Comer and Kiffin are both 34. One is paid to act to like it.

Part II of a “proof of (new) life” photo essay on the houndnapping of Tennessee’s beloved mascot Smokey. The hound you once knew, Volunteer fans, is no more.
Smokey loves Bo now… it’s kind of pathetic, actually.
But understandable.
And you can go to the police now – they’re cool with it.

Part I of a “proof of (new) life” photo essay on the houndnapping of Tennessee’s beloved mascot Smokey.
Auburn means business.
Do not go to the police.

J.M. Comer inquires into the selective hearing of “Sports Radio”

Watch our boys in orange and blue beat their team into bloody submission, and then take them by the hand, pat them on the back, and show them the way back to their coal hole in the mountain.

The hint of fall weather coupled with the sight of our Auburn Tigers once again taking and dominating the field has set off certain impulses and desires in your “Shug Life” columnist: I need beer, a hoodie, rock ‘n’ roll and hip hop to feel whole.

I think I’ve got a crush.

Kenny Chesney, at one time, claimed an undying love for the Vols and performed in front of a half-filled Neyland Stadium for a concert calling it a dream come true.

I consider myself a modern citizen of the Republic of Letters. A 21st century littérateur. A wordsmith. A patron of fine arts. Graduating from the fine institution of Auburn University *sniff* with degrees in English and journalism, naturally I keep abreast of the latest works of fiction in all of the gentleman’s magazines on the [...]