Big Ben Drives Through To New Deal

"Yes, hello? I'd like 102 million chicken fa-jitas, please? And that's it."

Your total is 102 million dollars, please pull around.

Cancer/Countercancer: NFL Free Agency

This week saw the announcement that two somewhat prominent political figures - one the unattractive harpy wife of the king of the trial lawyers and alsoran presidential candidates, the other a soulless repository of glib untruths -
are struggling with cancer. Elizabeth Edwards' breast cancer has returned and Tony Snow may have to put off the colon rollin' for a spell.


Oftentimes, KSK writers enjoy a delightfully inappropriate tweaking of current events, but, in general, we'd sooner delve into Andy Reid's urethra than the realm of politics, therefore we declined our initial impulse to chat up Snow and Edwards about chemo and dealing with personal tragedy in the public eye while still furthering the message of stupid people. And, naturally, football, the unflagging focus of our humble site.

No, we'd rather talk with the cancer, knowing full well how eager the supposed "disease" would be to cut through ther vast anti-polyp bias in the mainstream media.

Christmas Ape: Welcome, cancers.

Edwards' cancer: Glad to be here.

Snow's cancer: Hey buddy.

CA: Now, Edwards' cancer, as breast cancer, how equipped are you to discuss-

EC: Football? Plenty. Remember, breast cancer does affect men. Sure, it's fewer than one percent of all diagnosed cases, yet I dare you to explain away the fact that 50 percent of NFC East coaches are afflicted.

CA: I can't. Staggering. Point well made. Let's begin with a discussion of recent free agent activity. Okay, Chris Cooper to the Cardinals...

EC: Excellent in Breach.

SC: Masterful in Adaptation. Mediocre defensive lineman, however. And totally healthy, insofar as we know. Next.

CA: Marshall Faulk announced his retirement...

EC: Hope he starts smoking.

SC: Or standing in front of a radar gun.

CA: Thoughts on Pacman Jones?

EC: Sorry, we only have insight on actual, not clubhouse, cancer. His marked determination in spreading other forms of disease is admirable, however.

CA: Okay. Moving along. Ken Hamlin to the Cowboys...

SC: Is it irradiated ham? If so, superb signing.

CA: Not sure. Jason Fabini to the Redskins...

EC: The fundamental problem with big fat guys is, even though they're susceptible to contracting one of us, they're just as likely to keel over with heart failure.

SC: You go through all the trouble to get your pseudopod in the door and you're not even a direct cause of death. Very demoralizing.

CA: Still no cure, though.

SC: Yeah, that is nice, let me tell ya. But you never know when that cure might be coming down the pike. I'm just trying to kill as many humans as I can before that happens, then maybe settle down and kill a cat or something.

EC: That tainted pet food is a godsend, by the way.

CA: Alright, I think we've reached the end of our time here. Appreciate your taking your time out during this hectic period for you two.

EC: Always a pleasure, Ape. Be sure to always sit real close to your monitor when you're doing your blog thing. And carry your cell phone in your pants pockets at all times. Maybe play with some plutonium and drink lots of tap water.

CA: Uh, thanks.

A Wounded Veteran at Walter Reed on Further Free Agent Activity

I noticed a few days ago Terri Schiavo was here covering NFL free agent signings. Shit, what I wouldn't do to get that kind of medical attention. Until this past week, I hadn't seen a nurse since January. And even then, she only wanted change for a twenty before she ran out to one of the myriad liquor stores on Georgia Avenue outside the facility.

I used to have to rely on the few newspapers strewn about my room to obscure the various cracks on the wall and rodent feces on the floor. I was hard-pressed gleaning any new info from them, seeing as how they were all four years old and I wasn't sure which of the ones on the wall weren't load-bearing papers. In this place, you can't be too sure.

But now with all the media ruckus of late, some senator who ignored my pleas for help for months showed up to give me this laptop. Not sure why that required eight cameramen, but, what the fuck, I'll take it. I've missed football. Even though I got back from Iraq in November, I wasn't able to follow any of the games thereafter. Last time I saw a nurse walk past my doorway, I asked her how the Patriots were doing. She stopped, took a long drag on a cigarette (didn't think you could smoke in a medical center) and muttered, "Patriot Act is great. You served your country, defended our freedoms and shit. You're a hero. Now pipe down and go to sleep." That was it. Should've said something about changing my bed pan.

So, now, let's see.

Leonard Davis to Dallas. Hmm, he's a big fat guy, and thus key to the Wade Phillips system. Patrick Kerney to the Seahawks. What about Jimbo and Nelson? Napoleon Harris to the Chiefs, Tully Banta-Cain to the Niners, Brad Johnson to play Nick Nolte for Terrell Owens in upcoming Cowboys buddy comedy, Joey Porter's half-shirted pit bulls to Miami, Luke Petitgout to the Bucs and Daniel Graham to the Broncos for entirely too much money.

Hey, they also signed Travis Henry. Why shell out big money when anyone could run for 1,000 yards in that system? Hell, I have no legs and I could do it.

Speaking of which, The Pentagon told me my leglessness is a preexisting condition that dates back to my childhood. According to them, I was always going to lose my legs. It's in the genes, like going bald. War just expedited the whole process, so they can't compensate me from my injury.

But I got this laptop.

Terri Schiavo Looks At Some Early Free Agent Signings

Hello? HELLO! Wow, hey, you can hear me! Sweet, because I'm getting sick of all these doctors just staring at me. Get them the fuck out of here. And before CNN comes back, could somebody give me a real haircut for fuck's sake? Something kinda mod, you know, understated. Like a Mariska Hargitay, maybe. Mmm, damn, she's hot. I'd eat walnuts out of that bitch's ass. That is, if the walnuts could fit through this fucking feeding tube.

So Adalius Thomas going to New England is a pretty big deal. That's just what they needed: a large, black man to help carry Bruschi off the field after his next stroke. It sounds like New England's also going to get Fire-Cracker Wes Welker signed to an offer sheet. Or maybe they're just going to implant fingers onto Reche Caldwell's eyeballs. Either one works for me, really.

It looks like Joey Porter--hey, will you get that fucking balloon out of my face? I'm trying to talk some fucking football, get it out--yeah, yeah, I see the fucking balloon. Get that shit outta here. Assholes. Anyway, a lot of teams will be making a run at everyone's favorite insane Negro, Joey Porter. My word, that is one scary man. And he's such an incredible physical specimen to boot. I once heard that his dick is so big, it has its own ACL. Heaven hopes he brings the KY Jelly if he finds his way into my room.

Nate Clements will be the first defensive Ten Million Dollar A Year Man in the NFL's history. Whatever. I doubt he'll reach the ass-end of that deal, but the bitches will hear "eighty million dollars" and be impressed. He's guaranteed $22 mil out of that. The only downside is that now he has to play for San Franciso. Shit's expensive there.

And what's the deal with Dre Bly and Dan Wilkinson. Seems like those guys switch teams every--

Wha-what are you doing? Hey, don't pull that tube out! My food comes in through that motherfucker! Put that tube back! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUCK!

You guys are gonna put that back, right?