he's on his way to becoming the only contemporary I know that is on a trajectory that legends like Coach Dooley and, dare I say, Coach Magill were on decades ago.

In 1988 I graduated high school at Stegeman Coliseum. The same Steg I used to (occasionally) skip Wednesday night choir practice with Chip to see Durham's Hoop Dawgs play.

In the Fall of 1989 I completed my transfer from LaGrange College and enrolled at UGA. ("Still in peaceful dreams I see, the road leads back to you.) It was what I have sometimes affectionately referred to here on the blog as my "first sophomore year" of college. It was also Goff's first year as head coach.

In 1990 Coach Webber's Diamond Dawgs won the College World Series. At this point I had been to (at least) twice as many baseball games on campus as I had football games. I bet a majority of today's freshman don't even know what or where Foley Field is.

Beauties.

Also in 1990 I went from being on Academic probation to Honor Roll. A feat Coach Goff, unfortunately, could not replicate. I eventually graduated in 1993. He was fired in 1995. After the similar up and down trajectories of our UGA careers, I got a diploma and he got Zaxby's. Since it was Guthrie's that got me through all those years, I still say I got the better separation package.

In 1996, at Coach Donnan's debut they gave out t-shirts. But we lost to Southern Miss 11-7 and I saw a dude take our a lighter and burn his new souvenir before he even left Sanford. Sidenote - I think Kirby was a sophomore on that team.

In 1997 I married Jenn, the biggest, most badass Dawg fan I know. Our first dance was to a little tune called Georgia, by Ray Charles.

Also in 1997 I cried after a football game for the first time when Donnan's Dawgs beat Florida. Well, they didn't beat them so much as they whooped their ass until the rules stated that they had to stop.

In 2000 I went back to UGA to become what we affectionately refer to as a "Double Dawg", so I had a student ID for both Donnan's final season as well as Richt's first.

In 2002 Jenn and I began our lil Dawg family. Nothing cuter than a girl in pigtails wearing Georgia red!

I documented most of the remaining years in this post-Richt firing post. I don't want to bore you down an already beaten path, but I would like emphasize that all the way through the Richt era I strengthened friendships with friends like Nama, Fred, Joe Waterloo, Cord, and their wives and families around Georgia football.

Undefeated Tailgate Crew

Like you I've also made many friends around tailgates like Tanner, Hillary, the Wrangler, Dustin, Doherty, Matt, and their wives and families. Saturdays in the fall just aren't the same without them.

Thanks to social media I got to meet Robert and Kerri plus her husband Barry out in Boulder in '09. I also met Tony on that trip, on a bourbon aisle of a local liquor store of course. On the concourse right before Ralphie ran onto Folsom Field, Ben screamed at me and we yelled "Go Dawgs!" together for the first time.

On other trips, UGA events, and the occasional Drive By Truckers concert I've met other Damn Good Dawg fans like Mackie, Krisi, Jen from La Jolla, Buddy, the Thinking Bulldog, Groo, Kit, Jake & April & Bryan, Sorrow & Trevin, DentalDawg, Chase, Andrew, Brad, Sandy, Angie, Scott from the Boro, Paul Westerdawg, John aka the Oconee River Rat, Tony & Russ, Jason, and of course the Eternal Redcoat Brett.

I've shared a ride to Columbia SC with Salty to share some beers with Ben, only to suffer through the worst beat down I've seen our Dawgs take.

After the Dawgs' win in Jacksonville Derrick, Colby, and Eddie helped me sacrifice my car. Next year we're going to find a different way to celebrate a WLOCP win.

Even through all the ups and downs, the relationships have held me true.

OUR tell-tale Dawg heart
That's a really, really long way of pointing out that we all have a story. It's moments like this, before your team plays its biggest game in decades, that we as fans tend to reflect on how we, personally, got here.

As the old saying goes, it's not the destination but the journey that's important. Today, here on the eve of the 2018 College Football National Championship, I respectfully disagree. It's both the journey and the destination.

It's the moonlight through those Georgia pines. It's the old sweet song that keeps bringing us back each and every August.

We've all worked through our own moments of fear and trepidation to get here. We've all hugged perfect strangers in the stands of Sanford and other stadiums in the Southeast and beyond when some player wearing that most magnificently beautiful helmet made a play. We've all buried our heads in our hands more often than we've raised them to the Heavens.

And here we are. It started in our veins, it coursed through our heart, and brought us to our feet!

Tweet Champs!

We've stood together in agony. We've put our arms around each other in desperation. We've traveled the nation and drank towns dry. We've suffered through coaching searches and injuries and dropped passes and also getting passed on by the national narrative.

But Kirby's team has punched its own ticket. It's been a fabulous ride...

2017's Final stanza
...but it ain't over. This magical season just had to end with Alabama. Like no other the Tide have stood between us and greatness the most often and the most resolute. They held us five yards short. They've beat us down twice in our own stadium in the last nine years.

And you may have heard recently that our coach is their former assistant. While the national media lazily tries to draw similarities, we need to remember that Kirby is quick to point out the differences. Tucker's defense is more like Junkyard Dawgs than Saban Crimson clones.

After all, sheep are for Tenersee "farmers".

Yes, this season has to end with Alabama. And come Monday night (or very early Tuesday morning) there's no reason the winner can't be Georgia. After all, the Tide had to fight their way in. They are still trying to prove they belong. The national analysts keep saying "It's an all SEC final!". But only one of us is the conference champion. They may like the cut of the Tide's jib, but Saban failed to win his own damn division.

Meanwhile some keep saying "well goshdarn whatever happens happens and beyond a Rose Bowl berth this season is just gravy".

Is that you? Are you satisfied? Is that defeatist attitude something our coaches and players would endorse? Is that why Fromm set the edge for Sony last Monday night so that you could post your #RoseBowl excitement on bookface and scream with glee just so he and Chubb and Zo and Bellamy and Dominick could have the chance to friggin' lose their final game of their Georgia Bulldog career? Is that why Lorenzo Carter finally came back down to Earth earlier this week after hovering endlessly over the Rose Bowl turf to block that damn kick?

Dude, your sadness makes Alanis Morisette want to make another starving dog commercial. Get a gotdamn grip!

We're Georgia and we belong right where we are. They're the ones that need to prove they belong. They're the ones that're bringing their cousins to Atlanta...as dates. They're the ones that have a complacent fan base. They're the ones with a coach that's spent 20 years on AARP benefits.

Let's bring this home. Let's complete this journey! Our destination has been the same since we became Dawg fans! Our goal hasn't wavered since Bellamy stripped sacked that Domer in South Bend! Our focus has been steadfast since the blood coursed through the veins into our heart and brought us to our feet!

Truly, I don't know if we'll win tomorrow, but I can't think of one reason why we can't. We've come this far, we've followed our own paths. For 37 years we've turned our heads towards the Southwest corner for the Battle Hymn until we've developed a crick in our neck. We've joined hands and raised our four fingers and most recently a phone's flashlight to beckon our own inner Glory Glory!

I don't know what the future holds, but I know it's bright and I only want it brighter. Like, NOW! I want the confetti to drench and nearly drown Nick Chubb. I want to see Sony make #JazzHands and snow angels on the Mercedes-Benz floor. I want to see that gap in Zo's smile as he hoists the trophy.  I want to see Bellamy holding the ball he stripped from Hurts with two minutes left on the stage as he accepts the MVP award.

I want to hug my kids with a championship hug. I want my wife to know the joy that she's been been screaming and longing for all these years. I want my friends to feel the joy that I know they've all earned ten times over. I want you, my loyal and eager Reader, to enjoy the long and joyous smile of a truly satisfied Georgia Buldog fan.

Glory Glory, let us bow our thankful heads y'all....dear Lord, we thank you for the opportunity to play in Atlanta one more time. Please let Roquan find many a ball carrier and Wynn raise Chubb to your Heavens at least one more time! In the name of Herschel's Separated Shoulder and Munson's Metal Steel Chair, Amen! Go Dawgs!

#KeeptheMainThingtheMainThing

Owning up.

Before my blood starts to boil too heavily. Before Butchie lays one more brick. Before the Dawgvent fires one more coach. I need to let y'all know that I won't be in Sanford for the season's biggest game Saturday. 

And I'm totally fine with it.

VIA

Parenthood calls as the oldest has a dress picked out for her first Homecoming dance. Once the game time was announced last week I entertained the idea of trying to be in two places at once, but the wife reminded me that I'm no longer superhuman, and that there's doubts I ever was. And I refuse to go for just a half and leave two empty seats without voices, ones that will no doubt be needed.

Why is this any of your business? Well, I've always went about this blogging thing with the idea that its voice would not come from the outskirts. I want its voice to come from the crowd! After all, just a few days after my first ever post at BerniesDawgBlawgDOTcom we traveled out to Tempe AZ and drank that town dry! Sure, there have been some times when I've missed home games and many times when I've missed away games, yet still wrote about them. But...it's just different.

Plus, I plan to tear Tenersee a new ass this week. And I want to come clean that I won't be there Saturday to walk the walk (this time), as it were and so to speak. These bastards still haven't stop laughing about Chubb's injury last year. They play cover up the crime more often than they shove funnels of boxed wine up their nether regions.

I hate tennessee. I will be here all week to let you know how much. I will be here everyday to help you intensify your own hillbilly loathing. I will give you your weekly dose of misery on Friday, filled to the brim with angst and anger towards these dumb ass inbreds with a fanciful bricklayer as their coach.

I just can't join you Saturday, because it fills my heart more to see my girl wear a corsage that I picked out for her.

Go Dawgs! And also, Go Dads!

Coach Richt - a personal memoir from his era

"Being a part of Georgia is something I get to do everyday. 

And I'm very grateful for it." 

"That I loved Georgia and I did it the right way."

- Mark Richt

It's been a hard week. You've probably heard all the analogies of losing a friend, saying goodbye, grief and loss. But it's also a time of reflection, remembrances, and thankfulness. Thankful because Georgia football is where it is today because of this man.

Mostly, I take solace in seeing that Coach Richt is at perfect peace. After all, it will be him and his lovely wife Kathryn that will certainly work hard to make the transition easier for his staff and their families, all while making a big transition of their own.

So I’ve started this post three different times in three different ways. Approximately 1500 words later I’ve come to realize that this tweet is the best that I’ve got.

In the end, my kids learned to be Georgia Bulldog fans in the @MarkRicht era. As a dad, I wouldn't have it any other way. Go #Dawgs!

— Bernie (@BernieDawg) November 29, 2015

I also realize that I’m writing this for posterity in many ways. Something to look back on fondly, in all its highs and lows, and with a tone of appreciation and thankfulness. Something to help my own kids (maybe even my grandkids if we can manage to keep the Internet afloat that long) remember this time period that has come to a close. You know, a glimpse into what our house has been like since just before they were born all the way into their teenage years. Yes, perhaps the best way to show my appreciation of the Coach Richt Era is to recall some key moments of the last 16 years and 15 seasons and how we shared them as a family.

December 2000 - Richt is introduced as the new head coach to succeed Jim Donnan. I remember watching the press conference with my wife. We both remarked at how young he looked. I also remember seeing their kids (Johnathan, David, Zach, and Anya) sitting with Kathryn and immediately impressed with his genuineness in the way he talked about family, his faith, and wanting to win in Athens.

October 6, 2001 - Wife and I are watching the noon kickoff of the Georgia-Tennessee game. The Vols sprint out to that early lead, but it’s close from there on out. Unfortunately, Jenn has to leave for work at halftime when it’s tied 17-17. After P-44 Haynes secured the victory and the Hobnail Boot had broken their nose, I called her with the news.

“We won. We beat Tennessee in Knoxville!”

“No we didn’t. You’re lying.”

It was then that I realized I would never find the words to describe what had happened. Georgia had finished the drill. The team was confident in the moment of truth and had executed to perfection. What a strangely intoxicating feeling!

The girls with Coach, and some weird guy
whose hunker down done broke.

August 2003 - By now we have a one and a half year old and Richt has helped us knock the lid off the program with his first SEC title. The popularity of the program shows at “Picture Day”. I brought my little girl, complete with stroller and diaper bag, as well as my neighbor Allen and his young son Logan. Uga is the most popular pic, especially with kids, and we’re glad we are early as the mascot’s line is halfway around the Classic Center by the time we get there. After waiting for an hour or so, someone comes out and draws an imaginary line just in front of us and says that everyone behind that line isn’t getting a picture with Uga.

We dejectedly make our way to Richt’s line as he is a fairly close second to Uga at this point in his career. We’re not too far off either, but still find ourselves in a race against the clock before the event closes. Otherwise we’ve driven an hour and spent an entire afternoon waiting in lines for nothing. Should have made it easily, but this is before they cracked down on memorabilia hoarders that required so much attention for the twenty items they brought in. Five o’clock came and went and Richt was still posing and signing. He stayed an extra hour to fit everyone else in. He posed with my little girl and signed a picture to her. She smiled. What a great day!

The Tailgate Crew

September 2005/2006 - Wife and I make the road trip to Starkville and Nama and I make the one to Oxford the following year. There’s nothing like seeing the Dawgs on the road. And these two trips were highlight type experiences back during a stretch when Richt’s teams were world beaters on the road. The band, the road whites, singing Glory, Glory in an opponent’s stadium, the team coming over to greet the fans after the clock drains, Coach Richt with the thumbs raised to the crowd...ain’t nothing better than that as a Georgia Bulldog fan. And Coach Richt embraced all of it. He always said he loved Georgia. More importantly he always showed it with his actions. He walked the walk and this was the time period I really started to feel a connection with Mark Richt as both the coach of my football team as well as a man on this Earth.

September 2007 - My oldest is six and I think it was Western Carolina because I remember Conner asking me what a Catamount is. I answered like any proud, intelligent father would, “Hey sweetheart, the cotton candy guy is coming up the aisle!” Georgia rolls and the crowd is pretty into it. Even though the opponent was a cupcake, it was pretty exciting to see Stafford and Moreno and Brown and Massaquoi click on all cylinders. As we near halftime I begin to worry like most dads do when they bring their young ones to games - Is she going to ask to leave soon? I want to see some of these backups play. Plus the cotton candy is long gone. It’s a matter of time before she’s done as well. Which is why it caught me off guard when she looked at me, eyes full of excitement, and asked “Dad, can we stay the whole game?!?”

"Yes honey. We absolutely can stay the whole game." Got a little dusty up there all of a sudden.

September 2008 - Wife and I take the kids to the Central Michigan game. My youngest was four at the time and takes the entire scene in, from the flags on the field pregame to the trumpet in the southwest corner. She could do this because her older sister was taking care of searching for the cotton candy vendors. :)  Y’all probably remember the biggest highlight of the game. If you don’t, perhaps Mrs. Wendy’s question at pre-school the next Monday and Ainsley’s subsequent response will refresh your memory.

“Anything exciting happen this weekend?”

“Yeh! Knowshon jumped over a guy!!”

The next week, I start a blog before the South Carolina game and then we head out west to Tempe. Nama, Ann and I take the town by storm. AJ Green was superhuman and Knowshon defied gravity. It was a dry heat and we left it a dry town. Almost just like we found it. Again, ain’t nothing like being a Road Dawg!

Sun Devil Stadium

  Dawgs On Top!         

January 2009 - Speaking of Road Dawgs, the family heads down to Orlando to see Stafford and Moreno’s last game. Somehow we manage this without them realizing just how close we are to Disney World and avoid the trip costing an arm and a leg. (Sorry, kids. But to be fair we had recently taken y’all there...twice)

May 2009 - Here you can read about the one time I got to interview Coach Richt. And by interview, I mean when you have a buddy that wins a supermarket contest that allows you to eat nachos and ask the head coach a question. The post is a comical review of the evening, but it was a pretty cool experience for sure.

That time Kathryn and I had lunch and she
insisted on a picture with me.

December 2010 through 2011 offseason - Like any long term relationship, there is a period of darkness. I declare that Richt and I are on a break, which was my humorous way of coming to grips with Richt's only losing season.

June 2012 - The dance between embracing a coach and loving a program is a slippery one. In this post I attempt once again to reset the expectations as well as set the bar high. It was as difficult to read as it was to write, but I think it’s as fair an assessment as I could manage. The reason I mention it here is twofold: 1) we may look back on this 2012 team as one of Richt’s most talented and resilient, especially in terms of leadership within the roster, and 2) …..(next slide please)...

Rare moment when no one pictured
is on their Twitter phones.

December 2012 - My favorite post of the 4000+ in the history of the blog leads up to Coach Richt’s biggest game in his career (imho). Having responded to national lack of respect, and rallied the team after getting steam-rolled in Columbia SC, Richt leads the team back to Atlanta for the second year in a row. The Dawgs go toe to toe with mighty Alabama for the right to beat Notre Dame and become National Champions. The wife and I give everything we’ve got because that’s exactly what our team did. She showed the Bama fans around us what true team spirit looks like and I nearly out-sprinted Ogletree to the endzone on the blocked kick. I can honestly say, walking out of the Georgia Dome that night was the weirdest experience I’ve ever had as a Georgia fan. I’ve walked out of stadiums elated with wins and dejected over losses, many times over. But to feel so immensely proud while so very depressed was something I’ll never forget and I'll never get over.

Who has the bigger smile?

June 2014 - My youngest loves some football. If you follow me on twitter you know this already. She’s got quite the arm. Jennifer and I sign her up for Coach Richt’s camp and when I show up at Butts-Mehre to drop her off I’m less surprised that there are like 150-200 kids there than I am that there’s only one girl...the one I brought. Competing is easy for Ainsley, but taking the stares and the casual comments about her gender was less so. Still, Richt’s staff put her completely at ease. From his secretary Ms. Hunt to Coach Inman and everyone in between, she settled in and got in line. I was supposed to leave her for the day, but couldn’t help but return after one trip to Jittery Joe’s to see how things were going.

What’s the word for when the pride you have for your kid crosses paths with the pride you have in your team? At the end of the day, once again Coach Richt stayed late to sign all the t-shirts, pictures, gloves, and footballs. He wasn’t even upset when Ainsley pulled out of his line to get a picture with Christian Robinson first.

Sunday - Ironically, Ainsley and I had just finished throwing the football. As we walked into the house I checked my phone.

“Oh no. Really?”

“What is it Dad?’

“They fired Richt.”

From mine to yours Coach...thanks!

You blink and suddenly your little girl has gone from the excitement of Knowshon “jumping over a guy” to this young lady with beautiful eyes that are filled with the same questions an adult ponders - “What’s next? Who’s the coach? Where’d the time go?” - and you have to explain that this is one of those times when there are more questions than answers.

We had nearly 16 years and 15 seasons with one of college football’s greatest coaches. We saw Mark Richt grow from that young guy trying his best to emulate his own personal role models and make them proud, to a seasoned coach and a magnificent molder of young men. We're all better for the experience, all the highs and the lows and the in-betweens. As a dad, a fan, a man, an alum, an Athenian...I'm eternally thankful for the experience.

Come to think of it, perhaps there are two answers that I have after all. I know that the University of Georgia will never have a finer representative for the program we hold so dear. And I know that my family was blessed to have shared this time with him as part of the Georgia Bulldog Nation. 

Thanks for reading. And feel free to share your own memories below.

Go Dawgs!

"Strikes and gutters, ups and downs."

Hey look! All this down time and I still remember how to embed a vid.

Back when I told y'all I was slowing things down here I didn't expect things to get to such a crawl. Not going to apologize of course, it's just that suddenly life got up and got busy. What have I been doing while slacking off on blogging this offseason? Since you asked, changing jobs is one...lots of projects around the house...said goodbye to a 16 year relationship with our old water heater, and all I got as a parting gift was an insurance claim...watched all of Sons of Anarchy...

However, I do have some things working. I should have a Georgia football related book review up in a day or so. Joining Weiszer and Page on their Bulldog Bytes Podcast later this week. And hoping SEC Media Days will provide some blog fodder. Actually, has it ever not?

And to be perfectly honest, the down time has been nice. The feeling the need to write something each night to post the next morning had gotten to me. Things will pick up in August as camp breaks and the season looms nearer on the horizon. In some way, it will pick up around here as well. Just not at the break neck speed of a five star blogger.

I think Rivals has downgraded me to a two star. Which is about right when you consider my forty time.

Sunday Thoughts on icing cupcakes

It's best to break games like this down into what we learned. And I'll do this in order starting with the most important...

- Lee Greenwood plays some kind of miniature saxophone. Weirdly cute y'all.
- Nick Chubb has a serious violent streak when you try and tackle him prior to when he is ready to be tackled.

via DawgJaytee

- Andrews, Mason, Herrera, Wilson, et al didn't let the rest of the team sleep too late.

- Concession stands ran out of pizza too early. Which made me look bad in front of the kids. Boo. Hiss.

- UGA has some badass members of the military. Seriously, is there anything General James Livingston hasn't done to protect our freedoms? Other than try and tackle Nick Chubb prior to being ready to be tackled.

- Chris Conley uses the force of stretching out for the ball better than the average Jedi.

- We can haz Rumph and Scott-Wesley...in the same game, not just the same jersey.

- Charleston Southern has a really, really good punter.

- Lee Greenwood is shorter than I expected.

- I shouldn't take the 12yo with me to the concession stand.

- No. In actuality, Georgia fans don't spit on opposing fans.

- With (or without) the ball in his hands, Quayvon runs with bad intentions.

- Kyle Karempelis is our most alliterative tailback.

- Richt asked Bobo to allow the Georgia punters to rest this week. He obliged. 

- The 10yo danced with me during Sanford Karaoke. 

Buttercup, don't break my heart. What'd I miss?

Friday Misery - "Bye" does not = "Off"

Your fake juice makes me sick
sitting there all fat on your bye week hitting F5 refresh on your keyboard like you don't having nuthin better to do than check to see if there's any tiny shred of a morsel of Gurley news even though your chicken nuggets have been burning in the oven for three hours and you've been banned from the dawgvent for over a week you just can't help but resist the urge to scratch your lazy ass so that you can just somehow manage to open this new message bored account and be able to post...

Jus hurd gurlee spended for the res of the seeson. Tessted posituve for meth last weak. I'v gotta go under cover and feed my cat for a minute. Be back tonight with mor detales.

You're gonna need a bigger bridge for your troubled water asshole.

Joy. So proud to call you a fellow fan, dipshit. Does your name begin with a "B" and end with a "ryan Allen"? No? Well, you're soaking in it asshole.

Seriously, you make me sick. I make me sick. She makes me sick. He makes me really sick. We all, as a make me sick conglomerate, make me ill in my stupid stomach. We're like Mark May talking out his mouth hole sideways again stupid. We can't resist looking ahead and past Jacksonville. We just can't resist chattingtweetingtalkingpostingblabbering about how bad Florida is and how dead they are when Gurley gets back there in the Wild Dawg. "They're so bad and Muschamp's gonna get fired and They shouldn't even show up and OMG did you see what Missouri did?"

BREAKING: 2002 CALLED AND IS STILL WAITING ON A VALID ARGUMENT TO COME OUTTA THAT GAP JUST NORTH OF YOUR CHIN.

I'm a dipshit. She's a dipshit. He's mostest definitely a dipshit. Together we're all a bunch of stupid ignorant morons. Way...WAY...WAY!!!!..below Ron Zook level of being and performing as an idiot. Because his sorry ass beat Georgia. TWICE!

Get your head up Captain Craptastic! It's a bye week, but it's not an off week for hating Florida. Because there IS NO off week for hating Florida. We're committed to this every year, every month, every week and every day.

DONT MAKE ME USE ANY MORE ALL CAPS!!!

7.6 pounds of a Hersman hopeful
She was rescued from the state of Tennessee. Then brought to the Atlanta area by the good folks at Labrador Friends of the South. Mrs. Bernie wanted to foster her while the little ball of mess waits for her permanent home. We discussed it as a family. I tried my best to temper the enthusiasms of the preteen girls in attendance. I stressed the amount of work a puppy takes. The commitment she would demand. The noise she would generate during hours normally reserved for sleeping.

Lastly I reminded them of the family dog. "Munson" is not always social. Like the old guy running his mouth in between bites of chicken, he's old and set in his ways. Then Mrs. Bernie asked for a show of hands.

The vote was a landslide. So I'd like to introduce you to "Gurley Gurl".

If you’re looking to foster or adopt a dog, I can’t recommend Labrador Friends of the South enough. Great folks. pic.twitter.com/qHD0cAz8pF
— Bernie (@BernieDawg) October 23, 2014

Also known as "Little Miss Pisspot". 

That's how we roll. It's a bye week. Not an off week. Gonna spend it training - doing reps yo! Some crate training, potty training, girly giggles, barking, yelping, 3am yard walking, feeding, sniffing puppy breath, potty training, buying more paper towels, yelping, and more giggling. So let us please close in prayer...Dear Lord, please let us appreciate every moment not subjected to mullets in jorts. Thank you for finding even more spare room in Bernie's House of Estrogen for this adorable ball of fur and please let the cute little booger sleep through the night. Thank you and Amen.

Monday's Meatloaf - No, it wasn't Quincy Carter's Lexus.

(What follows is a true story. One with various levels of embellishment.)

It seemed like any normal non-college football Saturday. It started with some lazy iPad surfing and a cup of coffee, then promptly transitioned into work around the house. The wife has really ratcheted up the "Can do!" spirit and itemized the honey-better-do-it-now list. There are many benefits to marrying a woman that knows how to watch college football. Not having to explain illegal shifts is one of the bigger ones of course. Another is a profound understanding of the importance of rotational depth. But the other side of that coin is that she also knows how many weekends are left before the hubby's DIY network is cut off until some time in January.

"Crikey! I do say, Bernie's to do list is massive!"

We started with some basic carpentry work. The kids sanded and prepped feverishly while I made the necessary measurements and cuts. The blade was spinning powerfully. Much like an eager Quayvon Hicks running downhill looking for more contact. I patted myself on the back for remembering to recharge the drill's battery the night before and I should also add that safety goggles were used when necessary. Well, sometimes.

But late in the afternoon there arose a need to return to the Home Depot and I quickly volunteered. You see, I find it's important to lead by example. Sometimes that means measuring twice so that you're sure. Other times it means admitting you're tired and are just looking for a chance to soak up some A/C in the car. So I grabbed the keys and said I would be happy to run the errand, but with the stipulation that I would also be stopping by Kroger for some ginger ale to mix into my bourbon a little later on. After all, if there are just a couple more weekends to get these projects done, there's also just a couple more to prime the liver keep the liver primed.

So I struck out to reinforce the wood screw supply, with no idea I would soon be saving some stranger's life.

Today's Ingredients
- Emerson found a better, stronger and more confident John Theus.
- Blutarsky recaps the Saturday scrimmage.
- Speaking of the scrimmage, Andrew takes the stats and reworks the running back depth chart then awards Jordan Jenkins the Heisman.
- Is anyone else both excited and concerned with all the Isaiah McKenzie special teams awesome talk?
- He may find himself depressive at times, but Tyler sounds pretty pumped about the new H-back role in Bobo's offense.
- Weiszer remembers Bob Taylor who passed away last week.
- MaconDawg wonders if the UGA recruiting momentum can continue this week.
- Champ is apparently sidelined with an injury and in danger of getting cut by the Saints.
- This may be a bit of a shock, but Corbindawg found a former Urban Meyer player that is still acting the fool.
- In more recent gator news, Krisi found their most current record on grand display.
- Tickets have been mailed. If you need any more, check out the new page at the top featuring ticket deals from Ticket Monster. Guaranteed and no fees!
- Lastly....Aight yu lil shitheads. Get out yurrr bookss (HICCUP!) an read untul tha bell ringsssszzthss (passes out).

The call for help broke through the summer air in the Kroger parking lot like yet another Gamecock defender catching an errant Quincy Carter throw. And just as Donnan's offense was relieved yet again of the burden of possessing the ball, I was relieved of the burden of minding my own business.

"Please, PLEASE someone help me! The car won't start!"

When you're used to fighting crime, sinking screws, blogging blogs, and solving mysteries, the first Please is all that's needed to grab your attention. But the second one's emphasis is what drives great men to swift action. And what I found on this warm August afternoon was an elderly woman screaming at the driver side door of a luxuriously equipped Lexus. I quickly surmised that her car wouldn't start.

Although I would prove her to be a liar exclamation to be erroneous and that the sedan, complete with leather seating plus dual temperature settings, would in fact start, I must first commend her for her bravery. Although I approached her with a calming smile, my deodorant had long given out hope of surviving the day's chore list and my vintage Georgia t-shirt circa 1998 was the first victim. As my grandmother would say, I smelled to High Heaven.

"Whoa! Did you see what he did?!?"

As my odoriferous threads did battle with the pine scented air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror, readily equipped with OnStar and backup camera display , I quickly noticed the car was "parked" in "Drive". Such a conundrum would send mere mortals' heads into a disastrous tailspin. But when you're a hotshot blogger such riddles are commonplace, so I eased my right foot onto the brake, slid the gear shift thingamabob into "Park", and turned the key.

The car started. Her milk would not spoil y'all.

Proud of my quick diagnosis and workable solution (plus eager to relieve the dangly air freshener of the beating it was taking), I exited the vehicle with finger guns blazing to the boisterous applause of nearly ten other grocery shoppers. The elderly woman pinched her nose with one hand and lifted me up onto the mob's shoulders with the other. The sun burst through the clouds. I'm pretty sure I saw a dude allow a lady in front of him in the gas pump queue. The Redbox machine worked flawlessly for the rest of the day. Bruised produce regained their ripeness. The manager gave out double fuel points. The embedded Starbucks lowered the price of a cup of coffee to just $7.99 for the next hour.

Most importantly, after the celebration ended and I had a chance to hug the lady before she drove away, as I checked out with my Kroger Plus card, the Seagram's Ginger Ale was just one dollar. Now, where'd I leave my wallet?

Do something heroic today Reader. But first, here's a napkin. Don't want to stain that cape!

Bernie

The Junkyard Dawg Podcast #8 - Mrs. Bernie makes a Honey Do It List

Plus, the dog makes an appearance, of sorts.

For the first time Mrs. Bernie joins me in the Junkyard to discuss how to manage drunk lazy ass Georgia fans in the off season and get those items off of the to do lists! This is like DIY 'tween the Hedges folks!! If you've ever wanted to hear the one and only boss that resides over the blog and all things BDB, this is your chance!

She's the biggest Georgia fan you've ever heard wielding a power tool yo!

Go Dawgs!

Thanks for listening y'all! Here are the links from this episode:

- The Home Depot

- Get the direct JDP Feed HERE

- JDP in the Android Store!!

- Or on Stitcher!!

Monday's Meatloaf - when bean bags backfire

Any of you older siblings ever look back fondly on some of the pranks you pulled on your brothers and/or sisters? You know, to help prepare them for Life's pitfalls. It's noble work, if you are born into it.

Courage can be fleeting.

Anyway, one of my favorites was to take these decorative bean bags Mom had lying around the house and carefully place several on the blades of the ceiling fan. Then I made up some excuse for my younger sister to stand in the middle of the room. In a pinch this one usually worked like a charm - Just stand there and look at the fireplace. I think Santa is coming...do you hear the sleigh bells?  

Nevermind that it was June. But once the kid was placed appropriately I flipped the switch (note: for maximum effect, important that you toggle the fan speed to it's highest setting prior to setting the scene). The blades carry the weight for a few seconds before dumping their payload. Then you have a toddler who's eyes go from extreme wonderment to OMG What is happening?!?!! The ceiling!! It hates me!!

Then you wait an hour or so and set the scene again. Great fun. Until three decades later when your own kids trap you in your own scheme. I guess I had bragged about the prank once too often. My 11yo can be quite mischievous when she wants to be. And the 9yo can be an eager lemming to her older sister's misdeeds. To make a long story short, the master was done in my his own brilliant blueprint of deviousness. He cowered under a blanket to shield himself from the torpedoes of doom. He cried PLEASE!! Make it stop! THE HUMANITY!!! Their laughter tortured his ears from a safe distance, and he knew, should he survive the destruction, they would spend years reminding him of this pitiful moment when he was reduced to such an awkward display of distress.

On a positive note, at least I didn't need a diaper change after the entire affair. In another couple decades this story may have an entirely different ending.

Today's Ingredients
- Don't forget to register for the bowl pool. You don't want to miss out on the feats of strength!
- Groo is helping us get reacquainted with the Cornhuskers.
- Over seven minutes of Running Back U highlights? Thanks Greg!
- Tyler takes a moment to look forward to the playoffs, takes a left turn and finds a case study for what not to do.
- Of course, the Mack Brown saga has taken a turn since this was posted, but MaconDawg had some grand ideas for the soon to be former Longhorn coach in his next chapter.
- After what's been an anti-climatic yet still very intriguing year for him, Kimberley looks at what's next for Jadeveon Clowney.
- Feeling a bit reminiscent today, so the last few ingredients for today are some of the things I've earmarked and saved throughout the season. Outside of the arena, these are the things I will remember most about the season. I'm sure I missed a thing or two. So feel free to add in the comments.
- One of the brightest spots on the periphery of the actual action were the week to week videos produced. This one tugged a little harder at the heartstrings.
- Another masterful video, but fraught with ignominy.
- Maybe Muschamp should have Jeremy Foley schedule more chalkboards.
- If you're not into the whole brevity thing...In one single post just before the season began, Dawgden combined two of my favorite things to watch - the greatest movie to ever hate the Eagles and SEC football. It was a transcendental experience in Dudeism man.
- Lastly, I think we can all agree that Blutarsky hit the nail on the head when he shared his words and specifically this video as an encapsulation of why we're here. (addendum - he's at it again today)

The last person I'd like to recognize here is a commenter - tbone226. Way back when we were preparing to play at Auburn with a lake, I mentioned and provided a loose description of the picture below. I had been unable to locate it with Google. tbone made up for my lack in internetting investigation. Thank you again sir! That was one of the highlights to my blogging season and I look forward to using that picture again next August.

And the 2013 winner of Best Picture is....

That's a wrap for today Reader. Beware of flying objects. And giggling children.

Bernie