Wade and Jerry Starring In “Pig-malion”, Part I

Wade: Hoo boy! My goodness! What a barnburner of a win! I reckon we’re doin’ pretty good tryin’ to salt this division away. I’m real proud of those kids out there. They’re doin’ a heckuva job. And, I must say, I think I’m going to celebrate just a little today with my favorite lunch in the whole wide world.


My my my. That is one good-looking chili dog. Haven’t had one of these in ages. But you did good yesterday, ol’ Wade. You deserve to treat yourself. This might be my favorite food in the world. It’s got a hot dog, with chili right on top! Imagine bein’ able to use meat as a condiment! What a country!

(takes a bite, a small bit falls onto his shirt)

Oh, dag gummit! Well, if that ain’t just the raccoon beatin’ down my doorstep. I better get a hold of some club soda and try and wash this fella out best I can.

What’s the rumbling sound?

(door flies open)


Jerry: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWW!!!!! MOUNT UP, YOU BIG FAT HEAP OF DONKEY SHIT!!!!!

Wade: Oh, God dammit.

Jerry: Did you see what my boy ROMO did out there yesterday, you big fat manatee? FOUR touchdown passes, all on the Broadway stage!

Wade: Actually, the game was played in Jersey, sir.

Jerry: Jersey, Broadway… It’s all the same shit to me, Buffet Buster! Just a bunch of meatheads with funny accents and queers with lip rings!

Wade: Sir, if you don’t mind, I’m tryin’ to eat my lunch.

Jerry: Good God, what the fuck are you eatin’, Florence Tubbingale? Is that a chili dog? You know what kind of nitrates are in that, Sir Francis Bacon? You may as well eat shit right from a man’s muddy asshole! Then sop the buttjuice up with Wonder Bread!

Wade: I’m trying to eat, sir!

Jerry: Not anymore, you ain’t! (throw chili dog away) Listen, Fatty. I’ve been thinking about things. And it’s clear to me that the reason my boy ROMO isn’t an A-list worldwide superstar at this very instant is because YOU are draggin’ him down!

Wade: He threw 4 TD’s yesterday!

Jerry: (takes off ten-gallon hat, hits Wade with it) I’m not talkin’ about football, Mount Foodji! I’m talking about appearances! How can my boy ROMO be revered when his lazy fatass of a coach is sittin’ over on the sideline sucking on a chili dog like a French whore on rent day? It’s time to teach your sorry fat ass some MANNERS! To teach you in the art of bein’ a real gentleman! And I know just the man to help you!

(door opens)


Garrett: (singing)
Do mi re fa mi sol fa la sol ti la do ti re do!
Do la ti sol la fa sol mi fa re mi do re ti do!

Jerry: That is gorgeous! Is that one one of them eye-talian operettas?

Garrett: Oh ho ho ho! Heavens no, Mr. Jones! Those are my alternate, skipped scales. Ascending and descending, of course. One cannot call himself an educated man without properly knowing his solfege! Helps keep the diaphram elastic. I’m sure the portly gentleman here knows all about elastic.

Wade: Hey!

Garrett: I know my other fine vocal tune-ups as well, Mr. Jones. Like this one: My momma makes me mash my M & MMMMMMMMMMMM’s!

Jerry: Whoa, that is some crazy shit right there!

Garrett: The alliteration helps the soft palate, sir. It’s all about the soft palate. Again, I’m sure Barbara Cook here knows all about mashed M&M’s.

Wade: This is ridiculous! I don’t need to be taught to be a gentleman!

Jerry: Wrong, Brunhilda! Some proper etiquette training from Princeton boy here is just what we need to help get my boy ROMO to the top!

Wade: Oh, for Pete’s sake. Fine. Fine, I’ll do whatever you want.

Garrett: Great. We shall begin this very night. Kindly meet me in my study at 8:00PM sharp this evening. And try not to bring the baggage of your agrarian upbringing with you. And don’t wear burlap overalls, as I assume you do in your casual time.

Wade: I won’t.

Jerry: Well, I’m glad we’re getting’ you moving in the right direction, Chief Nougat. NOW IT’S TIME FOR A LITTLE HOGTYIN’!

Wade: What?!

Jerry: TIME TO HOGTIE YOUR FAT ASS!!! WAAAHOOOOOO!!!

(ties up Wade with twine, stuffs tomato in Wade’s mouth)

Wade: Mmmmfff! Mmmfff mfffmf mfff!!!

Jerry: My goodness! Look at him, all tied up like that! Makes me want to have a team luau! How you feel about roastin’ over an open flame, little piggy?

Wade: Mmffff!!! Mff! Mfmfmmfffff!!!!

Garrett: How wonderful!

Jerry: TIME TO EAT, BOYS! YEEHAW!!! YIP YIP YIP!!!! HOLY DOGSHIT I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Part II next week

Craphonso! (Colts Lose Two In A Row)

Those sweet, sweet tears you hear being cried from the Hoosier state? Enjoy them. Bathe in them. Dump buckets of them on your lawn and watch it grow. The Colts have just lost two games in a row and I'm so happy about it. I am downright goddamn giddy. UM will have a big lifestyle change forthcoming as a result of this game, but he can tell you about that later.

Peyton threw SIX FUCKING PICKS in this game, which is six more than the career NFL totals of all the contributors of this blog. Watching Peyton get annoyed when he'd have to call for the snap twice (when Saturday didn't see him lift his leg up the first time) was fun enough. But watching him at his worst doing what he does best was the best, that was a little slice of heaven, almost as good as getting my balls licked.

I'll always contend that hating the Mannings is the most fun because it's all over their fucking faces when calamity strikes. They start as mildly annoyed, then grow to hate life as the day goes on. Watching Peyton with that "I just gurgled my own tartar sauce" face on the bench led to this exchange on my couch:

Her: Wow, look at Peyton. The Fetus Head is having a rough go of it.
Me: Yeah, right now he has a real de-fetus attitude.

Norv Turner got his ass bailed out by Vinatieri, whose push from 30 yards was the perfect climax to an entertaining game. Additionally, and I know it's been said before, but Norv frightens children whose parents own HDTVs. I truly believe this is God's way of punishing me for not giving a shit about the wildfires. I bet Norv could hid about $500 cash and three ounces of blow in the various crevaces of his face, making the Chargers' location (just minutes from the Mexican border) more than ideal. It's not like you can search a guy's face. With the steriod-laden Shawne Merriman returning to form, the team could not have asked for a better mule.

Oh, and was it raining during the game last night? I never heard them mention anything about that...

Throwgasm!!!!!

I'm back, and I'm hornier than ever.

Look the fuck out, people. Hide your women and duct tape their vaginas shut. I got backload of seminal fluid that could flood Indonesia.

Horse Balls Dropped

That's a nice first half you put up Derek Anderson, with the benefit of a couple of short fields. How did you nurse that 12-point halftime lead? Going three of 12 until the final drive of the game, one-hopping and overthrowing your receivers when the Steelers didn't sack you once? Did the Browns return unit outgain its offense by 50 yards? I think so.

Roethlisberger has 22 TDs and seven picks, despite having a mediocre offensive line that makes him run for his life. But, yeah, he's totally an overrated game manager.

Give the retard his due. Or at least something shiny.

KSK Lays Waste to Competition, Attracting Admiration of Public Radio

For the second straight year, Kissing Suzy Kolber has been voted Best Sports Blog, at least if you're going by The Weblog Awards. Which you should. The Bloggies don't count for shit.

Thanks to our readers for heeding our pleas for running up the vote total. We conquered, then we conquered a little more, then we let this guy go after their tattered remains.

KSK finished with more than 50 percent of the vote. No doubt seeing in us a great example of how to run a pledge drive, NPR yesterday cited Drew for the coinage of the Purple Jesus moniker. Yet it's Mottram who's making coin on his Horse Balls and Purple Jesus shirts. Hey, we should be the ones soaking Drew's talents for cash. Step off, Blogfather.

To our rivals, thanks for participating. We've got a fine parting gift for you.

You're in luck. It could've been New England-style fish assholes. They come with Sully sauce.

credit oomsa for fishhole pic

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY -- The Bounty On Bill Simmons' Hands Has Been Set at $20

Simmons' column has been up for approximately two hours and we've already received a bevy of e-mails attesting to its retardery. Rest assured that we've read it, punched our desks a few times, scoffed indignantly at a few choice excerpts and decided we could takes no more.

For those, unlike us, who don't have time in the middle of the day to commit an hour to read the 33,000 words that usually comprise his Friday picks column (in which this week he relegates the "picks" to a small box to the side of his rant, forgoing any additional commentary on his shitty recommendations).

Anyway, here's the quick rundown: He blubbers on about how the Pats totally got hosed in a game they won by referees working for the RAND CORPORATION, in conjunction with the saucer people, under the supervision of the reverse vampires, to totally screw the Pats over and have the gall to call Randy Moss for pushing off, like he's been doing all year. He compares the refs to the Nazi officials in "Victory!" Leaving aside that a lot of former Nazis probably reside in Indianapolis, this is completely ludicrous.

He does provide us this helpful, if obnoxious, tidbit:

"After the final three kneels and a delightfully icy handshake between Belichick and Dungy, I grabbed my dogs for a prolonged victory walk -- still wearing my good luck Wes Welker jersey -- and mulled a scenario in which the Pats finished 19-0, then picked first in the 2008 draft with the first-rounder acquired from San Francisco last spring."

So now we know Simmons likes to take victory strolls following Patriots games. All you need to do is find the douchebag in the Welker jersey walking a labradoodle and hack off his hands. He has a new kid, so perhaps he should be around for that. And nobody watches E-60, so no harm is done there. The Welker jersey probably narrows it down a bit in L.A. but if you happen to lop off the appendages of a few innocents of a similar description, who are we to judge? He is your quarry and upon successful termination you will receive a crisp new twenty.

With which you can get:

-- Copy of NBA2K8 for PS2 so you can beat the Celtics 300 times in a row
-- Butthash kit, deluxe edition
-- Three (3) 5 lb. bags of key lime mints
-- Wes Welker Dolphins jersey
-- a "Van Heflin"
-- Fudgie the Whale

Ass So Fat That You Can See It From the Front

Say what you want about the Redskins inept front office (B-Lloyd, Arch, and TJ say "thank you") or their pathetic play calling, but at least their cheerleaders bring the heat. Before Dan Snyder arrival the offensive linemen had better bodies than the cheerleaders, although Shar Pourdanesh was a fucking minx. So if nothing else (seriously, there's not much), at least we can thank him for that.

It's my pleasure to introduce you to this week's cheerleader selection, the Redskinettes own Kelley (the extra e is for "egads she's stacked"). Although she actually predates the Snyder Regime, she's certainly flourished within the more attractive environment. Kelley also possesses one of the more unique job titles listed on the cheerleader's bios. She refers to herself as an aesthetician, like a young Kierkegaard with tits!

Thanks to this picture the sun now gives me an erection.

That bikini would look awesome on acid...or in my mouth.

While Kelley might be absolutely gorgeous, she's certainly does not come equipped with the requisite britch thickness that I was looking for. Upon further inspection, this appears to be an epidemic throughout our beloved NFL (Alge Crumpler excluded). I'm not saying that all the cheerleaders should be smuggling hams, but I need to see some hot NFL cheerleaders who truly have the ass.

Another one of my favorite First Ladies of Football is the woefully named, yet able bodied, Chastity.



Now Chastity is working with an onion booty of modest quality (not to mention a couple of other fantastic assets) but on the whole, the league could still do so much more in the department of derrières.

What do you think about this subject Mr. Def?



See, Mos knows what I'm talking about. So come on NFL, we want to see a bit more ass next season. But don't go cutting back on them tit-ays.

I'm Sorry, Tom Dempsey

I'm sorry, Tom Dempsey, that the 36th anniversary of your historic achievement yesterday received little to no mention in the intricate, obese web that is sports news. For it was you, good sir, that set the longest field goal in NFL history with a 63-yard money shot, o so long ago.

I'm also sorry, Tom Dempsey, that you booted yourself into the record books with only half of a kicking foot and no right hand. That's pretty cool, at least if you're cool with not being able to do the Pee Wee Herman dance. And limited options for masturbating. And forget about email. It reminds me of that one time I tried to eat a sandwich while I was wiping my ass on the shitter. Your whole life must have been like that. And even now, too; sorry, I forgot you were still alive.

And you probably took a lot of grief from people that couldn't handle the fact that you were different. I mean, look at Lance Armstrong now, he's missing parts and now he's dating half of that girl that was on Full House. I hope that you at least got to nail one of those twins on The Patty Duke Show.

I'm sorry that you are now forced to share this record with Jason Elam, a small, unpleasant person who has nothing better to do than hang out with Scrabble players and fantasize about Al-Qaeda. Never mind the fact that his kick came about on a lark at the end of the first half, through the thinnest of air on top of a mountain, while your drive for glory was a game-winner, below sea level, in the sweltering airborne filthiness that is southern Louisiana. Plus you did it against that guy on Webster.

I'm sorry, Tom Dempsey, that you took grief from people that said you did it with a loaded shoe, putting a stain on everything you accomplished. Just the attitudes of the day, I guess. I mean, people would never say that kind of thing about Lance Armstrong. If you did that today, you'd have your own color and people would be running 5Ks in your honor. Plus, you'd probably get to meet Hulk Hogan, like those kids that get cancer always do. I wish I had cancer.

I guess that's it. Tell Jim Abbott I said hi. I think he's pretty neat.

Teasers Never Lose--Three Times In a Row

Welcome to Week 10 of Always Be Covering. Because I refuse to forgive New England for taking a knee last week (also, the bye week thing) I've been forced to get a little bit creative. You know what that means...it's time for the funnest shitty bet in the history of gambling!

The Humongous Tease!
Jessica Alba, the biggest fucking tease there is. Seriously , show us the goods. God forbid you should let me see the crack of your ass. If you don't get naked then I'm never going to be able to not think about fucking you underwater (Deep Blue rules!). Selfish fucking bitch.

Here it is, 4 games teased by 6 points (the first commenter to say that I got the line wrong will be hooked up to the KSK Genital Electrocution Machine (GEM)...patent pending.
Risking 40 to win 120

Kansas City +3 vs. Denver

Jay Cutler is going to start, and some people are actually pretending that this matters. He's a bum (but Stan's dad thinks he might be good one day) and Kansas City's pass rush will probably put his busted ass in the locker room. They don't even need Larry Johnson. Denver's rush defense will resurrect Priest Holmes, if only for an afternoon.

Buffalo +4 at Miami

The Bills are fucking gold. They're the shitty Patriots of covering the spread. Their only two non-covers came on the road, but this is a teased game with Miami. The chances of the team plane taking a header into the Keys are just slightly lower than Miami beating anybody by more than a field goal.


New Orleans -6 vs. St. Louis

See, this is why I love teasers! New Orleans lost four in a row, and now they've won four in a row. If you follow the pattern it's quite obvious that they're going to win this week. On a completely unrelated note, I got a 650 on the SAT.


Indianapolis +2 at San Diego

Wow, this teaser is pure unadulterated gold. This advice might be more valuable than a healthy set of lungs on the black market (Marv Levy is looking to make a buy). San Diego is pretty good, but their coach is a fucking joke and their quarterback is that douche from Fashionable Male. If Indy loses two straight I'll give up masturbation for a month.

Good luck, as if you need it!

Now who wants to make a side bet that Herm Edwards completely fucks me out of this teaser?

Bonus Commenter Debate!

Over/Under on the total number of segments involving the Patriots on the five (ESPN, CBS, FOX, NBC, NFL) Sunday preview/recap shows despite their bye week: 4

So who ya got?

BONUS ENDORSEMENT FOR THE LADIES! Burt Reynolds Endorses KSK!

Every day until voting for the 2007 Weblog Awards closes (that’s today!), we’ll have a new celebrity endorsing us and encouraging you to vote KSK for Best Sports Blog. And, should these celebrities be MALE, and possess a surplus of chest hair and short shorts, well, we can’t help who chooses to love us. For you sweet ladyfolk, today’s BONUS celebrity endorser is none other than the man himself, Burt Reynolds. Burt, what do YOU think of KSK?


“Fuck your pissy little blog. I’m here to talk about Burt. Go ahead, ladies. Stare. It’s all right. God gave me this gorgeous body for you to enjoy. Feast your eyes on a REAL FUCKING MAN for a change.


"Boy, they don’t make stars like they used to, do they? You think Josh Hartnett could look this good on a bearskin rug with a pack of rich Camel unfiltereds? It’s nothing but a bunch of waxed little boys out there. Lucky for you, ol’ Burt still delivers the goods. Go ahead and touch yourselves, ladies. Sally Field liked to hit ol’ rotary phone dial in front of yours truly. I’m no stranger to that game."

Thanks, Burt! And be sure to vote today, even if you’re still throwing up at the pictures!

UPDATE: To assauge are you genuinely angry lady readers, here's RYAN Reynolds.