Is there any way to write about this series without marveling at this fact: Jerry Jones has not managed to successfully pay off the refs in his own stadium to get a win for his beloved alma mater? Dude, you’re a billionaire. Nobody reading this will ever be a billionaire, and we all know what we’d do if we had the money and the stadium for A&M. We’re getting EVERY call. Every. Single. One.

Weird how the replay camera just keeps cutting out right before his knee goes down. Yeahhhhh... ooof. It’s awful. Guess that catch has to stand, not enough evidence to overturn the call. Touchdown A&M. What? No I didn’t just hand the ref $1,000 cash in front of you. *hands you $1,000 cash and walks on by*

You have a billion dollars, Jerry. The Cowboys have sucked for 25 years, USE THE GODDAMMED MONEY FOR SOMETHING COOL. I won’t even get mad if A&M loses on some last-second absolutely blatantly bad officiating if the camera cuts to you and you knowingly slide those Ray-Bans down your nose and lift an eyebrow. You sly dog. Nobody will ever know. Do it, Jerry. And let the English see you do it.

You’re the most boring billionaire ever. You could do so much with that money. See how it feels. Spend it the right way. Fuck everything, pay off everyone involved. Give Jimbo $500K to make a wanking gesture at an official and follow it up with what looks like he’s throwing dice at the main table at Winspear. Who’s gonna turn you in? Oh that guy? Billionaire? No, he isn’t. Pay them, too. Who cares? You literally have the money to get away with being a terrible criminal forever and you’re just gonna sit there and open a mall in Frisco. Christ.

Do it.

You won’t.

Bitch.

jklol I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. Please don’t kill me. :)))

Aggies 31
Pig 28

SQUARE HOLE ROUND PEG. Arkansas is averaging over 40 points per game this year. A&M is allowing fewer than six points per game. If my math is correct, the outcome will be either 63-59 or 7-6.

COMMON FOE. Folks, did ya know that these two teams share a rival, and that the rival has already played Arkansas this year? Some of you will spend a lottttta time bragging about a transitive win with one side of your mouth and proclaiming how much disdain you have for the notion of actually playing said team with the other. Assuming we win, of course.

BREATH OF FRESH AIR. No, certainly not the atmosphere inside the Arlington Convention Center. Talking about Sam Pittman, the head honcho on the other sideline. Arkansas has something different this year. Hopefully we’re catching them early enough on the schedule to fend them off.

• If A&M wins on Saturday, Arkansas AD Hunter Yurachek has to scrub Ross Bjork’s back porch. That’s what happens when you win for a deck aid.
• A&M’s secondary is gonna tackle so ferociously that they’re gonna leave a trail on Burks.
• This game at AT&T Stadium always sees Arkansas walk away in pain and with zero hope of a productive season. I guess that’s why they call it a neuteral site.
• If the Arkansas coach looks at Reveille the wrong way he’s gonna be Sam, bit man.
• Zach Calzada is gonna direct deposit so many dimes into the Razorback secondary that they’ll be given the nickname “The Pig E-Bank.”
• Getting beat by the Aggies will cause Arkansas to question everything they thought they knew about their team. A Hogmented Reality, if you will.
• With this afternoon kickoff time against Texas A&M, Arkansas is in for a 2th hurty.

Scattershooting while wondering whatever happened to Danny Ford…

• Everyone buckle up. Conference play begins. I remember back in the ‘80s when we went from 3rd grade to 4th grade in dodgeball. We went from those squishy soft weak-ass easy-to-catch balls; to the rubber bladder filled-tight-with-air yellow and red put a fuckin’ welp on your face dodgeballs. That’s what this is. Keep your head on a swivel.
• Through three weeks, this season has strong whiffs of one of those wide open CFB seasons. There are 9 or 10 teams that are really good but not great. These are the teams that can whip someone’s ass and also can drop a game against a really dumb team on any random Saturday. These are the best college football seasons and should be embraced when they roll around every decade. ETR!
• Aggies are playing in a Top 20 showdown. The Ryder Cup will be in full swing this weekend. A fall cool front has moved into Texas. BRING ME ALL OF THE BROWN LIQUOR!
• Y’all know how much I love the tradition and pageantry of this sport. We have an old rivalry trophy on the line this weekend with SMU and TCU. But this one still feels a little off. Instead of The Iron Skillet maybe we should consider an alternative. Perhaps a leased 5 series with a trunk full of E, and a deed for a Lewisville Cheddar’s in the glove box. Maybe a dead hooker for the Craig James Player of the Game. (Not a real hooker unless they have 5 TDs obviously)
• Aggies: 27, Jerruh Jones Arlington Wet N’ Wild Doodie Kiddie Pool: 17. Wager wisely!

Each week we are proud to bring you a concession review by a dignitary associated with one of the schools involved in the game.

AT&T Stadium

by Nic Pizzolato

I know why JJ invited me. Doom-scrolling through the famous Razorback alums (much like the author of this post if we’re honest), looking for a sucker to placate on a throwaway neutral-site college game. Fortunately I’m not a Cowboys’ fan. My yearning to see man’s greatest folly as tribute to himself won me over. Some call it Jerryworld. I call it the great unraveling of the American spirit.

The main concourse: mother of all ghosts. A frenzied circus trapped in a steel cage waiting not to get out, but to see what’s let in next. The cacophony is tangible, and so is the smell of boiled processed meat and stale corn products. Intoxicating. And terrifying.

Borne aloft on quietly humming escalators, we breach the second tier of confectioners. Here we find small kiosks bearing the names of pizza chains. A smattering of other slightly-more-refined goods fill this humdrum bazaar, a tinge of restraint in the air compared to its neighbor below.

Higher still we ascend. The harsh noises of the stadium grow muted. The air acquires a hushed sense of anticipation. At the highest point of the stadium we’re led down a confusing warren of immaculate hallways. At last we stand in front of Jerry’s suite itself. Surely it is home to the most obscenely fine culinary products known to humankind. There must be a full staff of hand-picked chefs from around the world to feed this man who owns everything he’s ever tried to own. My taste buds await, pulsating at the surface of my tongue. The door opens. On the buffet table our feast stands ready. Endless boxes of Slim Jims, bags of Funyuns, and cans of Diet Dr Pepper cover the table as far as the eye can see. Men do not grow rich through indulgence when their favorite indulgence is growing richer. Bon Appetit.