Killing Daryl Johnston: A Symphony Of Murder In Three Movements

If you woke up in the morning and found a bear in your driveway, you might freak out a bit. Likewise, if you woke up in the morning and found a moose in your driveway, you again might lose your shit. But if you woke up in the morning and found a bear killing and eating a moose in your driveway, well that’s what I call an Animal Snuff Porn holiday. Why, you could even paint your boat with leftover moose fluid.

But whatever you do, don’t call Animal Control. My friend Mr. Bear laughs at your pathetic animal control squad. Animals weren’t meant to be controlled. They were meant to roam free and attack each other at will. It’s what God intended, I say.



You know, I went to college in Maine, and I was constantly warned to be on the lookout for moose. Ooh, they might charge you! They might total your car! Well, you know what? I never saw one goddamn moose in my time up there. And now I see this. I tell you, moose, you’re all talk and no action. Oh, and the moose here is dead now.



And now it’s really dead. Wheeeee!!!!!



Special thanks to AnalRapist for the link. I would expect nothing less from someone who names himself after one of the most horrible acts a man can do.

Bitter Peyton Manning’s Kentucky Derby Jambaroo!

The New York Post recently reported that Peyton Manning attends the Kentucky Derby every year with Kid Rock, Dennis Hopper, Travis Tritt, and George Strait. Rock told the Post:

“It's kind of a little clique of us that you see every year. You have to understand the levels of whiskey involved. One time I ended up in a freestyle battle against Meat Loaf.”

Well, wouldn’t you know it, KSK was able to transcribe this year’s historic meeting. Here’s what happened.

Kid Rock: Who’s ready to fucking party?!

Manning: I am ready. I am more prepared than any of you for this party. I studied tape of Wisconsin students for the past two weeks. I’ve got all their tendencies down pat.

George Strait: Then let’s get to drinkin’!

Travis Tritt: Yeah, let’s watch the horses and have some fun!

Kid Rock: (whispers to Manning) So, what do you think? They’re both nice.

Manning: (drinks) I don’t know. They’re more or less indistinguishable.

Kid Rock: (drinks) C’mon, man. You need this. How long has it been?

Manning: (sighs, drinks) A year.

Kid Rock: (drinks) A year! C’mon, man! You gotta let him go!

Manning: (drinks, crying) You don’t fucking get it, man! He saw a window into my soul!

Kid Rock: (drinks) I know heartbreak, my friend. Trust me. I too had a special someone.

Manning: (drinks) Oh, you mean that little midget of yours?

Kid Rock: (drinks, lunges) Don’t you fucking talk about Joe C. like that!

Manning: (drinks) What are you gonna do about it?

Kid Rock: (drinks) Bawitdaba.

Manning: (drinks) What does that even mean?

Kid Rock: (drinks) Bawitdaba, bitch.

Manning: (drinks) Seriously, that's just gibberish.

Kid Rock: (drinks) I’m a cowboy, bitch.

Manning: (drinks) No, you’re not. You’re from fucking Michigan.

Kid Rock: (drinks) Bawitdaba.

Travis Tritt: (drinks) Now, now, you two. There’ll be plenty of time for fightin’ later on. Let’s go try and find Randy Travis, Alan Jackson, Clint Black, Ronnie Milsap, and other similar artists.

Dennis Hopper: (does a whippet) This place is so full of… energy, man.

Manning: Jesus, who brought him? He fucking creeps me out.

Hopper: C’mon, man. Just relax. Just let the atmosphere... absorb you.

Manning: What does that even mean? None of you people make any goddamn sense.

Hopper: (does a Quaalude, pulls knife) It means you do what I say, bitch.

Manning: I thought we said no knives this year.

Hopper: When you rape Diane Keaton, you get to do whatever you want.

Manning: What?

Kid Rock: (drinks) C’mon, let’s go watch the race. Who you guys got? I got Imawildandcrazyguy, because that’s totally me.

(Street Sense wins)

Kid Rock: Fuck this, man. Where’s Meat Loaf? I want to fucking BATTLE.

Meat Loaf: I’m glowing like the metal on the edge of the knife!

Kid Rock: Don’t you sing that fucking song, fat man.

Phil Rizzuto: Ok, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker here.

Kid Rock: And no Rizzuto! That’s fucking cheating!

Meat Loaf: Very well. I shall seduce you with a 9-minute minisuite!

(both men get up on a stage)

Kid Rock: Pass me the mic, bitches! Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!!
I’mma fucking party tonight
Got a Party Ball with cold Coors Light
No bitch ever tells me no
Got drunk once and nailed Sheryl Crow
Beat that, ass face.

Manning: (over in the corner) Oooh, Randy Moss! Oooh, the Pats are the team to beat! Well, la di fucking da. Who fucking won the Super Bowl this year, you fucking cunts?

Travis Tritt: (drinks) Are you okay, Peyton?

Manning: I’m fine! Those mint juleps are too fucking sweet.

Travis Tritt: (drinks) Kid told me about what happened with Kenny. If you ever want to talk, I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to. Or to do a duet with…

Manning: I appreciate that, George.

Travis Tritt: Travis.

Manning: Whatever.

Hopper: (corners Strait in a stable) So Coppola has this big fucking heart attack, and then it’s like fucking anarchy, man. These Cambodian fuckers take me to a shooting range, and they let me machine gun a cow for, like $10. You ever machine gun a cow on ether?

Strait: (terrified) Uh, no.

Hopper: It’s fucking great.

Meat Loaf:
Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are…
Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are…

Random Man In Crowd: Do “I Would Do Anything for Love,” asshole!!!

Meat Loaf: I won’t do that, you fuck.

Random Man In Crowd: You melodramatic fat shit.

Manning: I love this song, man. Objects in the rearview mirror really do appear closer than they are.

Travis Tritt: Wanna go in that handicapped bathroom?

Manning: Sure.

Kid Rock: Hey, where’d everyone go? I’m Kid fucking Rock! Nobody parties harder than me! I fucked Pamela Anderson a decade too late! C’mon, man! Fuck. This party blows.

ESPN: Pipeline to Soap Opera Stardom

Last week ESPN's primary source of breaking news--Mike and Mike In the Morning--informed us that their buddy Mark Schlereth has a new gig. The Big Stinky will be moonlighting as Detective Rock Hoover (a name of his own creation) on Guiding Light, a show older than Philo T. Farnsworth himself.

Stink is set to become the second ESPN television "personality" to crossover into the world of retarded housewives the beautiful people after Stephen A. Smith agreed to a cameo on General Hospital. Now we all know what prompted Smith to make an ass of himself...

...but why would Schlereth stoop to such lows? I can still remember when he was known for being one hardcore motherfucking lineman and know it's come to this?

Top Ten Reasons Mark Schlereth Wants to Be a Soap Star

10. ESPN's health plan cut him off at the knees

9. Mike Shanahan is attached to direct

8. He'd rather die than be upstaged by his daughter

That's Alexandria on the far right left, definitely the left. And yes, this whole post is just an excuse to show you pictures of another pundit's daughter

7. He's bi-curious and Salisbury is too much of a closet case to experiment with him

6. He was looking for a more professional work environment

5. He's tired of ESPN dumbing him down for their audience

4. Some people still respected him

3. He thought Guiding Light was the "Man Law" thing

2. Always dreamed of playing a guy named Rock Hoover--all the gayness of Rock Hudson with the added suck-factor of vacuum cleaner

1.

OK, that post was thrown together with a bit of haste. Here's another picture of Alexandria Schlereth.

Off-Season Laziness: KSK on the Blog Show!

Monday morning, and all the news is about basketball and baseball and, somewhere, hockey. Even golf headlines are trumping our true national pastime as the NFL briefly sinks into obscurity following the draft.

Likewise, things are quiet here at KSK's secret headquarters high in the Andes. Drew's recovering from a kielbasa overdose, Punter's all bruised up from a rough outing with his mule, Christmas Ape is at the animal clinic following Jean Grey's catnip overdose, Unsilent Majority is sneaker shopping, flubby nearly died from bourbon at the Derby this weekend, and Footsteps Falco is still dead.

That leaves me, and I've got my hands full with the Rottweiler mix I adopted from the animal shelter this weekend; I have to train her to attack Steelers fans while she's young, or she'll never learn.

So, enjoy the Blog Show. You'll note we get our due credit for snagging those Brady Lite pictures first. U-S-A! K-S-K! K-S-K!

Your Brady Quinn Caption Contest Winners

Lots of choice comments on our Brady Quinn post yesterday. Caveman and UM were quite taken with the "Sacks Fifth Avenue" comment. I suggest reading them all for a hearty chuckle. But here are your winning comments, as determined arbitrarily by me:

BRONZE
Chamomiles Davis said...
"Greg, honey, is it supposed to be this soft?"

SILVER
Awful Chief said...
A reach pick for the Browns

GOLD
SMP said...
Mind if I play through (the thin, soft, pliable cotton fabric)?

Lotta gayness in those pics. Here's a cheerleader to make up for it. Enjoy the weekend, kids.

Are You Telling Me This Guy Doesn't Know How To Please A Woman?

We've made so much fun of Brady Quinn this week. I think the guy deserves a break. Time to go back to one of our favorite whipping boys.

It's easy to discount the spiritual impact of basketball crowds if
you haven't attended a playoff game with special fans before. There's
no way to understand it unless it definitely has happened to you. Then
you know. As strange as this sounds, it's like a woman being unable to
tell whether she's ever had an orgasm. If she thinks it might have
happened, or it felt like it kind of happened one time... it didn't
happen. When it happens, they know. Then they feel stupid for all the
other times when they thought it had happened.

All the other times, eh? How many times are we talking about? Dozen? Couple hundred? To be fair, it is hard to bring a woman to climax when you're busy being overly impressed with yourself. You do actually have to do some work to bring a lady to Pleasuretown. Like Sam Kinison, I do The Alphabet. But I shan't elaborate.

This Week's KSK Commenter Draft: Non-Pornographic Sex Scenes In Which You'd Like To Participate

Last week's first-ever KSK commenter draft was such a smashing success (one guy even did a full breakdown of it), we've decided to hold a new one every Friday morning for the rest of the offseason.

This week draft: Non-Pornographic Sex Scenes In Which You'd Like To Participate

The rules: You are not the actor in this scene. You are the character. Which means you totally get laid. Picks are first come first served. But only pick one scene, and once you pick, you must wait 10 picks before making another selection. Once 10 other commenters have picked, you can then pick another scene. And please, try and provide some YouTube linkage if you can find it. Add a NSFW warning if appropriate. Hopefully, it will be.

You may draft different scenes from the same movie. But again, no porn. And no softcore porn. In fact, I'm gonna limit it to R-rated movies only. That way, no one picks "Henry & June". Not that you would. Though I heard it was rather ribald.

Oh, and no picking the first sex scene from "Risky Business." That's all mine.

"Are you ready for me, Drew?"

Why yes. Yes, I am.

KSK Konversations: Donovan and Andy

...and we're back














Yesterday Andy Reid met with Donovan McNabb to clear up any potential rifts between the franchise and it's star quarterback. Fortunately for you KSK was there; so find out what it's like when these two stop actin' polite, and start actin' real. Mad real.

Andy: Hey D-Mac, thanks for coming in for this chat. A lot of people seem to think there's some tension here and I just want you to know that we remain committed to you.

Donovan: Fuck you fat man.

Andy: Yeah, I was a bit concerned when you didn't answer my text message. Any particular reason why you didn't get back to me?

Donovan: Threw my phone, heard a snap.

Andy: Why would you break your phone?

Donovan: Phone's good, arm's fucked.

Andy: Good Lord son, why would you do such a thing.

Donovan: Watchin' the draft, ya'll fucked me good. And remember I ain't your son. I piss clean like a mountain stream.

Andy: Donovan, let's not get upset here.

Donovan: Ain't upset, pissed off!

Andy: So this Kevin Kolb situation is going to be a problem?

Donovan: We got lots a problems motherfucker.

Andy: Please watch the language Donovan, I'm a man of God.

Donovan: God tell you to fuck me in the ass on Saturday?

Andy: Of course not Donovan, it's just that you tend to crack like a damn egg. That homosexual latin fella saved me last year and he's gone now. We had an opportunity to bring in a great prospect to back you up so we took it. We're just acting in the best interest of the franchise.

Donovan: Forget that second round cocksucker for a minute. I saw how ya'll traded out of the first round.

Andy: Well we just didn't see anybody on the board at the time that we really needed. By moving down we were able to take Kolb.

Donovan: And you just had to let the Cowboys step in the spot.

Andy: Trading within the division is really no big deal.

Donovan: You wouldn't be spoutin' that bullshit if you were gonna spend the next five years runnin' from that crazy asshole they drafted. He's gonna break my damn neck because you couldn't just draft a fuckin' receiver?

Andy: We've got a great offensive line and plenty of targets for you to throw to.

Donovan: I needed a fuckin' wide receiver you dumb piece of shit! You think I'm gonna throw to Reggie Brown all year? Fuck that shit, I'm holdin' out. I got Chunky Soup money backin' me up.

Andy: Don't do anything drastic. Keep in mind we did pick up an undrafted wide receiver.

Donovan: What the fuck good is he gonna do? Only way he's gettin' a job is if he can braid my ass hair.

Andy: Great things sometimes come from unexpected places. Remember, Joseph Smith found the Golden Plates buried in the hill Cumorah.

Donovan: That's it fat man, when you start talkin' that crazy shit I know it's my time to leave. Get me a goddamn receiver or I'm gonna have my boy send your kids some black tar care packages.

Andy: That's a low blow Donovan.

Donovan: You have one day.

Uh, What The F--k?

Scouts have always said Brady Quinn excelled at gripping the ball.

HEY-O!!!!!!!!



Caption contest in the comments. Winners get posted tomorrow.

She's Like The Girl Next Door, Unless You Don't Live Next Door To A Strip Club

IF YOU'VE BEEN FOLLOWING THIS BLOG from its inception, you're already aware that we have a bit of a track record when it comes to people of a certain public status. Regardless, we consider it part of our raison d’être to keep tabs on even those peripheral characters in this small, (sometimes) confining realm of professional prolate ellipsoidism. And it so happens that such a person jumped onto our radar during last weekend's Draft.

By now, most of us know that Lindy Slinger is not some random stewardess that the Notre Dame quarterback picked up on his flight to New York, nor is she some high-class prostitute that was assigned to Brady by the League for the purposes of deflecting rumors of Mr. Quinn's alleged homosexuality, a la Rock Hudson.

No, Lindy is actually passing herself off as the All-American Girl to Baby Dreamboat's All-American Gay Guy. She plays Divsion I soccer, has a birthday on Christmas and probably doesn't put out until coerced, or to get back at her last boyfriend, not that I would know anything about that. But is such a generous assessment even in the same cul-de-sac with reality? I asked around, and some people suggested to the contrary. What follows are actual tips sent in from actual readers, and obviously only Jesus cannot confirm or deny whether any of these are true, and He and I are kind of on the outs right now:

I knew her from high school. She [was] pretty much just your typical soccer playing prep girl who was also a huge slut. My sister was in her year and on the soccer team with her; she absolutely hated her.

-HS classmate A

I've only got one, and it's no secret.

-Brady Lite, when asked if he had a secret crush, in his HS yearbook

I think they were waiting til they were out of college [to marry]; [but] they were off for awhile and he dated a girl [for a couple of months] here at ND, but then realized Lindy was The One.

-Notre Dame student

She couldn't get into Notre Dame if her life depended on it. She ended up at Miami, but somehow managed to hold on to Brady while he was in South Bend. She's been rockin' the nasty fake blonde hair since high school.

-HS classmate B

She definitely lets everyone at Miami know she's dating him and tries just like he does to portray this really churchy goody-goody image that couldn't be further off.

-Miami of Ohio student

She didn't start dating Brady until his senior year, so she had plenty of time to build a slutty reputation prior to that. My basis for the label comes mostly from knowing how she acted in middle school and through high school. I guess she could have actually calmed down, found Jesus and what not since she went to college, but...I really doubt it.

-HS classmate A

I kept getting filled with rage every time ESPN gave that [young lady] airtime this weekend, but [if you put a] gun to my head, I'd rather look at her than either of Quinn's mannish sisters.

I've seen her uptown a few times; she's more of a Campus Crusader closet slut than a bar hopping one.

-Miami of Ohio student

For those who would argue that this broad has no bearing on anything, I say this: Lindy's relationship with Brady Lite could very well determine the outcome of Quinn's quest for NFL prominence. Numerous professional studies have shown that people are more proficient during the day when they return to more stable lives at home. Their successes, and failures, will be shared (Her major is communications, for fuck's sake, and the only two jobs for that major out of college are "football player" and "football player's wife").

So if Quinn can be the benefactor of that kind of lovin', good for him. That is, if their relationship is as solid as advertised. Such a fortified presence in his life can only enhance his spirit, provided his list of excuses for being sighted near highway rest stops is ample.

But if that relationship is so damn great, why feel the need to advertise it at all? Will corporate endorsement reps or hotel groupies be setting their rosters any differently based on arm candy that looks more like the Tuesday warmup act at Columbus Gold? Does the league stand to gain by promoting its new Caucasian quarterback as some sort of anti-Leinart? And does this leave Lindy to be an unlikely centerpiece in pro football's return to traditional values? Or the NFL's first fag hag?

Still, at the end of the day, how do you say no to this guy:

Just to reiterate, and to keep Drew from having a stroke, these tips are actual feedback from solicitations for comment that I put out earlier this week, and I suppose, prima facie, that they would be about as credible as what Jimmy told you about what Brad said that Heather said that Karen said that Danny said in front of your locker before third period. They were not made up for laughs, and we're just passing them along.