KSK Top Secret Playoff Scouting Report Bukkake - Jets @ Patriots

One can only assume that while Eric Mangini may have inherited some of
his mentor's tertiary skills, such as post-season game preparation and homewrecking, it remains undetermined whether the young protege has fully cultivated them. Success in the NFL is hard enough, but to bust out of the gate at 10-6 in his first year, and with THE FUCKING JETS for Pete's sake, suggests that the primary and secondary lessons in Football Awesomeness from Bill Belichick were well-studied.

These resurgent Jets, were it not for post-Katrina Saints, would have been a lock for team of the year. Is this large-market franchise, with incompetence cascading down its hull like toilet water in a porcelain urinal, on the verge of a organizational renaissance? Or has the blind squirrel stumbled upon its acorn? Today's game should be a good indication of which stance leans closer to fact.

Throughout the campaign, Mangini has managed to believe in two things that virtually no one else could: heavy carbs after 7 pm and Chad Pennington. The latter won the Comeback Player of The Year award, which will be renamed in 2008 as the Ford Mustang One Sliver Of Partial Glory Among A Legacy Of Dog Shit And Broken Dreams award. Mangini's initial burst of Football Awesomeness was expected to be stifled with Pennington in the lineup, returning from off-season surgery on a rotator cuff that was already weaker than the elastic in Janet Jackson's bra strap. And yet the Jets won games, including 5 of their last 6.

Across the field from this garage-sale-quality signal caller stands the pride of the National Football League. The Technicolor Dreamboat, relatively fresh from being expelled from both the Pro Bowl and Bridget Moynahan's beaver, faces his first playoff game with a wide receiver corps with no postseason experience. Tom Brady is Tom Brady, the obese Caucasian pundits will say, while expecting the young'ns to show no signs of pressure as The Dreamy One launches touchdown after touchdown while The Autumn Wind Is A Pirate is filtered into the pressbox speakers.

But, as the cool kids quip, this is why they play the game.

Mangini will have his team ready to play today, that is, after enjoying one last Chicken Marsala with extra club sauce and napping to situational footage of the Patriots offense on 3rd-and-long. And when the smoke clears and post-game foolishness commences, look for revitalized exuberance and New Football Awesomeness to have conquered the team that's been there one too many times.

Jets 21, Patriots 20.

Not Into Birds: The Hater's Guide to the Postseason

If, like myself, you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won't do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

NFC 3rd seed -- Philadelphia Eagles (10-6)

Ok, ok, we get it. Jeff Garcia is a big gay. His model girlfriend is more of a beard than Katie Holmes and Ashley Manning combined. It's all a bit much, really. The punchlines have oversaturated the blogosphere for years. Worse still, they're not really funny anymore.

But the McNabb gay rumors?

FABULICIOUSNESSITY

A few years ago, the Philadelphia Office of Tourism extended the twinkly olive branch to the homosexual community to get that gay dollar. Popular opinion states that this is how they were able to snag Garcia in the first place. But, is it a coincidence that it all came out, so to speak, during the last Eagles Super Bowl season? That new level of comfort for McNasty was all that he needed to get his team over the hump.

Mull it over for a moment: the overbearing mother, the too-precious relationship with a college sweetheart, the Super Bowl puking to keep his weight down, his dogs named Sinbad and Diego, his parakeet named Tudy.

Wilma McNabb's frustration springs not only from the fact that gays only eat soup if it's a bisque, it's that Garcia could not only take her son's team to a Super Bowl victory but may be the first gay ball-tosser to do it. McNabb had to nervously watch through the Kordell years, hoping the opportunity would still be there when her son would get to the top (Kordell's a bottom). Now Garcia is getting victories like they're on sale and Donovan is getting fat and out of style.

The whole "crucified" rhetoric takes on new connotations with the religious right with these new relevations, huh?

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

To The Victors Go The Shovelfuls Of Poontang

One of the reasons we like the NFL is that only 12 of the 32 teams make the playoffs. Unfortunately, six of them are from the NFC. Still, the postseason always makes for great games and a heightened intensity, not only because every team is trying to extend its season and attain Super Bowl glory, but because everyone realizes that success is a very good instrument for getting your name out there.

And for attaining snatch.

Success means endorsements means money. You know who likes money? That's right, the bitches. But only the heroes get the "limelight," which I think is another way of saying "Caribbean Vagina." Limes come from the Caribbean, right?

Anyway, think about the Super Bowl. You might have learned earlier this season that the late Lamar Hunt coined the term for pro football's ultimate championship (fuck you, Grey Cup, you sorry little Candian football trophy. I don't even know if it's GrEy Cup or GrAy Cup; how fucking ultimate can you be?) Everyone says that "Super Bowl" came from "Super Ball," the name of one of his kid's toys.

That's bullshit.

Lamar, his hardon for American soccer aside, was a sharp sumbitch. He had vision, and he knew that this game was going to be the greatest Trim Magnet of all time. So he was going to call the game "Super Vulva," but the phone lines weren't so good back then, see, so as he was explaining it to Pete Rozelle on the other end, the dude heard "Super Bowl," thus misnaming one of the great assemblages of our day.

And so, with the coronation of this year's twat-pounders just weeks away, this week's cheerleader pic celebrates the anticipation of our future champions:



Damn. She's the one that's all wet, but I'm the one that needs a towel.

We'll have more previews up this weekend, so stick around.

KSK Top Secret Playoff Scouting Report Bukkake - Cowboys vs. Seahawks

Creepy Scoutmaster hat trick is in full effect.

Against nearly any other opponent, Seattle's atrocious play at home this year would provide little reason to expect a Seahawk victory tomorrow afternoon. However, Dallas has looked like dogshit the last month and got molested at home last week by the Detroit Freaking Lions. Romo's swag is no longer phenomenal. I'll leave it to the football Illuminati to explain the whys and wherefores about opponents' increasing familiarity and mechanics. For all we know the Mooninites may have stole Romo's Foreigner Belt. But, the Cowboys folding like a pup tent the past few weeks may have more to do with eroding team morale than the league wising us to Jefe Romo.

Fill your eyes... WITH DOUBLE VISION !!!

According to Deadspin, people who know much more about the NFL than I do are picking the Cowboys. From a wagering standpoint, I just don't see it. It's one thing to pick Dallas to win in the abstract when only nebulous blog-cred is at stake. But only a desperate reprobate or incorrigible gambling addict would actually wager real American currency on that dysfunctional array of back-stabbing, in-fighting egomaniacs. Bottom line: why in the hell would anyone bet on a struggggling rookie quarterback on the road in his first playoff start on the road against the defending conference champ when you're only get two-and-a-half measly points?

Holmgren already beat Parcells in the Super Bowl,
but Google seems unimpressed.

A disturbing sub-plot of potentially far deeper ramifications than the short-lived playoff aspirations of either of these suspect teams: we could be rapidly approaching the end of the line for Bill Parcells. There is a lot of talk that a loss tomorrow will be his swan song. Such a middling departure is hardly benefiting the legend of the Tuna. Sure, Parcells is an over-the-hill shell of his former self (cup-size notwithstanding), but he is still one of the league's richest sources of comedic inspiration.

Tuna: still angry about his most recent battle with Holmgren.

Without Parcells' increasing bust size and his 'go-fuck-yourself' A's to the media's Q's, the NFL is a far less humorous place. Yet absent, a remarkable turn-around from the Cowboys, we may be seeing the end of an era tomorrow. I always kind of figured he would either go out with a) another Super Bowl; or B) nasty public feud with Jerry Jones that ended in an abrupt firing and possible fistfight in the streets of Deep Ellum.

Looks like this weekend could be the end of the line for the Cowboys' season and Tuna's coaching career. Sorry about your season Dallas fans, maybe Michael Irvin's "friend" will facilitate your bender Saturday night.

'Cuz I'm the E-A-Z-Y-E, and This Is the Season

Enough of the bullshit.
The playoffs are here and it's time for the real motherfuckin' g's to stand up!

"Mangina's a bigger bitch than Dre"

This is when the real gamblers come to party. Even though Vegas has established a pretty good idea of what's going to happen there are so many fucktards out there who aren't aware of our meast infested corner of the internet (you'd think the smell would tip them off). Therefore they are completely ignorant to the truth and their ignorance is bound to tip the line to give you an extra point.

Seriously, people in general are stupid assholes, this is why I try to avoid them altogether (I prefer the company my own inner demons). The good news is that these morons are going to push the line as the week goes on. Just think how many dumbfucks in Jersey are going to put their welfare checks on the Jets? The answer is "all of them".

All that being said, you must remain wary, they call it the Wildcard Round for a reason that has nothing to do with this demonic visage of Jack Nicholson. Shit's gonna get whacky so be careful. Remember, favorites always shit the bed in this round because they refuse to allow us to make money.

If you were on acid this picture would look a lot cooler...I'll wait, but hurry up.

Indianapolis -7 vs. Kansas City
Everybody has been talking about how Larry Johnson is going to run for 300 yards and four touchdowns. Everybody has been saying that Peyton won't win because he never wins big games. WELL YOU'RE WRONG BITCHES! Yeah Larry will get his but Peyton is going to tee off on the Chiefs. I'm not sure how they're going to get back in the game with The Herm calling delayed handoffs on third and eight. As for Peyton...this isn't a big game, he'll still lose next week so don't worry.

Dallas +3 @ Seattle
For some reason Seattle can't manage to cover at home consistently (2-3-1 in their last six). But fuck that, all I care about is the stupid gut feeling I get as soon as I look at the line (Thanks Malcolm Gladwell!). Seattle has sucked all year and you just know they're going to blow it as early as possible, it's just the way shit goes in the NFL. That being said, I hope the Cowboys plane is struck by lighting...twice.

New England -8.5 @ New York Jets
Bill "The Literal Motherfucker" Belichick will get his revenge on the vindictive Mangina (one gave the other the clap, I'm not saying which) and it's going to be sloppy.

New York +7 @ Philly
This game has field goal finale written all over it like the scarlet "A" on a guy that's been married just a bit too long. As pathetic as the GMen are the dogs always come out strong and seven points is too much for Jeff Garcia's polished forehead and well-rumphed posterior.

Bonus Playoff Gambling Opportunity!

Because this is how Pete would have gambled if it was possible.

For each game this weekend Bodog will be offering live gambling. If you're unfamiliar that means that you can bet on individual plays...it's just as depressing revolutionary as it sounds. Unfortunately I am not all that familiar with the play-calling habits of the teams involved but that sure as shit isn't gonna stop me from gambling away my pretzel moneys. So whenever KC has the ball on third and long just bet on the inside handoff and you're kids might actually go to college. You can thank me later.

January is the Cruelest Month: The Hater's Guide to the Postseason

If, like myself, you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won't do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

AFC 3rd seed -- Indianapolis Colts (12-4)

KSK Exclusive Obtained Document: The first 15 scripted plays for the Colts' offense for tomorrow's game against the Chiefs. How do we know it's legit? It was found in the liner notes of a Kenny Chesney CD left outside the Colts practice compound. Also smells of Gaultier's Classique.

Play 1 - 1st and 10 from Colts 32: Dump pass right to Ben Utecht for six yards.

Play 2 - 2nd and 4 from Colts 38: Play-action cross pattern to Reggie Wayne. Broken up by Patrick Surtain.

Play 3 - 3rd and 4 from Colts 38: Ricky Proehl's deceptive speed shows itself neither to be "deceptive" or "speed" as Peyton overthrows him. Punt.

Peyton begins pouting, shaking his head to a metronome beat two minutes into Chiefs' 13-play eight-minute opening drive. Makes sure camera is trained on him as LJ plows over Cato June for a touchdown. Conspicuously mouths "they scored" as NBC cuts to commercial break with montage of past Colts meltdowns.

Play 4 - 1st and 10 from Colts 27: Slant to Marvin Harrison for 12 yards.

Play 5 - 1st and 10 from Colts 39: Fly route left deep to Reggie Wayne. Throw is out of bounds, incomplete.

Play 6 - 2nd and 10 from Colts 39: Audibles out of off-tackle run by Addai, play-action fakes, looks deep, is sacked for 5-yard loss.

Play 7 - 3rd and 15 from Colts 34: Just to show everyone how committed he is to the running game, calls a draw for Dominic Rhodes. Gain of eight. Punt.

Slumps onto bench, ignores persistent pleas of Tom Moore and Tony Dungy to run the ball. Curses fate and schedule makers for giving the Colts a Saturday playoff game, thus guaranteeing Eli's season is exactly 24 hours longer than his. Plans to browbeat Archie into complaining to the competition committee. Purses lips bitterly as Trent Green completes a 12-play seven and a half minute drive by throwing a touchdown to Tony Gonzalez. Now upset that he smeared his lipstick.

Play 8 - 1st and 10 from Colts 23: Down 14-0, things begin to unravel. Ryan Diem jumps before the play. False start, loss of five. At last, Peyton has found his scapegoat.

Play 9 - 1st and 15 from Colts 18: Hand-off to Addai up the middle for two yards. See! This running shit doesn't work.

Play 10 - 2nd and 13 from Colts 20: Peyton audibles three times at the line, pump fakes five times before laser rocketing the ball 20 yards out of bounds, despite replays showing Harrison breaking open down the other sideline.

Play 11 - 3rd and 13 from Colts 20: Marvin Harrison makes one-handed catch, breaks a few tackles, taking the ball deep into Chiefs territory, all on desperation throw into double coverage, just like Peyton drew it up. Gain of 44.

Play 12 - 1st and 10 from Chiefs 36: Out pattern to Reggie Wayne for eight yards.

Play 13 - 2nd and 2 from Chiefs 28: Takes a shot at the endzone. Harrison makes an amazing catch in the left corner, but only gets one foot in. Peyton draws head back in disappointment and makes face like it's Marvin's fault. Cris Collinsworth concurs, spends a minute gushing over Peyton's accuracy, is later anally raped by Peter King that night, though it proves ultimately unsatisfying because King constantly refers to him as "Big Romo Number 9" and "My Sassy Octoroon Scrambler."

Play 14 - 3rd and 2 from Chiefs 28: Inexplicably throws into the endzone again, this time with three defenders in the area. Pass is nearly intercepted.

Play 15 - 4th and 2 from Chiefs 28: "Most clutch kicker in history? Fuck that shit. Where did that get me last year?" Peyton calls obvious hook pattern for Harrison. Intercepted by Ty Law. Peyton throws arms up in disgust, only hopes cling to the chances that Eli throws more picks than he. Wonders if there is commercial potential in a squash game with Eli.

And...curtain.

Cowher Retires to Harvest Spittle, Daughters With a Jump Shot

WWL is reporting Bill Cowher is done after 15 seasons as head coach of the Steelers, which comes as a shock to no one, really. If only other people made it this easy.

The Steelers are holding a press conference at 1 p.m. to announce they and the Penguins are leaving town Cowher's retirement.

Having drenched this site with enough homerific content this season, I won't go into some long-winded elegy for the frothing, frowning one. He's been the Steelers coach since I was 10 years old. Almost all my personal associations with the team are with him as coach. He won a title, went to the playoffs each of his first six seasons and only had three losing years. Also had sex with one gay black quarterback. Quite a run. Coupled with Dick Hoak's retirement, that's a lot of Steelers history gone in the last week.

I hope he enjoys watching his daugters play basketball for two years, quickly grow sick of his family, then take up the reins of the Panthers in 2009.

Russ Grimm Era begins in 3, 2, 1...

Steve Irwin Memorial Meast of the Week - Week 17

This week's Meast is Darrent Williams of the Broncos. No jokes this time. Williams doesn't get this honor just out of sympathy. He was a really good player whose energy on the field popped right off the TV screen. It's no coincidence Champ Bailey had his finest season playing opposite Williams.

If I hear one more person ask, "Hey, what was he even doing at a club that night?" I'll hit them in the face with a pint glass. Williams just saw his season end in the toughest way possible. Was he supposed to sit at home and play fucking Uno? No. He's supposed to go out with some friends, grab some drinks, and maybe even try to get laid. There's no better way to achieve catharsis. I think everyone has a right to do that and not have to worry about some prick going O-Dog on them.

So here's to Darrent Williams: a good player and a good guy who was killed just trying to have a good time. Meanwhile, Ray Lewis still walks the Earth. What bullshit.

KSK Top Secret Playoff Scouting Report Bukkake - Colts vs. Chiefs

It's playoff time, so we at KSK asked a high-ranking NFL scout to analyze the playoff matchups. This man was offered anonymity in exchange for his complete and utter candor. In this post, he analyzes the Colts-Chiefs game:

"The key to this game is coaching. Take Tony Dungy for example, he's a guy who knows a little something about the playoffs...'That's how our league is set up, and that's how you win championships -- by winning in the playoffs.' That's the kind of outside-the-box thinking that just doesn't show up on a resume... What separates Larry Johnson from the rest of the league's running backs is his powerful ass and Dungy knows it. 'He's [got] a great back[side]. We'll have our hands full.' Everybody around the league has been gushing over LJ's matchup against the Colts, well I don't buy it. It's Herm Edwards' time to shine, so when you see a glare on your television remember, it's probably just the lights reflecting off of his glowing cheeks.

Us NFL insiders know a little secret that the common fan would never think of, it's all about the names--so keep an eye on the Chiefs Rudy Niswanger. He doesn't really play but his jersey makes all the other players giggle... The game could come down to a bucket of fried chicken, you see the Colts are undefeated when Bob Sanders dines on the Colonel's finest before taking the field. Apparently the Colonel had a little something in common with Tony Romo's great great great grandmother... Dominic Rhodes pronounces his name "Dominique" which is fucking bullshit, if your parents botch the birth certificate it's too fucking bad (isn't that right Dwyane?)... I don't trust Ty Law or anybody else with a five letter name.

Kyle Turley is the first guy to ever play in the NFL with Down Syndrome, truly inspirational... Injuries could be a bit of an issue, I'm hearing whispers that Priest Holmes may not be healthy enough to play--what a fuckin' pussy... Tamba Hali is from Liberia, a country with far less liberty than their name would indicate--very sneaky Liberian Tourism Association... If you think the scout up there looks creepy you should see Peyton Manning in a room full of lustful women...awk-ward.

I like the Colts by by a dozen."

Now THAT is some good analysis. Suck it, Ditka!

A Dreamboat Deferred: The Hater's Guide to the Postseason

If, like myself, you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won't do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

AFC 4th seed -- New England Patriots (12-4)

This really dusts my doily!

First, Bridget blows me off when I told her I was making a pass to Reche, and she took it to mean Reese, as in Withersp-...oh, you know who I mean: the star, like me. You know: Tom Fucking Household Name Fucking Three-Time Super Bowl Champ Fucking Honorary Coin Tosser in Detroit Brady. How can I help it if nobody knows any of our receivers? That whole mantra about how the Patriots playing as a TEAM of nobodies was played out after the second title. I want respect, recognition, reverence. ROYALTIES.

Great! Rodney Harrison is out! Just great! Great! Shuh...who's gonna take cheap late hits on opposing players now? What, are we supposed to make this a shootout, with our zero offensive Pro Bowlers?

And please, pleasepleasepuuuuuhhhlease tell me how I was left out? Phillip Rivers? More like Phillip Givers...it to the other team - ha! Carson Palmer? Okay, yeah, he's a pretty awesome dude, but c'mon. And here's where it really goes south: Peyton. I fucking own that scarlet prince of chokery (I read that on some web site) and what's more, no rings! Not one! How can you have a stable of Pro Bowl QBs without a golden god like myself? You don't bring a laser rocket arm to a gunfight. What a bunch of jumped-up first round pick nobodies.

Hey, Bill Simmons, even you've gone all quiet on me. Other than choking on your drool when Lawrence Maroney's name comes up, we don't hear shit out of you. What? 12 wins not good enough for you, shitstain? What the fuck are you talking baseball for, Bill? No one cares about your wishy-washy, unctuous stance on Mark McGwire. It's playoff time, asshole. You should be sucking my cock nonstop, only coming up for air to ask your wife to write your column for you. And when we lose, I want you to pretend like the fucking sky is fucking falling. You had a nice little conniption fit after we lost to Denver last year, now you're all doom and gloom about facing our former defensive backs coach's new team?

Fuck.