Your usual host for Eyes of the Enemy, the venerable Perry Kostikaidsiegsuestis, has come ill. You have the unfortunate distinction of reading a column from yours truly, Juan Montalkaidsienguestis.

Steve Zissou would be proud. His creator, Wes Anderson, would be proud.

The star of Anderson’s best performance from an actress is successfully transitioning careers in a way diametrically opposed from The Rock: Trevor Lawrence has joined the college football elite after Golden Globe caliber performances in her acting career.

After a fantastic performance merely 3 years ago as Agatha in Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, Lawrence has entered the college football realm for Dabo Swinney’s Clemson team.

Retiring from a budding career as an acting darling with Golden Globe nominations to show, Lawrence is now a football media darling and an early contender for Heisman awards for multiple years. And he showed it again this past weekend.

Clemson

This is getting annoying.

77-16. Against a conference opponent. Two touchdowns in only 12 passes. The offensive Lawrence is on fire. And so is his cousin Dexter on defense. The explosive defensive lineman added another short yardage touchdown to his name against Louisville.

Louisville was Papa John level drunk, my friends.

Florida

Missouri has a college football team. Their previous head coach, Gary Pinkel, had his own moment of being nearly Papa John level drunk.

Mis amigos, let me regale you with the story of one aforementioned Pinkel. Have you ever driven home after having two glasses of wine with dinner? Well, so has coach Pinkel.

“I had two glasses of wine with dinner,” Pinkel said (paraphrased for comedic content) to the arresting officer. “Two jumbo glasses.”

Pinkel’s former team needed no such tannin packed assistance to whoop the 12th ranked Gators 38-17 in The Swamp. A quarterback change happened in Gainesville, where season starter Not Tim Tebow Edition 34 was benched for highly touted recruit Not Tim Tebow Edition 37.

Mullen has been dogged by these quarterback issues. “This is college football. It’s shark eat shark.” When presented with evidence of the Gators’ issue with ocean dwelling predator animals, Mullen demurred: “Well NTTE34 might get eaten by NTTE37. I don’t know. And for the record, I absolutely hate sharks. Would never have one on my boat.”

When asked if NTTE34 had been the subject of a locker room brawl concerning the UF passing offense’s participation trophy, noted Jordan brand sneaker aficionado and non-shark aficionado Dan Mullen responded as such:

You be the judge.

Or be judged by your wives for eating too much Halloween candy. I know I was. There was also some self judgement. A long introspective journey into one’s own mind, when accompanied by those close to you, can lead you to Nirvana.

Or to this:

Miami

It was a forgettable night for Miami against a tough Duke team. Miami averaged 0.75 points per possession to Duke’s 1.25 points per possession. It was a classic Coach K victory.

Miami has nothing to be ashamed of.

Wait, this was football? Oh. Oh no.

This is the sort of demoralizing loss that necessitates one to shuffle off one’s mortal coils and recenter themselves. Mark Richt, noted train enthusiast, appears to be suffering offensively from a strained bond with an estranged family member. On a train ride across India with his son Jeff Bowden Richt and quarterbacks In Cozy Perry and Malik Rosier, the former Georgia coach believes he can find himself and more.

But the train breaks down. On the journey between Gujarat and Jaipur, the four find themselves stranded in a remote desert. They climb a dune, build a fire, and begin to meditate. The senior Richt speaks into the nothingness:

The less enlightened 3 looked up at the continuously mumbling Richt, look at each other and flee.

Mark Richt emerges from his trance, finding himself alone in the Orange Bowl sky box, perilously alone, sputtering nonsense into his headset. He looks down to see Chris Weinke, throwing passes to the Crimson and Cream jerseys of Oklahoma defenders.

“Oh well,” he laments, “at least I’ll be in Athens next week.”

But no, he awakes from this trance. Not in India, not in Athens, but in Coral Gables.

There is no stadium. There is no quarterback. There is no hope. And you can’t even do F-150 commercials in the Miami market.

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Questions? Comments? Trash talk? Leave ‘em below, and Perry Galifanakis will see y’all at the same time next week.