NSFW language, animated jizz
In case Big Daddy Drew's Peter King fan-fiction gay erotica just isn't doing it for you anymore, the twisted sickos at ZubazPants.com have unleashed this tale of wanton lust. We may have to do two cheerleader posts this week to atone for this.
KSK Reader Travis, via NFL.com, brings us Mike Rucker's video of the Afghanistan trip taken by, among others, Peter King.
The fun starts at the 3:15 mark. I'm still not sure how they wound up taking that particular group. If they took Tank Johnson over there, the war would have been over by now.
What? Oh, no reason.
At a time like this I just feel like the unique vistas proffered by that span would have a soothing effect on my soul.
How warm would you say the water is this time of year?
Huh? Just curious. I'm often interested in seemingly arcane facts like water temperature and wind velocity and such. I kind of fancy myself the occasional marine scientist, you know.
When would you say there's the most boat traffic during the day?
Hey, hey. No need to pry. Wanted to know if, say, hypothetically, something were to land in the water there under the bridge, would there be someone there to drag that something to safety against its wishes.
Well, thanks for your help. How'd you like this watch? It even has his face on it. [Sobs] I won't be needing it anymore.
I'll believe it when the police find Peter King's bloated corpse hanging from the rafters.
UPDATE: Favre's bro tells Mississippi newspaper it's true.
And not a moment too soon. I was growing weary of my tasty beverage alternative. Have you ever tried slurping whipped cream out of Keith Olbermann's asshole?
Guhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
A love letter to Brett Favre. Because what else would it be?
As you may know, our pal Peter King likes to insert a section called "Ten Things I Think I Think" into his regular column. This week we've decided to raise the bar. Why post what PK thinks he thinks when we can post what we think he thinks he will be thinking on Sunday? If you just took a bong hit you might want to reread that sentence.
a. Who is Domino's trying to fool with this Oreo pizza? Listen up folks, the word "pizza" implies cheese. So until you put some mozzarella on that cookie you're just kidding yourselves and wasting our time.
b. The only thing better than sausage wrapped with bacon is Brett Favre wrapped with Tony Romo.
c. If Norv Turner doesn't right the ship people might start losing faith in his leadership abilities.
d. I bet Marty Schottenheimer could figure out what's wrong in San Diego.
e. The Giants may not have any cheerleaders, but that Olivia Manning is one handsome woman.
f. I'll take Mike Vrabel over Randy Moss any day of the week. The guy plays both ways!
g. Best college town in American? No contest, it's Hamilton, New York.
h. I'd love to see the casting call for this Cavemen show on ABC. I mean, how many caveman actors could there possibly be in this day and age?
i. Canadian bacon is better than ham. There, I said it.
j. If Arnold Palmer gets credit for mixing iced tea with lemonade then you might as well call an eggnog Bosco macchiato a Peter King.
b. I love Amtrak more. It is more addicting, especially traveling through a heavy snowstorm, as I did Saturday afternoon after a quick New Jersey dogcheck on Bailey the golden retriever. (She was fine, by the way, very happy to do what she loves best on the planet, which is retrieving a tennis ball in the snow until she drops.) You keep wanting to say to the conductor, "Slow down! You're going too fast!'' Until you realize you're on rails, not a road. For a while through the driving white haze, I felt like a character on Murder on the Orient Express.Yep, that's the man himself. He's a constant source of inspiration.
Why did I decide to make this list? Why would I rank the 500 best things things you don't want to hear from me that I'm going to tell you anyway? Well, you probably don't care, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
You see, I woke up in the middle of the night wondering, "What do people want to know less about me? The details of my bowel movements, or the sexual positions I use to help my wife conceive?" Ever since that happened, I've been unable to think about anything else. So I told coaches and GM's around the league the list wanted to make, and they all thought it was stupid and senseless. So did my editors. And my friends. In fact, it was readily apparent that this would negatively affect both my professional credibility and my relationships with professional contacts. That's when I knew I had to do it.
What were my criteria? Did I take a scientific approach and use stats to make my case? Did I base it on each topic's past accomplishments, or its potential for the future? Did I poll other people and use their votes? Kind of! In fact, I took every step to make it as arbitrary as possible, because that way everyone enters into hopelessly boring and pointless conversations about it.
Without further ado, here are the 500 best things you don't want to hear from me that I'm going to tell you anyway.
1. Last week I let my wife defecate on my chest. It was a pretty intimate moment.
2. I'll occasionally get coffee from other cafes besides Starbucks, but familiar name brands make me feel safer.
3. I like the Red Sox!
4. During air travel, I break wind as our plane taxis onto the runway. Instant conversation starter.
5. On Monday night I took in a Madonna concert. She may be a controversial performer, but she's definitely still got it.
6. Tony Romo's cock is beautifully curved. Really, it has the size and shape of a jumbo summer sausage.
7. I have this old Underwood typewriter that I keep in the attic. It types in cursive, and the lowercase Q looks enough like a weathered clitoris to give me an erection.
8. Andy Rooney is the sharpest journalist in the country, hands-down.
9. The worst thing about maintaining a healthy diet so I can be less obese? No more deep-fried butter sticks. Heavenly when dipped in mayonnaise.
10. Finally got around to watching Beverly Hills Cop. I can't say I liked that Axel Foley's attitude one bit.
11. I had a layover in Omaha on my way out to the Raiders' training camp. That was where I saw a teenage boy, maybe 14 or 15, wearing an earring! Can you believe it? Where were his parents?
12. Middle-school girls' softball games can get awfully competitive.
13. I love being a part of the Sunday Night Football crew, but I wish I could get a suit with an elastic waistband.
14. Dippin' Dots, the ice cream of the future? You better believe it.
15. If you ask me, Lady is the tramp.
16. Kids these days!
17. I didn't want to ever have to say this, but I think President Bush could have done a better job with the war in Iraq.
18. Sometimes when I'm bored, I like to slap my scrotum repeatedly with a wooden salad spoon. One time, it sounded just like the drum solo from Wipe Out. I wish had that on my iPod.
19. Everyone knows saliva makes a passable personal lubricant, but it's more effective if you can get some nasal mucus in there.
20. Have you heard about HBO's show "Real Sex"? It's wild!
21. Keep an eye on NBC's documentary series "The Office." Michael Scott's managerial skills tell me he's going places.
22. Did you know that the Newark Star-Ledger has baseball box scores from West Coast games in its late morning edition? Let's see the Internet do that.
23. At a recent Josh Groban concert, I saw someone smoking what I believe was a marihuana cigarette. I sent a letter to the Department of Homeland Security. They'll know what to do.
24. My pick for key fantasy star this week? LaDainian Tomlinson.
25. If I had to choose between eating a pound of your standard brown defecation or a teaspoon of that weird green stuff I get the morning after Indian food and six Sam Adams Winter Ales, I'd have a tough decision on my hands.
26. I think this might really be Brett Favre's last year, but you never know. When I talked to him last week, I could see in his soft brown eyes that he just loves playing the game of football.
27. It's never too early in life to check yourself for testicular cancer.
28. If Barry Bonds actually took steroids, I don't think his record should count.
29. Who's got the best condiment bar in the league? I'll take Heinz Field every time.
30. Am I really the only guy who wishes he could lactate?
31. I wish onions had a juice.
32. I don't understand why they're always putting out new editions of the encyclopedia. My 1986 World Book collection stands the test of time.
33. When it comes to linebackers, the best out there are Brian Urlacher, Paul Posluszny, and Chad Greenway. There's just something about them.
34. Jack Parr could write a joke about zone blocking that would really make you think.
35. I just can't believe how good U2 is. Every album is better than the last.
36. If you ask me, nothing beats a good wipe with Charmin White Ultra Aloe -- the double rolls are a must.
37. I'm not one to speak ill of others, but The Coffee Beanery funds terrorist training camps.
38. Each football season, I make it a personal goal never to defecate during the Giants' bye week.
39. You have to admire the way the Red Sox have bounced back this season. Anyone else get the feeling that Curt Schilling has taught Josh Beckett something about winning?
40. Have you tried this Marshmellow Fluff? It's not only delicious, but for my money, it's a great home remedy for hemorrhoids.
41. The ficus is our greatest potted plant.
42. Sometimes I picture myself on those airline safety pamphlets chasing the other people around the plane with a Swiss Army Knife.
43. Professional wrestling just isn't believable these days.
44. Aggravating Travel Note of the Week: What's with all these lady drivers?
45. Thanks to John Derrick of Butte, Montana. You're right: the reuben at Beth's Roadside Diner totally gets rid of that semen aftertaste.
46. One of Mike Tyson's turds got sold for $31 on eBay. I may never have to work again.
47. Why do snack machines sell things for 85 cents? Who carries that kind of change?
48. New favorite iPod feature: shuffle.
49. Paula Cole, I'd like you to meet Tony Romo.
50. I did an interview with an Internet "weblog" called The Big Lead. That fella sure knows his movies!
(There's the first 50. Let's hear the other 450 in the comments.)
Some fun with Peter King on a Monday afternoon. Today, King made the following comment about HBO’s “Hard Knocks” show:
"My one quibble with these shows: They're so fast-paced and move from one drama to the next and one scene to the next, that you don't really
get the feel of what camp is truly like. Very often, camp is boring,
tedious and full of drills you can't watch for very long or you'll go
crazy. If the show is to be the real story of training camp, it must
point out -- not just in flashes but in minutes -- what really happens
at camp, which is often extraordinarily humdrum."
Agreed. I, too, would find the show far more fascinating if it were more boring. Now you now why King's MMQB column is 56,000 words long. We at KSK found King’s logic irresistible. From it, we drew the following conclusions:
-King doesn't understand why the WSOP doesn't show the hands where everybody folds
-King watched Major League last night, and wished they'd show how well Willie Mays Hayes worked the count
-King doesn't understand why he can't watch every single American Idol audition
-He's disappointed Shark Week has so much killing when, in fact, most of the time sharks are just swimming around
-He’s a huge fan of Kevin Costner films
-He will only attend a wedding if it is Greek Orthodox
-He wishes he could read ALL the mail Bill Simmons gets in his mailbag
-King wishes pornography had more foreplay. Women just don't get automatically wet, you know
-King wants to know why his Lawrence of Arabia Director’s Cut DVD skimped on the deleted scenes
-King wishes "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" consisted of one uninterrputed take
-King thinks "To Catch a Predator" doesn't depict chat rooms accurately, should show footage of benign exchanges
-King wishes that the producers of The Office would shift the focus from the employees to the hard facts about paper sales
-King wishes Tony Romo would cuddle more
-When Peter King bought tickets to "28 Days Later" he was was stunned and disappointed to learn he didn't have to wait four weeks to see the movie
-King wishes Yes had produced more B-side compilations
Clearly, this is why King enjoys going to Starbucks so much. Yours in the comments.
Recently, there's been much some ado about Brady Quinn's preposterous holdout, in which the draft's #22 pick has yet to report to training camp because he and agent Tom Condon feel that Quinn deserves top-ten money.
And I think we can all say in unison: Fuck Brady Quinn. I feel like carrying a claw hammer around in my bag so I can brutally murder people on the subway. I feel like my taste and judgment should be respected to the point where I could euthanize freely without prosecution. But guess what? The world isn't run by the way I feel about things, so the people who cut in line at clubs because they think they're fucking special get to enjoy another day without their skulls turned inside out.
And you know who's on board with me here? Our main man Peter King:
It isn't just the front office that's frustrated with Quinn. Players are usually business-will-be-business guys, but I got a sense a few of his teammates think Quinn is out of mind for not being in camp. And he shouldn't expect a welcome mat whenever he arrives...
Compounding the problem is that Quinn did an autograph show in Cleveland earlier this summer and charged $75 per autographed photo. Talk about rubbing the locals the wrong way. That, combined with this ill-advised holdout, led one Browns insider to tell me the team wouldn't be surprised when Quinn finally reported to training camp. There would probably be a segment of fans on hand that would boo him...
Bottom line: The Browns would love to serve up on a silver platter the quarterback job to this Ohio golden boy, but he's probably within two or three days of getting so far behind, it would be hard for him to catch up and earn the starting job before midseason.
And you know what that means, NFL fans? It means several more weeks of THE CHARLIE FRYE EXPERIENCE.
In other words, bookies are already scrambling to find new numbers large enough to set the spread in Browns games. Can they cover eleventy? Doubt it.
But hey, outside of that autograph signing thing and missing his chance to become the starter right away, Brady's at least a home-grown boy winning over the locals, right? Right?
Well, according to Cleveland native and longtime Browns fan Brian... no. Brian wrote us last weekend (July 27th, to be precise) to tell us of his encounter with Quinn (the veracity of which we of course cannot verify). But in the true spirit of Internet rumor-mongering, I include Brian's lengthy email in near-entirety below, partially because it sounds plausible, but at least partly because I felt we should reward the first person to ever send us an email that was free from rampant grammatical errors, misspellings, and incoherent thought.
Having just turned 21 in February, this summer has been my first real exposure to the Cleveland bar scene. In a word: not that sweet. Regardless, last weekend I was at a popular place in the Warehouse District called the Blind Pig. My friend and I were checking out the skirt population (which was not that sweet either) when out of the corner of my eye I notice a pretty big dude with beautiful brown locks.
"Holy shit," I tell my friend, "That's Brady Quinn"
I walk towards him, politely stick out my hand and say "You're Brady Quinn. Nice to meet you, man."
Brady: "Uhhh, I don't know what you're talking about."
Me: "Dude...you're Brady Quinn."
Brady (laughing awkwardly): "Oh yeah well, uh, I get that all the time."
Me: "Yeah, you get that all the time BECAUSE you're Brady Quinn."
Brady and his posse of Irish Catholic friends then walk away without saying another word. I don't have even the slightest inkling of a doubt that it was Brady and that he's a lying sack of 85 dollar per autograph signing piece of shit. My brother went to Notre Dame. My roommate is obsessed with the football team. I had been subject to more Brady Quinn stories/stats/info than I had ever desired, and that was BEFORE the Browns squandered a probable 2008 top-10 pick on him. The guy was about 6'4" and visibly jacked under a loose fitting navy, gold and white Adidas tshirt (ND colors; Adidas also sponsors the football team). It was him.
I said this at the time of the draft, and this anecdote only reinforces that belief: Brady Quinn belongs in Cleveland as much as Michael Vick belongs in an animal hospital. The guy is a snobby pretty boy asshole with no concern for his fans or the town. Joe Thomas? The guy who gutted a fucking trout on ESPN during the draft? He's a Cleveland Brown.
Also a Cleveland Brown? Charlie Frye. He exudes the quiet crappiness that the team and city have come to represent. Have fun this season, Cleveland.
(Thanks to reader Dan V. for the Photoshop.)
I feel like I have to say this every fucking time we talk about the man, but here goes: We love Peter King. We love his...okay, maybe we don't LOVE him. We certainly do LIKE him, but, you know, there are all these other NFL columnists running around and--No, no, Petey, come on, baby. You're the best. You're numero uno to us, man. That was Spanish, by the way. I'm bi-language-al.
So in PK's Mailbag from yesterday, he ran a message from some dude from North Carolina who has had it up to HERE with King's flaunting of his riches. Let's go to the videotape!
Um, I mean the text. Yeah, let's go to the text:
You are a great writer and I enjoy your columns on a regular basis. But I just have to ask you something. When the average American struggles on a daily basis to get by and faces real challenges daily, how is it one should look upon some of your musings?
I mean, you've spoken of what a wonderful daughter or two you have, and you probably have just as wonderful of a wife. You live the life probably any man would dream of, covering the NFL and getting paid for it all the while.
So when we see you complain about whichever Starbucks is nearby and the price of working out at a hotel gym center, and the cost of parking in Manhattan or hear any of the other rumblings which seem awfully miniscule to the average person trying to get by, what is one to think? Poor, poor pitiful Peter.
How about this Peter? Every day you awake and look in the mirror, tell us how you hit your knees and thank your maker for gracing you with such a rich life.
First of all, whichever is actually a word. No, for real.
Secondly--and some of you might call me out for being a little hypocrite bitch, and that's fine--this guy needs to tape his asshole shut (or whichever hole that diarrhea came) and move on.
I am left beside myself, well, after stopping to think that King received this, read it, saw validity in its premise, and decided to run it in his Mailbag space. "Yeah, this guy thinks I'm a pompous ass. Hey, good call! He makes the cut." I doubt the internal conversation went quite like that. King's a big time writer. One who, I'm sure, sees the value in giving the floor to a dissenting point of view. Still, that can't be done without swallowing something. King did post the message, with this reply:
I'm really glad you wrote that and knocked me down a peg or two. I need to hear stuff like that sometimes. Thanks for the wakeup call.
Come on, Pete. You're the fuckin' man. Numero Uno, remember? So some hilljack outside of the Research Triangle has a problem hearing about the fabulous life of designer parking and airplane rides?
I believe that there are a certain set of reasons that we, as people, exert our money, time, and energy into following sports, especially the NFL. One reason would be that sports, like so few things these days, bring us together. We have our own personal biases (read: favorite teams) that, among fans, mostly, are tolerated, and even embraced. It wasn't two months ago when I went to Busch Stadium (as a Cincinnati Reds fan) and was heckled just a few rows above my team's bullpen, almost mercilessly, for three hours. And we were ahead most of that game.
I believe another reason, a deeper reason, is that sports give us hope. They provide a tangible result, in a world riddled with intangibles, that we can relate to our own personal ambitions. They provide a medium for desire. For the opportunity of becoming greater than ourselves. And for inspiration. And while we may not always prevail in the end, we had our shot. We had our struggle, our chance to gain what was, before, not ours. And whether we dream of a 60-yard Hail Mary as time expires or a double-mocha frappuccino with extra whip and chocolate and cinnamon, it's about that dream. And we need to flaunt that motherfucking dream all we can. You hear me? We need to dangle that dream in front of every crooked nose in Shitfuck, North Carolina and say, "YOU WANT THIS, YOU TOOTHLESS INBRED PRICK? Then you get your ass out of that double-wide...and come and get it." Without that dream, without that hope, we have nothing. And yes, we may wake up some mornings with that awful feeling in our souls, wondering where all the days have gone, whether the struggle was, and is, worthwhile. And when you get that feeling, you better think of that g0ddamn frappuccino with all its caffeinated glory and scream to the top of your lungs, "Fuck, yes it is! Fuck yes!"
This is all just a long way of saying, "Help yourself to a shovelful of cock, Douchebag, North Carolina." And you go, Pete. Don't you be doubting yourself anymore. That's our job.
In just one short year we've become quite popular within the world of sports. On this, the anniversary of our birth, we are honored to share with you the love we've received from our most famous friends.
Thanks PK!
Young Willy Leitch never forgot his chanceencounter with Peter King.
via Bernie Miklasz's interview w/ Saint Louis Sports Magazine
HT: The prolific MDS of Fanhaus
OK, here's a Peter King story for you. From a long time ago. We were sitting around at an NFL meeting. We were talking about families. I was mentioning how I was trying to have a child with my wife. Peter asked if we were having problems conceiving. Honestly, we weren't, but that didn't stop him from trying to assist. He went onto to explain, in very serious and clinical detail, about how to position the woman in an ideal way to maximize the potential of the seed finding its designated target. It was incredibly impressive (and I'm not being a smart ass when I say that). He was like Vince Lombardi breaking down the power sweep. "You get a seal here, a seal here, and take it straight down the alley." Or something like that. But the scary thing is, the next time we made the attempt to conceive - well, hell, I won't go into detail, but let's just say that I was thinking of Peter King's advice.
Now, I doubt that an image of Peter King is what you want in your head at that particular moment, but believe it or not, his tips on conception apparently were effective. That's Peter: an absolute know it all. But that is also his charm. And now you are about to throw up, correct?
Aaaaaand....I'm sick
I stopped reading Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback column not long after I posted a picture of his daughter on the Internet. After the Mary Beth fiasco, it just seemed wrong to keep up the annoying charade of paying attention to him.
And yet I have friends who email me all of his greatest hits. During this offseason he's panned The Departed for being needlessly violent and expressed surprise that Matt Damon plays the title character in Saving Private Ryan, which he waited nine years to see. Here are some gems from today's installment:
i. One of the best discoveries of midlife: St. Patrick's Day. Never thought I'd love Guinness, but it's pretty close to the perfect beer.
k. Just discovering the iPod, one of the great inventions of all time, and my one recent find was Norah Jones. What an incredible voice. Shows what a music dolt I am that I barely knew her.
