Moving You All The Way From Triple Sell to Risky

Welcome to the 10th edition of our weekly feature, Always Be Covering. The following is a small sampling of the games I'll be investing after dreaming I'm Jim Cramer only to wake up to watch The Cabin Show.

Disclaimer
While I may appear startlingly brilliant (or possibly not) you must remember that this is a humor site. If you've been taking me too seriously then you're probably reading this at a public computer...keep your hands where I can see 'em.

This week we've got a handful of attractive games, so backup those trucks.

Exactly what the fuck is happening to the NFL? It's gotten so bad that I can't bet on a single favorite without second guessing myself like a neurotic little bitch. One of my occasional associates, a degenerate gambler of the highest pedigree (he hides his horns under his fake Prada visor), claims that if he'd bet the money line on every underdog for the past two weeks he'd be a millionaire. Of course he didn't for the same reason the rest of us didn't, because we're a bunch of stupid assholes who keep expecting things to turn around. Obviously this associate of mine lost considerable amounts of cash and he's now beating on overturned buckets outside of the Verizon Center. So what have I learned? Absofuckingly nothing. BUT IT'S ALL GONNA TURN AROUND THIS WEEK! If you want some real investment advice you should take a look at Danaher (DHR). This stock has made up for every single drunken wager I've ever made.

Okay, that's enough Mad Money for now, let's take a look at some picks.

Paul Brown's +3.5 vs. 3 Rivers
So far this year I've gotten killed betting on favorites, especially when their quarterback is named Ben. In apparently the best move in the history of football coaching the Browns decided to kick Maurice Carthon to the curb. Since dumping their dead weight coordinator Cleveland has begun to resemble a football team capable of competing for the BCS Championship.

Millen's Folly+2.5 at Buzzsaw
Matt Millen has assembled one of the world's least competent pro sports teams and he's allowing Mike Martz to control the offense...and I still wouldn't give them points against Arizona. At this point favoring Denny Green makes less sense than Millen's continued employment. The Lions are 2-6 ATS in their last 8 games, the Buzzsaw is 2-7 in their last 9...like taking candy from a baby.

Bullish Parlay of the Week

Okay, this is a biggie. We need to strike gold with this pick so let's make it count.

Lesser of Two Evils -2 @ Cowgirls
Yeah, I have serious trouble rooting for Peyton Manning, this week it's going to be easier than getting a blowjob from Eli at a Gay Pride Rally. Dallas hasn't beaten anybody worth a shit (except of course for the MIGHTY Washington Redskins) and I don't expect them to do it here.

Whale's Vagina +3 @ Mile High
San Diego is way too good to be getting three points against anybody. Vegas is saying that if this game were to be played at a neutral site the line would be a pick 'em, and that would immediately become the easiest bet of the century. Fuck Denver and the horse they rode in on.

Shy-lock of the Week (4-3, loan me a pound of flesh?)

(2 teams, 6 point tease)

We're taking a temporary sabbatical to collect our thoughts and every fucking nickel stuck in the couch cushions. Knuckles prefers his payment in nickel form...I don't ask questions.

Who do you like this week? We welcome you to share all of your ill-fated picks in the comment section.

Going where there's no depression...

Weeks later and everyone is still talking about
the pictures of Will Leitch in the shower.

Unlike some of my fellow future co-defendants at KSK, I try to keep my own allegiances below the radar. Being a Raider fan, there are ample reasons why this is an advisable course of action. Nonetheless, the latest blatherings by Randy Moss have caused me to break my silence.

Randy Moss is unhappy. And according to Randy this lack of bliss has caused him to drop balls and made his overall game suffer. So unhappy, in fact, that he had to make this pronouncement at a press conference where the topic was college football's new "Randy Moss Award." One might think that such an honor would lift the spirits and put a smile on Randy's taciturn countenance. No dice. Randy chose to piss on his own parade.

Silver & Black fans, it up to us to salvage Randy's tenure with the Raiders. And since we can't do jack about the personnel and play-calling (unless something, god forbid, were to happen to Al Davis and Art Shell, wink wink, nudge nudge) all we can do is cheer Randy up. Along those lines, here are my suggestions to brighten Randy's day. As always, feel free to add your own:


A tickler bouquet from NFL legend Merlin Olsen

Membership in the jelly of the month club

Bubble bath (with Aaron Brooks or Andrew Walter, up to you Randy)

Puppies, puppies, puppies (keep them away from Old Man Davis, he eats them y'know)

Bed & breakfast getaway weekend courtesy of Tom Walsh

Zoloft


Unicorns & rainbows (works for spoiled. tempermental 12-year old girls, should work for Randy)

A spot on the roster of an NFL team

Art Shell's head on a silver platter:

I Am Jack's Smirking Revenge

If you could fight anyone, who would you fight?

-Tyler Durden

No, you can't fight Brad Pitt

Ask a true fan of the NFL to name their five favorite players and they'll likely struggle mightily to answer right away. Ask the same fan to name five players they truly hate and they'll have no problem reeling off name after name. Maybe it's because of a rivalry or a personal vendetta. Perhaps you just have a low tolerance for entitled douchebags named Kellen. Regardless, fans often have more hatred than love...we call these peoples haters, and we welcome them.

But who are the worst NFL offenders? Who in the league pisses you off so much through their words, actions, attitude, or simply the way they play the game that you want to see them face down on the canvas? Who are the guys that made you wish you were a physical freak so you could step into a ring as equals and deliver the beating that your demented mind believes they so truly deserve? Let's take a closer look at some of the popular choices. Obviously I'd fight Andre Carter, Warrick Holdman, and Adam Archuleta in a steel cage ladder match.

Good, let's start with an easy one. For starters Terrell Owens is extremely talented, and considering he's played for my two least favorite teams in the NFL over the past few seasons I have extra incentive to hate him. Oh yeah, he's also the biggest douche the NFL has seen since Jerry Glanville hung up the rug. His personality might actually benefit from an asskicking.



If Jeremy Shockey weren't a football player he would probably be known as the most obnoxious cast member in the history of Real World. For reasons to hate this walking case of herpes other than his onfield hissy fits you might want to check out his wiki page. Apparently he loves listening to Phish, Eminem, and 50 Cent. Plus he's represented by Drew Rosenhaus (that's becoming a theme) and he is friends with David Wells, quite possibly the baseball player I'd like to fight most. If he keeps pointing at me like that I'll make him bleed his own blood.

I cannot understand why Troy Polamalu is liked by so many football fans. Yeah he makes big plays, but he also tackles with his head...maybe those 6 concussions are God's way of telling him to cool the fuck out. He never gets in trouble because he never talks to the press, apparently he's just a nice quiet religious guy who keeps to himself. Then again some people may call that a potential serial killer's profile. Once his brain "heals" he'll be ready for another beating. You don't have me fooled Mr. Polamalu, I'll go all Jimmy Snuka on your ass.


To be honest, I could be the baddest motherfucker in the world and I'd still be a little bit scared of this crazy bastard. If Willie McGinnest came to Pittsburgh he'd be wearing number 54. With Ray Lewis you have to worry about his friends; with Joey Porter you've gotta worry about nothing but Joey Porter (and his horse-eating hounds). But you've just gotta suck it up, he's a loudmouth bully and the only thing he'll understand is a good beating. Maybe I could get Caveman to help me out on this one...yeah, that'd show him who's a big man.

Like there could even be a list without this smirking man-bitch. Peyton has all the personality of Robert Irsay's decomposed carcass. Yeah he's a great quarterback, and a helluva good guy, but that's not gonna stop a true hater. I'd like nothing more than to watch a drugged up Shawne Merriman come clean from the blindside over and over and over again...unless I could do it (hey Shawne, who's holdin' the vials in CP these days?). I'm almost positive that South Park created the phrase "donkey raping shit eater" to describe the Manning family (and possibly Monday Morning Punter...sick bastard).


So who pisses you off? Feel free to vent in the comment section, it's probably healthier than actually fighting Joey Porter...and remember, we here at KSK do not condone violence against professional football players (unless your fantasy team's season is on the line). However, imagining such scenarios makes us happy like a little girl.

*For the record, Michael Strahan was the final cut from this group of five. Although I personally detest him quite a bit I was worried I'd wind up caught on one of his homemade video tapes.

Note: Coaches are exempt because they're all annoying in their own way (you will tell the truth on your injury report Mr. Belichick!). Also, Rae Carruth, Lawrence Phillips, and OJ Simpson are ineligible, they're probably all going to that Christian Hell I keep hearing about.

Week 10 Meast Appendix - More Underrated Women (And A Dude)

To make it up to those of you who didn't appreciate seeing my beer gut during lunch (Mrs. Drew says I'm the handsomest man in the world), it's only fair to give you pics of some more underrated ladies, following suggestions from our commenters and couple of my friends. I'll also add a shot of new Bond Daniel Craig at the end for you ladies.


Giada Delaurentiis
Man, she's got a big head.


Kristen Bell
No argument here.


Kerry Washington
Ape's request


Isla Fisher
Engaged to Sascha Baron Cohen. Also apparently comes in triplicate. Prepare the wedding sack!


Minka Kelly
Plays a cheerleader. Works for me!


Christa Miller
Watch early episodes of Scrubs. She makes Zach Braff almost tolerable.


Rachel Harris
So snarky. She should be sex blogging.


Daniel Craig
In the Clive Owen/Russell Crowe badass mold. Layer Cake is a fine film. Speaking of which...


Sienna Miller
Bad move banging the nanny, Jude. Holy crap, this woman is attractive. Badmouth that shithole Pittsburgh all you like, my dear. It's not worthy of you.

The KSK Guide To Preparing Your Beer Gut For The Playoffs

We're in mid-November now. The heart of the football season. It's gut-check time. Literally. You can't go into the upcoming football stretch with a subpar beer gut. You need to be properly conditioned. You need to train. Is your beer gut primed for a playoff run? Mine is. Let's have a look, fully extended:


Note the slight overhang over the waistband. I'll be honest: real pros should be covering up the belt buckle entirely. And, if you've reached the Parcells/Weis FUPA Threshold, no doubt you have graduated to tucking your lower gut flap into your pants, thus establishing the belly button as your official "wardrobe equator". This blubbery curtain of exuding endoplasm helps warm the genitals and shield them from things like hands and women. A gut like that will leave you well-equipped to spend the playoffs spooning yourself powdered Nesquik straight out of the can and eating boatloads of raw sausage. One day, I will get there.


Also notice the sparse belly hair. Some people rock the Happy Trail, that thin trail of hair that takes you from the belly button straight down to the pubic bush. A friend of mine hooked up with a Filipino chick who totally had that. I, on the other hand, rock the Happy Patch. It's wild and free and not ashamed to let you know it!


Now, behold the stretch marks. Stretch marks tell people that you have eaten at a rate that has outpaced your body's natural ability to expand. Twenty of these puppies get you honorary Fire Belly status. They say stretch marks are for pregnant women. But do pregnant women have to suffer through what Raider, Cardinal or Lion fans have to? I think not!

As your eyes make a turn towards the back pussy, you'll also note of the love handle slightly spilling over the waistband and pushing outward, as if gasping for air. If you have large enough love handles, you can press your back against the wall of your shower and create a flabby suction cup with ten times more sucking power than a black hole. This complements the beer gut nicely.

But let's say you are not genetically advantaged with a gut of my caliber, or that of some other flabby shit like Eric Mangini. How can you train your gut for the upcoming gluttony of both the holidays and playoff football? I offer you some pointers.

CARBS
You gonna want to load up on those carbs. Beer. Chips. Raw flour. Anything you can get your hands on. I suggest this sandwich I invented:


I call it the breadwich. Take two slices of bread. Now place another slice of bread in the middle. Now eat. Delicious! And loaded with the kind of refined white flour that would make that dead pussy Dr. Atkins all huffy. This sandwich can also be served open-faced. For an exotic twist, use pita bread. Or use tortillas as mock cold cuts. And let's add this Simpsons quote while we're here:

Be creative. Instead of making sandwiches with bread, use Pop Tarts. Instead of chewing gum, chew bacon.

BEER


Beer, of course, is the most important element of all. Be sure to eschew all other forms of liquid, and to have a beer with you during all NFL broadcasts. Once December hits and the Thursday/Saturday schedule begins, you're talking about 24 available viewing (with no TiVoing) hours of NFL football per week. If you drink, let's say... 4 beers every hour, you'll have had 96 beers. And that's if you're a pussy.

Now, consult this handy beer calorie chart. The highest calorie beer there is Sierra Nevada Stout, at 210 calories a pop. (The lowest? Pabst Extra Light Low Alcohol. Did you know there was a form of Pabst other than PBR? Anyway, if you drink Pabst Extra Light Low Alcohol, you also probably smoke Virginia Slims and are a lesbian on the professional women's truck racing D circuit.) Drinking 96 Sierra Stouts yields 20160 calories. If you aren't dead, you're on your way to success!!!!

(NOTE: If you are poor, and therefore an Oakland fan, I recommend Busch Ice in lieu of the Sierra Nevada.)

SLOTH
I also suggest cramming your schedule filled with non-strenuous activities such as sitting, slow breathing, sign reading, chocolate milk mixing, showering while sitting down, softly rolling yourself down a hill, non-vigorous masturbation, convincing people Vin Diesel is gay, watching other people walk, thinking about heavy anchors, wetting yourself, writing the script for an Adam Sandler film, mainlining a liquefied ribeye, watching a friend play World of Warcraft, penning a Rick Reilly column, looking at the rug, eating while lying down, milking yourself, traveling by rickshaw, blogging, texting RELAX to 44123, fact-checking for Ann Coulter, covering your body with mashed potatoes, using speakerphone (even with your parents), or thinking like Mark Schlereth. Any of those will do.

ENCOURAGEMENT/LEARNING


Finally, everything that grows needs love and support. People talk to their plants. Even read to them. Sure, they're all batshit insane. But this is playoff time! You must be open to the unorthodox! Consider saying this:

This is my belly. There are many like it but this one is mine. My belly is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my belly is useless. Without my belly I am useless. I must feed my belly true. I must drink faster than Pat Summerall. I must eat everything before Romeo Crennel does first. I will. Before God I swear this creed: my belly and myself are defenders of my gluttony, we are the masters of my jarred nacho cheese spread horde, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no football left, but peace and a possible heart attack. Amen.

You have your marching orders. Now, get drinking!

The Post Where We Carefully Insinuate that Peter King Might Be Subtly Racist

We at Kissing Suzy Kolber are admittedly biased. We don't tolerate fools, douchebags, or fat chicks (although if she's a little thick in the britches...). And we certainly have little love for Peter King. As you can see here. Or here. Ummm... or here. And especially here.

So while you read this, keep in mind that it's coming from a decidedly anti-Peter King slant. Nevertheless, I think the case presented below precludes the need for us to call this otherwise nice, dorky middle-aged man ugly names. I've written this before, then deleted it from the Internet, and I'll write it again: we want no quarrel with Peter King. We just feel it is our duty to occasionally police media douchebaggery.

Or, in this case, what might be -- if you were the kind of person to pay attention to such things -- thinly veiled racism. In this week's MMQB and TMQB columns, King ranks (and then defends) his selections for the top five coaches and top five quarterbacks with whom to start a franchise.

Here are his top five coaches, in picture form (click to enlarge):


And here are King's top five franchise quarterbacks (if you mathletes count six, that's because Hasselbeck and Rivers tied for fifth):


Notice anything unusual about that list? Diligent KSK reader Michael does:

Quite the fair-skinned bunch wouldn't you say? King goes on to defend his pick of Saban in the top 5 by saying he is too smart of a coach to leave off the list and pointing towards the Dolphins' last two wins, apparently we are supposed to ignore the abomination that was the first half of their season. There is no explanation why Dungy, who took Tampa to the cusp of the Super Bowl and has led Indy to the first back to back 9-0 season starts ever, is so far down the list.

As far as McNabb not cracking his top 5 QBs (in fact he is #8 behind Carson Palmer as well) King says that he blames McNabb more for the Eagles' failures than he does Manning for that of the Colts'. However, King seems to have no problem moving McNabb's coach up on his list ahead of Manning's.

Damn. Gold star for Michael, right?

(Personally, I'd also wonder why Saban gets so much credit for a season and half of almost-.500 ball, while Lovie Smith has produced much greater results -- with not much more talent -- in just one more year of experience.)

Now, I don't think King is overtly racist (not that I'm looking to make excuses for him). After all, he's eager to support jolly but unqualified black men like Jerome Bettis for the Hall of Fame, and he has long criticized NFL owners for not being more proactive in interviewing and hiring minority coaches.

But I guess his standards for what's right only apply to other people, since when it comes time for him to pick his coach, no person of color cracks the top five.

Music to Lose the Average Meast

Every other week, it seems, another middling "indie" band makes the jump from obscurity to semi-demi-kinda-noticedhood on the strength of one catchy but vapid dance-pop-rock track played ad nauseum during commericials, movie trailers and filler during sports broadcasts.

I guess I can't blame them for the vagaries and practicalities of the music industry. Crappy bands can't sell crappy albums because people don't buy albums as much anymore, so the bands have to sell the rights to their one halfway appealing track to advertisers, making it ubiquitous in all the wrong ways and taking the risk that your song is associated with the latest Dane Cook flick.

The latest such example is "Cobrastyle" by The Teddybears. If you're not familiar with the song by name (I wasn't), all you need to know is the opening Da Da Dum riff played about six times followed by someone drawing on the lyrical genius of Kid Rock with a slur of a Bomb Ba Bomb Diggities and so forth. The song has already made its way onto the trailer for Employee of the Month, Fifa '06 and that commercial for Bones that Drew loves ever so much.

Last night, in a usual stolid attempt to appear hip, ESPN used the song about 10 times during Monday Night Football in its commercial bumpers, as they did with the similarly grating, similarly ephemeral Ok Go track "Here It Goes Again" a few weeks ago. This perhaps wouldn't bother me so much if the thrumming guitar riff was used to drown out Theeeesman, but as such, it's annoying as hell.

Because I'm not a member of the hipsterati, I'm not going to profess to having better alternatives for songs leading to commercials. Bill Simmons did a column about this during the playoffs last year, but offered nothing more than Pitchfork Media fodder, with the likes of Bloc Party, Stellastarr*, LCD Soundsystem, Louis XIV and a bunch of other lame shit with whiny lyrics. Will Leitch shakes his emo bangs in thundrous approval. I mean, you know a genre is dead when it takes on a uniform gangly aural aesthetic.

Being a damn lazy ape, I'm going to leave it up to our commenters for suggestions. Anything from The Power and The Glory gets you banned.

Steve Irwin Memorial Meast of the Week - Week 10

My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo, I like to sink her with my pink torpeeeeeeedo!

Oh, it's you! Hi there! Let's talk for a moment about underrated hot women. The reason I get tired of the paparazzi covering the likes of Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and Nicole Richie is that none of those women (Actually, they're girls, not women.) are anywhere near attractive enough to deserve the attention. They are the wide receivers of the celebrity set: annoying people whose talent is far surpassed by less renowned colleagues, which makes them even more unappealing by comparison.

Stewart Mandel of SI.com, who covers college football and does it very well, chooses an underrated hottie to fawn over every year. This year he chose Jenna Fischer of "The Office". Not a bad choice, but I'm aiming higher. So sharpen your pencils, you amateur paprazzoes! Pay more attention to these women, so that they get a warped sense of perspective and end up ruining their lives in public for my entertainment:


Emily Deschanel
If you've ever watched the NFL on FOX, you might know Emily as the lead actress from "Bones". I've never seen an episode of this show, but every time they show a spot for it, I always think to myself, "Good Lord, that chick is hot. I should watch that show." I never do, but I at least consider it. And that's why you don't see many "real" women on TV. I'm pretty sure an actual female forensic scientist is uglier than even Patricia Arquette. Guhhhhh. I'd never consider watching it then. Emily has killer eyes (holy shit, I just actually complimented a girl's eyes!) and rocks tight suits and lab coats on her show. Put a hot woman in a business suit and good things happen in my pants.


Jill Wagner
This is the chick from the Mercury ads. You won't find a less convincing spokesperson. Try picking up this girl in a Sable and she'll Mace you right in the eyes.


Kate Walsh
I watch "Grey's Anatomy" with Mrs. Drew to even out the whole 20 hours of football a week thing. But it's not a bad show. It's also the only hit show on TV with a lead character that everyone, male and female, despises. Men hate Ellen Pompeo because she talks. Women hate her because she's a poor man's Renee Zellweger. Anyway, Walsh plays Patrick Dempsey's ex-wife, and she looks like Jennifer Aniston back when Jennifer Aniston was attractive. It only takes a few episodes for you to realize she's the hottest girl in the cast, and by a healthy margin.


Campbell Brown
Back when Katie Couric (or, as I like to call her, Cuntface) hosted the Today show, she'd go on vacation at least nine times a month. Her fill-in? Campbell Brown. Going from a raging bitch like Couric to down-to-earth fox like Brown is like being let out of solitary for a day. Then Couric would be back on the job and my faith in humanity would be destroyed once more.


The Blowflex Chick
This woman's name is Kristia Knowles, and she does leg extensions better than any woman I've ever known. A toned little minx, this one. I'm betting she didn't get that body by working out on a Bowflex 20 minutes a day three days a week.


Jodie Foster in Inside Man
I know, I know. She's a lesbian! A lesbian! She's blocking the river! She drives a Subaru! And I never considered Jodie Foster attractive before (except in Taxi Driver. 12-year-old prostitutes are my weakness. Grrrrr!!!). But I thought to myself while watching this flick that Jodie looked good. Very good. And I don't know how I feel about that. In fact, I already regret adding her here. I may be gay. Let's move on.


Ali Larter
Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!

Speaking of underrated, none of this week's Meast candidates fit into that category. Carson Palmer and Chad Johnson of the Bengals put up ungodly numbers. Willie Parker of the Steelers was arguably the MVP of last year's Super Bowl and has firmly established himself as an every-down back. But you can't go against the hottest player in football right now:


It's LaDainian Tomlinson of the Chargers! With 4 TDs in the Chargers' stunning 42-point second half on Sunday, Tomlinson has now scored 15 TDs in his last five games, a league record. Nobody sniffs out the end zone better. Tomlinson is proof that small backs make better goal line backs than some big asshole like, I don't know, Brandon Jacobs. Goal line defenses are packed tight at the line. O-line splits are miniscule. Creases in the defense are tiny. Why would you ever put in a bigger back to get the ball through? It's idiotic. Don't tell me bigger backs are stronger. Former Cowboys wideout and known midget Kevin Williams could squat over 700 pounds. LT2, who is no Goliath, has the strength to power through tacklers and drag them into the end zone. Keep the little guys in there, coaches. They are, at least at the goal line, underrated.

NOTE: Feel free to tell me who I forgot in the comments. And, since thebigo will call my penis a racist for not putting any sisters on this list, here's a picture of Toni Braxton, who would be underrated even if she were elected president.

Defending Elderly, Crippled, Useless Quarterbacks

Yesterday I watched the Packers-Vikings game, with a handful of glances over to the Redskins-Eagles game at the request of a friend. Taken together, those two games featured three quarterbacks who are old enough to be Beano Cook's grandchild: Brad Johnson, Brett Favre and Mark Brunell. Favre, as you well know, was very good yesterday, throwing for over 300 yards and taking the Vikings out of the playoff picture. Johnson and Brunell, by contrast, were awful. Neither QB can throw the ball longer than 15 yards with any kind of accuracy, but both believe that they can, which compromises the offenses of their respective teams.

After the Skins got killed by the Eagles, radio host Steve Czaban asked Brunell if he should be benched in favor of Jason Campbell. Brunell shed his Ned Flanders exterior for just a moment and got annoyed. Here's the video:

This is one of those instances where both men are right. Czaban is right to ask the question, but Brunell is also right to tell Czaban to fuck off, he's the QB and he'll always want to be the QB.

Here's the larger point: If I were a pro athlete like any of these guys, I would never, ever, ever want to stop playing. Ever. Everyone pisses and moans about players like Jerry Rice and Joe Namath (and beyond football, Michael Jordan) who hung around too far past their primes, or played for new teams because their signature teams didn't want them anymore.

But who fucking cares? When you're a pro athlete, you get to play in front of 80,000 drunken people who adore you (or, if you're on the road, hate you but envy you). You get to party with the guys after the win. You have access to inordinate amounts of high quality pussy. It's like being named the Homecoming King every day. Who cares if you suck now? Who cares if you're a shell of your former self? Who cares if you have to ride the bench? It still beats... oh, everything else.

I was a horrible football player. In fact, I'd wager that I was horrible at any sport that didn't involve downing shots of Fire Water from the end of an ice chute. If I got to come back to this Earth in any form I wanted, I'd come back as Michael Jordan, or some other complete badass. And if that were to ever happen, I wouldn't ever want to stop being Michael Jordan. That would be crazy. I'd just play until no one wanted me. Is that a dignified way to go? Does that sully people's memories in some way? Would fans and writers have a hard time picturing me in my new uniform? Maybe. But big fucking deal. Everyone else can fuck off. The uniform still makes my ass look good.

People talk about forced retirement like it's something to be ashamed of. But I like the idea of hanging onto something until someone has to come and drag me away from it. It's like being at a good Sunday brunch buffet. Fuck you if you think I've had too many omelettes. I'm going back. And I'm going to keep going back until they turn the heat lamps off and the smoked salmon is finished. That's how Rickey Henderson would do it.

That's why Brett Favre is still playing. He's terribly inconsistent and not as good as what he once was. But when he has a game like yesterday's, all the adoration and dicksucking come back for another week. And who wouldn't like that? Morons, that's who.

This goes beyond even sports. You know the same people who make fun of the Rolling Stones for still touring are the same people who get all weepy on the anniversary of John Lennon's death. They're the same people (CAUTION: Straw man argument alert!) who get wistful when reminiscing about the death of Hendrix or Joplin, wondering "what could have been". Meanwhile, the Stones continue to play before fawning crowds and banging groupies left and right. Are they supposed to retire from that because they look a little silly doing it? I'm betting Mick Jagger is having a 19-year-old girl from Ibiza snorting blow off his cock right now and not worrying about it.

There are only so many people who get to be pro athletes or rock stars in this world. If you get the chance, you don't abandon it quietly. You go out and throw as many ill-advised interceptions as you can before the coach finally looks up from his laminated play chart and realizes, "Hey, that guy might be shitty. Maybe the young black guy with the rifle arm, quick feet and functional memory could be a minor improvement." And, if you're lucky enough to have a coach like Joe Gibbs or Brad Childress, that could be a while.

I wouldn't blame you for sticking around. I'd hate you, but I wouldn't blame you.

NOTE: The Skins benched Brunell for good today. Phew! Just in time!

Coach of the Year Candidate: Scott Linehan

I wrote a quick recap of the Rams-Seahawks game over at the FanHouse, and I joked in the headline that Scott Linehan was outcoached by a piece of driftwood.

Linehan, in case you missed it, conducted a successful replay challenge on a pass initially ruled incomplete, which erased the Rams' 4th-and-6... and gave them a long 4th-and-one. (Not necessarily a great challenge, but he got it, so good for him, right?) So, leading 16-14 in the fourth quarter, Linehan shuns the 30-yard field goal (Jeff Wilkins: 11-for-11 on kicks inside 40 yards this year) and went for the first down.

Incomplete pass. Final score: Seahawks 24, Rams 22.

Anyway, driftwood: just one of the many things that could have outcoached Linehan yesterday. I huddled with the rest of the KSK gang, and we compiled a list of entities and inanimate objects that could outcoach Linehan.

* George Allen Jr.
* a Tofutti Cutie
* corpse of Ed Bradley
* corpse of Art Shell
* automatic garage door opener
* a merkin
* that homeless guy you avoided eye contact with an hour ago
* salad fork
* The opposing coach from Hoosiers
* Tom Landry's hat
* Courtney Love
* Ignatius J. Reilly
* Jell-O sculpture of Denny Green (lime Jell-O)
* Terry Schiavo
* Chasey Lane's worn out vibrator
* Gilbert Gottfried
* The retarded Baldwin Brother
* Chris Simms's spleen
* you, if only you believe
* lamp
* the remnants of Georgia Frontiere's soul
* cracked refrigerator magnet
* supermike2
* Eric Dickerson
* week-old seafood salad
* Mike Martz

The good news for Linehan is that we did manage to rule out dirt. He could definitely outcoach dirt. But not that store-bought dirt. That stuff's packed with nutrients.