FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE – The Bounty On Tom Brady’s Knees Raised to $50 (Plus Bag Of Reese’s Cups)

It’s Halloween tomorrow, and the scariest thing about the holiday this year is that it’s midway through the NFL season and no defender has had the guts, nay, the overly swollen gonads, to take me up on my offer of $30 American dollars to snap Tom Brady’s legs like a Snyder’s of Hanover pretzel rod. What’s the matter, NFL defenders? Too goddamn CHICKEN to rob a man of his livelihood and deprive football fans of watching the best team in NFL history take shape?

Pretty pathetic.

You people are nothing but a bunch of cowards. Which one of you will finally have the courage to deliver a late hit to Brady’s tibia well after the whistle has blown? My old o-line coach used to tell us to keep hitting through the “echo of the whistle”. Now, you’re playing your games in quite a large stadium, so I’m sure the whistle is still echoing a good five minutes after the play has ended. An extremely late and vicious hit would then be legal. At least, it would be to me, and that’s all that really matters. Yet none of you have been able to sack up and carry out this vital task.

I’m the one laying it all on the line here. I’m the one who had the courage to step up to the plate, anonymously and online, and ask someone to do my dirty work for me. That takes balls. That takes grit. That takes gumption. And others have stood up and taken notice. That’s right, the Tom Brady Knee Bounty Sensation is sweeping across the nation. Americans from all over have emailed in, asking to donate $20 of their own. These are good, hard-working people, people who deserve to see a man who has everything crippled on live national television.

It’s a grass roots campaign that’s spreading like goddamn wildfire. Why, just check out this guy with an acoustic guitar and a pirated copy of Final Cut. Or, how about an endorsement a little known guy named Michael freakin’ Wilbon?! To wit:

…if I was on the opposing team, I'd hit Tom Brady with everything I had as late as I could and take the penalty and join the fight that would surely follow. Football is a violent game and there's got to be somebody out there sharpening his fangs for the Patriots Golden Boy in the 4th quarter one of these weeks.

That’s right, kids. No need to read any deeper into the context. Michael Wilbon completely and unequivocally supports the KSK bounty on Tom Brady’s kneecaps. Finally, the mainstream media shows a little courage in their convictions.

And yet, here we are, NFL defenders. It’s midseason, and you’ve continued to let all of us down. You should be ashamed. You should go home right now and cut off your finger as penance, just like that one dude in “Black Rain” did.

Well, perhaps you need a bit more motivation. Perhaps drastic measures are needed here. Perhaps it is time… TO RAISE THE BOUNTY TO FIFTY WHOLE DOLLARS!!!!!


That’s right. Soak it in, NFL defenders. That’s Ulysses S. staring you right in the motherfuckin’ grill. He was one of our worst presidents ever, but the man rocked one hell of a beard. With this single $50 bill, your life could change FOREVER! Think of things you could buy:

-Showtime Rotisserie Grill (Set it and forget it, bitches)
-“Are You Being Served?” DVD box set
-Synthetic hair extensions
-Bottle of top shelf liquor (not for drinking, but for interior design purposes)
-Lunch for two at Houston’s (if you don’t order any alcohol)
-Balsa wood model boat kit
-Very large bag of asparagus

Holy fuck, that’s some good shit. But that’s not all. Act now, and I’m also throwing in this special Halloween bonus: an entire bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup singles.


That’s right. The Mona Lisa of trick-or-treating candy. No need to go from house to house dressed like Jacinth Baker with a knife sticking out of your chest. No need to knock on doors, hoping for a Reese’s cup (or a Fun Size Snickers. Snickers minis are horseshit), getting a roll of fucking Smarties, and then pissing on the side of the neighbor’s house. No, I’m giving you the good stuff directly.

So man up, Dwight Freeney and Robert Mathis. I got $50 and some delightful Halloween treats for you if you give Tom Brady’s calf a good forearm shiver. C’mon, guys. He rocked a pageboy cap in his last press conference. Don’t you just want to tear that motherfucker to pieces? Don’t let me down.

No, strike that. Don’t let AMERICA down.

KSK Off Topic – In Praise Of Crème Eggs

Easter is this weekend. When I was a kid, my grandma used to put candy in plastic eggs and hide them all around her house in rural Connecticut. If you were lucky, you got the egg with the Miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in it. If you weren’t lucky, you got jellybeans and a nasty case of Lyme Disease. One time I went to some friend’s house for Easter and they had a hunt using real, hard-boiled eggs. That fucking sucked. Who wants an actual egg on Easter? Assholes.

My mom liked putting the candy in little Easter baskets with that shredded cellophane grass inside. I swear I still have some of this grass somewhere on my person today. It was impossible to get off the candy or your hands. If you spilled some on the floor, you may as well have just replaced the thing. I’m assuming Easter baskets today are now lined with FieldTurf. They should be.

I am not a terribly religious person. I knew all about the Easter bunny and candy WAY before someone actually told me that Easter was about Jesus pulling a Meredith Grey and then ascending to the Heavens, wowing audiences all across Judea. As such, my priorities are completely twisted. What’s this Jesus guy doing fucking with the Easter Bunny’s holiday, I’d often think. The Easter Bunny got Easter first, I thought. But this wasn’t actually true. It’s not unlike people forgetting that Go Bots actually came out BEFORE Transformers did. The problem was that Go Bots sucked, so no one gave a shit if they were the pioneers in car-to-robot shape-shifters. Such as it is with Jesus, who gets pushed aside in favor of the Easter Bunny and his pastel-colored Halloween. People can be ruthless like that.

In general, I have a very strong policy against food that is made to look like other food. I think gummi hamburgers are fucking disgusting. I do not like it when someone sculpts marzipan into pigs or hot dogs, or some other shit like that. Circus peanuts terrify me. I like my food to resemble its original incarnation. If you have to make it look like some other food to get me to eat it, that means there’s something wrong with the food in its regular form. And I don’t need that. Not at all.

The one exception to this, without fail, is the Cadbury Crème Egg. Holy fuck are Crème Eggs good. One time I made a strawberry preserve omelet out of them. Amazing. (NOTE: not actually true) Watching the above commercial when I was a kid was pretty much the same as finding Jesus. What? They made an egg OUT OF CANDY? They even gave it a candy yolk? HOLY FUCK, THAT IS A MIRACLE. I had to have one. And, to this day, that same thinking pattern occurs in my brain every Easter.

What I like to do is bite the top off the egg, nibble around the sides, and allow the unholy white egg goo to spill out the side, which I then immediately slurp up like Peter King on Tony Romo. Fucking tremendous. Want to take the whole egg in one bite? I’m cool with that. But I think the goo can get lost on the palate that way. It’s that precious filling that makes the Crème Egg so special, so I do my best to maximize it.

They make Caramel Eggs now. They also make Orange Crème Eggs. These versions are a blasphemy, an affront to worshippers of the one true Crème Egg, and I won’t stand for it. The Easter Bunny wasn’t strung up by the Romans and tortured just so I would have to tolerate the bastardization of the original Crème Egg. Therefore, I propose that all grocery stores carrying these knockoffs be branded as heretics and burned alive.

It’s the only way to get people to remember what Easter is truly all about.