Manic depression is a frustrating mess...Well, I think I'll go turn myself off

A Little Bit Attention-You Got It
Need Some Affection-You Got It
-Freddie Mercury

Wow, crazy times. We're less than a quarter of the way through the NFL season and the circus is already in post season form. Some people compete in suicide pools, some people compete in TO media circus pools. Apparently the time has come to merge the two into the most controversial inter-office activity since the Dundies.

I'm not sure what we're supposed to think of the situation; it's not often that we're confronted with a story as surreal as David Lynch on acid. At first we were told it was an allergic reaction...odd, but not quite enough to whet our morbidcuriosity. Then came the reports of attempted suicide trickling out of Dallas like so many uncomfortable American Airlines connections. Once people heard about attempted suicide they could only think one thing, "how'd he fuck that up?"...well maybe not everybody.

We were forwarded this inspirational
message from an unknown internet artiste.

At first I wasn't at all surprised, nor was I sure that the comedic value of the story could come close to matching the sobering news. TO is clearly a troubled person who seemed to fit the criteria for a serious mood disorder (in case you weren't sure you may want to watch SportsCenter PTI, Around the Horn, Outside the Lines, and the NFL Live sometime in the next 72 hours). After a few minutes of inspired commentary with my KSK compatriots I was able to look accept the bleakness while embracing the funny...then came the publi-cyst (it's paronomasio, deal with it!). Even though she's clearly without soul (it's in the job description) I'm guessing she did the right thing for TO when she dialed 911. Conversely, I'd love to see which three numbers she dialed subsequently.

Around this time I was confronted by equal sensations of confusion and curiosity.

There were so many options to consider: attempted suicide, accidental overdose (vicodin makes your hair feel good), stupidity, and allergy (which has to be bullshit because every football gets exposed to vicodin before they're veterans). Frankly, I'm still grasping a bit here. I'm stuck somewhere between accidental od and stupidity (although I've always thought vicodin makes me smarter). Unfortunately I've been unable to rule out the possibility of severe depression. TO has made a career out of crying out for help, it's just too bad they've always manifested themselves as arrogance and entitlement.

All I'm left with is the feeling that TO has succeeded in a perverse fashion. Once again the four letter network has become the Ed Werder Hour. Granted we here at KSK have provided a vast supply of commentary on the subject, but we're an NFL humor site...this is our essence (existence precedes essence). They still have to find time to pander to Nascar fans and cover the race for the pennant race.

All I know is that TO should probably undergo a phsychiatric evaluation before he takes the field. If he really does want to hurt himself (as we were led to believe) we'll see him going over the middle in Philly.

In the meantime I'll be anticipating his Nov. 5th return to FedEx, I know Sean Taylor will be.

Good luck Mr. Owens, and stay safe.