Bet you didn’t know that we here at moosedenied "know people." Oh yeah, we’re VIPs. When we’re not eating pizza with Dulymus or hanging at the Bad Newz barber shop with Aaron Brooks, we’re drunk-dialing various notables to see if we can actually get them on the phone. Recently we were able to convince the lady at the front desk at LSU’s athletic department that it would be a good idea to put us through to coach Les Miles. And she bought it. Holy shit! We hit the motherlode, as during the conversation with coach Miles, a handful of other notables actually returned our voice mails and we were able to conference them in. Sounding exactly like Screamin’ A. Smith on the phone has its benefits. Anyway, here’s a transcript…

GW: Hi coach Miles, thanks for taking my call.
Miles: I’m not discussing Michigan. I’m not discussing it at home, I’m not discussing it here, I’m not discussing it in a boat, I’m not discussing it with a goat, I’m not discussing it in a tree, I’m not……

GW: I understand, coach. No problem.
Miles: Good. Because I’m not discussing Michigan.

GW: So… remember when Nick Saban came to Baton Rouge and he used to talk about how the players would get "the brook trout look?"
Miles: No, I don’t know anything about that.

GW: Well he used to do that. It was annoying as fuck. Anyway, did you know that the brook trout is the state fish of Michigan?
Miles: I did know that, yes. What’s your point?

GW: That Nick Saban is an asshole.
Miles: Oh, okay.

GW: Remember that movie Red Dawn?
Miles: Yes. It was a cinematic masterpiece.

GW: I forget, what was it that those punkass teenagers used for their battle cry against those stinkin’ Commies?
Miles: You mean "Wolverine?"

GW: Yeah, that’s it. That was badass.
Miles: I agree.

GW: So if Commies were to invade the United States, do you think they’d have a tougher time with the South Louisiana heat, or the winter chill of Ann Arbor?
Miles: Depends. Russians or Cubans?

GW: Chines… oh never mind. Patrick Swayze just has to be gay, don’t you think?
Miles: He’s a brilliant actor, and an underappreciated singer/songwriter.

Jeff Garcia: Hey guys! It’s Jeff, returning your call. Did somebody mention Patrick Swayze?

GW: Hi Jeff, you’re on with me and coach Les Miles from LSU. How are you?
Garcia: I’m super, thanks for asking! So what about Patrick Swayze? He’s like the wind through my trees. Does it get any better than Dirty Dancing? Nobody puts Baby in a corner!

GW: Actually Jeff, we called you to discuss this weekend’s game against the Saints.
Garcia: Oh I love playing the Saints. Those black pants are fabulous! I know it’s past Labor Day, but still. Scrumptious!

GW: So how do you think Tampa’s cover 2 will…
Garcia: And don’t even get me started on Reggie Bush. What a fine, fine hunk of player that guy is. He could juke me out of my jock anytime. Did you see that black and white fashion spread he did in that magazine? Abtastic! Kim Kardashian is such a bitch.

Miles: Who is this cocksucker?

GW: Sorry coach. Hey, what state is Danger Dog from?
Miles: Michigan.

Garcia: I have something to say, guys.
GW: By all means, Jeff.

Garcia: LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!!!! HOW FUCKING DARE ANYBODY OUT THERE MAKE FUN OF BRITNEY AFTER ALL SHE’S BEEN THROUGH!!!! SHE’S A HUMAN!!!!!! SHE’S JUST GOING THROUGH A HARD TIME!!!!! LEAVE HER ALONE YOU BASTARDS!!!!

GW: Jeff, I’m gonna have to go ahead and put you on hold for a few minutes. Try to get a hold of yourself, okay?
Garcia: BASTAAAAAAARDS!!!!!!! LEAVE HER ALO…

GW: So coach, let’s talk about Pete Carroll. Would you agree that he’s among the world’s biggest douchebags?
Miles: No comment.

GW: Mack Brown… dottering old fool?
Miles: Did you say Mack Brown or Lou Holtz?

GW: Take your pick.
Miles: No comment.

Nick Saban: S’up bitches? This is Nick. How are my recruits treating you, Les?
Miles: Fuck you, Nick.

GW: Hi coach Saban. Thanks for returning my call. I’m gonna have to go ahead and agree with coach Miles here.
Saban: Sorry Wang, I can’t hear you. I have $500,000 stuffed into each of my ears. Among other places.

Saban: Anyway, look Les, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just calling because I’ve been where you are. And by that, I mean about to get phat motherfucking paid on the way out of Baton Rouge. You’re welcome, by the way. I just figured I’d offer some friendly advice. The grass isn’t always greener, Les. Sure, the pile of money you poured out of the giant sack with the dollar sign on it onto the vibrating motel bed that your administrative assistant is about to roll around naked in is greener. But not the grass. Stay put, Les. Stay put.
Miles: Hey thanks Nick. You know, maybe I’ve been wrong about you. Very nice of you to offer your advice.

Saban: How much are they offering you anyway?
Miles: I have no idea. I’m not fielding calls from Michigan. My only concern is Middle Tennessee State.

Saban: Holy shit, they’re offering more than Michigan???
Miles: No, they’re LSU’s next opponent. We’re trying to win a championship here, Nick. That’s my only focus.

Saban: Ha! What a chump.

Miles: And it’s not about the money anyway. There are things in life more important than money.
Saban: Right. Like hot fucking secretaries with big titties, right? I hear you, brah.

Miles: No.

Saban: So seriously, how much, man? Three million? Four million? Does that include the buyout? Because these hillbillies over here in Tuscaloosa didn’t even think of Michigan! Score! I’ve got Michigan ties too, you know.
Miles: I told you, I don’t know. I’m not concerning myself with Michigan. And your ties are to Michigan State.

Saban: Michigan, Michigan State. It’s all the same. Michigan is a state. 
Miles: Are you interested in the Michigan gig, Nick? Is that what you’re getting at?

Saban: Look, let me make this as clear as I can. I WILL NOT BE THE HEAD COACH AT MICHIGAN.

Miles: Did I just hear you wink? Over the phone?
Saban: Nah, nevermind that. This fucking left eyelid has been giving me trouble all week. It’s like pink eye or something. That’s like herpes, right? Shit. I knew I should have washed that finger first. Anyway, LET ME SAY THIS AGAIN. I WILL NOT BE THE HEAD COACH AT MICHIGAN. But just out of curiosity, what’s their private jet situation up there in Ann Arbor? Do they leave them unmarked, so they can land at smaller airports without attracting media attention? They don’t have Bo Schembechler’s face on the fuselage or any shit like that, right? 

Miles: At last check, no.
Saban: Sweet. But they do have Cristal and caviar and shit, right? Oh, and potted meat. Dude, ever since I’ve been in Tuscaloosa, I’ve fallen in love with the potted meat. That and vienna sausages. It’s like potted meat run through one of those Play Doh extruder things. That’s just badass. Mechanically-separated chicken pwns all. Hey, remember back in Miami when I browbeat that rookie in practice so bad it made him cry right there on the field? God I rule. I FUCKING RULE!!!!

GW: Potted meat? You’ve gotta be kidding me. Do you guys know where that stuff is made?
Saban/Miles, simultaneously: MICHIGAN!