I Cannot Possibly Babysit All Of Darren McFadden’s Illegitimate Children

Wade: Hoo boy! Preparin’ for this draft certainly has been a mountain of work. Back in my daddy’s day, we’d never have dreamed of this level of preparation: scouting reports, interviews, workouts, background checks, statistical analyses. My, my goodness. I tell ya, it’s nothing like it used to be. Heck, I could work 24 hours a day and there’d still be more to do if I wanted to!

But I tell you what. Ain’t no rule saying I can’t burn the midnight oil without treating myself to a bottle of suds or two.

(opens office mini fridge)

Yep, it’s eight o-clock. Past the point of no return. If I’m gonna be late preparing these here scouting reports, I may as well settle in for the long haul. There’s something about a beer late at the office. It makes work feel a whole lot less work-like, I reckon. I’m sure gonna enjoy this.

(pops bottle)

Now to simply bring the bottle to my lips and tip it back so that the frosty liquid can, by force of gravity, fall into my mouth…

(door flies open)


Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! Yee! Haw! YEEHAW!

Wade: Oh, no.

Jerry: Well, well, well! Drinking on the job, are ya, Chubtard?!

Wade: Sir, I hadn’t even…

Jerry: CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD!!!! You like that name, Chubtard?! I thought of it when I was bareback riding my bull over here tonight! I like it because it says you’re both chubby AND retarded! And you are! CHUBTARD!

Wade: I don’t like that name, Sir.

Jerry: That’s what makes it so fun to say, Minister Fudge! Now, what the fuck makes your fat ass think you can drink alkeehol on the job? You don’t own this team! Know who does? Huh? Do you know, Fat The Dripper?

Wade: You do, Sir.

Jerry: YOU GODDAMN RIGHT! THE OL’ DOUBLE-J, OWNER OF THE DALLAS COWBOYS, MOST VALUABLE FRANCHISE IS ALL OF SPORTS AND CROWN JEWEL OF THE GREAT STATE OF TIXAS! TIXAS!!!!!

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: Hey, Fatlock! Only the DOUBLE-J gets to enjoy his alkeehol on the job! You got me, Faaaatlock?

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: What kinda fucking beer you drinkin’ anyhow, Chubtard? Bud Light?! BAHAHAHA! That ain’t no drink! (pours self drink that’s one half sarsaparilla and one half skin liniment) Now THERE’S a drink! I do like my sassparilly! You ever try sassparilly, Captain Cumbersome?

Wade: No, sir. Not really my cup of tea.

Jerry: Not your cup of tea? TEA? Jesus, for someone with such a loose ass, you sure are a tightass. You stir that tea with a black cock? Drink some of this, Tubby.

Wade: Sir, I…

Jerry: Just try it. You need to loosen up, Fatty. Matter of fact, put that work aside for tonight. We’re gonna get shitfaced, then we’re gonna head over to the titty bar and get TITFACED!

Wade: But these scouting reports!

Jerry: Oh, fuck the scouting reports! We’re not gonna need those this year, Pop Secret. Double-J’s got a slippery ace up his ol’ sleeve. Now drink, Dumpty! DRINK YOU BIG FAT FAGGOT!

(two hours later at a bar)

Wade: (drunk, singing) You wanna be startin’ something! You got be startin’ somethin’! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: (also drunk) SING IT, BOY! HOO WEE, YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE FAT CHICK FROM HEART!

Wade: Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: I tell ya, you aren’t such a bad time when you got a little liquor in you, Chubtard.

Wade: Well, you never asked to hang out.

Jerry: Oh, bullllshit, you big fat dicklicker! I invite you out all the time! I invited you to my wife’s daffodil party!

Wade: You made me bartend.

Jerry: THAT’S BECAUSE EVERY GOOD PARTY NEEDS A FAT, FRIENDLY BARTENDER! IN A BOWTIE!

Wade: (does a shot) I never liked you, Jones. You ain’t no better a man than me.

Jerry: Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Chow. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t keep you around here if I didn’t think you were the right man for the job.

Wade: You mean it?

Jerry: I do.

Wade: Will you shake on that?

Jerry: I will.

(shakes Wade’s hand, knocks him out with one punch)

(cut to one day later)

Wade: Wha… where am I?


Wade: Who are all these children? (phone rings) Hello?

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!!!! WAKE UP, CHUBTARD!

Wade: Where am I?

Jerry: You are at a home I recently purchased for a young man named Darren McFadden. And, more specifically, for his many various offspring.

Wade: But why?

Jerry: I told you my boy ROMO was goddamn STAR, didn’t I? And I told you he needed more stars, did I not? Well, this young man is a goddamn SUPERSTAR! And we’re gonna make him the next great running back for the Dallas Cowboys! I'm trading all our picks to get him! But I need my boy MCFADDEN to focus! I can’t have him worrying about those little babies scurrying around and shitting all over the place! YOU will get to oversee their growth and what not personally. It’s Fatty Day Care!!!

Wade: So this is why you got me drunk? So you could trap me here!

Jerry: That’s my boy Wade! Always figuring out shit AFTER it’s happened! Way to go, Tits-fer-brains! Now listen, those octuplets need formula on a staggered rotation of every five minutes! And you better get it to them soon! Darren ain’t been home for seven days! Look how pale those little bastards are! They're barely half-Negro anymore! There’s also three more kids upstairs. And six more in the basement. And his latest, Superb, is due from the hospital later today. Oh, and there’s Maury.


Maury: Hey.

Wade: Who’s Maury?

Jerry: He’s Darren’s oldest son. Make sure he gets his Weetabix in the mornin’, or he gets feisty!

Maury: Where’s my cereal, bitch?

Wade: But who will take care of the team while I’m doing this?

Jerry: You can talk to him yourself.

(passes phone)


Garrett: Hmm. I was told those children needed a father figure. But you’re more figure than father now, aren’t you?

Wade: You dirty snake!

Garret: Oops. Gotta run. Ta!

(passes phone back)

Wade: Shit.

Jerry: Enjoy the not-quite-miracle of foster fatherhood, Chubtard! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

The End Of Brett Favre. The Beginning Of Favraro

I’ve been meaning to cancel my subscription to Sports Illustrated. Do I really need to know what Kristis Yamaguchi’s favorite food to microwave is? No, I do not. (She said “leftovers,” which isn’t even a fucking specific food. What a whore.) But I need something to read while I’m burning 5 calories an hour on the elliptical at the gym. (It does all the working out for you!)

But it’s clear now that I should spend my gym time reading whatever copy of Redbook someone left lying around instead. Because this week’s issue of SI contained a handful of letters to the editor regarding Brett Favre’s retirement that made me want to swallow my own head. And since I had to read this incredible dogshit, you do too.

Watching his play and his life for 17 years, we didn’t just see Brett Favre in that Number 4 jersey. We saw our uncle, our brother-in-law, or our fishing buddy. No, Brett wasn’t the greatest quarterback ever to have played. He was just the greatest GUY to ever play quarterback. We’re going to miss you, Brett.

-Scott Powell, Rexford, NY

I… I can’t even… must fight… homicidal urges…

ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME? YOU MUST BE SHITTING ME. YOU BE OPENING MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW AND SHITTING DIRECTLY INTO IT.

Here’s who Brett Favre was, Scotty. He was a very good, durable quarterback. Many times, you may have enjoyed watching him play the game with great skill and creativity. When he wasn’t throwing more interceptions than any player in league history. Other than that, you, Scotty Powell, KNOW FUCKING DICK ABOUT BRETT FAVRE. He’s a fucking stranger to you. For all you know, he boned your niece back at Southern Miss after hitting the ‘shine bong. YOU AREN’T FUCKING RELATED TO HIM. HE’S NOT YOUR GODDAMN POKER BUDDY. “Oooh, look at Brett! He likes to hunt! And he has stubble! He’s so much like me, it’s scary!” Jesus.

“Do you know Vince Vaughn? Have you ever met him? I feel like we’d really get along well. I just… he seems like a fun guy. I feel like we’d hang together well.”

There’s no tangible evidence that Brett Favre is a better person than Trent Dilfer, Jim Kelly, or hundreds of other people who have played the position. Maybe one day, I pray, we’ll be able to do a blood test for Kindness and Warmth. But, until that day, KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF.

But wait. There’s more.

People would laugh when I said “we” won or lost a game because “You’re not part of the team. You didn’t win or lose.” But I always felt like Brett Favre played for me, the fan, so, yes, we did, win and lose together. Every emotion I felt, I felt with him. Brett, enjoy your retirement. We love you, respect you, and, most of all, we will miss you.

-Anna Garcia, Arbuckle, CA

Actually, Anna, the people laughing at you were on to something. For you see, Brett Favre signed a contract with the Green Bay Packers that stipulated he play football in exchange for money and possible health benefits. It’s in writing. I SWEAR. I’m quite sure Favre was pleased to see fans happy with a Packer victory. Know who else felt the same way? EVERY OTHER PLAYER ON THE TEAM. “Omigod! He won that game just for me!” “Omigod! He felt sad after a loss! I felt the exact same way!” “Omigod! He’s jumping up and down after a touchdown! I DO THAT!”

Indeed. Amazing.

The NBA will never replace Michael Jordan, and the NFL will never replace Brett Favre.

-Craig Earl, North Logan, Utah

Actually, Craig. They replaced him well before he retired. Ever watch Tom Brady or Peyton Manning play quarterback? They’re just like Favre, only they don’t throw 500 ill-advised, back-breaking interceptions a year! Who knew you could have your cake and eat it too?

Do you know what’s happening here? Brett Favre has officially become just like fucking Barbaro. A bunch of retard fans, easily swayed by the “special” status bestowed upon Favre by the media, have begun making all sorts of baseless emotional connections with him. He was more than a quarterback! He was a family member! He attended my wedding in spirit! We have imaginary children together! Our lives are incredibly intertwined!

Enough already. You didn’t know Brett Favre, and he didn’t know you. He played for the team you liked and he was good at it. So much so that he became your favorite player. That's neat. But you wouldn't have known him any better if he had been a fucking horse. You admired him from afar. That’s it.

If that isn’t enough for your emotional needs, buy a fucking dog.

Ocho Cinco Hits The Drive Thru

(car pulls up)

Order Box: Welcome to Burger King. May I take your order?

(long pause)

Order Box: Hello?


Ocho: I’m here.

Order Box: Can I take your order, Sir?

Ocho: I don’t know.

Order Box: You don’t know?

Ocho: Exactly. I DON’T KNOW.

Order Box: Okay.

(long pause)

Order Box: Would you like a hamburger or something?

Ocho: (sighs) I’ll take a Whopper and large fries. And an orange slice.

Order Box: Is Fanta okay?

(long pause)

Order Box: Sir?

Ocho: Who said Fanta? See now, this is exactly the kinda shit I’m talkin’ about.

Order Box: Sir?

Ocho: ORANGE SLICE.

Order Box: But we only have Fanta, Sir.

Ocho: Exactly. That's all you have. That's all you can do for Chad. And Chad has to decide if that's good enough for Chad.

Order Box: But it's the same soda. It’s still orange.

Ocho: That’s not the issue. If this is the way we’re going to continue, then that’s the way we’re going to continue.

Order Box: What?

Ocho: WHAT?

Order Box: How about I just scratch your drink order? That way, you can find an Orange Slice across the street at Arby’s. Is that okay?

Ocho: Arby’s? Who said anything about Arby’s?

Order Box: Sir?

Ocho: I didn’t say anything about Arby’s.

Order Box: I know you didn’t.

Ocho: Why are we talking about Arby’s? This is fucking Burger King.

Order Box: May I complete your order, Sir?

Ocho: (sighs) Whatever.

Order Box: Your total is $6.79. If you could just pull around, Sir.

Ocho: THAT’S IT?

Order Box: I… believe so. Was there something else you wanted? Would you like a Jr. Sundae?

(long pause)

Order Box: Sir?

Ocho: You know what’s good? Spiral pasta. I would like some spiral pasta.

Order Box: But, we don’t have that on our menu, Sir.

Ocho: Why not? Why are you so set in your ways? Do you really believe that things will improve the way you’re going?

Order Box: Uh… Your order is ready at the window, Sir. If you could just pull around.

Ocho: THAT’S IT?

Order Box: I think so. Was there something else you wanted to discuss?

(long pause)

Order Box: Sir?

Ocho: I don’t know. Did you know there are some rocks that are, like, 500 years old?

Order Box: My manager said your order’s getting cold, Sir.

Ocho: He said that?

Order Box: Yes.

Ocho: Cold? Why he say that?

Order Box: Because he saw it and it's cold, Sir.

Ocho: So? Listen, I got someone else who needs to order.

Order Box: Okay… May I take that person’s order?


Gary Busey: Why are you taking orders? This is not Poland. We don’t take orders here. You have a nice voice. I’ve been looking at you. I’ve known you since you were a baby, only we’ve never met. Let me touch your ears. Did you know there’s aggression in all of our hearts? I want the raw liver of a horse. And some chicken fries. And I want you to serve it on a tray that’s balancing on your head. THERE IS NO REALITY!

Order Box: I quit.

Molested By Jack Hanna Regional Final: Lion vs. Bengal – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?!

We’ve already had one upset here in the Regional Finals of the KSK Real Mascot Kill Kill Kill Invitational. Can the pesky Bengal tiger put the underdogs at 2-for-2? Or will the mighty lion assert his dominance? Judging by the above video, he’s a cutter and runner! We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted. Voting is closed on this contest. The Bengal won with 63 percent of the vote.

LION

Strengths:
-King of the jungle
-Just a gangsta stalkin’
-Living life like a firecracka, quick is his fuse
-Makes the woman lion do all the work. Good stuff
-Teeth
-Claws
-Night vision

Weaknesses:
-Mufassssa!
-Cowardly
-Needs couwage. COUWAGE!
-No heart
-What’s with the mane, Simba? Are you such a pussy that a light breeze necessitates a permanent shrug made from your own hair?
-Whiskers
-Wait! Waaaait! He never had a chance to love you!
-Always asleep behind a fucking bush during daylight hours at the zoo when I paid good money to watch him feast upon a fresh elephant carcass
-Guitarist Vito Bratta more interested in dazzling technique than good songcraft
-Gets all whiney when the children cry. One united world under God? What a douche.
-Nittany lion? Gay.
-When I was a kid, I used to go to a video store run by a creepy dude named Lion who had the WORST fucking recommendations for movies. He was always saying shit like, “Hey, have you seen ‘That Old Feeling,’ with Bette Midler and Dennis Farina? Hoo hoo. What a movie. I mean it. What. A. Movie.”

Entrance Music:
“Gold Lion,” Yeah Yeah Yeahs

BENGAL

Strengths:
-Claws
-Teeth
-GREEEEEEEEAT!!!!!
-Makes totally awesome imaginary friend
-Staying in one of those hotel on stilts in Nepal where the tigers are roaming around underneath? Dude, they totally know you’re up there.
-Tiger! Tiger!
-Burning bright
-In the forests of the night
-What immortal hand or eye
-Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
-Excellent golfer despite bizarre Cablinasian ancestry
-Handles Siberian winter with good cheer
-Stripes make great camoflauge. Where’s the tiger? Where’s the tiger? CHOMP! You’re fucked

Weaknesses:
-Couldn’t finish Roy off
-Forgot to maim Siegfried
-Frosted Flakes get soggy in milk after 4 seconds
-Often confused with taiga, type of barren land dominated by conifers
-Orange color caused by hideous spray-on tan job from Charlize Theron’s stylist
-Ragged Tiger joined forces with Seven to help create subpar Druan Duran album
-Overexposed as college mascot
-That Tigger sure is one lazy tigger

Entrance Music:
IT’S THE EYE OF THE TIIIIIIIIIGER!

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Ha! The Fackin’ Pats DID Win The Supah Bowl, Yah Fackin’ Pricks!

Well, well, well! Looks like the joke is on you fackin’ Giant fans today! Because I, Tawmus O’Neill O’Flanagan O’McGillicuddy O’McTavish O’Fitzgeraldkirkpatrick McMoynihan O’Leary have here, in my hand, a hand-written lettah from RAWJAH FACKIN’ GOODELL that reads, and I fackin’ quote:

“De-ah Tawmmy,

It has recently come to my attention that they-ah were-ah SEVEE-AH CLAWK MANAGEMENT ERRAHS during the cowrse of Supah Bowl Fawty Too. Aftah reading the many haaaahtfelt pleas from loyal, dedicated, and very special Patriot fans the world ovah awn a recent and very legitimate petition, I have ruled that thah final touchdown sco-wahd by those fackin’ faggots the New Yark fackin’ Giants shouldn’t count. They-ah fo-ah, I would like to personally congratulate you and thah great Patriot fans on a perfect 19-0 season. Well done. Once again, fackin’ Bawston fans prove that they alone have the ability to determine thah outcome of any sporting contest. FACKIN’ BIG UPS TO THE GAWDDAMN PATS JUGGUHNUT!”

Hah?

Hah?

How the fack you like that, you fackin’ Giant facks? APRIL FACKIN’ FOOLS, YA FACKIN’ SHITEATAHS! The Lawmbahaaaahdi Trophy is finally fackin' goin’ back where it fackin’ belawngs: an otherwise unusable tract of land in Fawxburrow! Nice!

This is thah perfect gift for Pats fans after all we’ve been through! You Giant faggots will nevah know what it was like for us this wintah! Fahhhhh worse than any of that 9/11 shit. What do you need a WORLD Trade Center fah? Stawp trading ou-ah gold away to some fackin’ Dubai camelfackahs and show a little FACKIN’ SAWLIDARITY, YOU FACKS!

I know thah perfect way to celebrate this well-earned victory. I’M GONNA GO WAWTCH THE FACKIN’ SAWX! ON THE MONSTAH! That’s what any good fackin’ Patriot fan does! Then I’m gawnna go home and watch “Gawne Baby Gawne” for the 17th time. Remember that paaaaht whe-ah Amy fackin’ Ryan tells her-ah sistah to sack a fackin’ nigga’s cawk? THAT’S MY FAVORITE FACKIN’ PAAAAAHT! I use that line awl the time now! ‘Bout time Benny Affleck came through and showed the world that fackin’ BASTON IS THE HAAAAAHDEST TOWN IN THE U.S. OF FACKIN’ A!

And I’m gonna fackin’ frame this fackin’ lettah! Nice goin’, Rawj. Now get rid of awl the daaaahkies and awl will be right with the world!

Wait a second. What’s on the othah side of this lettah? “Schlawtzsky’s Deli”? OH MY FACKIN GAWD! IT’S A FACKIN’ WRAPPAH!

My fackin’ New Yark friend DeanO fackin’ did this! THAT FACKIN' PRICK! DeanO, I will fackin’ find you and fack you with a haaaaaahpoon, you fackah!

UPDATE: Why, you'll never guess who bragged online today that Wes Welker could beat up Tiger Woods. I'm as shocked as you!

Surprise, Muthaphuckkas! I Ain’t Dead!

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! APRIL FOOL’S, BITCHES!

Bet y’all shocked to see me, ain’t ya? Omigod, if y’all could see the looks on y’all’s faces right now! You can’t tell whether or not you’re glad to see me or ready to fucking cut me in half with a machete!

TEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!

I’m tellin y’all, THIS will never be topped, muthaphuckka. Bet y’all really thought I was gone! With the bigass funeral! And the open casket! And my grandma fallin’ on the coffin! And coach Gibbs cryin’ and talking about, “He’s with Jesus now”! BAHAHAHAHAHA! Man, I wasn’t with Jesus! I was with my boy Fred, down in Aruba! Check this out!


Best five months in hiding I ever spent!

C’mon now, you really think a group of punkass kids are gonna shoot down Sean Taylor in his prime? FUCK THAT! That was jus’ my cousin Dave! The whole femoral artery thing was his idea! Said you'd fall for it like a little motherfucker. AND YOU DID! He’s always thinkin’ of crazy shit like this! One time, for April Fool’s Day, he keyed his landlord’s car! How fucking funny is that shit?!

And you really think the police would solve the murder of a famous black man that quickly? C’mon, now. That shit doesn’t happen in real life. Didn’t their incredible effort tip you off?

Besides, how else was I supposed to avoid practice?! We were in pads two days a week! That shit was murder!

Are you still mad? Oh, c’mon now! It’s me! Sean! Don’t be angry, bitch! You wouldn’t have made the playoffs without me dying! I watched that shit from the pool bar. It was great! And you got to talk about violence in the black community and shit. I’d say we all learned a valuable lesson, namely that Y’ALL SOME GULLIBLE-ASS RETARDS!

Still angry? Okay, man. Okay. I’m sorry. Here. Have a beer.


BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! YOU GOT SOAKED, ASSHOLE!

I feel so refreshed.

Next year, I’m getting disemboweled!

Yapcunt Regional, Round 2: Titan vs. Bill – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?!

With the Viking taking a small but noticeable lead over the Cowboy, all #1 seeds in the tournament have been safe thus far. Is this the matchup that changes all that? Will that literally huge Titan-Giant Elite Eight contest get derailed by ol’ Buffalo Bill and his trusty musket? We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted.

TITAN


Strengths:
-Big
-Strong
-God
-Begat other Gods
-Swallows own children
-Can produce ocean nymph in a relative snap
-Titan Rhea always quick with a one-liner when in the vicinity of drunken, lonely, know-it-all mailman
-Titan Atlas very good with directions to Shreveport

Weaknesses:
-Tough to fight with child’s arm stuck in mouth
-Goya interpretation leaves much to be desired. Not liking that shading
-Bony
-Cut yer hair, you goddamn Greek hippie
-Bug eyes suggest possible ancestor of Jennifer Wilbanks
-Possibly chained to rock, with eagle tearing at liver. Not fun
-Huh huh… Uranus
-Titan Phoebe easily the most annoying Titan hanging out at Central Perk
-Titan Hyperion published Candace Bushnell books. Fuck her, man
-Dude, this queer defeated you? Weak
-Atlas carrying quite a load there

Entrance Music:
“Gods of War,” Def Leppard

BILL



Strengths:
-Gun
-May have killed a Southerner or two
-Kinda looks like Robert Altman
-We’re assuming he’s ALIVE here, people
-Assisted in ridding cluttered American landscape of unsightly buffalo
-Did he fight at the Alamo? Let’s just assume he did.
-…….used to
-…….ride a watersmooth-silver
-………………….stallion
-and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlike that
-……………………………Jesus
-he was a handsome man
-………….and what i want to know is
-how do you like your blueeyed boy
-Mister Death

Weaknesses:
-Once worked as a “bullwhacker,” which is probably exactly what you think it is
-Mother’s maiden name was Laycock. What a whore.
-Pushed for the rights of Native Americans and women. What a bleeding heart!
-Nasty chaw habit

Entrance Music:
“One,” U2

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Say Hello To The Downfall Of The NFL

Of all the things that could have brought the NFL to its knees – dog fighting, steroids, feuds with cable networks, Emmitt Smith being less articulate than a dog with peanut butter stuck on the roof of its mouth – it’s a little company called Identigene that may provide the league its crowning death blow.

Say hello to the world’s first over-the-counter paternity test. How does it work? Simply pee on the stick. If you see just one blue line, it means the test is negative. But if you see Travis Henry’s head appear…


…You got yourself a baby daddy.


Actually, that isn’t how it works at all. I’ll let the press kit explain.

The kits sit on shelves next to condoms (Ed. Note: presumably for the sake of irony)... A kit retails for $29.99. It contains cotton swabs for taking cells from inside the mouth. The cells are sealed in plastic bags and sent with a consent form and a $119 fee to a lab.

Results are available in three to five business days and can be accessed online.

In other words, you, Miss I-Left-My-Diaphragm-In-My-Other-Handbag-But-The-Moment-Feels-So-Right, will have to find a way to swab the inside of Shannon Sharpe’s cheeks without him noticing. Luckily, NFL players are notorious for their extreme obliviousness, so I have some tips for you to get those precious cheek cells!

-Staple swab to tongue, begin French kissing
-Do it while he’s sleeping. Randy Moss sleeps with his mouth so wide open, you could drop a paratrooper into it
-Tell him he’s got a piece of bacon caught in his rear grillz. Pretend to extract it
-Place halfway into vagina, invite cunnilingus (Bryant McKinnie only)

You have to do it for 30 to 45 seconds, which is longer than you think when someone is scraping tissue off the inside of your mouth. According to the article, these kits are now available nationwide, except in New York, where DNA testing requires a court order. I, for one, am very excited about the New York Lions playing the New York Texans in the 2029 Super Bowl. The company sold over 10,000 kits in just four scant months. And it’s easy to see why. Fuck, I’LL buy one. Who the hell knows if Darren McFadden accidentally banged the shit out of me once or twice?

There’s no doubt that this thing will be a godsend to all of Tom Brady’s mistresses. And we could see an incredible uptick in the documented presence of NFL progeny all across the country. Your local high school may be 35% Bengal. NOW you'll know for sure!

My only concern is that they haven’t yet pioneered the over-the-counter abortion kit to balance it out. Identigene’s company slogan is “For Questions Only DNA Testing Can Answer.” And that’s not limited only to paternity. Here are more questions only DNA testing can answer:

-Am I a humpback whale?
-Was I ever a Kennedy?
-Can I dunk?
-Will I die of Parkinson’s? (Yes, you will.)
-Is that miniscule outcropping of hair on my back actually a nipple of some kind?
-Is there some sort of small rodent living inside my digestive tract?
-What color is my hair if I don’t dye it?
-Will I ever become a black man? (Unsilent Majority only)
-Is my small penis my father’s fault?
-Was I born with 11 toes, or did I pick up the bonus one somewhere along the way?
-I know who my daddy is. But who’s my UNCLE? That’s some shit I really gotta know.

We’re through the looking glass here, folks.

Yapcunt Regional, Round 2: Giant vs. Brown – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?!

It’s a seemingly lopsided 2-6 matchup. Could the very large Giant be looking past the relatively diminutive Coach Paul Brown? I think so, because Brown is short enough to be out of range of the Giant’s vision. Yes, this absolutely screams TRAP IMAGINARY FIGHT to me. But I, alas, am not the ultimate arbiter of this confrontation. YOU, fickle America, will be the one to decide! We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted.

GIANT


Strengths:
-Big
-Strong
-Jolly
-Hung like a redwood
-Deep green complexion may indicate that he’s powered by photosynthesis
-Could totally beat the fuck out of that old Bird’s Eye dude
-Convenient frozen mixed vegetables make for a lovely stir-fry when you’re in a pinch
-Keeps body well-toned using vigorous, population-crushing core exercises
-Deep friendship with half-brother Hagrid
-Adept at throwing castles
-If you need to reach the flour on the top shelf, he's your man
-Can grow entire civilization inside footprint

Weaknesses:
-Jack
-Angry villagers with lots of rope and a good idea of when he may be napping in a valley
-HO HO HO is Santa’s line, you fucking dick
-Vision potentially obscured by low-hanging cloud
-Takes YEARS to put on sunscreen
-Can never find a private setting to evacuate bowels
-Driving? Forget about it.
-Leafy toga minidress makes me feel sexually uncomfortable
-Kinda gay
-Too large to be able to surf
-No blue ox?
-Pretty darn clumsy, if you believe the average Grimm fairy tale

Entrance Music:
“Big Me,” Foo Fighters

BROWN


Strengths:
-7-time world champion
-4-time Coach of the Year
-Cool hat
-Handsome profile
-Possibly made of stone
-Wily
-Crusty
-Savvy
-Constantly demanding excellence from players who just want some goddamn water

Weaknesses:
-Old
-Ohioan
-Not a Giant
-Unarmed
-Trenchcoat a touch constrictive
-Unwilling to loosen tie
-Very rigid, which means he could break easily

Entrance Music:
“Discipline,” Slayer

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Here’s A Juicy Rumor: Sprint’s Simply Everything Plan Will Save You A Bundle!

While we’re busy trying to figure out which draft pick might possibly sign with which agent (because that’s interesting!), or telling you that Terry Bradshaw is dead, or pointing out that free agent contract you read about wasn’t quite as lucrative as originally reported, or re-reporting what Adam Schefter just said, or thinking of creative nicknames for reporters we don’t like (like Len Pastabelly, because he’s fat and Italian, and therefore must eat lots of pasta!), or posting YouTubes of PFTV from UHF Channel 61’s main shanty right in the heart of Morgantown, we at PFT like to talk.

On the phone.

We like it a lot.

That’s why we were so thrilled to switch over the other day to Sprint’s Simply Everything plan. They let us talk, text, send picture mail, and do so much more, all for just $99.99 a month!

Obviously, Sprint is the exclusive telecommunications partner of this site, but believe us when we say we wouldn’t endorse this plan if we didn’t think it was the best out there. And it is the best.

The absolute best.

It’s so good, it makes T-Mobile’s myFaves 600 plan look like Ocho Stinko! Ha ha!

Our guess is you won't find a better plan anywhere else on the market. It’s the one we rely on to get in touch with our top NFL source (A sanitation worker named Manuel who works in the building just two blocks down from Valley Ranch) and let you know the real NFL scoop! Stuff like:

-Brett Favre might unretire!
-Then again, he might not!
-But if he does or doesn’t, we’ll be able to refer back as having predicted it!
-Chad Johnson might possibly be traded if we report the idea enough!
-We assume Roger Goodell will come down hard on a player or coach of some sort!
-Carl Peterson is a poopyhead!
-We think someone might get slapped with the franchise tag!
-We plot out various potential legal scenarios based on ever-shifting circumstances!
-We tell you that some big news might be forthcoming, and that we’ll know specific details when it happens!
-We learn about all the amazing wireless accessories Sprint has to offer!

Sprint lets us do all that and more! And. We. Love. It. So take it from us and switch today.

Would we ever lead you astray?

This Week’s KSK Mock Draft: Movie Endings We’d Like To Change

I’ve seen me a lot of movies. Most are shit. Some are great. And some have the chance to be awesome, only to blindly fuck it up at the end. It’s a bigger letdown than that fucking Belmont game last night (Fucking Belmont. Have you no patience for a decent shot? Yes, I just analyzed a basketball game). Well, that shit needs to come correct. These are movie endings that need to be unfucked. We’re taking away final cut from Mssrs. Shayamalan and Lee and giving their shit movies a badass resolution.

The order:
Punter
Ape
Flubby
Ufford
Drew
Maj

The rules:
You pick the ending of one movie that you find flawed from a storytelling prospective. You must then say why it's flawed and give me your proper, better ending. Also, no hardcore pornographic endings (you could demand this for any movie), and no endings where everyone dies or something because you hated the whole movie.

Let’s pick. Beware spoilers, of course.

Round 1, Pick 1 – Punter – American Beauty

Punter: The ending of this movie is about what would happen if one of us had changed it. Yeah, being an adult is hard!

Kevin Spacey and F. Lee Ermey actually become a couple (because we all know that's what would happen in real life), then Annettee Benning and Mena Suvari turn to each other for comfort, and then there's a hardcore pornographic ending and everyone dies.

Ape: That's Chris Cooper, not R. Lee

Punter: WHOSE GODDAMN MOVIE IS THIS, APE?

Round 1, Pick 2 – Ape – Return Of The Jedi

Ape: Hey, we just wrapped up a compelling, entertaining trilogy, what not have a bunch of fucking Ewoks prancing around? All the better to sell lunch boxes, right?

How about just before the Emperor gets tossed down some deep pit and gets blowed up, he fires up the Death Star and gets rid of the forest moon of Endor. With him out of the way, the Republic returns to being mired in bureaucracy and the cycle begins anew.

Also, George Lucas gets impaled on a light saber.

Punter: George Lucas wasn't in the fucking movie, Poindexter.

Ape: Oh, I wasn't talking about in the movie.

Maj then asked what a light saber was. He can’t vacation in Colorado again fast enough.

Round 1, Pick 3 – Flubby – Million Dollar Baby

Flub: Hillary Swank gets up from the sucker punch and clocks Billie the Blue Bear with a steel chair. After a tense staredown, they resolve their differences with a dramatic handshake ala Randy Savage and Hulk Hogan when they formed the Mega Powers. After running roughshod over the women's boxing ranks for a few years, they retire to open a chicken and waffle restaurant. Hardcore porn scene, then they kill everyone.

Ape: Nice. I hated her redneck family at the end. Not as much the family themselves, but they transparent way that Eastwood indicates YOU MUST HATE THESE PEOPLE

Round 1, Pick 4 – Ufford – Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King

“After nine hours of a pretty awesome epic trilogy, Peter Jackson removes any and all drama of Sauron's death and the destruction of the ring by having 35 minutes of denouement, most of which is Frodo and Chris Farley Jr eye-fucking each other. Fuck him.

ALTERNATE ENDING: Aragorn fights Sauron naked in a Russian bath house then takes over the Middle Earth mafia.”

Round 1, Pick 5 – Drew – Heat

I wanted De Niro to kill Pacino so badly I almost bit through my own arm after the ending. At the very least, they should have killed each other.

My ending: De Niro blows Pacino away, then meets Amy Brennaman at the airport, bangs her in the shitter, then tears up her ticket as he gets on the plane by himself. No fucking attachments.

Round 1, Pick 6 – Maj – Bamboozled

“I really loved this movie for the first hundred minutes or so, then shit fell apart like a Volkswagen's interior.

Delacroix should have watched the fucking tape at which point he could have teamed up with Big Blak Afrika the Mau Maus to take over the network. Then Michael Rappaport's character could challenge One-Sixteenth Black to a freestyle rap battle for the right to continue living.”

Round 2, Pick 7 – Maj – Contact

“That piece of shit just didn't know when to quit. They had the perfect ending but they kept on pushing. Instead of carrying on with all of the nonsense of the last half hour they could have turned the whole ‘it recorded exactly 13 hours of static’ into a really solid ending. Of course then we'd have to put up with annoying fuckers who can't help but bitch about a movie that doesn't offer ‘closure.’”

Round 2, Pick 8 – Drew – Match Point

Should have ended with the ring bouncing on the railing. Ends there, and it's a fucking masterpiece.

Round 2, Pick 9 – Ufford – A Few Good Men

“Marines don't salute indoors. Period. Dawson can thank Lieutenant Caffey by shaking his damn Scientologist hand.”

Round 2, Pick 10 – Drew (pick vacated by Flubby) – The Color Of Money

I spent two goddamn hours waiting for Paul Newman and Tom Cruise’s big hair to finally square off against one another. So what happens? They get ready to finally play. Newman says, “I’m back,” breaks, and then the picture freezes. Fuck you, Scorsese. Fuck you blind.

My ending: Felson beats Vince, then sodomizes him with the pool cue and the thingamajig you use to rest your cue on when you need to shoot over another ball.

Also: anyone who wears their first name on a t-shirt deserves to be beaten to death with the 11-ball.

Round 2, Pick 11 – Ape – Y Tu Mama Tambien

“Oh, so the 30ish hot Spaniard woman had cancer the whole time thereby justifying her sluttiness? And Gabriel Garcia Bernal and his butt buddy masturbate together and even start kissing towards the end, but supposedly never see each other again after the trip? Bullshit.

My version: The woman sticks around the beach until the developers build the luxury resort, where she becomes a pricey hooker and later a madame. The two college boys get Mexican gay married (like American gay marriage but less fabulouth and, because it's Mexico - more illegal) and change their last name to Charolastra. They eventually cheat on each other with some Italian guys.

Like it wasn't enough that her husband cheated on her, they had to throw in near-death abandon too.

Fucking Catholics.”

I rented that movie at Blockbuster, unwittingly getting the cut down R-Rated version. No guys kissing in that one. But they still had the diving board tandem jerk. Odd.

But then how will I know which agents a potential draft pick might be considering?

Round 2, Pick 12 – Punter –Mr. Brooks

“The dream ending is actually the real ending. Way for them to puss out at the end and make that a dream sequence. Fucking douches.

The dream ending has to be the real ending. It just has to be.”

We’ve left out a few obvious ones here, so please give us some of yours in the comments. Try and pick just one film at a time, then wait 10 movies to pick another.

Fucking Pacino. You weren’t the good guy!

Homerism Regional: No. 3 Falcon vs. #6 Seahawk – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

Why did we pair two fairly similar types of birds against one another in the first round? And why did also match up jungle cats against horses so often, and pirates against Indians so many times? I’ll tell you why: Because we’re fucking retards, that’s why. Anyway, this matchup features the trusty falcon (he’s the stuff dreams are made of!) against the Seahawk, nee osprey. We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted. Voting is closed. The Falcon won with 55 percent of the vote.



FALCON

Strengths:
-Sharp talons!
-Beak!
-Can fly!
-Superior vision!
-Delicious regurgitate!

Weaknesses:
-Is it supposed to be pronounced FAWL-kun? Annoying.
-Sam Spade told me it’s a fake! A fake, I tells ya!
-Needs one of those adorable little leather bird helmets
-Not so tough if pitted against a smattering of buckshot
-Not particularly edible
-Possible relative of Footsteps Falco

Entrance Music:
“Rock Me Amadeus”

SEAHAWK


Strengths:
-Sharp talons!
-Beak!
-Can fly!
-Superior vision!
-Delicious regurgitate!
-Never pretended to know something about Matt Ufford because they saw a picture online! Also never asked him for money!

Weaknesses:
-Lamprey > Osprey
-Looks kinda arrogant up there, if you ask me
-Large hooked nose means he’s probably devious with money
-Get feathers ruffled if you ruffle his feathers
-Always out to sea, and you know what that means: gayer than a fire engine

Entrance Music:
“Overblown,” Mudhoney

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Construda Regional: No. 3 Raider vs. #6 Chief – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

We can’t seem to get a real nail-biter in these matchups so far. Perhaps this contest, the first of two Pirate-Indian tangos in Round 1, will offer a bit of swashbuckling excitement. In one corner stands the always-dangerous Raider, who is unafraid of both confrontation and taking little Jimmy Hawkins under the poop deck for a hearty meat swabbin’. In the other, the proud Chief: expert in guerilla warfare and knowing the best time of night for stealing white women. We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted. Voting is closed. The Chief won with 59 percent of the vote.

RAIDER


Strengths:
-Armed
-Eyepatch lets you know he’s tough!
-Spent years building up immunity to iocaine powder
-Skilled at barging into places, things, women
-Shiny jewelry has ability to reflect sun’s bright rays, distract opponent
-Does a fabulous rendition of “Pour O Pour the Pirate Sherry!”
-Detachable pegleg useful for plugging an opponent’s “bilge pump”, if you get my drift
-Can map out accurate punches strictly by observing the movement of Cassiopeia in the southern sky
-Will steal all your rum and not give a what!
-Bowlegged stance helps with leverage

Weaknesses:
-One eye
-ARRRRRRR! THESE JOKES BE GETTIN’ OLD, SAYS I!!!
-Parrot perched atop shoulder may inadvertently give away fight plan prior to matchup in a comical bit of unintended mimicry
-Extremely reliant on casting. Are we talking a Bill Nighy sort of Raider? Then he’d be pretty tough. But Orlando Bloom or Matthew Modine? Fuck that limp asshole.
-Skull and crossbones flag might be a bit more imposing if it weren’t named “Jolly Roger”, which sounds like a kind of hard candy
-Superiority versus ninja still undetermined
-Enjoys singing of sea shanties
-Wouldn't last three seconds in Oakland proper looking like that
-Not as badass when 50% of all kids dress like you for Halloween

Entrance Music:
“Rime Of The Ancient Mariner,” Iron Maiden

CHIEF


Strengths:
-Savage
-Bitter
-Ability to be confused with pretty much any other race
-Handy with a bow
-Handy with a blowgun
-Handy with a tomahawk
-Handy with a pillow for smothering
-Handy with throwing a water fountain through a window
-Handy with sorghum crops
-War paint > pirate eyeliner
-When the Grey Hair is dead, Magua will eat his heart. Before he dies, Magua will put his children under the knife, so the Grey Hair will know his seed is wiped out forever.
-Did you read that last quote? Jesus. This fucker means business.

Weaknesses:
-Booze
-Influenza
-Games of chance
-Heavily reliant on timely welfare check
-Never remembers to consult lawyer prior to signing large land deals
-Red skin makes him noticeably visible outside woodland environment
-Possibly high on stewed coyote poop
-All-pemmican diet prompts frequent mid-fight bathroom breaks

Entrance Music:
“YMCA,” Village People

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Homerism Regional: No. 1 Jet vs. #8 Cardinal – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

We’ve had nothing but chalk results so far in this tournament. Could this be the matchup that ends up shocking the world? Uh, no. In one corner stands a fully loaded Boeing 747 jet, complete with spiral staircase. In the other, uh, a very small red bird. We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted. Voting is closed. The Jet won with 74 percent of the vote.

JET


Strengths:
-Large
-Made of metal
-Typical cruising speed of 555mph
-6,190 cubic feet of cargo space (but for God’s sake, NO NAIL CLIPPERS!)
-195-ft wingspan. Described by many scouts as having great length
-Twin Cuisinart turbine engines come equipped with three speeds for preparing birds: Chop, Puree, And Liquefy
-Maximum range of 7,900 statute miles (yet they insist on flying long distances only in very large, impractical arches, instead of simply in a straight line. Flying over GREENLAND to reach London? That’s kooky.)
-Your choice of free beverage mid-flight
-Manned by hopefully sober pilot who gets 23 days off every month

Weaknesses:
-Unarmed
-Still not really sure how something that heavy remains airborne for any prolonged length of time
-Never enough room in overhead bin
-Easily taken down and/or redirected by stoic Yemeni man armed only with basic packaging equipment
-Not in first class? You’re fucked.
-In-flight movie “Enchanted” whimsical, but not really substantive
-Ever take a really long flight at night and are unable to fall alseep? Christ, it’s depressing
-Gets its shit ruined by a little wind
-Made by Boeing, possibly missing vital valves and/or landing gear
-That fucking beverage cart
-Never enough room for comfortable knee spreading while on airplane can
-Seat ventilation system blasts single jet of frigid arctic oxygen at hair at 900 mph
-Inevitably 90 minutes late to matchup

Entrance Music:
“Aeroplane,” Red Hot Chili Peppers

CARDINAL


Strengths:
-+1 Pecking ability
-Will be adored by Will Leitch no matter where it migrates
-Small enough to fit comfortably inside myriad engine flywheels
-Bold red color could possibly scare enemy away. Maybe not
-Rabid ornithological fan base ready to stop any activity at the drop of a hat when in its vicinity (My dad: “Andrew! Andrew! Drop that cocktail! There’s a cardinal out the window!!!!”)
-Has the brains to leave Northeast after October
-Adept at splitting open acorns and various tree nuts
-8-inch wingpsan makes it especially imposing to ants and dandelions
-Vicious tweet could potentially awaken enemy earlier than desired
-Tiny bones make him unattractive to predators who don’t like to work for a meal

Weaknesses:
-Small
-Gay
-Unarmed
-Seriously, this thing is dead fucking meat

Entrance Music:
“I’m Like A Bird,” Nelly Furtado

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Construda Regional: No. 1 Viking vs. No. 8 49er – QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

It’s our first human vs. human matchup. In one corner stands the mighty Viking. In the other, Gus CHIGGGGINS! We go right to the pros and cons and ask you, the fan, who would win in a fight… to the death! Indeed, QUIEN ES MAS MACHO?

NOTE: The poll is at the top of the sidebar to the right. Voting for each contest is open until the end of the day that it's posted. Voting is closed on this contest. The Viking won with 79 percent of the vote.

VIKING

Strengths:
-Experienced in forcible entry
-Large axe makes cleaving limbs a relative snap
-Able to set multiple huts aflame with one torch
-Skilled navigator
-Able to get large groups of men to row in unison
-Odin tied with Asmodeus for highest rating in Dungeons and Dragons “Dieties and Demigods” Handbook
-Cool beard
-Crude outfit of baby seal and baby human pelts keeps body warm

Weaknesses:
-Once portrayed by Tim Robbins
-Poor cartographer
-Again with the fucking braids
-May be named Leif
-Representative of my favorite team, which means you will almost certainly vote against him just to piss me off
-That “Pathfinder” movie was total dogshit. Step it up, Karl Urban
-“Rainbow Road” to Valhalla kinda queer
-Travel to Scandanavia so terribly expensive these days

Entrance Music:
“Immigrant Song”

49ER

Strengths:
-Pickaxe
-Unstoppable when he knows gold be near. GOLD, I TELLS YA! GOOOOOOLD!!!!
-Grizzled
-Lived in Bay Area before it got all “gayed up”, likely has never had to befriend lesbian chef couple living next door
-Unafraid of losing two remaining teeth
-Able to transmit any number of then-fatal contagious gastrointestinal diseases to opponent, including smallpox
-Antecedent to the hobo, likely knows rudimentary “Hobo Magic”
-Draws energy from delicious pregame meal of raw wolverine innards with side of “branch stew”
-Feet exceedingly well calloused

Weaknesses:
-Under current US laws, only legally allowed to pan for gold at Knott’s Berry Farm
-Beard in dire need of trim
-Old; frail
-May have polio
-Excessive dry skin will crack and bleed at any kind of joint movement
-Can’t hear you. SPEAK UP, SONNY BOY!

Entrance Music:
Soundtrack from any Ken Burns Documentary

Voting closes at the end of the day. Let the battle begin. ENTER THE OCTAGON!

Happy Fackin’ Saint Patrick’s Day, You Fackin’ Quee-ahs!

Finally, a fackin’ day that recognizes me and my fackin’ Irish kin! I’ve had enough of these parades fah Arabs, and faggots, and chicks with lumps in their tits! THIS IS FINALLY OWUH TIME TO SHINE! Pogue Mahone, you fackin’ pussylickahs! Someone turn up that fackin’ House of Pain recuhd! I’m so fackin’ excited. I’m so fackin’ PROUD of who we ahhhhh!!!

(shows off shamrock tattoo on bicep)

I’m gonna go uht and get so fackin’ drunk, I won’t care whose vagina my finger ends up in! GET THE FACKIN’ SAWDUST READY FOR OW-UH APAHTMUNT FLOO-UH, SULLY!

I won’t lie to you faggots. It’s been a hahhhhd wintah up heah. I’m not sure we’re ovah the Pats’ loss here. But I know everyone out they-ah is pullin’ for us to get back on track and come back strawng as a fackin’ awx! I just know it in my hahhht! Tawmmy Brady and my boys let me down this go round. But I know they won’t do it again, or else I’ll fackin’ beat my Pakistani naybahhh with a gawddamn bicycle chain!

(plays Papa Roach record)

CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES! THIS IS MY LAST RE-SAWWWWWT!!!

Besides, I just know the Pats will win it all, and you know why?

BECAUSE JAWSH FACKIN’ BECKETT PITCHED WITH 70% AHHHM STRENGTH LAST WEEK YOU FACKIN’ FAGGOTS!

That’s right. It’s time for anuthah summah of Sawx dawminance. I know all of you can’t wait to see us lay some pipe to those Yankee faggots again. THIS ONE’S FOR THE UNDERDAWGS, HANK STEINBRENNAH! You’re just like your old man, assfuck. ONLY YOU DON’T HAVE TO TAKE OUT YAH DENTCHAHS TO SWAWLLOW A CAWK!

(pulls knit cap down just over eyes)

This is gonna be the greatest St. Patrick’s Day of all fackin’ time! My boy Paddy’s already set us up with wristbands for the day. ALL THE MILLER LITE YOU CAN DRINK FOR JUST $200! BEAT THAT, SHITBAWXES! I may even treat myself to a Guiness, and if the dahhhkie behind the countah doesn’t make a shamrawk in the foam, I’ll call the INS and have him deporrrrrted back to fackin’ DAHKIELAND!!!!!

I can’t wait to bust out my green Welkahhh jersey! I bought it for this very occasion. Then I’m gonna put on my Irish kilt and head out onto the street!


Now THIS is a street festival! No fackin’ $2 bowls of pad thai he-ah! Last time I ate that, my asshole turned black! STAWP POISONING OW-UH PEOPLE, YOU SLANTY STIR FRYERS! Yeah, it’s time for Patriot fans of Red Sawx Nation all over to celebrate they-ah gawddamn heritage! WE EARNED THIS RIGHT FOR ALL WE’VE BEEN THROUGH!




Ugh. Gawd. This might be the earliest I evah puked! THIS IS HOW CHAMPIONS PAHHHHTY, YAH FACKIN’ ANKLEGRABBAHS!

The KSK Real NFL Mascot Kill Kill Kill Invitational Tournament

It’s NCAA tournament time, which means that, in addition to filling out your actual bracket, you will now be deluged with hundreds upon hundreds of phony “mock” brackets designed specifically to waste your time: Hottest Chick Brackets, World’s Awesomest Drummer Brackets, Favorite Whole Grain Brackets, etc. The king of these phony brackets is, of course, the outstanding Name Of The Year. But there’s no reason we at KSK can’t get in on the gimmickry. We were BORN to do something this trivial and idiotic.

And so we have devised quite possibly the dumbest mock bracket of all: Yes, it's the The KSK Real NFL Mascot Kill Kill Kill Invitational Tournament!

That's right, you whores: it's a 32-entrant Battle Royale to determine which actualized individual NFL team mascot would emerge champion in a series of head-to-head matchups. Can a REAL Redskin beat a REAL Cowboy? I think history has already proven the answer to that question (WHITE PEOPLE RULE!). Ah, but what about a REAL Bear versus a REAL Viking, with a frothing mouth and two-sided battle axe? Aw, yeah. Now we’re fucking talking.

Click on the bracket to enlarge it, then print it out, and fill out your choices. I suggest you fill out this bracket only after smoking a very large bowl, for these sorts of arguments make far more sense when you're higher than fucking Redman. All week, we’ll be polling the first round matchups, all the way through to the championship three weeks from now. But first, an explanation of seeding from the Selection Committee. We had to think hard about this. And thinking hard is hard!


That's why we abandoned our deliberations early and arranged the bracket in a completely arbitrary fashion. Which is how the Giant ended up only a 2-seed and what not. But fuck it, that'll just make for more pointless arguin'. Seedings aside, here are my overall rankings of the field, in accordance with the real-life inspiration for each team’s nickname.

VERY FUCKING LARGE HUMAN BEINGS AND AIRPLANES
1. Titan
2. Jet
3. Giant

THINGS THAT WOULD EAT TIMOTHY TREADWELL
4. Bear
5. Lion
6. Bengal
7. Jaguar
8. Panther

RAPERS/PILLAGERS/HOMOSEXUALS BY NECESSITY
9. Buccaneer
10. Raider (These would be armed pirates, like in the movies. Yes, they're bloodthirsty, ruthless bands of scallywaggers, but they're still kinda swishy)
11. Viking (NOTE: The Viking was made a 1-seed due to my disgusting and blatant homerism)

Flubby: How can the Raider be ranked behind the team that stole their gimmick (the Bucs)?

Ape: Only a true pirate can steal pirate gimmicks from another pirate.

It's also worth noting that the Buccaneer has TWO eyes, while Raider has only one.

ARMED MEN
12. Cowboy
13. Texan (Punter: “I'm thinking of Texan as an inhabitant of the Republic of Texas, which existed from 1836 to 1845.”)
14. Patriot (Let's assume it's revolutionary guy who looks like the dude on the Samuel Adams bottle. I can't remember what that dude's name is. I think it's Miles Standish.)

INDIANS (FEATHER DIVISION)
15. Chief
16. Redskin

Punter: Do Redskins and Chiefs both own casinos? They could finance some fine armaments if they did.

Me: No, they live in a teepee and have only blowguns and tomahawks to defend themselves. This draft will be done according to most basic stereotype.

PREDATORY BIRDS (BUT STILL, JUST FUCKING BIRDS)
17. Falcon
18. Eagle
19. Seahawk

MEN OF RANDOM OCCUPATIONS
20. 49er
21. Steeler
22. Bill (Buffalo Bill Cody, when he was alive)
23. Brown (Paul Brown, when he was alive)
24. Packer

Ape: At first I was upset that the prospector was above the steelworker, but then he does have that fucking pickax

FUCKING LAMEASS HORSES
25. Colt
26. Bronco
27. Charger (I did NOT know a Charger was a kind of horse before “researching” for this)

Things Fondled By Jack Hanna
28. Dolphin
29. Raven (Ape: “It has a terrifying literary tradition, sure, but any human could make short work of one.”)
30. Ram

Punter: A Dolphin could kick Paul Brown’s ass. Dolphins are vicious, Drew. Don't let their pretty bottle noses deceive you!

Me: You've watched Treehouse of Horror XI too many times. Dolphins are fucking homos.

Just As Weak And Helpless As The Team They Represent
31. Cardinal
32. Saint

THE RULES
These matchups will take place… IN AN OCTAGON!

Punter: How do you fit a fucking jet inside an Octagon?

Me: It’s a really big Octagon.

Also, our aquatic friend Flipper will be able to fight from inside a tank placed in the Octagon. And no vessels for the rapers and pillagers. They must get by on their own guile!

There’s also the issue of the jet. We argued about what kind of jet because there’s a difference between a French Concorde and a fucking fighter jet.

Ufford: Something to keep in mind about the Jets: a jet is simply an airplane with a turbine engine. You're not going to be getting an F/A-18 prepped for combat. But that engine is gone fuck any bird mascots. Could make for an interesting matchup.

Punter argued it should be a passenger jet on a kamikaze mission.

Ape: Wouldn't the Jet be disqualified after the first round, considering it has to destroy itself to beat an opponent?

This is why we came up with the rule that each mascot is fully healed by the next matchup.

Ape: What good is an unmanned jet? They aren't sentient beings, you know. Couldn't one of the human mascots crash it while parachuting out ahead of time?

Me: The Jet is manned! And it's a fucking Harrier Jet.

Ufford: (no doubt quoting from some military site he jerks off to) Harriers, AKA "Scariers" AKA "Widowmakers" have a notorious tendency to lose an engine during Vertical Takeoff/Landing (VTOL), resulting in the plane flipping upside down as it crashes into the ground/carrier deck. They also have short "time on station" due to limited fuel capacity and can only carry two 500-lb bomb -- half the payload of the average attack jet.

Me: Fucking Ufford with his military know-how. Paul Brown would kick your ass, sailor boy.

Let's just say the jet is a manned airplane with a turbine engine and no weaponry.

As you can see, laying the groundwork for seedings and rules proved an incredible challenge. No imaginary bracket for jackasses is perfect, but this is our best effort. And by best effort, I mean AN effort. Thankfully, the Maj was out of town, so he couldn’t find some retard way of shoehorning Ricardo Mayorga into this or something.

So get ready to vote. We’ll be posting individual matchups all month long, along with completely half-assed photoshops, detailed matchup analysis and tales of the tape, and video of each mascot in killing action when possible.

Let’s get killin’!

I Do Not Feel Comfortable In The Confines Of A Strip Club

Wade: Welp, I’d say this has been a solid offseason so far for us. We had that tough go of it against those pesky Giants, but dangit if they didn’t go hog wild and win that Lombardi Trophy! My my my! I think that’s a good sign for us as a team. We’re a bunch of young’uns, and now these boys know what it’s gonna take to get that ring.

Mostly, I’m glad Mr. Jones saw it in his heart to give me a second chance. This coachin’ life can git pretty darn lonely sometimes. Movjn’ around all over the country, you ain’t got no time to put roots down. Friends seem to come and go just like that. But we’re finally out of the crazy season, and maybe Darlene and I can finally go out on the town with a few of the neighbors, make some new friends, and have ourselves a spot of fun for once in a blue moon. Matter of fact, think I’ll arrange a dinner party at PF Chang’s this very same day. Hoowee, the Mrs. will be surprised at ol’ Wade takin’ a little bit of the initiative and makin’ plans!

(picks up phone)

I wonder if they still have those lettuce wraps. I sure do like the way they…


Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! Say, is it fat in here, or is it just YOU?! YOU FAT FUCKING GLOP OF SHIT!

Wade: Oh, no.

Jerry: On the phone with the delivery boy again, Fleshy Gordon? Don’t you know that if you keep makin’ that poor Chinaman pedal his bike over here, his little chopstick legs’ll fall off! MY GOD, YOU’RE FORCING HIM TO RIDE THE TOUR DE SHRIMP TOAST, YOU BIG FAT ASSHOLE! I see March Fatness arrived RIGHT ON TIME FOR YOU this year!

Wade: Sir, I’m making plans for the evening, if you don’t mind.

Jerry: Never mind that, Divine. I’ve got shit for you to do. Besides, I’m assuming the only plans you’re making for the evening involve a pint of Dulce De Leche and kneading your pork loin to a copy of Vanity Fair your old lady left lying around the house!

Wade: I was trying to schedule a dinner date actually.

Jerry: Son, you married dinner a long time ago. THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR FAT ASS TO BE MAKIN’ PLANS WITHOUT THE DOUBLE-J’S CONSENT, TUBBALICIOUS!

Wade: Sir, it was just one night.

Jerry: Well, table it, Rush-to-eat Limburger. WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF FREE AGENCY! And I want this team to make a splash! Why do you think I kept you around, Fatty? If I’m gonna make a splash, I may as well keep the man who can drain an ocean basin just by dipping his toe in it! Now, if I learned anything from this season, it’s that my boy ROMO is a goddamn STAR! But it’s not enough to have just one STAR! We need a whole shitload of stars here so that my boy ROMO doesn’t feel all that pressure. AND I DON’T SEE ANY STARS COMIN’ THROUGH THAT DOOR, BAREFOOT CONTESSA!

Wade: Well, we were able to bring in Zach Thomas…

Jerry: That’s wonderful, Tubby. I’m glad you and the grease stains on your Wranglers liked that signing. BUT ZACH THOMAS AIN’T NO STAR! I wanted Randy Moss walking through that door, and all I got was Jason Taylor’s retard brother-in-law! His decline is as inevitable as Barack Obama’s future assassination! I want NEWSMAKERS, you fat fucking crescent roll. I’m askin’ for delivery and you’re givin’ me DiGiornio. And DiGiornio AIN’T SHIT!

Wade: Well, what do you suggest?

(door flies open)



Pacman: Where them bitches at?

Wade: Oh, no. No way. That feller ain’t nothin’ but trouble.

Jerry: GODDAMN RIGHT HE IS! He‘s perfect! Just think, every time my boy ROMO takes Jessica Simpson down to the Caymans for a good Texas tenderizin’, my boy ADAM here’ll be raisin’ hell to keep those fat, disgusting reporters distracted. Ain’t that right, Adam?

Pacman: There’s too much light in this club. That bitch too fat with all this light. I NEED A COKE.

Jerry: Settle down, Adam. This is not actually the strip club. We had to stop here in Coach Quizno’s office here before we get to the club. Remember how I told you not to throw quarters at our receptionist?

Pacman: Man, fuck that bitch.

Wade: We can’t sign him! He’s not even reinstated!

Jerry: Listen, fatass. I am working diligently with the league office to get my boy ADAM here back on the field. Don’t you doubt the Double-J’s ability to make that happen. I got more pull in that office than you do at the Dunkin Donuts register! Adam is good young man. He’s just got a little sickness, you see. He has a very specific kind of agoraphobia that keeps him from feeling comfortable outside his safe place. It’s just that HIS safe place is the Gold Club.

Pacman: TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC UP! I CAN HEAR MYSELF THINK!

Wade: Well, what do I do about it?

Jerry: That’s just the thing. YOU will be chaperoning Adam from club to club through the duration of his stay in our fine, stripper-laden city. Way I figure it, with your fat ass there, there’ll ALWAYS be somethin’ in the way of Adam and any kind of trouble. He won’t be able to flick nary a clitoris without having to traverse your mammoth terrain first. It’d be like tryin’ to give Jupiter a reacharound.

Wade: Sir!

Jerry: Just you wait, Adam. You’re gonna feel REAL safe in this town. You’re gonna be tits deep in SMU commuter student pussy in no time!

Wade: This is incredibly inappropriate, Sir. I do not feel comfortable in the confines of a strip club.

Jerry: Oh, loosen up Turnblad, if it’s physically possible for you to loosen up your body more than you already have. I’m sending you to the titty bar FOR WORK! THIS IS HOW BUSINESS GETS DONE IN TEXAS, GUMGUZZLER!

Wade: We’ve got a lot of draft prep to do and more. Who’s gonna do all that if I have to stay with him 24/7?

(door flies open)


Garrett: Oh, dear. I was told to beware the peptides of March. Yet here they are in their most corpulent manifestation.

Wade: YOU! I thought you were dead!

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. Ha ha. I’m afraid you fell for a bit of a ruse, my fudgy friend.

Wade: What?!

Jerry: Oh come on now, DJ Bisquick, you didn’t think I’d actually shoot my boy GARRETT, didja? HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET THAT FAT COCKSUCKER PARCELLS OFF THE PHONE? I gave Princeton Boy here a new contract. $4 million a year ain’t too much for my boy wonder!

Wade: But that’s more than I make!

Jerry: Which is why you get to escort Adam here to the ol’ Poon Saloon! NOW GET YOUR ASS OUTTA HERE. I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU BACK HERE UNTIL ALL YOUR CASH IS GONE AND YOU SMELL LIKE SOMEONE DUMPED A GALLON OF JESSICA SIMPSON’S DESSERT PERFUME ON YOU!

Pacman: Hey Fatman, let’s go get pussymad.

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: WAAAAAHOOOOOOO!!!!! GET CHANGE FOR A HUNDRED AND BURY THEM ELBOWS IN SOME TEXAS ‘TANG, YOU FUCKING FAT PIECE OF OSSO BUCO! NYEEEEEHAW I AM FUCKIN’ CRAZY!!!!

I’m Gonna Miss This Game, But I Think I’ll Miss Your Pathetic Asskissing Most Of All

You know I was on a plane comin’ up here today. And I was tryin’ to think of a way to let y’all here know that I was finished with football. And it was just so hard, because it brought back all these memories for me. There was the time we won the Super Bowl back in ’96. And all the great games we had this year on the way to the NFC title game. I thought about all that. And it’s just so hard to let that go. I’m gonna miss this game.

(chokes up)

But more than that, I’m gonna miss all the incredibly pathetic asskissing most of all.

I’m gonna miss the way all y’all used to hang on my nuts like they were a set of monkey bars. I’m gonna miss all the relentless verbal fellatio and paeans to my greatness that verged on being some kind of written rimjob. I loved that. THAT’S WHY I PLAYED FOOTBALL, MAN!

Hey, Peter! Man, you remember when I had that one autograph-seeking girl join us for dinner, and she was real excited? And then you almost came in your pants at my casual, aw-shucks way of including everyone?

(fights back tears)

I’m gonna miss that.

And Cris Collinsworth! Remember how you said just talking to me for a few minutes could help make anyone a better person? Jesus, am I gonna miss that kind of blind sycophancy! It was like you was flossin’ with my ass hair! I could practically taste your Aveda hair gel on the back of my teeth!

(grabs tissues)

I’m sorry. I just… I just didn’t realize it would be this hard. This is harder than Madden’s cock after watching me throw an interception 40 yards down the field.

I know I can still play this game. I really do. But I am just not prepared mentally to get back into the grind. Even though y’all would probably love that angle. FAVRE’S DEVIL-MAY-CARE APPROACH TO TAPE STUDY JUST CRAZY ENOUGH TO WORK! I could see Wright Thompson writing a headline like that. But, in the end, I just can’t risk you guys potentially wising up to me next year and actually daring to criticize me.

(starts openly crying)

I just can’t play football like that. I can’t.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. And this was definitely a good thing. I’m not sure anyone in this game has had the kind of good fortune that I’ve had, to have a press corps so clearly willing to get on their knees and do a little ball-bobbin’ on ol’ Number 4. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated all you did to hide my flaws and work my shaft as vigorously as possible.

(dabs tears)

I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t get emotional. But it’s just so hard when I know how well Chris Berman has jostled my testicles in his big, meaty hands all these years.

I’ve watched hundreds of players retire over the years, and I’ve always wondered what it would be like. I thought maybe King would show up completely stripped down, slathered in baby oil and riding some kind of Sybian machine. And he is! I thought I was prepared for that, but it’s just gonna be so dang hard to give up!

(cries)

Is this the right level of grief? I really want to come off as emotional as possible here so y'all'll immortalize this moment like I'm Lou fucking Gehrig. This is my last good chance to soak in the moment and let y'all drink deep the sweat off my taint. I can't believe this is the last time!

(cries more)

But this is the right time to go. I said I wanted to go out on top. And I am. I am going out on top. Of Brian Baldinger. With my cock plunged pubes-deep into his meatpie.

(sobs heavily)

God, I will miss this!