Barry Rice

We would really love to feed @lukecombs after his show on 5/2! Wanna introduce him to the Hawt & Steamy! @garthbrooks loves us maybe Luke will too? Repost, quote, tag blah blah blah. Let's make it happen people!

@wbir This story is generating a lot of buzz

A truck carrying 1 million bees — yes, 1 million — crashed on I-40. A TDOT spokesperson said the truck was destroyed, but the bees are "buzzing” -> wbir.com/article/news/l…

@TheDannyParker @SportsPundette @RyanCallahan247 Just let me know when you’re ready. Hopefully I won’t be a teary mess too!

@SportsPundette @RyanCallahan247 It would be sweet if we could all sit down with @jumbartron & Link Hudson for a compilation of Wes tales and tributes once we are able to get through the memories without becoming a teary mess.

I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the news I received a little more than 24 hours ago. It doesn’t seem possible that Wes Rucker is gone. I met him when I was in college, and we were friends before we were coworkers. We ended up working together at GoVols247 for more than 15 years. He was a really good person, a loving husband and father, and an immensely talented writer. He was passionate, funny and opinionated, and he was absolutely never boring. And the best part is that, if you’re reading this, you probably already knew all of that because he was also an open book. For better or worse, he didn’t have any secrets. GoVols247 launched more than 15 years ago with just Wes and myself on staff. It was a lot of work, but it was a lot of fun, too. And if it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the chance to be part of it. I sat next to him in press boxes and on press rows. I traveled with him on dozens of road trips, some in his old car that didn’t have air conditioning for a while. During one of those trips, I watched him get annoyed and then laugh at himself after he somehow dropped his car keys down the elevator shaft at our hotel in Memphis. I spent countless hours with him debating the game we had just watched or whatever else was on his mind. We agreed on some things but disagreed on plenty of others, so the conversations were never dull. He absolutely loved his job. He felt like he was born to write about sports, and I think he was right. He was an old-school journalist in many ways, but he developed a following here on Twitter/X before many others and enjoyed going back and forth with fans. He wrote exactly what was on his mind. Wes was almost always the last writer in the press box after games. He pored over every word he wrote and took pride in his work. While writing his columns, he would often read me a few sentences at a time to make sure I liked them and agreed, or at least thought it was fair. I’m heartbroken for his wife, Lauren, his son, Hank, and his soon-to-be-born daughter, along with the rest of his family. I’ve never known anyone else like Wes, and I probably never will. He was unabashedly Wes in every way, and that made him a lot of fun to be around. I’ll miss seeing him at games and media availabilities. I’ll miss hearing him talk about Hank. I’ll miss our back-and-forth trash talk — and self-deprecating jokes — about our favorite baseball teams, the Cardinals and Cubs. I’ll miss seeing and hearing him complain about the officiating in almost every college basketball game. And I’ll miss reading his smart, insightful, often humorous stories and columns. Rest easy, Wes. Knoxville won’t be the same without you.

You’ll always have a spot waiting for you here at Lindsey Nelson. #TeamRucker

Four Old Men. Two Wheelchairs. One Beach. Alan Alda’s 90th Birthday January 28, 2026. Alan Alda turned 90. His family planned a safe celebration at home. Cake. Balloons. Grandkids. Alan said no. “I don’t want a party,” he said. His daughter frowned. “Dad… you’re turning ninety. This is a big deal.” “I know,” Alan said. “But I don’t want to celebrate here.” “Then where?” Alan didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to the beach.” The room went still. “The beach?” “Dad, you’re in a wheelchair.” “You can barely stand.” Alan smiled. That smile. The Hawkeye Pierce smile — the one that always meant something stubborn was coming. “So?” By that afternoon, he had already decided who was coming. “The four of us,” he said. “The last four.” Gary Burghoff. Jamie Farr. Mike Farrell. And himself. The final survivors of the 4077th. “No cameras. No interviews. No speeches,” Alan said. “Just us.” The phone calls began. Gary answered first. “Happy birthday, old man! Ninety!” “Thanks. I need you to drive.” “Drive where?” “To the beach.” A pause. “Alan… you’re in a wheelchair.” “So are facts. They don’t stop me either.” Gary laughed. That Radar laugh Alan had known for over fifty years. “Fine. But I’m not pushing you through sand.” “I’ll crawl if I have to.” “You’re insane.” “I’m Hawkeye. Same thing.” Jamie Farr was next. “The beach?” Jamie said. “I’m ninety-one and in a wheelchair.” “Then we’ll have two wheelchairs at the beach.” “Like a parade?” “Like a victory lap.” Jamie laughed until his voice cracked. “You haven’t changed since 1972.” “And you’re still Klinger.” “Fine. I’m in.” Mike Farrell sighed the moment he answered. “Let me guess,” he said. “You want me to push your wheelchair.” “Yes.” “I’m eighty-six. I use a cane.” “BJ Hunnicutt once saved a man with dental floss,” Alan said. “You’ll manage.” Long pause. “…Fine.” January 28. 6:00 a.m. Gary arrived in a rented van. Two wheelchair spaces. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. At Alan’s house, his daughter hovered. “Dad, are you sure?” “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” “What if something happens?” “Something is always about to happen at ninety,” Alan said. “Might as well happen at the beach.” Jamie was waiting outside his house. Wheelchair. Sunglasses. Hawaiian shirt. “You coordinated outfits?” Gary asked. “It’s tradition,” Jamie said. “The 4077th always matched.” Mike showed up next. Also in a Hawaiian shirt. Four old men. One van. Heading west. On the drive, memories filled the air. Harry driving too fast. Larry bringing his own wine. Radar making everyone cry. Klinger never sleeping. When the MASH* theme song came on, no one spoke. After it ended, Alan said quietly, “That song used to annoy me.” “Now?” “Now it just reminds me how lucky we were.” At Malibu, reality hit. Wheelchairs don’t work on sand. Jamie grumbled. Mike rubbed his back. Alan stared at the ocean. Gary disappeared. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with two lifeguards and two beach wheelchairs. One lifeguard whispered, “My grandmother watched MASH* every night.” It took time. Transfers were slow. Hands trembled. Bones protested. But they made it. To the water. Alan closed his eyes. The sound of waves. Salt in the air. Sun on his face. “I forgot what this felt like,” he said. They talked about the ones who weren’t there. McLean. Wayne. Larry. Harry. Bill. David. Loretta. Jamie finally broke the silence. “Let’s race.” Two wheelchairs. Two pushers. One rock. They raced. They tied. People on the beach stared. A teenager asked, “What are those old guys doing?” His mother said, “Living.” As the sun set, Alan spoke. “This might be the last time.” No one argued. “That’s why it matters,” he said. “Because we know.” He made a wish. “One more year.” “One more adventure.” “Korea. Together.” They promised.

If your announcer isn’t drunk and shirtless and putting the moves on braless women in the bleachers, that’s a missed opportunity.

Tennessee defeats Texas A&M, 35-10, in the Final Four. The Vols will play for their second national championship in the last five years.

When country was country. This is better than anything so-called country that has been produced in the last 25 years. Waylon Jennings and Hank Jr. performing 'Mind Your Own Business & The Conversation' live on Nashville Now, in 1988.

I’ve never really had a favorite MLB team before. I guess I do now! #gogiants #tonyvitello

Found this at the end of the 1970 TN v Bama game film today! #thirdsaturday #vols

"Today I heard a kid say, 'I don’t believe in that, but I respect that you do.' Then I realized that kid is more mature than half the people here.” ~Unknown

A great celebration for one of the best ever…. Danny Burnley!! He has given over 40 years to the University!! Only fitting Peyton made sure his name and face are forever engraved at the place he called home! The Tennessee family is eternally grateful!! 🧡🍊

😂😂😂based.

#LateNight #midnightmunchies #summerslump #SOS

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The @NYTimes and other Pharma-funded MSM outlets contacted my office this morning, feigning indignation that @RWMaloneMD has a conflict that they suggest might impair his scientific judgment as a member of the new ACIP panel. The NY Times’ sudden squeamishness about conflicts of interest on the ACIP panel begs the question: Where has the Times been for the last 20 years during which individual panelists regularly voted to recommend new vaccines owned by companies with which they personally had obscene financial conflicts? The New York Times reporter objected to the fact that, in 2017, Malone drafted an expert report for a federal case on behalf of a whistleblower, Merck’s laboratory director Stephen Krahling, who accused the company of forcing him to falsify lab reports to inflate the efficacy of the mumps component of its MMR jab. The Times claims that its “experts believe” that Malone’s involvement in these legal proceedings should make him ineligible to vote on future ACIP recommendations. In fact, HHS will, for the first time in history, institute bias policies recommending that ACIP panelists recuse themselves from decisions in which their current or former clients have a financial interest. Vaccine mandates give these panelists the awesome power to guarantee billion-dollar annual profits to their Pharma benefactors from trapped markets of 74 million American children now compelled to purchase a zero-liability product with no legitimate safety testing. Despite years of complaints about conflicts and corruption at ACIP—from congress, the HHS inspector General, and others—the mainstream media has largely remained silent. The single exception to this omerta has been United Press International (UPI) reporter Mark Benjamin who summarized the committee’s pervasive putrescence in 2003. Benjamin wrote that ACIP panelists often share vaccine patents, own stock in vaccine companies, “receive payment for research or to monitor vaccine trials, and receive vaccine-maker funding for their academic departments.” A 2000 Congressional investigation offered one example of those conflicts: “Four out of eight CDC advisory committee members who voted to approve guidelines for the rotavirus vaccine in June 1998 had financial ties to pharmaceutical companies that were developing different versions of the vaccine.” Despite all the critiques, my predecessors at HHS did virtually nothing to purge the corruption at ACIP. We now have a slate of scientists, physicians, and public health experts of impeccable integrity who will vote to promote public health rather than the private profit interests of the New York Times’ advertisers.