HEY GUYS HOW'S IT GOIN' IT'S YOUR OLD PAL EIGHT BALL THE TIGER AND I AM FUCKING PUMPED FOR THIS GAME I MEAN LITERALLY FUCKING PUMPED 'CAUSE I GOT JUST A WEE LITTLE BIT OF HGH COURSIN' THRU HIS VEINS AND BY JUST A WEE LITTLE BIT I MEAN LIKE THREE BIG FAT SYRINGES FULL OF THE STUFF AND NORMALLY NEEDLES FREAK THE SHIT OUTTA ME BUT I DON'T CARE 'CAUSE IT FEELS SO GOOD AND --
SORRY, GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY THERE. ANYWAY THE OL' TIGERS ARE RIDIN' HIGH, BABY, YESSIR. RIDIN' HIGH AND CHASIN' THE DRAGON WHICH REMINDS ME OF THIS ONE TIME ME AND BRAD WERE AT MEDIEVAL TIMES AND WE WERE LIKE "WENCH, THIS SHIT IS LAME AS FUCK, I MEAN WHERE ARE THE TALKING DRAGONS YOU GOT ALL THESE FUCKING KNIGHTS AND NO GODDAMN DRAGONS, RIGHT?" AND SHE WAS LIKE "DON'T CALL ME WENCH, DICKBAG" AND THEN WE WERE LIKE "FUCK THIS JAM, WE'RE GONNA GO FIND SOME DRAGONS." AND SPEAKING OF KNIGHTS, MAN, DID YOU KNOW THAT'S WHAT A FUCKING PALADIN IS? 'CAUSE I DID NOT, NO SIR, I WAS LIKE "WE'RE PLAYING THE FURMAN PALADAINS? SWEET I LOVE A FUCKING GOOD MAGIC CARPET RIDE AND ROBIN WILLIAMS IS DOPE AS SHIT MAN EXCEPT IN PATCH ADAMS THAT SHIT SUCKED EVEN AFTER BRAD AND ME DIPPED INTO OUR SUPER-SECRET FUN BAG FOR SUPPLIES IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN WINK WINK BECAUSE I MEAN FUCKING YAYO MAN AND ANYWAY THIS PALADIN WAS NO PAL OF OL' EIGHT BALL HE WAS A STRAIGHT-UP FUCKING DOUCHE AND A HALF. FUCK THAT GUY AND THE FUCKING HORSE HE RODE IN ON BECAUSE SERIOUSLY HE RODE IN ON A HORSE WHICH I DON'T KNOW IF YOU KNOW THIS BUT LIKE HORSES AND TIGERS DO NOT FUCKING GET ALONG, MAN.
ANYWAY, WHAT'S SHAKIN' WITH YOU GUYS TONIGHT? I HEARD YOU'RE THE HAWKEYES AND THAT'S COOL I AIN'T GONNA EAT YOU OR ANYTHING I MEAN NOT BECAUSE I DON'T LOVE EATING BIRDS -- I FUCKING LOVE EATING BIRDS. THIS ONE TIME A FEW WEEKS AGO COASTAL CAROLINA WAS IN TOWN AND BRAD WAS LIKE "DUDE, WHAT'S A FUCKING CHANTICLEER" AND I'M LIKE "FUCK IF I KNOW, DO I LOOK LIKE ENCYCLOPEDIA MOTHERFUCKING BROWN, DICKHOLE" AND HE WAS LIKE "NO THAT'S DUMB, HE WAS A KID NOT A TIGER" AND SO I WAS LIKE "FUCKING RIGHT WHICH WAS SOME FUCKING BULLSHIT, I MEAN WAS HE TOO GOOD TO BE A TIGER?" SO WE GOT TO THE GAME AND WE SAW THE CHANTICLEER AND IT WAS A GIANT CHICKEN SO I WAS LIKE "HOLY SHIT OL' EIGHT BALL HIT THE MOTHER FUCKING JACKPOT TONIGHT GIANT GODDAMN CHICKEN GET IN MY BELLY" BUT THAT DIDN'T WORK OUT SO GOOD BECAUSE IT TURNS OUT IT WAS FUCKING BULLSHIT AND IT WAS JUST A DUDE IN A CHICKEN COSTUME AND THAT'S FUCKING LAME BECAUSE YOU HUMAN DUDES ARE ALL GAMEY AND I MEAN THAT DIDN'T STOP ME FROM EATING 'CAUSE I WAS HUNGRY AS HELL ON ACCOUNT OF BRAD AND ME DOWNING A WHOLE BAG OF 'SHROOMS THAT AFTERNOON. SO TECHNICALLY OL' EIGHT BALL IS KINDA WANTED FOR MURDER ALTHOUGH BRAD THINKS WE CAN PLEAD IT DOWN TO MANSLAUGHTER ON ACCOUNT OF US NOT KNOWING IT WAS A DUDE IN THERE AND ALL BUT I'M LIKE "BRAD, YOU'RE NOT DENNY CRANE SHUT THE FUCK UP" BUT ANYWAY IF YOU SEE THE PO-PO SNOOPIN' AROUND, GIVE OL' EIGHT BALL A HEADS UP, OK?
(Iowa-Clemson tips off at 8:15pm CT on ESPNU. The usual rules of open threading apply: no illegal online streams, no politics, no porn, no religion, no douchebaggery. This is also your Hamsterdam thread for the evening. As always, Eight Ball appears courtesy of our friends at EDSBS. And Fuck Clemson.)