KSK Off-Topic: Rules for Going Off-Topic

Now that it's the NFL off-season, we've been dabbling in a little bit of this and that while cooling our heels and enjoying a more relaxed posting schedule. However, in the wake of several reader emails saying, "You guys should write about X!" -- where variable X is anything from Phil Mickelson's pectoral flab to a link to some NBA story or blog post, I thought I'd lay down some ground rules and reminders for how we go about keeping our NFL rudder straight in this sea of stories about other sports.


Remember: this blog is committed to two things: the NFL and dick jokes. Generally speaking, we're not looking to expand our coverage.

I can already hear the naysaying. "But you go off-topic all the time! Unsilent Majority even did a college basketball post!" Yeah, and if we had any kind of connection besides email, he would have gotten his ass kicked for it. That's why you can now catch UM talking college hoops at The Big Lead.

"What about the mock drafts? Black people you want as your friends? Cities you want destroyed?" Uh, yeah: mock drafts. Just like Mel Kiper Jr does relentlessly for six months a year. It's totally NFL-related.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: We make the rules. We make the agenda. We appreciate legitimate tips like photos of Chris Simms rolling blunts and Kyle Orton pretending to give fellatio, but we don't want your suggestions. We're the Gay Mafia for a reason, and if we want to post the nine and a half minute director's cut of Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around," then we'll post the nine and a half minute director's cut of Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around."

And we don't need to justify it.



Goddam. If you told me in the year 2000 that I could someday masturbate to a Justin Timberlake video, I would have punched you in the throat.

NFL Scouting Bukkake: The Combine Part 2

This is what you'd look like if you were a vegan and you'd just seen Reggie Nelson trap and eat a live gazelle.

Today we're thrilled to welcome back our exclusive Combine scout, the re-animated River Phoenix

This blogging thing is out of control man (seriously though, what the fuck did you guys do to Wil Wheaton? I told him Star Trek was a bad idea). I just told some guy what I was doing here and he told me that my old friend Flea was blogging for the NBA. Apparently everybody that was there when I died went mainstream. Bastards...

The only experience less thrilling than watching defensive backs running 40's was playing a gay pseudo-Falstaff opposite Keanu Reeves. Why isn't he dead yet?... The two safeties everybody clamored to see were Laron Landry and Reggie Nelson. Landry ran a 4.32 to Nelson's 4.53 (Deion thinks the dreads were worth .1, and you people say he went clean). Nelson gained hasty revenge when he beat Landry unconscious with a pylon--good to see him get his swagger back... Former Terp Josh Wilson led his group with a 4.35. Rich Eisen just said, "that's one fast turtle!" HAHAHAHA! Please put me back in the ground now...

These guys sure make funny noises when they run. I think Brandon Meriweather just ejaculated at the finish line--that's gotta slow you down a step or two... Damien Hughes ran a 4.7-something 40 and his vertical test made him look like a white guy. A little bit of advice young man, whenever I had a bad audition I wasn't afraid to suck the occasional cock. I saw that look in Vinny Cerrato's freaky eyes...

Sabby Piscetelli reminds me of a young Marky Mark (now I know he's dead, right?)... Aaron Ross was trained for the 40 by his world record holding girlfriend. He just ran a 4.45 before the testicles fell out of his shorts... If I had lived I'm convinced I could have become Governor of California by now... I fucked Helen Mirren on the set of Mosquito Coast. Just sayin'...

Thanks River! Check back later for a combine wrap-up from our esteemed scout..

Big Daddy Drew’s Top Candidate For Head Coach Of The 2008 Minnesota Vikings

I’m resigned to the fact that Brad Childress, who is to football coaching what Matchbox 20 is to rock and roll, will be coaching the Vikings in the 2007 season. Given that the Vikings will be quarterbacked by either A) Brooks Bollinger, B) Tarvaris Jackson, C) Jeff Garcia, or D) A crude robot Childress has created to resemble himself, complete with Frank Oz mustache, I’m betting they won’t be very good. In fact, they may be excruciatingly bad. And nothing is worse for a fan than being unable to regenerate excitement even during an offseason. Hope springing eternal, my ass.

But there is a faint glimpse of hope for myself and any other NFL fan whose team is destined to suck in the coming year (Hello, Cleveland!). I have found the man destined to become the next great coach in NFL history. His name is Bear Grylls, and he’s the host of Man vs. Wild on Discovery Channel.


Holy fuck, this man is a badass. Last Friday night, I took in a marathon of Man vs. Wild. Over the course of two hours, I saw Bear:

-Get dropped into the Moab desert
-Jump into canyons of that same desert
-Piss on his headdress to keep cool
-Eat a raw raven’s egg, WITH the shell (Bear says it has vital calcium. And if you think Bear is wrong, then you can fuck the fuck off.)
-Extricate fresh water from a mud pit
-Climb out of a canyon by placing one foot on either wall and hoisting himself up with his arms
-Get dropped into an Alaskan forest. Alaska, in case you did not know, is very large.
-Climb DOWN a vertical Arctic waterfall wearing only ski boot linings on his feet
-Quickly construct a shelter out of stick and fronds that was arguably stronger than any Montgomery County municipal building
-Rock a British accent and not sound gay

And he didn’t cry once. Good Lord, what a man. Grylls is a former British Special Forces agent. I bet he’s killed lots of people and is too dignified to even mention it. I bet he’s banged women while fighting off rhinos. I would totally do that if I were him. I bet he has a bearskin rug in front of his fireplace and tells chicks, “See that rug. I made it. I replace it with a fresh one every week. Let’s shag.” I bet he could kick Ufford’s ass. I’m putting a poster of him in my bedroom. Mrs. Drew can cram it if she doesn’t like it. I have two spouses now.

It takes a lot to name your occupation as “adventurer” and not come off as a complete douchebag. But this man pulls it off beautifully. Now, of course, Grylls knows nothing about American football. But I don’t really care about that. If the Vikings hired him, I could just stare at him on the sidelines all game and imagine all the cool shit he did. And that’s really all I need along with the scotch. And if a QB were to break a finger, I bet he could snap it back in place and then stitch the wound with a loose jersey thread. I’d pay to see that.

Plus, his name is Bear. Coaches named Bear are already 1-for-1 in the goodness department. And did Bear Bryant ever become the youngest Briton to climb Everest? Fuck and no. Dead old bastard.

Bear Grylls is such a badass, he doesn’t even need vowels in his last name. If the Vikings hired him, he could probably turn the Metrodome into some sort of elaborate kill zone, equipped with booby traps all over the field to fuck the other team up. Again, I’d pay to see that.

So let’s make that happen. Fuck Obama in ’08. I want some bear meat.

KSK Off-Topic: A Quick Note To All The Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People In The National Sports Media

Just shut up about students storming the court already, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People.

We get it, you don't like it when fans storm the court or field after what you would not consider a "big win." I heard one of you on the radio today refer to it as "disgusting," which is a shameful overstatement, but I'll get back to that. You guys pull shit like this all the time whenever you see fans doing something you don't like, just like when people are booing your favorite athletes, like your favorite White Person, Derek Jeter:

Derek Jeter's getting booed! Nobody should be booing my Derek! He's earned the right to play at a mediocre level without reprisal from the populace! Whaaaaaaah!

You don't fucking get it, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People. We'll boo whomever the fuck we want. And we don't require a blessing from the national media to do so. It's not like you assholes are paying to get into these games.

Same rules apply with storming the field or court. It's not like students are storming the court after they lose. When your team wins an important conference game at home, you might as well get out there, because who knows when you'll win another one. If the practice allows a few on-campus couches to live another hour or so, how is that a bad thing?

Storming the court is special, sure, but its scope isn't limited to the world of sports. It's part of the college experience. Remember when you went to college, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People?

So, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People, maybe your time would be better spent by going back to traditional "sports talk," that is, your cryptic whining about how much you hate it that there are 25-year-old black kids out there making more money than you. That's where you Old, White People seem to excel. Dipshits.

NFL Scouting Bukkake: The Combine

"Hey Joaquin, I'm gonna sell this and buy a week's worth of speedballs. You want in on that?"

It's combine time, so we here at KSK asked a high-ranking scout to analyze the prospect's workouts.

There's nothing quite like Indianapolis in February. It almost makes me wish I'd never been re-animated... Even though a lot of prospects think they're too good to participate in the workouts (they aren't) there's still a lot to be seen. For instance, Joe Thomas proved that he can in fact run 40 yards quite effectively for an offensive tackle... JaMarcus Russel's a fatty fatty boombolatty... Some receiver Yamon Figurs ran a 4.3 40. Even though he only has three fingers he's now expected to go to the Raiders in the second round. At least he can still order a glass of scotch at the Viper Room.

Calvin Johnson is 6'5" 239 with a 4.35 40. He also pisses excellence while shitting pieces of the True Cross. Matt Millen and Al Davis had such an intense reaction they had to be escorted out by mental health professionals for further examination and treatment... Troy Smith says he's not working out because he just came off the banquet circuit which is known to cause shortness and weakening of the throwing arm. Hey, has anybody seen Chris Penn?

Brady Quinn's trainer told him to be a bear before beginning the bench press exercise. Quinn asked if he could still be a bottom. 24 reps, that's 1 for every guy that's going before him in the first round. Even I didn't spend this much time mugging for the cameras (and I was smoldering)... Jarvis Moss just sacked Troy Smith again... Isn't there any god damn coke in this fucking city? If I don't get a bump I'm gonna tear out Kiper's throat with my teeth...

Syndric Steptoe might be short (5'8 5/8")--but he's also slow (4.52)! To be fair he was probably just caught up in that banquet circuit, those award shows are really banging down his door... Robert Meechum is really good, he just beat the record for the gauntlet drill (previously held by Questor the Elf)... Florida State's Chris Davis just fell over his feet on both attempts at the short shuttle drill. After proclaiming himself as Christ Almighty he underwent treatment for Lyme Disease... I need a drink.

Thanks River! We'll have more from our esteemed scout coming soon.

KSK Gamebook: The Gay Super Bowl

The Gay Super Bowl was Sunday night. And since we're obligated to cover anything obliquely related to the Super Bowl, here are our thoughts from the four hours of Oscar coverage.


- Check out the tits on Jessica Biel.

- Is it wrong that I think Helen Mirren is hot?

- Man, I love a good movie montage during the Oscars. Thank God all those people died.

- Reese Witherspoon looks good enough to eat.

- Scorsese finally won, as did The Departed. Totally deserved awards, if you ask me. But then, I'm white. As any sensible commenter can tell you: white people are pussies and that movie is bullshit.

Want more coverage? Go to E!, ya freakin' homo.

There Are Broncos Dying, And I Think I Know Who's Responsible

Watch your back, Broncos! If he's dying, he's planning on taking as many of you with him as possible.

Cleveland Finally Wins Something

Tails never fails, motherfucker.

So Cleveland "won" the coin toss today. Actually, the Bucs lost it. The Bucs GM called heads. What the fuck is heads? And why did HE get to call the fucking coin? Shouldn't there be some arbitrary method to figure out who gets to call the coin?

Anyway, we're done for another week. We may have a surprise for you coming up after the weekend, but we won't jinx it. Your cheerleader today is Christy, seen here playing quarterback. I hear she's also a great tight end.


See you next week.

Why Are All These Quarterbacks So Gay? A Definitive Guide

Man, why are all these quarterbacks so gay? I don't understand how football can pretend it's the manliest of sports with the most homophobic locker rooms when every team is led by a flaming homosexual.

Peyton Manning. Queer. Yeah, he's married, but how many kids does he have? Zero, because he only has sex with dudes. Check this out: he once appeared onstage to sing with Kenny Chesney. And we all know singing is gay.

Don't get me started on Jeff Garcia. This guy is so gay he had to get engaged to the 2004 Playmate of the Year, Carmella DeCesare. What a crock. Why would a coveted nude pinup deign to marry a wealthy professional athlete? It just doesn't make sense. Everyone knows that a good beard is proportional in fame and hotness to the gay man she moonlights for. It's why Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are such a joke, and why Tom Brady has most of America fooled.

Besides, Terrell Owens insinuated he was gay. If we can't trust T.O., who can we trust?

Speaking of Tom Brady...

Just look at him. Oh, sure, he's "dating" Gisele. Wink, wink. Are we really supposed to believe that he impregnated Bridget Moynahan? Get real. She's old and he's gay. How do I know? Well, for starters, he's good-looking and dresses well. That's fucking queer. Plus he was photographed holding a goat. And anyone photographed with a farm animal automatically likes bestiality, which is the same thing as being gay.

The evidence is just overwhelming. I can't believe more people don't realize it.

Donovan McNabb. Disliked by Rush Limbaugh; in commercials with his mother. Gay.

Chris Simms. Too easy. Next.

Tony Romo. Dimpled, attractive, youthful face = obviously gay. His public announcements of crushes on blonde pop starlets Jessica Simpson and Carrie Underwood were painfully contrived. Why? Because his favorite blond is Chris Simms. Did I just make that up? Probably.

Trent Green, Mark Brunell and Kurt Warner are all devoutly Christian, and we all know devoutly Christian = closet case. Well, except for Warner. There's nothing closeted about marrying a man.

Matt Leinart actually might not be gay, but now that he's slept with Paris Hilton, he's at least got the gay diseases.

People seem to think Rex Grossman has a way with the ladies, and they give him a lot of credit for being the Sex Cannon. More like the Butt Sex Cannon. Have you seen his eyebrows? That shit gets waxed twice a week, and tweezed daily. He's a three-dollar bill, my friends. A three-dollar bill.

Alex Smith. Women find him atractive. Thus, he is gay. (See also: David Carr, Philip Rivers)

My favorite gay quarterback is Matt Hasselbeck. He did a pretty good job of pretending he was straight for a long time, having a wife who gave birth a couple times to babies that he allegedly donated his sperm to. But then he took this picture:

And it is obvious, conclusive evidence that Matt Hasselbeck likes sex with men. It was probably his idea for him and Trent Dilfer (also gay) to take their shirts off. Also: black and white photography is gay.

J.P. Losman. Long hair. Loses a lot. Gay and gay.

Eli Manning was clearly sexually abused by his older brother. Hence his closeted self-loathing is taken out on the football field (where he is timid and cowardly) and in karaoke bars (where he is fabulous).

Michael Vick. NOT gay. Also: not really a quarterback. QED.

Joey Harrington plays the piano. See also: Elton John; Liberace.

Brett Favre has a long-running secret affair with columnist Peter King; Chad Pennington feathers his hair; Vince Young is a top; Brad Johnson is a bottom; Aaron Brooks is a queen; Ben Roethlisberger is a bear; Marc Bulger likes hard cock so much, he changed his last name to Bulger; Jay Cutler's mother cuts his hair [EDIT: see also Carson Palmer]; Byron Leftwich pretends to be injured just so his big, strong teammates will carry him downfield; Daunte Culpepper moved to Miami for the lifestyle opportunities in South Beach; Charlie Frye throws like a girl; Jake Delhomme is willing to try anything; Steve McNair actually uses Nair; and Drew Brees... hmm... I got nothin' on him. I guess he's the exception that proves the rule.

Gay, gay, gay, and gay. So there, John Amaechi. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. You know, figuratively.

*Not included: Jon Kitna. I think he's some kind of asexual alien.

F--k You, Award Me.

Ok, I know I've gone over this before, but I feel it's something I need to stress.

You must get me a goddamn Oscar.

I've taking this to the legions of our nation's football fans because you, if anyone, understand the notion of a meritocracy. As such, you know that those who reach the uppermost plateau of achievement are those who truly belong, not some media darling people assume deserve something by pedigree. Just look: a gritty, unassuming team like the Colts just won the Super Bowl, for the love of fuck.

See, what I'm driving at here, wise-ass son of a bitch, is that a grave injustice is being done every year I don't get that award. I'm one of the four directors whose names you know, and that's why I know I can count on you.

Also, what I like about you guys is that you don't have high-flown notions of what a Best Picture film should be. There's no Hollywood politicking. None of that shit. No campaigns, no last minutes surges or what the fuck. Admit it, my movie was one of three you saw last year. You saw The Departed, you saw the new Rocky movie and you saw Borat. You might have seen that high school football movie with the Rock and the other coloreds, I don't know. Bear with me.

Yeah, okay, I know, Borat made you laugh and, yes, between guffaws, you though about the festering racism that lurks just beneath the patina of normalcy that is American life. It's omnipresent, that stuff. It also had that nasty 69 scene (stolen from me!) and a few quotes you can repeat ad nauseum to your hungover friends working on the factory floor. DON'T TRY TO REMEMBER THEM!

The new Rocky movie wasn't as horrendously bad as you might have feared, and that's really all you can recall about it. If you recall, it was only the original Rocky that beat out Taxi Driver for an Oscar. DON'T TRY TO REMEMBER IT!


But then, my movie. A true paragon of cinematic achievement. A masterstroke of Hong Kong film remakery. Virtuosic, even. Tarantino, that little fuck, is impressed.

I mean, remember the head shots? There were at least 10 of them.

Patriot Act jokes? That's fucking topical. Does that mean nothing to you? You had your head up your ass watching Bridge to Terabithia since 9/11, is that it?

That's what I do. Make gory, nay, visceral films with snazzy jazz soundtracks. Always have.

Ok, I could understand in years past when I lost out to stellar films like Dances With Wolves, but look at the parade of schlock they got me going up against this year:

Babel is a bunch of scarcely interlocking, depressing nonsense with some vaguely geopolitical undertones. It had nice young Japanese girl tits in it, but, overall, totally unfocused. Babel is like hippie ADD.

Little Miss Sunshine features a 10-year-old acting like a prostitute. I tried that with Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver. Let me tell ya, doesn't win you any awards.

The Queen was some overwrought bullshit about the reaction to Princess Diana getting killed. Coulda used some negro junkies, I think. No. Wait. Maybe. Yes., okay - scratch that. But it would have been somewhat compelling, except she dies in a car accident. Where are all the head shots? Rogue paparazzo with PTSD from some war photography - I don't know, work with me -whips out a Desert Eagle and splatters her royal head all over the street. Do you know what a .44 Magnum would do to a vagina movie? People would watch that.

And, finally, that squinty fucker Clint Eastwood is back trying to rip another statuette from my mythic grasp like he did two years ago with "Girlfight II: Now With Less Michelle Rodriguez." Listen, if you want to watch a movie that humanizes people trying to kill American troops, I think you're sick. At least my movie has Americans shooting up fellow Americans. In the head.

Ok, we done here? Great, now I have to plead with the NASCAR people. Dumb fucking mental midgets are probably still hoping Brokeback doesn't win this year either.

“Getting caught in the gears of a combine... that's the way I wanna go.”

Don’t count on KSK to provide much in the way of bona fide draft analysis. Rather than discuss mid-round sleepers, we are far more likely to hold a mock draft of possible Dreamboat-Moynahan baby names (for the record, I call dibs on "Robespierre") . But the well-hung devils at Football Outsiders report that linebacker Zak DeOssie is the first Brown University player to be invited to the NFL combine. F.O. compares Zak to the Cowboys’ Bobby Carpenter which, of course, is code for saying “he’s white as the driven snow,” and posits that the Jets may call his name on draft day.

Chris Berman will likely spend a substantial portion of draft day slurping this kid and asking the well-coiffed Mel Kiper, Jr. questions like, “So this DeOssie fella, would you say he’s the next Butkus or is he the next Singletary?” If you needed a reason to skip ESPN’s draft coverage, besides the fact it is about as entertaining as watching paint dry, you now have one. Berman is notorious for tipping draft picks seconds before they are formally announced, but would he go so far as to try to influence the pick?


Goodell (approaching podium): “With the first pick of the 2007 NFL Draft the Oakland Raiders select Jamarc—“

Berman (interrupting): “The Nut Zak!!! Zak DeOssie, FROM…”

T.J. (enthusiastically chiming in from the peanut gallery): “BROWN UNIVERSITY!!!”


(And, yes, Al Davis is senile enough to let something like this happen.)

I’ve never rooted for a draftee to be a bust. [Editor’s note: this is a dirty, dirty lie.] But I dread the prospect of Berman calling this guy’s number during the highlights for years to come. I don't want to see a major head injury turn DeOssie into a drooling moron (see: Hoge, Merrill), but something like a bum knee wouldn't be so bad. Plus, dude went to Brown-- if football doesn’t work out for him, he’ll be all right.

From left to right: Zak, Zach and Zakk

I Think I’ll Have The Chicken

What are you having, dear? Quail? Ooh. Sounds exotic. Oh, me? Well, you know me. I think I’ll have the chicken.

Yes, I know I order it every time, but doggone it if I don’t like it. Besides, all this other stuff on here looks potentially exciting. This steak comes with a small thing of horseradish on the side, and horseradish has a real kick! No, that’s too adventurous for me. Good old chicken does the trick. In fact, I may have the chef just boil it and serve it to me unadorned. But I’ll be sure to have him boil it thoroughly. I wouldn’t want to get salmonella!

Hello, waiter! Jeez, he’s been ignoring me for hours. Maybe I should raise my voice just a teeny tiny bit. Umm, waiter? Yes, I know that wasn’t louder, dear. I’m building up to it. I can’t just go from zero to apoplectic in two seconds! If I turn and look at him with longing eyes for a solid hour or two, he may notice me.

Hey, where are you going? What do you mean, this always happens when we go out? Well dear, these waiters are very busy. You can’t expect them to serve EVERY table. Some may fall by the wayside. Like ours. Every time. Yes, I’m being assertive! I just furrowed my brow at him! And you know how hard it is for me to furrow.

You know what? We can just go home. You make chicken for me every night just the way I like it. No need to visit some fancy restaurant for it. Just good ol’ chicken, unsalted rice, and tap water. Mmmmmm, delicious! I can hardly wait!

Why are you crying? What do you mean, you can’t live this lie anymore? You’re what? You’re sleeping with another man? Well, who is he? Jim? Oh, Jim’s a really nice guy. And he’s sleeping with you? Why, that sly old coot! Boy, I guess he really knows how to please a woman. Wish I could do that. Maybe I’ll ask him for advice.

Am I mad? I guess I should be. But I don’t want to be rocking the boat too much here. If you’re happy loving another man, well I’d hate to get in your way. Divorce? Okay, if you want. 75% to you sound good? I don’t want to be any trouble. Yes, yes. You can have the houses and children as well. I’ll stay at the Motel 6. They’re very nice there. Plus they have pay-per-view television, so I can masturbate quietly and then cry myself to sleep.

Now, where’s that chicken?

FAT TUESDAY

What would Mardi Gras be without a few gratuitous pictures of some buxom, bead-grubbing revelers? Laissez les bon temps rouler!


[Click on pic to enlarge (at your own peril).]

Your Steve Irwin Memorial 2006/Very-Small-Portion-Of-2007 Meast Of The Year

What is this, like an internet honor? That’s what you guys do? Hang out on the internet? That’s cool. I like the internet. It’s got pictures of people fucking, and I like fucking. That’s all me.

You know, this offseason has given me a lot of time to think. Maybe it’s time I settled down and really learned my position. I gonna study tapes of all the great ones: Unitas, Montana, Elway, Salisbury – to figure out the nuances of proper NFL quarterbacking. I’m gonna learn to play within myself. I’m gonna learn to start winning games with my head, and not just my arm. It’s time for me to mature as a player. It’s time for me to mature AS A MAN.






Nah, I’m just fucking with you. I would never do that. That’s for queers like Manning.

Can you believe it? We get six months off! How fucking awesome is that? It would have been seven too if they didn’t make me work all January. Well, I’ve got some major league plans to fill all that time and lots of ladies with my ample manpaste. In fact, I even made myself a little list of everything I’d like to accomplish this offseason:

The Sex Cannon’s Goals For the 2007 Offseason

-Throw a Hutch ball 200 yards while masturbating
-Have a plaster cast made of my arm to recreate the “Anal Intruder” sex toy from Top Secret!
-Hey, didn’t we have a Mexican d-coordinator? Where did he go? He was gonna introduce me to his niece. I wanna nail her and then have her cook me some arroz con pollo.
-Learn to speak Mexican
-Stack two waterbed mattresses on top of one other. Fuck on that.
-Fuck on a trampoline
-Fuck on a rock
-Fuck on top of this 500-lb. guy I know named Jim
-Pose on the cover of SI for Kids. Make sure they retouch a comet tail onto the ball I’m throwing. That would be fucking sweet.
-Start children’s charity that teaches underaged kids both how to throw a football and make love like a wild boar
-Try wild boar
-Compose list of words that sound German but are not (example: fluffen: snow)
-Nail German chick
-Make sure her German boyfriend watches and cries
-Lease videotape collection to Orton
-Buy puppy. Fuck it.
-Design official KSK Sex Cannon t-shirt and put it on sale 3 months too late
-Go to gun shop. Tell them I don’t need any guns because I am already fully stocked. Throw a football in the clerk’s face
-Throw cup of warm semen into a NOW rally
-Learn guitar, because guys who rock the guitar get major league pussy
-Let the circus girl out her box. Feed her a Cheez-It
-Laugh out loud when the Bears draft Troy Smith in the second round
-Procreate with every last one of you

Meast of the Year Voting Breakdown:
Grossman: 19 votes
Sanders: 7
Merriman: 6
Prince: 5
LDT: 4
B. Scott: 3
L. Neal: 3
J. Taylor: 2
J. Brown: 2 (shame on you people)
Panthers D: 2 (and the one I’d vote for)
Bears D: 2
Pacman: 2
D. Williams: 2
Faneca: 1
85: 1
Josh Jeff Reed’s wang: 1
Cincinnati Police Department: 1
Me: 1
Eli Manning: 0

Hiroshima on the Hudson, Pompeii on the Potomac, Atlantis on the Allegheny and so much more

...because we get bored at work just like everybody else (except for Caveman, he works at whichever titty bar has the best wireless signal).

Once again the KSK crew decided to kill some additional time with a marathon email thread. This time we decided to conduct a mock draft of the cities we might eliminate if given the means and opportunity (our motives are included). Yeah, we're not perfect human beings (we aren't even Mormon!).

Disclaimer: Nobody at KSK is promoting the destruction of an American city. This is just a jumping off point in case the situation presented itself.

1. UM- Baltimore

Like any good District resident I bear a strong loathing for mortal enemies down I-95. If you're from one city you pretty much have to hate the other, they're so different and yet so close by. If you don't hate one of them then you probably live in Columbia, in which case you do not matter.

2. Punter- NOLA

Punter: New Orleans, LA. I'll get an NFL team in LA. Watch me. "Monday Morning Punter --Finishing What Katrina Started."

Flubby: You're crazy, New Orleans might be the best city in America.

Punter: I think pissing in the street is slightly overrated.

3. Flubby- Memphis

I would have taken Memphis even if I had the #1 overall pick.

Apartheid is alive and well in Memphis. All the whites of means packed up and moved to Germantown long ago, leaving a decaying husk of a city behind.

Other reasons Memphis sucks: Mud Island is boring as hell. Dog tracks should not be patronized by civilized folk or anyone who purports to give a damn about dogs. The Peabody Hotel ducks. Not one but two deserted white-elephant arenas: the Pyramid and Mid-South Coliseum. Their minor-league baseball park is named after noted douchebag Tim McCarver. Libertyland: the OD'd over-the-hill porn star of amusement parks.

4. Ape- Cleveland

I know Matt is going with Pittsburgh with the next pick, so it's tempting to pre-empt him with Seattle, but I've ceased to care about Seahawks fans, most of whom have stopped their whining by now. And, having never been to the Emerald City, it would seem foolish to condemn it. Besides, there are still far more clearly worthy of demolition.

Sienna Miller hates Pittsburgh as much as Captain Caveman. Plus she is hot.

5. Caveman- Pittsburgh

I had to think hard about this one, actually. Anyone from Pittsburgh with any kind of intellectual worth leaves the city (see also: Christmas Ape), so the public outcry from the diaspora of Yinzers (who eagerly fled the city) could make Pittsburgh an exceptionally annoying martyr. On the other hand, the destruction of Heinz Field, the Steelers, and the Pittsburghers most closely related to the genus Australopithecus would make it more than worthwhile.


6. Drew- Boston

And I'd take it #1 if I had the choice. Let's see: cold, fuckface fans, shitty roads that don't have matching entry and exit points, any number of pretentious jackass college students, the accent, Fenway fucking Park, Bill Simmons' family, a completely misplaced sense of civic pride, and Legal Seafoods is a fucking ripoff.
BOOM!

7. Drew- LA (ed. note: not on Jack Bauer's watch!)

It's the Simmons sweep. It takes 45 minutes to get anywhere in that fucking town, and once you get there you are confronted with a bunch
of self-important douchebags who look right through you. Oh, and
actors in Hollywood are so easily offended that they had to hire Ellen
Degeneres - the comedian for people who don't like comedy - to host
the Oscars...

8. Caveman- St. Louis

A hundred years ago, St. Louis really was the "Gateway to the West." Cross-country rail traffic had to go through the hub of St. Louis. And yet today everyone flies through O'Hare. Why is that? Well, I'm not entirely sure, but it may have something to do with the city's population being smaller now than it was when it held the World's Fair in 1904. See, not only did the rich white people move to the suburbs (like every American city), they even went so far as to re-draw county lines so their taxes wouldn't help the black people. Great story, right? But hey, they go to church and cheer for those underdog Cardinals, they must be good people!

Fuck that piece of shit city. Miserably humid summers, cold-ass windy winters, Budweiser, goatees, and God-fearing pear-shaped people.

BOOM.

9. Ape- Houston

Any place that constantly, miserably hot and humid should have the decency to have at least some redeeming qualities. Instead, you have a spawling town of 2 million people with no culture, the most obnoxious rap scene in the country (I fucking hate Paul Wall), and monstrous economic disparity. Throw in Enron, Tom DeLay and the designation of America's fattest city for a number of years and no wonder Lisa Novak went fucking nuts.

10. Flubby- Texarkana

Flubby started some long story about a road trip to Dallas involving a quest for beer (the statute of limitations has passed). Here's the ending...

Finally arriving in Texarkana, we piled out of the van and raced into the gas station. Imagine our dismay when the yokel counter jockey told us that there was, despite what we had been told by the theme from "Smokey and the Bandit", there is no beer in Texarkana. "Dry county," said the skinny kid in a Jackyl shirt . "But- but- Jerry Reed promised...." we sputtered to no avail. We slinked back to the van and rode the rest of the way to Dallas in dejected silence. Years later, I'm still bitter. That's why I hate Texarkana. I can hold a grudge like a motherfucker.

11. Punter- Indianapolis

For reasons already discussed

12. UM- Dallas

As a lifelong fan of the Redskins I pretty much have to hate Dallas (but they make it so easy). Dan Snyder is reportedly putting an "I hate Dallas" clause in the season ticket contracts, oddly counterintuitive coming for the owner of Six Flags. Seriously though, Dallas fucking sucks. The airport is one giant godforsaken circle and all you can hear is some overly accented PA announcer that you just fucking know is wearing a cowboy hat.

13. UM- Columbus

It's probably been said before (if not it should have been), but Ohio is the appendix of America. It hasn't been useful for as long as anybody can remember but it's always there just waiting to fuck up everything you've got going. Columbus is the epitome of the forsaken state. It's filled with Buckeye lovin' douchebags (sorry Punter) who almost make me not hate Michigan every damn day. Plus I'm jealous of their skills in botany.


14. Punter- DC

He's just mad because I destroyed C-bus.

15. Flubby- Sioux Falls (a google search backs up flubby's story that this is not a made up city)

As much as I would like to pick Greenville, SC solely to stick it to Punter over his Tony Mandarich-esque selection, I just can't do that to the fine people of the Palmetto State.

Give me Sioux Falls, SD a depressing dingy cow-town spotted with incongruous shimmering skyscrapers home to multinationals taking advantage of the state's predatory usury laws.

16. Ape- Orlando

It contains everything unlikeable about L.A.: relentless traffic congestion; nonexistent public transport; stupid, superficial people. However, it's all tinged with white trash Florida values and milieu. Most of the terrible pop music you hear comes from Orlando. The public water smells like shit because it's filled with sulfur and Disney controls everything. Before wising up and finishing my college career at Maryland, I spent my freshman year at UCF, when I still had delusions of being a film student. The 2000 election happened during this year and, despite being in the nexus of the crisis, no one I met in Orlando seemed to give a shit. But when Dale Earnhardt died months later, people were weeping in the streets. Even College Park has more charm than Orlando and that's saying a lot.

17. Caveman- Staten Island

Detroit and Jacksonville definitely suck, but I've got nothing against them personally. I'm gonna take Staten Island as my final pick. Technically not a city, but it's the cancerous dewlap of New York. It needs to be destroyed.

18. Drew- Atlanta

I need to take a major city to ensure I win the body count here. I want to be the Stalin of the group, not the Hitler. Plus, I've killed lots of annoying liberals already. Time to kill me some Georgian conservatives. Along with Atlanta's shitass traffic, apathetic fans, and Ted Turner. Fuck Ted Turner. Also, I read the first 100 pages of Wolfe's "A Man In Full" and it fucking sucked.

Norv Hired as Head Coach, Seau to Play Quarterback

One of these men has a lovely complexion, the other will be coaching the Chargers.

Dear NFL Gods,

Thank you, thank you, and thank you again. Really, this is a dream come true (technically the dream had Norville in Dallas but this is still pretty funny) and I've got to give you guys all the credit in the world. Who else but the mysterious spirits in the sky would go out of their way to ensure the hilarity that is the Norv Turner experience. The befuddled expressions, the laissez-faire locker room, and the total lack of institutional control...He's back BABY!

Sincerely,
A Norv Survivor


Could they have picked a worse candidate? Submit your ideas in the comments!

Old NFL QB Child Trend: Autism. New NFL QB Child Trend: Illegitimacy

Dumping Bridget before she gets too old? Smart move, Brady. Slipping one past the goalie right before doing so? Ouch. Did Matty Leinart teach you nothing?

Photoshop work by MDG

Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together

The season may be over but for one of the First Ladies of Football things are just getting started. Michae' Holloman (no relation) isn't just a sexy cheerleader, she's also a fucking beauty queen.

The rose goes in the front, big guy.

After winning the title of Miss Maryland (Ft. Washington represent) 2007 Michae' is preparing to move on to the Miss USA pagaent in March. This is not to be confused with the Miss America pagaent; these ladies forgo the "talent" competition in order to focus their full attention on the tits and ass. Come on Miss America, get with the times. Rocking that body should be worth more than all the juggling and crappy warbling in the world. If these ladies had real talent do you think they'd waste their time with this low-rent shit? Hell no, they'd be too busy giving Simon blowjobs during the commercial breaks on American Idol. Donald Trump know's what's up...

If she wins I might have to reevaluate my Black Draft selections--don't worry Halle, on the national stage she's still just another busted Marylander (no offense to every girl I grew up with--actually fuck that, offense intended! Bitches...).

Ashes To Ashes, Dust To Dust

MMP: Dearly beloved, and Clint, we are gathered here today to pay the final respects of Ramon Guadelupe "Footsteps" Falco. Falco, though unassuming, was one of the charter contributors to this fine piece of contemporary literature. As fate would have it, his tenure and work were ravaged by ailments that, to this day, remain mysterious to us all. We don't know why Falco was taken from us, he just kinda disappeared like a blonde tourist in Aruba. Was it cancer, syphilis, or maybe just an unhealthy obsession with his commemorative state quarters collection? We may never know.

Flubby would now like to say a few words.

Flubby: I would?

MMP: C'mon dude, it's for Falco.

Flubby: [rolls eyes] Fine. [clears throat] Falco died, as so many of his generation, before his time. In your wisdom you took him, Lord. As you took so many bright flowering young men, at Khe San and Lan Doc and Hill 364. Falco was a shining example of changing with the times and remaining relevant. How many other people could become an NFL internet wiseacre of considerable renown after a successful pop-music career that culminated in his global smash hit "Rock Me Amadeus." Once in Marrakesh, Falco and I were discussing the Hegelian dialectic when he remarked----

MMP: Flub, this is the guy that used to blog with us, not the Austrian one-hit wonder.

Flubby: Really? He's not the same dude as the singer? You're sure?

MMP: Pretty sure, bro.

Flubby: Fuck me. You think you know a guy...

Ape: Yeah, I joined the site after he had already gone MIA, so I have little to no recollection.

Unsilent: Right, I think he only did one post that wasn't a team preview.

Ufford: Maybe he'll come back from the dead again, like he did for the opening day Pittsburgh bukkake.

MMP: Dicks. [sighs] And so, Ramon...Guadalupe...Falco, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your mortal remains to the bosom of the short men's room urinal in Penn Station, which, for no tangible reason, we suspect you loved so well.



Goodnight, sweet prince.













Drew: I hope he's not actually dead, because that would make all our jokes about him being dead really awkward.

Najeh's Dump Import

Welcome to what we hope will be the first of many installments of Najeh's Dump Import. We scour the eBays for the latest NFL skinny because you don't have time-- what with your mounting credit card debt and that scorching case of herpes. As always, we will pretend to be interested in your comments (which is more than ESPN.com will do).

• His self-esteem is Schott? According to Steve Czaban, Marty Schottenheimer has the confidence of an insecure twelve year old girl. (via Larry Brown Sports)


• Prayers to Black Jesus answered? Michael Irvin may soon have a pink slip to go with his fat ties. (NY Post via Shanoff)


• Speaking of Dan Shanoff , he delivers the state of the sports blogosphere in his interview with The Big Picture: him talk good, him have pretty wordhole.

Vote For The Meast Of The Year!

We've been trying to decide if we should continue the Meast of the Week award all through the offseason, but I think it's probably a feature best left to when football is present in our lives and not leaving a gaping void in the pit of our souls.

Besides, the MOW posts were largely used for us to talk about whatever the fuck we wanted, and now we have 6 whole months to do that anyway. And now here is the illustrious roll call of all the KSK Meast honorees. From this batch you must pick one player, the player we at KSK shall bestow the title of Meast of the Year upon. Making your work even harder is the fact that Sean Taylor, the original Meast himself, isn’t even on this list! Oh, the ironing.

Here we go. Make your picks in the comments. Coronation next week.

Week 1 – Shawne Merriman

Week 2 – Mike Peterson

Week 3 – Panthers defense

Week 4 – Santana Moss

Week 5 – Bears defense

Week 6 – Alan Faneca/Josh Brown

Week 7 – Steve Hutchinson

Week 8 – Mike Vrabel and Tully Banta-Cain

Week 9 - Jason Taylor

Week 10 - LaDainian Tomlinson

Week 11 - Chad Johnson

Week 12 - Bart Scott

Week 13 - Lorenzo Neal

Week 14 - Drew Brees

Week 15 - Pacman Jones

Week 16 - Steven Jackson

Week 17 - Darrent Williams

Wild Card Round – Shawn Andrews

Divisional Playoffs - Deuce McAllister

NFC Title Game – The Sex Cannon That Is Rex Grossman

AFC Title Game – Bob Sanders

Super Bowl XLI - Prince

Vote now!

People, Let Me Tell You About My Black Friend

Throughout Black History Month, which, you may heard, is this dreary, short, boring month, well-meaning media organizations will take a special moment to highlight people in the footnotes of history who happened to be black. Like Crispus Attucks, the first person killed in the Boston Massacre (because he had a funny name).

It's all kind of a tedious affair. And we here at KSK aren't really students of history. We're scholars of sexy. So we thought we could properly honor Black History Month and stay true to ourselves (that is, six white guys obsessed with football) by creating a mock draft of famous living black people we'd like to be friends with. Because we like them as people, not as abstractions. Besides, black people are cool and, if movies are any indication, they always help their white friends get soul, perspective, compassion or chicks.

And really, what better can we do to commemorate Black History Month than pretend to divvy up ownership rights of famous black people?

I mean, um, that is to say, uh... w-we... try to understand that...uh..."ARTICULATE" WAS MEANT AS A COMPLIMENT!

The draft came about in quite a spur of the moment fashion in our e-mail ramblings, so the order of picks didn't reflect our respective need of blackness. If structured correctly, Caveman would probably pick first by virtue of his eerie pallor and Unsilent would go last, secure in his supreme pretend-blackness. Also, in the spirit of fairness (who knew this would first emerge during an offseason mock draft?) the order was serpentine. We tried to provide a little about what thought, if any, was going into each pick.

Round 1

MMP: Oprah

"Large, wealthy nubian princess. Plus she's already a lesbian so I wouldn't have to fuck her. I'd get on TV and have my own show by November sweeps."

CC: Jay-Z

"Oprah : Mario Williams :: Jay-Z : Reggie Bush"

BDD: Don Cheadle

Drew said something about this being a sleeper pick. Cheadle's coolness cannot be disputed but I think the real reason Drew went this route is because he's just so smitten by the Reign Over Me trailer.

Unsilent: Halle Berry

UM didn't give much in the way of explanation other than general slobbering. Maybe Halle can use her Storm weather controlling powers to make all this fucking snow go away.

flubby: Chris Rock

"Chappelle seems like a tweaker. He can't be my friend. I took Chris Rock because Shirley Hemphill is dead."

Ape: Mos Def

Amazing rapper and even a skilled actor. He also played the representative of the black delegation in Chappelle's racial draft, so he's a true figurehead. You can keep your retired rappers, CC.

All right. Nothing but entertainers. And Oprah. The NAACP and Bill Cosby are thrilled.

Round 2

Ape: Robert Mugabe

Before you criticize, I should at least get credit for picking a non-athlete/entertainer/rapper. Black murderous potentate is the new black head coach. I think he can get over the whole "white devil" thing. And while Zimbabwe isn't a thriving country by any means, controlling all the resources of even a poor country has to be worth something.

flubby: George Clinton

A fine pick, I must admit. At this point, we're all just astounded that Berman didn't tip any of these picks, mainly because we'd have to go a Brazilion rounds before any of us considered taking TJ.

Unsilent: Russell Simmons

Lots to like here: Hip-hop pioneer, activist, former husband of Hines Ward's fantasy girl. But Simmons is a vegan and Unsilent has already polished off a quarter chicken through the first round of this thing.

BDD: Michael Jordan

Drew knows Jordan can market anything, even Tupperware shits and beer guts. Jordan can school Drew in the wonders of adultery, among other things.

CC: Barack Obama

"Dude might be the next president; seems approachable and humorous; Dan Shanoff likes him."

MMP: Will Smith

The actor/rapper and not the Saints defensive end. Clearly MMP is going for the "non-threatening to white people and earners of large sums of money" angle.

Round 3

MMP: Gabrielle Union

Or not. Union is sexy and a talented actr...okay, she's talented at being sexy.

CC: Clinton Portis

"I desperately wanted Rihanna with this pick, but ultimately felt it was a wiser choice to go with the Miami alum with the stripper pole in his basement."

BDD: Big Boi

Drew immediately claimed victory in the draft with this pick of, he said, the most talented member of Outkast. Caveman and Unsilent strenuously object, aver that Andre 3000 is the most Southernplayaistic. Says Caveman: "Of course, I'm gay for things like style, so that counts extra for me."

Unsilent: Tiger Woods

Unsilent surprisingly spurns Gilbert Arenas, who later vows to torch UM for 50 points in Madden.

"Say what you want about his surly demeanor or his chess club celebrations, he's still a cool guy. I love golf and with Tiger at my side I could play anywhere in the world. My dream foursome would include Tiger, Elin, and Elin's (single?) twin sister Josephin--yeah, I'm all over that. Downside: Jimmy Roberts hiding in my bushes. "

flubby: Black Jesus

flubby didn't elaborate too much with this one, so we all just took it to mean he was picking Morgan Freeman.

Ape: Zadie Smith

She's beautiful and brilliant. And British, if you'll excuse the cheap alliteration. White Teeth is a great novel and I heard On Beauty was as well.

So there you have it. Let us know who you think might have won (racism, possibly) and who we should have taken. Like me, ferinstance. Robert Mugabe? What the fuck was I thinking?

A VD Treat We Can Get Behind

Valentine's Day, in a word, is bullshit.

If you're a guy and you're with someone, there's an expectation that just never seems capable of being met. Any sort of conceivable gift seems to be either too inexpensive or not thoughtful enough. And if you don't give her jewelry or a cell phone, then you're just a fucking asshole.

The fact is that women don't really care what they get, they just want ammunition so that they don't get mowed down during the "What'd you get for VD" conversation with their friends, one of whom, statistically speaking, is (a) sure to be such a contrived cunt that she might as well be pacing in front of a giant American flag while wearing a helmet, and (b) always manages to find some guy stupid enough to spend time with her on V-Day. It's not even about the premise of love, it's about competing with the Cunty Pattons of the world. And if you're not with someone, well, this day just blows even more.

So imagine our joy when somebody actually gave US something for Valentine's Day. Oh yes. KSK self-professed lurker Spiderannn sent us this YouTube masterpiece, featuring some of our favorite images from our KSK playoff posts, a healthy dose of wit bordering on smarmy, and a couple digs at Ufford, which is always fun. Yeah, I guess I'm calling him Ufford now. It's better than "The Uff," at least.

Enjoy the movie, while I attempt to track down this young(?) woman and persuade her to conceive my children. Or at least buy her a cell phone. This clip will be our only item for the day, so if you have any sort of VD to pass along, we'd love to hear from you in the comments.

KSK Clip Show: The Best Of Big Daddy Drew

You’ll have to forgive the housekeeping post, but since the season is over I wanted to make a post that linked to my favorite shit during the season. Some of this shit is obvious, some is stuff that amuses me and no one else. If you haven’t read any of these, well then you’re just a fucker now, aren’t you?

PS – I know this list is long. Fuck you. These posts are my children. My very deformed, retarded children. So suck my peepee.

The original Rex Grossman post

The Eli Manning post

I pray to Jesus to kill Brandon Jacobs

The 2006 Drinking and Drugging Preview

Photos of my beer gut (Ladies, this post is not safe for panties)

The original Bill Simmons rant (where I call him a fucktard and Malcolm Gladwell comments)

Bitter Peyton Manning

Peter King gay porn

The Lupica parody

The Easterbrook parody

Mile high airlines

The Eagles fan guide to projectile weaponry

Your KSK Xmas guide and Thanksgiving guide

The OJ parody (the one where I poop in Tupperware)

In defense of really fucking old QB’s

Awkwardness with Brian Griese and Damien Woody

The world’s fucking awesomest pregame playlist

You can be a Hall of Famer!

Willie Roaf is a bastard

Why the NFL is the greatest thing ever

The Vikings bye week itinerary

I think I had a heart attack

And there’s your clip show. I dare you to find a better conpendium of football-related dick jokes. In terms of bodies of work, this one rates a solid Stacy Kiebler.


Meast of the Year vote later this week.

Russell Dalrymple Loves Tiki Barber; Pasta Primavera

Never stare at the underage cleavage of the NBC

The news we've all been waiting for has finally arrived, Tiki Barber is set to add some REAL color to NBC's Peacock. As expected the gregarious ex-Giant will be filling some sort of role with the network's Sunday Night Football package. It's still unsure as to whether Tiki will join the broadcast booth, or if they'll just stick his bronzed visage on the studio set to offset the pre-existing ugly.

If I were NBC I'd put him in the studio (then I'd take over GE in a bloody coup). In fact, I bet he could do the job every other guy they pay to mug for the camera. He's a smarmy pretty boy like Costas, people in football will open up to him like PK, he knows stuff about football like Collinsworth, and he's black like Bettis and Sharpe (keep in mind this is NBC talking not me; I don't think white people should be allowed on television at all).

Besides his jock-obligation to the football broadcast Tiki's going to fill an as of yet unspecified roll with the Today show. I've never seen the program but I'm told it involves semi-literate people from Billings/Duluth/Texarkana holding signs wishing happy birthday to somebody that wishes they died ten years ago.

This is either Tiki and Ginny or Ronde and Claudia. Only they know the truth.

I can't help but guess that this part of the career move was inspired by Tiki's lovely wife Ginny (my great aunt will be thrilled to know they're still using that name). Behind every great man is a woman who knows where the money's at, and it's not limited to Tiki. In fact behind a lot of great black men are smart and sexy Asian women (just ask Russell Simmons and Sugar Shane Mosley). As if I needed any further reason this just about settles it...as soon as I'm a successful proud black man I'm gettin' me a sexy Asian wife (I'm lookin' at you, Redskinette Lisa).

There should be a press conference at some point today, but you don't care.

Today In An NFL-Related Post:Schottenheimer Lost In Parking Lot Fired

A. J. Smith has had enough of Marty Schottenheimer's bullshit.

The Chargers GM fired his head coach after tensions boiled over regarding decisions on how Schottenheimer rebuild his staff. Smith's suggestion to hire Ted Cottrell as his new defensive coordinator, and Schottenheimer's reply of telling Smith to go fuck himself, seemed to be the last straw. That is, if you don't count that choke job/reinforcement of je ne suis pas clutch in the playoffs last month. And the year before that. And, like, every year, um ever.

It seemed that Marty wanted his brother Kurt, an assistant at Kansas City, to interview for that position, among others. Smith and team president Dean Wimmer didn't want Jeff Bowden Jay Paterno Marty's brother joining the staff. Dean went on to explain that his vote of confidence in Schottzie the previous month was based on the assumption that the staff would not be pillaged like a Cincinnati storefront circa 2001.

We suspect Marty's taking the news in stride, despite the fact that the firing comes rather late in this phase of the offseason. He'll almost certainly be sitting out for 2007, probably to work on his model train set or that tomato garden he can't stop messing around. A close relative of the former head coach shared this account, regarding Schottenheimer's trip to a local retail outlet after cleaning out his desk yesterday afternoon:



So who's replacing Marty? Is the answer Jesus? Cottrell? Bill Cowher, maybe? Former Cowboys coach Jimmy Johnson's name is being mentioned, even. I'm pulling for Ron Rivera; I think he can take this team to the next level. Besides, I'm sick of seeing a black coach win the Super Bowl every year.

Arena Football at Last

Finally the tedium of the NFL season is over, and we can stop treading water about our excitement over the Arena Football League.



My God, Jon Bon Jovi's hair looks amazing. Still a dreamboat after all these years. Too bad his house is made entirely out of drywall.

NOTE: KSK will not, repeat NOT, be covering the Arena League, fuck you very much.

KSK Off-Topic: Big Daddy Drew’s Rugby Story

I spent second semester of junior year abroad in England (ten years ago. Fuck, I am old as balls.). If you attend college, and have the means to go abroad for a semester, and do not, you are a fucking moron. Here’s the money clip from Rules of Attraction to give you a refresher on the importance of visiting other countries in order to debase yourself:

My semester abroad was arguably the greatest time of my life. I lost my virginity (to a girl!). I got drunk at the pub every night (50p shots of Beam on Tuesday night!). I sampled the wares of kebab vans the nation over. I watched a soccer game and actually enjoyed it. The tutorial system my program set up meant I only had three classes every two weeks. I smoked hashish and got into an argument with a friend over whether tomato or vinegar was the most important ingredient in ketchup (my argument: It’s Heinz TOMATO ketchup, not fucking Heinz vinegar ketchup). And, I didn’t have to study a foreign language. Foreign languages blow. An amazing stretch. But, for the purposes of comedy, one story stands out above the rest.

The school I went to had about a million not-too-serious rugby clubs that were open to pretty much anyone, even a dipshit American such as myself. Rugby, if you don’t know, is like football, only with more running and cauliflower ear. You start off playing rugby thinking it’ll be cool. You get to run around and hit people. Sounds fucking sweet. Then you find out you have to play Second Row, which means you have to stick your head between the knees of the guys on the front line, grab their shirts by sticking your hands through their crotches, and then groan in agony as the entire scrum tightens and mashes your brain into a bullion cube. Rugby: it’s not that cool.

Nonetheless, I played. My reasoning was that I sucked at American football, so maybe I wouldn’t suck quite so bad at rugby. Wrong. I sucked. But it gave me a chance to hang out with the lads (that’s British for boys!) and get drunk afterwards. So I kept at it.

One night, I was hanging out with a bunch of people from another program at the same school. I struck up a conversation with this dude named Ben. I think his name was Ben. Anyway, it’s not important. So Ben and I were drunk, and he said to me:

“Hey, I play seven-on-seven rugby with a bunch of guys. We have a game tomorrow. Want to play?”

There is no Second Row position in seven-man rugby. This appealed to me greatly. So I agreed. This was a road game, so Ben and I arranged to meet with two other guys and drive out the next morning.

9AM, I showed up. We all packed into the car and took off.

Ben: How was your night, Drew?

Me: Fucking sweet. I got fucked up. Hooked up with a black chick. She was big! But I didn’t give a shit. More to love, am I right?

The car went silent. Oh well, I thought. It was early. Everyone was hung over or some shit. So I shut my trap and stared out the window. About five minutes later, a conversation started up between the other three guys in the car about which churches in the area they liked best.

Ben: I love St. Mary’s. You can really feel the Lord there.

Fuck. They were seminarians. All three of them, priests in training. In fact, not only were they all seminarians, but the team I was playing with that day was also made up entirely of seminarians. As was the team we were playing against. As was every single fucking team in that day’s tournament.

Deep in the back of my mind, I’ve always known that I’m going straight to hell when I die. But I try and keep that thought repressed, just like I do with that Davidoff Cool Water cologne print ad with the water splashing over this really ripped guy that I think I kind of enjoyed. But, when I was hung over and literally surrounded by holy men everywhere I turned, the former point tended to reinforce itself (and since they were all future priests, the latter one did as well). At one point in the game, an opposing player ran into me by accident.

Me: You fucking cunt.

Other Guy: (sincere) Oh, I’m so sorry.

Me: (thrown off by the incredible kindness) What? (immediately jacked up by another player because I let my guard down)

I spent all day at the tournament. The seminarians were, of course, all perfectly nice fellows. Downright jovial, actually. Still, it’s tough knowing you’re the one harlot in the convent, so to speak. I may as well have painted a red A on my chest. It made me think that maybe I should dedicate myself to being a better person. Maybe I should stop being such a self-gratifying dickface and actually contribute something to the world.

When I got back, I drank an entire bottle of Jameson, watched Caddyshack, pissed out the window, and had to be restrained by a friend from walking outside with my pants around my ankles (my exact words: "I want everyone to see my cock!"). Later that night, I masturbated and vomited next to my bed.

The lesson, of course, is never play rugby.

College Basketball on KSK? What the Hell

Well it's officially the off-season and since I didn't watch the Pro Bowl I got a chance to watch a fair amount of ESPN's college basketball bukkake (I still can't believe they called it that). Here are some of the day's results along with my thoughts. If you hate college basketball (or me) you might want to just scroll down, feel free to check out the archives. Last season's team previews are quite entertaining.

Those kids sure love their gangs.

West Virginia 70 - 65 UCLA

In the monster upset of the day the mountain dwellers get their fleeting revenge on the evil Hollywood Jews ruining the country. Morons...Jordan Farmar plays for the Lakers now.

(6)Pitt 74 - 68 Providence Friars sponsored by Dunkin' Donuts

Aaron Gray had another dominant performance, some late lottery team is gonna be awful disappointed this time next year. Then again I've been doubting the big non-jumping whitey for years. I thought he'd be a fucking disaster when I read about his recruitment on my laptop during some a for some class I barely passed. I kinda miss that place-except--or not (Merton Hanks didn't even play for the Steelers).

Wright State 77 - 64 Butler

A thrilling display of why Butler probably shouldn't be in the top ten.

Shrooms 2 - 0 Gonzaga

That's gotta hurt. Gonzaga just lost arguably their best player Josh Heytvelt (and some redshirt) indefinitely after they got busted with pot and shrooms in the car. If I were a college student in Spokane I'd probably be shrooming. Hell I did it in Pittsburgh...in the front row of the opening game of Peterson Events Center. That was an interesting experience--I was not counting on the lasers.

(13)Air force 60 - 51 New Mexico

Air Force was dropping bombs all over New Mexico. In other news, there was a basketball game.

(23)Georgetown 76 - 58 (12)Marquette

Georgetown wins thus ensuring even higher levels of public drunkenness at the pizza place around the corner.


And a big thanks has to go out to ESPN for actually filming ONE of today's games in HD. Too bad it's the Florida/Kentucky showdown that's going on currently. It's a great game but the HD broadcast is being thoroughly ruined by the assholes in Kentucky wearing all white; the glare is really getting to me. This further proves the theory that Kentucky fans are pigfuckers; Punter has video of Ashley Judd fucking Babe.

Good luck enjoying your first Sunday of the off-season, feel free to let us now exactly how gay you find college basketball in the comments (I told you not to stop reading!).