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Once Upon A Time......

I like my book

Once upon at time
there was a sweet baby princess
and her mommy loved to read to her
and give her lots of hugs and kisses
every night before bedtime
The End

Here I am practicing my crawling before bedtime :)
NightNight

Get Your Head Outta Your Ass. KSK Has Moved.

If you're here, you are most assuredly queer. Because KSK is now located at kissingsuzykolber.uproxx.com. Adjust your life and crotch accordingly.

KSK off-topic"Naked Pictures of Your Buddy's Girlfriend"

Oh Yeah, A Cheerleader Post

This is Jennifer. She's got, like, hair and stuff.

KSK Mock Draft: F--king Terrible Songs

In this week's draft we're ridding the world of our most hated songs. The rules are simple: you pick a song, and it vanishes from your life. Once a song's "artist" is selected that entire "artist's" catalog comes off the board. Which Elton John song will it be?!

The draft order is as follows (minus Punter because he was busy olling up aces over kings and check-raising stupid tourists):

Maj
Flubby
Caveman
Drew
Ape

Round One

1. Maj: Hotel California by The Eagles

If you need any further explanation then you could also use brick to the head. This is a bigger sure thing than LeBron, Griffey, and Peyton combined.

2. Flubby: Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison.

If you hear this song at any public setting where alcohol is being served, you can be assured that in a matter of moments a gaggle of drunken women will soon be assembled to sing an off-key rendition of the chorus. SHALALALALALALALALADEEDA!!! Fuck you very much, Van Morrison. Ya drunkass mick.

3. Caveman: Benny and the Jets by Elton John

Trying to decide between this plodding monstrosity and the childish bullshit of "Crocodile Rock" is no easy task, but I think I hate "Benny" slightly more.

Ape: If for nothing else, the fact that Berman has referenced it.

4. Drew: Another Brick In The Wall by Pink Floyd

I fucking hate this song. I fucking... just... GAHHHHHHH I hate it so very much. Not only does it employ a children's choir, but that fucking choir sings in the most obnoxious English accent humanly possible. Hearing it in my head right now makes my teeth hurt.

Maj: I think they were the same kids from Satisfaction.

5. Ape: The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney

This is possibly the most cornball song ever wrought. From shimmery production to a chorus that goes:

The girl is mine
The doggone girl is mine
I know she's mine
Because the doggone girl is mine

You can forget Jackson bleaching his skin and raping kids and McCartney marrying a one-legged harridan who tried to take all his money. This tarnished their legacy far, far before that. And possibly worse.

Maj: Abso-fucking-lutely

CC: Great pick. I fucking hate that song.

Drew: Can I still take a song from Wings, or is all McCartney out the door now?

Maj: Sorry Drew, no Band on the Run for you.

6. Ape: Bitch by Meredith Brooks

In the Lillith Fair milieu of the girl songstress fad of the late '90s, this stood out as the most fake-controversial-yet-palatable-for-mass-audiences-bullshit around. The song's message: deal with my flightiness and refusal to adhere to rational thought! Because we're women! We're allowed to be vacuous contradictions! But not you stupid weak men! RAWR!

Also, for all the mainstream dipshit DJs who'd introduce the track with "Oh my God, a song on the radio with the word bitch as the title? Tres outre!"

7. Drew: Paradise By The Dashboard Light by Meat Loaf

I'm still traumatized by groups of drunken women in college re-enacting all eight and half minutes of this god-awful piece of shit. Especially the STOP RIGHT THERE! part. God, it's just so fucking terrible I can't even put it into words. And some asshole at the bar will ALWAYS put it on, without fail. The goddamn thing never ends. Fuck you, Meat Loaf Aday. And fuck you, Phil Rizzuto. Holy cow, this song blows.

8. Caveman: You're So Vain by Carly Simon

If it made my pet peeve list, it's making my most-hated song list. It's got all the same the faux-femme empowerment of "Bitch," charged with extra bitterness and irrational justifications for being a cunt.

9. Flubby: American Pie by Don McLean

So bye, bye Miss American Pie
When they play it, people say it, until I wanna die
Don McLean I hope those royalties can buy
A coffin if I meet you, guy

That one was on just about everybody's board. Great value pick.

10. Maj: Piano Man by Billy Joel

Fuck you, Billy Joel. You're the fucking devil.

11. Maj:Shiny Happy People by REM

What the fuck is that song all about? I'm convinced that they were just trying to annoy the shit out of me.

Drew: Ooooh, anything by REM is a solid choice

Maj: And they say I don't know anything about white people music...

Flubby: Losing My Religion was a late round pick on my board

Caveman: Wow, I totally forgot about REM. "Losing my Religion" was probably the first song that made me want to hurt people.

Drew: Yeah I fucking hate that song. Stand too. Guhhhhhhhh.

Caveman: God, we could do an entire draft of awful REM songs.

12. Flubby: Fergalicious by Fergie

Maj: That's an actual song? I thought it was a commercial for Vagisil or something.

13. Caveman: Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves

I hate this song. I hate every movie that this song gets used in. I hate scenes where people dance to this song. I hope Katrina and the Waves all die horrific, grisly deaths.

Maj: Like drowning in flood water?

14. Drew: Silver Bells> by Bing Crosby

My least favorite Christmas song. I don't care who sings it, I fucking hate it. One time, at the gym, they played an emo version of it. My least favorite holiday song sung in my least favorite genre besides country. My heart turned black.

Flubby: Ooh, I could do a whole draft on xmas songs. Starting with "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime" by Sir Paul.

Maj: I would have picked all Christmas songs, but Ufford wouldn't have any of that.

15. Ape: Kokomo by The Beach Boys

This song single-handedly kept me from getting into music until almost my teens. I can't even begin to enumerate the number of ways I hate it. But, I was just given one more not too long ago: it inspired possibly the worst parody song ever. And they play it all the time at the stupid divey karaoke bar I go to. This song was a No. 1 hit? Proof positive of America's cultural bankruptcy. Fuck you, Mike Love.

Holy shit, nobody drafted We Built This City!!!

Add your picks in the comments, but play by the fucking rules! That means waiting ten selections before picking another song. And no picking "anything by [blank]" because that's something Drew would do because he's a dick who has most certainly not listened to all 7,431 shitty Grateful Dead songs.

As if I needed another reason to despise this broad...

When she tells this story in 15 years, she will claim she accepted the jersey under heavy pressure by Cleveland's front four.... and a pack of rabid hyenas... and an engorged Gary Busey.

(HT: Mondesi's House)

Better Know a Draft Pick: Vernon Gholston

Name: Vernon Gholston
Nickname: Unknown (meaning I don't know).
Suggested Nickname: Unknown (at least until he says otherwise).

Height/Weight: Statuesque.
Body Type: After his pro day one NFL coach told KSK (on the condition of anonymity), "that kid's body makes me harder than an enema from my Puerto Rican nurse." And that coach was Monte Kiffin.

Early Aspirations: Before football Vernon was a pre-teen body builder. Meaning yes, even a pre-pubescent version of Vernon could kick the living shit out of your pathetic blog reading ass.

Speed: Big Ten-ish.
Muscles: Medium twitch.

Urine Sample: Intensity.
Stool Sample: Steamy.

Who Wants Him: Oakland. But to be fair, they also shown interest in a panda who is purported to have been trained to play right guard.

Stupid panda. You have to keep your paws inside the shoulders if you're going to contain the pass rush.
Who Will Take Him: St. Louis. Because fuck Chris Long, that's why.

Immediate Impact: Bone crushing.
Down the Road: A locker filled with enough steroids to stock a Mexican pharmacy.

Previously on Better Know a Draft Pick...
Matt Ryan
Glenn Dorsey
Darren McFadden

Rick Reilly Gargles Cocksnot

You probably saw Drew’s eloquent remarks on Deadspin yesterday regarding Rick Reilly’s uninspired commentary about the sports blogosphere, followed by Drew’s subsequent deconstruction of the viewpoint of that “privileged journalist.” Despite being a bit light on homoerotica, Drew’s piece was, as usual, very good.

Too good, really.

Too often we bloggers look at the criticisms of the mainstream press as opportunities, as chances to prove that we are somehow deserving of our audiences, of being in the conversation. Often, this results in an overextension of prose and an overuse of reason. I SHALL SMITE YOU WITH COHERENT, THOUGHTFUL ARGUMENTS! And so we're left with a well-bundled acknowledgment of their bitching and moaning that those types don’t really deserve.

Drew may as well have been reading poetry to a pig yesterday. Reilly is a third-tier fuckhead that’s not worthy of a rational counter-argument. You know what he’s worthy of? Getting handcuffed to a bike rack and shit on. Literally speaking, he deserves a response in kind. And so, I present a little something I'd like to call Rick Reilly Gargles Cocksnot.

Enjoy:

Rick Reilly thinks the Concorde is ruining the legacy of trans-Atlantic travel.

Rick Reilly thought Monty Python and the Holy Grail was “just okay.”

Rick Reilly speaks fluent Spanish, but finds it beneath him.

Despite having great access for the Masters, the excutive council at Augusta National insist on denying him entrance to any of the washrooms on the grounds, leaving him only a shallow latrine near the second fairway.

The council has also forbidden women from using this latrine. Mr. Reilly thinks this is bogus, but enjoys the amenities of the club too much to raise any sort of fuss.

Rick Reilly fucked Christine Penner. And loved it.

Rick Reilly is still unsure how those nets are keeping the moles out of Africa.

Rick Reilly thinks that, despite Tiger Woods’ Thai heritage, Phil Mickelson is tangier.

Rick Reilly’s nose is 0.017 inches (0.04318 cm) longer than his penis, so we’ve heard.

Rick Reilly wasn’t going to test Sammy Sosa's pee for steroids. He was just parched.

Rick Reilly owns two three-year-old chocolate Labrador Retrievers named “Blackie” and “Is Killing College Athletics.”

Rick Reilly once caddied for Michelle Wie without uttering “Me love you long time,” but later commented privately to friends about how well she added up her scorecard.

Rick Reilly credits his “humerous” style to former president Ulysses S. Grant.

Rick Reilly keeps 2 ounces of cocaine in his ass at all times, just in case Lawrence Taylor drops by.

And it’s not even in a bag. Gross!

And Now We Enter Endgame

"I've spent all my retirement equivocating at various podia"

[But Favre conceded he might have a tough decision to make if, say, Green Bay called and asked him to come back because of team injuries.

"It would be hard to pass up, I guess," he said. " . . . It's only speculating. I think the world of that team. I had a lot of fun, not only this year, but over my career. Those guys I played with this past year, a lot of young guys, a lot of fun."]

[Undisclosed location]

Tramonto: First we must agree on terms.


Peter King: Name your price.

Tramonto: $25,000 Starbucks gift card.

King: Outrageous. I won't go above 15.

Tramonto: 25

King: 15

Tramonto: 25

King: 15

Tramonto: 25

King: 15

Tramonto: 15

King: 25

Tramonto: It is a deal.

[King smiles]

King: Excellent. I need you to eliminate this one.

[Hands over photo]

[Tramonto drags on cigarette]

Tramonto: I see.

Of what interest is this man to you?

King: Yours is not to ask why, yours is to do and make him die!

[Exhales]

He is no one. His life merely is an obstacle to bringing back my Bretty Boy.

But show him mercy. Make it fast. He is, after all, a white quarterback playing for the Packers. His sin is only bestowed upon him by circumstance. Perhaps in another life, he could have been worthy of my admiration.

Tramonto: It is done.

[King laughs girlishly and begins clapping frantically]

Kill Kill Kill Championship: Bear vs. Bengal. WHO YA GOT?

At long last, your Kill Kill Kill Tournament comes down to a sadistic zookeeper's dream: Bengal versus Bear. Naturally, we'd be more than content than have the little ones have it out for our love. Take it away, tykes.

Rather, this will be settled in the arena of cereal, the last redoubt of bored slackers like us the world 'round. WHO YA GOT?


Bear
Pro:

- Worthy of extensive history of iconography
-Again, the Godless Killing Machine thing
- Judging from picture, clearly 'roiding
- Dutifully pays the bear tax

Con:
-No cereal makes your pee smell more than Golden Crisp.
-Get too many and it's like "A freaking country bear jamberoo"
-Weakness for honey pot
-Often confused for Logan Mankins




Tiger
Pro:

-Employs Tiger Style

-Exxon Tiger is bleeding me dry
-Tiger Uppercut most vicious, also fun to say
-Apparently has a boat (SO THAT'S WHY HE BEAT DOLPHIN!)
-Inspired excellent William Blake poem
-Less flamboyantly gay than Tigger


Con:
-Frosted Flakes soggy after negative two seconds in milk.
-Also cutting back on sugar to appear healthy. Fuck you. Back to Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs for me.
- Fearful symmetry too symmetrical
-Inspired annoying Comcast commercial

A KSK Exklusive! Professional Athlete... Drinking!

Jesus, it's always something with this Cutler guy.

Ask Jay Cutler!

Jay Cutler, ever the font of priggish wisdom, has agreed to lend an ear to some readers' most pressing problems.

My mother died late last year. My father, who just retired 10 months ago, is now at loose ends. He was always really committed to work so he wasn't sure what to do with himself once he stopped with his job. My parents had a lot of travel plans set up together, but he's not going to follow through on those alone. And I don't think he's ready to start dating again. I really don't want to have him moping around the house, but it's hard for me to keep him company. My brother has a much closer bond with my dad but he moved across the country for work years ago. I'm close by but I still find it difficult to relate to him. I don't want him to be lonely but what can I do to help if we always feel like strangers to one another?

-Conflicted in Charlotte

I don't know.

I told my parents I'm inviting my new boyfriend over for Passover. They're very excited about meeting them, as we've been dating for some time, but they don't know he's not Jewish. They've always pressured me to marry someone who is Jewish and I feel like I'm making a mistake by making this revelation during such an important holiday. The thing is, we've already made plans to move in together. I know I should have said something earlier, but I've never agreed with their position and they've never given any indication that they are going to stray from it.

-So Hard to Jews

That sucks.

I've been happily married for eight years. My wife and I have sex once or twice a week. But I have a serious problem: I'm addicted to pornography.

I keep a stash of porn in a drawer at work. Three times a week, my lunch hour is spent jerking off in the handicapped stall of a public restroom. And that's only the beginning. I have a fetish for shit. An ideal experience for me is to save up my bowel movement until my lunch hour, go to my favorite restroom, and time it just right so that I empty my bowels right before the moment of ejaculation. An extra bonus is if someone arrives at one of the other stalls and takes a shit. The sound and smell of it excites me even more (I am definitely not gay). And once the person leaves, I finish with a head-shattering orgasm.

After a really good one, I sometimes smear my shit on the walls of the stall. I feel very disgusted afterward. I'm not hurting anyone, but this seems wrong. Should I talk to someone?

-Jackin' It in Jackson

Jesus. It's always something with you people.

Thanks Jay!

I Cannot Possibly Babysit All Of Darren McFadden’s Illegitimate Children

Wade: Hoo boy! Preparin’ for this draft certainly has been a mountain of work. Back in my daddy’s day, we’d never have dreamed of this level of preparation: scouting reports, interviews, workouts, background checks, statistical analyses. My, my goodness. I tell ya, it’s nothing like it used to be. Heck, I could work 24 hours a day and there’d still be more to do if I wanted to!

But I tell you what. Ain’t no rule saying I can’t burn the midnight oil without treating myself to a bottle of suds or two.

(opens office mini fridge)

Yep, it’s eight o-clock. Past the point of no return. If I’m gonna be late preparing these here scouting reports, I may as well settle in for the long haul. There’s something about a beer late at the office. It makes work feel a whole lot less work-like, I reckon. I’m sure gonna enjoy this.

(pops bottle)

Now to simply bring the bottle to my lips and tip it back so that the frosty liquid can, by force of gravity, fall into my mouth…

(door flies open)


Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! Yee! Haw! YEEHAW!

Wade: Oh, no.

Jerry: Well, well, well! Drinking on the job, are ya, Chubtard?!

Wade: Sir, I hadn’t even…

Jerry: CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD!!!! You like that name, Chubtard?! I thought of it when I was bareback riding my bull over here tonight! I like it because it says you’re both chubby AND retarded! And you are! CHUBTARD!

Wade: I don’t like that name, Sir.

Jerry: That’s what makes it so fun to say, Minister Fudge! Now, what the fuck makes your fat ass think you can drink alkeehol on the job? You don’t own this team! Know who does? Huh? Do you know, Fat The Dripper?

Wade: You do, Sir.

Jerry: YOU GODDAMN RIGHT! THE OL’ DOUBLE-J, OWNER OF THE DALLAS COWBOYS, MOST VALUABLE FRANCHISE IS ALL OF SPORTS AND CROWN JEWEL OF THE GREAT STATE OF TIXAS! TIXAS!!!!!

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: Hey, Fatlock! Only the DOUBLE-J gets to enjoy his alkeehol on the job! You got me, Faaaatlock?

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: What kinda fucking beer you drinkin’ anyhow, Chubtard? Bud Light?! BAHAHAHA! That ain’t no drink! (pours self drink that’s one half sarsaparilla and one half skin liniment) Now THERE’S a drink! I do like my sassparilly! You ever try sassparilly, Captain Cumbersome?

Wade: No, sir. Not really my cup of tea.

Jerry: Not your cup of tea? TEA? Jesus, for someone with such a loose ass, you sure are a tightass. You stir that tea with a black cock? Drink some of this, Tubby.

Wade: Sir, I…

Jerry: Just try it. You need to loosen up, Fatty. Matter of fact, put that work aside for tonight. We’re gonna get shitfaced, then we’re gonna head over to the titty bar and get TITFACED!

Wade: But these scouting reports!

Jerry: Oh, fuck the scouting reports! We’re not gonna need those this year, Pop Secret. Double-J’s got a slippery ace up his ol’ sleeve. Now drink, Dumpty! DRINK YOU BIG FAT FAGGOT!

(two hours later at a bar)

Wade: (drunk, singing) You wanna be startin’ something! You got be startin’ somethin’! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: (also drunk) SING IT, BOY! HOO WEE, YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE FAT CHICK FROM HEART!

Wade: Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: I tell ya, you aren’t such a bad time when you got a little liquor in you, Chubtard.

Wade: Well, you never asked to hang out.

Jerry: Oh, bullllshit, you big fat dicklicker! I invite you out all the time! I invited you to my wife’s daffodil party!

Wade: You made me bartend.

Jerry: THAT’S BECAUSE EVERY GOOD PARTY NEEDS A FAT, FRIENDLY BARTENDER! IN A BOWTIE!

Wade: (does a shot) I never liked you, Jones. You ain’t no better a man than me.

Jerry: Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Chow. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t keep you around here if I didn’t think you were the right man for the job.

Wade: You mean it?

Jerry: I do.

Wade: Will you shake on that?

Jerry: I will.

(shakes Wade’s hand, knocks him out with one punch)

(cut to one day later)

Wade: Wha… where am I?


Wade: Who are all these children? (phone rings) Hello?

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!!!! WAKE UP, CHUBTARD!

Wade: Where am I?

Jerry: You are at a home I recently purchased for a young man named Darren McFadden. And, more specifically, for his many various offspring.

Wade: But why?

Jerry: I told you my boy ROMO was goddamn STAR, didn’t I? And I told you he needed more stars, did I not? Well, this young man is a goddamn SUPERSTAR! And we’re gonna make him the next great running back for the Dallas Cowboys! I'm trading all our picks to get him! But I need my boy MCFADDEN to focus! I can’t have him worrying about those little babies scurrying around and shitting all over the place! YOU will get to oversee their growth and what not personally. It’s Fatty Day Care!!!

Wade: So this is why you got me drunk? So you could trap me here!

Jerry: That’s my boy Wade! Always figuring out shit AFTER it’s happened! Way to go, Tits-fer-brains! Now listen, those octuplets need formula on a staggered rotation of every five minutes! And you better get it to them soon! Darren ain’t been home for seven days! Look how pale those little bastards are! They're barely half-Negro anymore! There’s also three more kids upstairs. And six more in the basement. And his latest, Superb, is due from the hospital later today. Oh, and there’s Maury.


Maury: Hey.

Wade: Who’s Maury?

Jerry: He’s Darren’s oldest son. Make sure he gets his Weetabix in the mornin’, or he gets feisty!

Maury: Where’s my cereal, bitch?

Wade: But who will take care of the team while I’m doing this?

Jerry: You can talk to him yourself.

(passes phone)


Garrett: Hmm. I was told those children needed a father figure. But you’re more figure than father now, aren’t you?

Wade: You dirty snake!

Garret: Oops. Gotta run. Ta!

(passes phone back)

Wade: Shit.

Jerry: Enjoy the not-quite-miracle of foster fatherhood, Chubtard! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

KSK off-topicBOVINE FENCE RAPE THEATRE

At what point does opting to take pictures rather than helping the cow constitute evil animal porn? Is there any chance this is just a role-play thing that these two do every Wednesday afternoon? Do cattle get freaky like that?

Li'l help? There was some clover over here and I was really hungry...

Punté says this is also a great way to score with chicas trying to sneak across the border from Juarez.

Better Know a Draft Pick: Darren McFadden

Name: Darren McFadden

Nickname: Run DMC. Sorry Darren, but I hear that name might have already been taken by one of those hippity hop trios out of New York City

Other Nicknames: D-Mac, D-Dawg, Eric Calvi, Butter Boy, and Humanity Advanced.

Rejected Nicknames: McBabyDaddy, Big Mac, Big D, McDeezy

Parents: His mother Mini Muhammad successfully kicked her crack habit, but his father Graylon McFadden left years ago to pursue his dream of opening a bar for insufferable douchebags attending George Washington University.

Siblings: At one point growing up he had one brother in the Crips and one in the Bloods. It was just like that episode of The Brady Bunch when Peter agrees to be Bobby's slave for life, only Bobby takes advantage of the situation and pisses off Peter to the point where the boys have to divide the bedroom into territories. Yep, just like that episode.

Urine Sample: Clean like a mountain stream.
Sperm Count: 50 million per milliliter, and they all swim like Michael Phelps with flippers.

Cause for Concern: Let's just say it doesn't take his kid blowing a mini-golf match to get him in a frilly dress.



And speaking of kids, he may or may not have a few of em.

Mainstream Comparison: Purple Jesus
KSK Comparison: Travis Henry

Who Wants Him: Jerry Jones, no matter what that crazy asshole might tell you.
Who Will Take Him: The Jets, followed by a chorus of white men booing.

Immediate Impact: He'll hit the ground running.
Down the Road: His body is going to fall apart like a piece of furniture assembled by a clumsy Jew.

Previously on BKADP...
Matt Ryan
Glenn Dorsey

National Mascot Semifinal: Titan vs. Bear – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?!

Who gets to face the Bengal in our Kill Kill Kill Championship? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t rooting for the bear, because I bet a quick YouTube search could find me a bitchin’ Bear vs. Tiger fight. But first, the Bear must beat the tourney’s overall #1 seed, the dreaded Titan. Let’s rig it! We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted.

TITAN


The Titan you’re voting on is Phoebe, Titan of the moon. Lame. According to myth, she gave birth to Leto. I’m assuming that means Jared Leto, who’s a total douche. Look at this fatty.


Way to gain 5,000 lbs. for a shitty Mark David Chapman biopic, asshead. I guess Leto is a Method Douche. He received classical training in douchebaggery from Lee Strasberg himself.

BEAR


The Bear you’re voting on is famed Marvel comic mutant Ursa Major. By day. Mikhail Ursus is your garden variety Soviet Super-Soldier. But by night, he’s a goddamn BEAR! With claws and fangs and all that shit! He grew up in the wild, so he knows the terrain! Also, according to Wikipedia:

In the space of a few seconds, Ursa Major can, at will, turn himself into a bear-like creature, larger and more anthropomorphic than an ordinary ursine. In this form he possesses super-strength and animal-like senses while retaining his human intelligence and speech, although his behavior and personality become more beast-like.

Take that, Ant Man! Fag!

Bizarre side note: I used to have all the Marvel Universe comics when I was a kid. Those were the comic books that listed all the Marvel characters in alphabetical order and detailed their history and all their abilities. I loved checking them out, but I hated ACTUAL comic books. I liked reading about all the awesome shit Marvel heroes could do, but I was bored out of my fucking mind seeing them in action. Go figure.

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Barry Sanders tells Jimmy Kimmel the real reason he retired.

Ha, ha. No seriously, it was because the Lions are really, really shitty.

Favraro, By A Nose

Following up on today's earlier Favre-as-Barbaro post, 289 has crafted this photoshop of the ol' Gunslinger. What a beautiful, innocent animal. He's like the child in all of us. I look forward to Favraro spending his retirement helping a giant ogre rescue Princess Fiona and learning to appreciate the value of friendship.

Reader DaveR suggest changing Brettbaro to Favraro. Agreed.

Kill Kill Kill Fighting Four: Viking vs. Bengal. WHO YA GOT?

By reaching the Final Four of the Kill Kill Kill Tournament, we've pretty much exhausted all available jokes and references for the mascots remaining. Trolling through the Sunday funnies yesterday, I found a good angle for our first semifinal contest. Hopefully The Comics Curmudgeon doesn't sue us.

Viking
Pro:
-Considerable longevity despite complete lack of humor
-Horrible, supposedly
-Stone-sized feet can deliver lethal blow
-Facial hair disturbing even to an animal


Con:
-Not sure what separates Vikings from the other warriors in the above comic
-Above comic not funny
-Not as horrible as shrewy wife
-Inexplicably wears white shirt under what appears to be a straw toga
-Sword awfully stubby, looks like made of cardboard
-Shield chipped


Bengal
Pros:
-Wry observations on human nature
-Established record of fooling humans
-Excellent pouncing ability
-Jolly

-Appears in actual good comic
-Access to a transmogrifier

Con:
-Only mobile when Calvin is around
-Named after philosopher (Pretentious!)
-causes scientific process to go boink
-Possibly gay for himself (Link is kinda NSFW)