Start snitchin'.

Fresh off four brilliant months of giving resolutely awful gambling advice over at Dr. Saturday's Yahoo/Rivals joint, I'm going to have a new focus in the off-season: Calling out the nation's sports columnists and pundits for being complete 'tards. Each week I'll be picking on a handful of CFB pundits for dumb predictions, facile analysis, and general rickety logic, and (hopefully) targeting one of them for "dunce of the week" honors.

Fish in a barrel, I know, and it's got to be easier than picking against the spread, but I'm still gonna need y'all's help. I mean, in theory, I could just shred a Matt Hayes column each week, but that wouldn't be fun for anyone, would it? I can maintain a pretty solid handle on the national columnists from the big networks and magazines, but it's harder to keep track of, say, all the local newspaper columnists out there (damn you, pesky day job), nor can I read nearly as many blogs as I'd like to on a daily basis. So consider the Hey Jenny Slater Dumb Punditry Tip Line open: If you read a bad idea, ridiculous prediction, or simple logic-free, ass-out-of-you-and-me-assumption from anyone on college football, whether it's a fill-in guy for the Chinstrap Valley Daily Tribune or a regular on ESPN.com, e-mail me about it, and if it's dumb enough it'll make the final cut.

No cash for tips, sadly -- your virtue will have to be its own reward -- but if you somehow manage to come up with, say, some pictures of Paul Finebaum in a dress, I might be able to pony up a couple bucks for that.

In which this blog gets used for something worthwhile for once.

If you've been reading this blog for any significant length of time, your impression of me (assuming you do impressions) is probably that of a cranky, profane, self-absorbed douchebag who spends all his time bitching about Georgia football or popping off at the Republican party. And don't get me wrong, you've pretty much pegged me, but it might surprise you to know that in my non-blogging time I actually do some respectable things. For about a year now, for instance, I've been the chair of the junior board of Magic Moments, a non-profit, non-partisan charity that grants "wishes" for kids here in Alabama with fatal or life-altering illnesses. (First person who says living in Alabama is its own life-altering illness gets a computer virus sent to them.) Each year we meet with as many as 200 kids and send them to Disneyworld, take them on shopping sprees, take them to meet their favorite star athletes (like we did with Matthew, shown above meeting Peyton Manning), or grant any number of other wishes that give them some nice memories at difficult times in their lives.

This year we're making a concerted effort to expand our grass-roots support through an online fund-raising campaign. The campaign is called the "Magic Mile," and each one of us on the junior and senior boards have set up our own personal fund-raising pages to which we've been directing friends, relatives, and co-workers via e-mail. My personal page is here, and guess what: You can donate there, too.

All you have to do is make a secure online donation with your credit or debit card, and it doesn't have to be a lot -- since this is the first time we're trying a campaign like this, we're starting small, and with each of us aiming for an individual goal of $500, even small donations of five or ten bucks will help. And they'll take us a little bit further toward being able to provide another Disneyworld trip, pro-athlete encounter, or other wish for a sick kid.

So go here and throw in whatever amount of money you can spare. And don't worry, this site will return to your regularly scheduled bitching and complaining before you know it.

The Friday Random Ten+5 sells out.

One of my early New Year's resolutions (or resolution-like substance) is to get off my fat ass and put some real effort into making some money off the crap that I write -- double up on my freelancing efforts, sell a short story or two, finally buckle down and dig into the football novel I've had the idea to write for like a decade now. Theoretically, that could also include making some more money off this blog -- I mean, I have a little trickle of cash coming in every few months from the Google ads you see on this site, which I'm grateful for, but it could stand to be kicked up a notch. Is this site reputable enough to bring in some cash through direct editorial endorsements of various products and services? Ehh, probably not, but Todd at Roll Bama Roll evidently thinks his is, because he took the bold step earlier this week of singling out some brands he would gladly (and blatantly) shill for in exchange for a certain amount of that company's products. Kind of like a barter system, in other words, and I'm totally down with that. Cash doesn't necessarily need to change hands here, just some products whose regular (and free) presence could markedly improve my standard of living. So take a look, corporate America (and other countries), because I'm ready to start making deals here. And this week's +5 is Five Products I'd Be More Than Happyth To Shill For On A Trade Basis:



Zaxby's
Todd is 100-percent right about this one -- there ain't a single thing on their menu that I couldn't eat every day. In fact, Zaxby's came up in conversation at the office the other day and I determined that if I was stranded on a deserted island and could only have one kind of food washing up in crates on the shore every now and then, it'd be Zaxby's chicken fingers. Along with an advertising/endorsement trade deal, I'll even throw in a free marketing idea for you, guys: Start selling breakfast. Go head-to-head with Chick-fil-A in the chicken-biscuit arena; the tougher competition will make both companies work harder to create an even more perfect product, and the consumer will benefit. There; you can drop my block of gift certificates in the mail whenever it's convenient.



Cherry Coke Zero
The discovery of this wonderful concoction in my office was treated with the same wide-eyed enthusiasm I imagine mankind displayed when he first figured out how to create fire. It doesn't have any calories, but it doesn't have the bitter artificial-sweetener taste of a traditional diet drink, and to my mind it actually tastes better than regular Coke because it isn't so sugary sweet I think I'm giving myself diabetes every time I take a sip. I'm not a huge soft-drink consumer to begin with, but I figure if Coke sends my office a 12-pack every week we can call it even.



Jaguar Cars Ltd.
I still love my VW, but it'll be 10 years old next August, and it's probably a good time to at least start putting feelers out about possible replacements. And the Jaguar XF -- the supercharged replacement for the old S-Type that was named to Car and Driver's 10Best list in its first year of production -- is at the top of my list. Jaguar, you don't even have to give me one, just lend it to me for a year and I'll still give you all the free press you can stand. When that year is up, we can talk about re-upping the deal, but at the very least I'll have paid off my credit cards to the point where I can actually think about absorbing a car payment again.



Southwest Airlines
I flew SWA out to Arizona back in September and it was a pretty good experience, but I didn't really think a whole lot of it until I boarded a US Airways flight out to Los Angeles two months later. In addition to the $300-something US Airways charged me for a ticket, they charged me $15 to check a suitcase and another two bucks for a Coke on the Charlotte-L.A. leg. Yup, you don't even get so much as a Coke or a packet of peanuts without forking over some cash. Meanwhile, Southwest doesn't charge for the first two checked bags, doesn't charge extra for window or aisle seats, and slings free soft drinks all day long. Guys, between that and Birmingham's status as a secondary hub, you had me at "hello," and for the comparatively low cost of one free round-trip ticket per month you can plaster ads all over this site until you're blue in the face.



Stoli Blakberi
For those of you who caught one of my Facebook updates earlier in the week, this is the brew I was drinking straight at our office Christmas party at my editor's house. Knowing my history with vodka, it's a wonder I'm still employed as of this writing, but man, what wonderful stuff. It's just sweet enough that you can drink it straight even if you're not a drunk like myself, it has a nice aroma, and it makes for a vodka tonic that's damn near the nectar of the gods. Stoli has been my brand for a while now, but guys, you've outdone yourselves -- now your job is to keep a regular supply of this stuff coming my way so that I can extol its many virtues and come up with new recipes to spread far and wide. My next concept? The vodka float -- one half-fill glass of Blakberi, add a splash of Ocean Spray cran-raspberry juice, dump in a big heapin' scoop of vanilla ice cream (or, alternatively, this), float away on a cloud of ecstasy. I think y'all hear me knockin', and I think I'm comin' in.

My pockets are empty, my hand is out, my principles have temporarily been suspended -- let's do this, people. And now the Ten:

1. The Chemical Brothers, "Song to the Siren"
2. Pet Shop Boys, "So Hard" (The KLF vs. Pet Shop Boys remix)
3. BT, "Deeper Sunshine"
4. The Clash, "Should I Stay or Should I Go"
5. INXS, "Need You Tonight"
6. Underworld, "To Heal"
7. Underworld, "EssGee"
8. Orbital, "Waving Not Drowning"
9. Pet Shop Boys, "It Must Be Obvious" (UFO mix)
10. Bananarama, "Venus"

Your turn to make that pitch, readers -- Random Tens and/or naked appeals to major corporations for mutual marketing-centered back-scratching go in the comments.

A memo from the desk of Arnold T. Pants, Esq.:We have a winner (and more than a few wieners).

• First things first: The Big Ass Pick'Em Group, the official pick'em goup of Hey Jenny Slater, has a winner, and she is . . . a Gator fan. (Son of a bitch, those people win everything. Everything.) All hail Jamie Barnhart (who can be seen here in a photo that has "Hot Chicks with Douchebags" written all over it), a Florida native and ex-Navy SEAL who strolled into the final week with an insurmountable lead and will be taking home the grand prize of one (1) piece of gently used Georgia memorabilia that I dig out of my closet. She also gets this shout-out at Hey Jenny Slater, which is the kind of name-check you can't put a price on. Congratulations, Jamie, and don't say I never gave you anything.

(O bai the wai: You can still join the exciting sequel to the 2008 Big Ass Pick'Em Group, also known as the 2008 Big Ass College Bowl Pick'Em Group. Instructions on how to join here. Seriously, it's so easy even Jay Jacobs couldn't fuck it up.)

• Second things second: Legos turned 50 this year, so y'all better act like you know. And what better way to mark this momentous occasion than to buy me this or this? No, I'm not letting go of this so you can stop asking. Why? Because Legos are hardcore. How hardcore? This hardcore:



• Separated at birth: Gene Chizik and former Sen. Bill Frist (R-Tenn.)?



And will Chizik do to the Auburn program what Frist managed to do to the Republican majority in the Senate? Alabama fans can only hope so.

• College football headline of the year, courtesy of the ever-vigilant EDSBS:



• Barack Obama: Pimpin' president, or the pimpin'est president?





Link courtesy of Mac G, who, as a Hawkeyes fan, is perhaps even more amused by the Chizik hire than the rest of us are.

• And now for some YouTubeage: Two manifestly terrible Christmas gift ideas, the first of which apparently comes to you from the makers of the Ronco Pocket Bukkakinator.



I wonder if any of the kids in that commercial grew up to be this guy? Then there's the following wonderful family game:



The soundtrack and voice-over from that ad were sampled in a track on DJ Shadow's debut album Endtroducing... a decade or so ago. When I first heard it, I thought Shadow had to have made it up, but no, it turns out it's real. Finding out where the hell that came from was like a little Christmas present coming a few days early.

A memo from the desk of Arnold T. Pants, Esq.:NEED THREE FOUR (OK, six), horrifying sea creatures, and a new gig.

· First things first: I need tickets. Three Four of them, to be exact. I'm hoping to take my family to the Georgia-Georgia Southern game this weekend so they can see a) what will hopefully be a resounding ass-whupping to kick off Georgia's title run with a bang and b) Uga VII's coronation, so if anyone's got a trio quartet of tickets they're looking to unload, I'll be willing to go $50 apiece. In fact, if you have a whole bunch sitting around that you need to get rid of, a couple of my Tent City co-residents are hunting for them as well, so that'd make . . . six? Whatever. If you've got extra tickets, holla.

I've also got a Facebook friends who's got two Alabama-Clemson tickets ready to move for face value plus 20 percent, whatever that adds up to. If you're interested in those, you can e-mail me at the above address.

· Now then: You diehard college football fans have no doubt followed Sunday Morning Quarterback's move to the cash-money-earning promised land of Yahoo/Rivals.com with his new blog, Dr. Saturday; as of tomorrow (in theory, at least), I will be a contributor to said blog. I will be writing a weekly picks column from the point of view of a schmuck who's never actually had enough money to bet on anything, CFB-related or otherwise; if you don't read it for actual wagering advice -- and you probably shouldn't -- you can at least read it so that you can pat me on the head later and say, "That was good, honey! I'm so proud of you!" OK, maybe only my mom is going to do that. But still. Boost my ego a bit and check it out.

· Nothing I write at any point during the season, however, will be as funny as this:

Imagine showing up for work and your boss saying:

“OK (your name), what we need you to do today is to go to a college campus full of hot pussy and be good-looking on national television. Oh, and be sure to watch plenty of football, talk about plenty of football, and hang out with plenty of uber-famous football coaches. Anyway, here’s your hotel key and a few extra copies for any big busty sluts that happen to throw themselves in the general vicinity of your cock during the upcoming Thursday-Sunday time frame.”

You love you some Herbstreit. And please, no comments about the gelled hair. You aren’t fooling anyone. You’re jealous. You’d gel your pubes with hot kitchen grease if it meant taking Kirk Herbstreit’s job for 15 minutes.

Why do you think your girlfriend lets you watch College Gameday, you dense fuck? Because while you’re busy geeking out over which cartoon-animal-face Lee Corso is going to put on top of his head, she’s going for an imaginary ride on Kirk Herbsteit’s pelvis.

If I'd been drinking any milk when I read that this morning, it would've been sprayed all over my keyboard. Read the whole thing, and say a silent thank-you to my college buddy Kevin W. for having directed you to it.



· Also hilarious, "The Top 10 Chick-Repellent Items of 2008," made all the more wonderful by the comforting realization that I don't currently own any of these things. Not even a Bluetooth headset, which, I swear to you, is one day going to be looked back upon as the Members Only jacket of the 2000-aughts.

· Not at all hilarious: AACK ACK GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME IT'S NOT ON ME BUT GET IT OFF ANYWAY.

· And finally, courtesy of Blog of Hilarity, a warning that goes for this blog as well as for the University of Michigan.