Celebrity Super Bowl Pick: Herschel Walker

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are super fucking excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in the Pink Taco! Up next, college football great turned author Herschel Walker

(takes off cap, holds it in hands)

Shine ya shoes, guvna?

Righ', then. Jus' lemme get me brush an' I'll make them shoes like righ' mirrors, I will.

'Eaded to the cenner of the city, are ya? Me, I don' get ta leave the Bow Bells offen, workin 'ard as I do on this 'ere corner. Times are righ' tough fer honest blokes like you an' me. Nitty-gritty in these parts, but you know tha' already, sharp fella like yerself.

Golly, me! Didja lay yer eyes on that piece of brass? 'Ave you ever seen Bristols like tha'? I'd like to get me 'Ampton in her Berk, knowaddaImean? Why, she looked like tha' bird belongin' ta Tommy Brady. Ain't no one stoppin' the Pay-ree-uss this year, is there?

Well, then. There you are, guvna! Bright 'n shiny like a spring mornin.

An' to you, too, sir. I'll be sure ta place this on the Pats inna blow-ou'.

KSK Celebrity Super Bowl Pick: Herschel Walker

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are super fucking excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in the Pink Taco! Up next, college football great turned author Herschel Walker

Yaarrrrr!

Swoggle me eyes, bilge rat!

A more pathetic sight mine eyes have not 'ere to alight upon. Have we a contest of a bunch of musket-totin' freedom lovers and some scurvy overgrown lads from the Port of Jersey? Squaring off in a climate as dry as a witch's tit?

'Tis no place for a piratical dog such as myself. Narrrrr. Narrrrrr.

I'd sooner find meself wading through the briny deep staring down at the Spanish Armada. But if it's a pick ye demands, lay the doubloon line a little higher, and talk we might.

Yaarrrrr.

Celebrity Super Bowl Pick: Herschel Walker

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are super fucking excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in the Pink Taco! Up next, college football great turned author Herschel Walker

Football? I'm afraid of I've never heard of such a past-time. Is it anything like that rounders game General Doubleday's men played during their stops on the way to Antietam? As a young man in Illinois, I gained a bit of regional renown as a wrestler, but I know nothing of this game of which you speak.

Now, if you please, I must get back to the business of salving the wounds where our great Union was split in twain. This arduous task is complicated by the well-intended yet nonetheless vexing distractions of the First Lady. She insists upon viewing some bit of nonsense called "Our American Cousin" this evening. Enjoy your "Soup Or Bowl", as you call it.

Celebrity Super Bowl Pick: Herschel Walker

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are super fucking excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in the Pink Taco! Up next, college football great turned author Herschel Walker

Hey chief, you mind if I listen to radio while we drive? I love this Opie and Anthony. Very funny guys, yes? I'm glad you ask me about Superb Bowl. I drive cab for four year now and still very best customer is Mister Michael Strahan. He ride in cab and talk very nice to Zulfo. He ask if Zulfo have wife and ask about Bosnia. Big tipper is Mister Michael Strahan. We are going to LaGuardia, yes?

I see Tum Brady on television, I have men like him in cab every day. They too busy to talk to Zulfo. Talk on their cell phone all the time. They bad tipper. Zulfo does not like them and he does not like Tum Brady. He's not like Mister Michael Strahan. Zulfo says Patriots win game by many, many points.

KSK Celebrity Super Bowl Pick: Herschel Walker

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are super fucking excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in the Pink Taco! Up next, college football great turned author Herschel Walker

The surprise on your face is as plain as the harvest moon in the clear October sky. "Moses Stoltzfus, what do the Amish know of Foot Ball?," you may ask. During my rumspringa, Brownie Eli and I traveled by the bus to the city called "Dover" to satisfy our boyish curiosity about the English and the ways of their World. There we went to a merchant called Sears & Roebuck to see their collection of whetstones, as my family's saw had grown quite dull. There I was first introduced to the television and Patriot Foot Ball. The color and noise was simultaneously glorious and sinful! How that bawdy diversion inflamed the humours!

After my return to Hempfield, I could not chase the thoughts of Foot Ball from the corners of my consciousness lo these many years. I tell my dear Rebecca that the newspaper is a necessary worldly intrusion since it holds the schedule for the Farmers' Markets where we trade our bread for assorted sundries-- and verily this is so. But, when alone I pore over the newspaper for news of my beloved Patriots. Were that my team of oxen were as mighty as those known as Koppen and Light.

O, Brother Belichick! How your weatherbeaten visage reminds me that of my dear departed Mother. They say you are dishonest, but I would never shun thee. I eagerly await news of the outcome of this Super Bowl. I predict a Patriot victory and a bumper crop of squash.

KSK Celebrity Super Bowl Pick: Bill Murray

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are super fucking excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in the Pink Taco! Up next, comedy legend and now serious actor Bill Murray!

Bill Murray: I guess…

(sighs)

(stares out window)

(looks up ruefully)

(sighs)

(looks at shoes)

(gives hangdog look)

(taps foot)

(sighs)

(gives rueful look)

(slumps shoulders)

(stares at watch)

(gives half snicker)

(sighs)

(exhales deeply)

(stares vacantly)

(sighs)

(sighs again)

Patriots… by… 10.

(falls asleep with eyes open)


Richard Roeper: Oh, my God. I LOVED this pick. This may be Bill Murray’s most masterful pick yet. It’s so understated. So minimalistic. So many actors try and communicate with words, or with non-verbal cues, or with movement of the facial muscles. But Bill communicates so much simply doing nothing at all, you know? Nothing is telegraphed. I could project any emotion onto him I please. He could be indifferent, or uncaring, or apathetic, or blasé, or bored, or disinterested, or detached, or listless. Just such a rich character.

This kind of performance is just so rare today. Too many people now try and "act" or "move". I also liked the fact that the pick had no story structure of any kind. No dramatic momentum at all. We’re always demanding things like “a plot” or “cohesion” or “conflict resolution”. But it’s nice to finally see someone not cave to such mainstream sensibilities. It’s a stunning, stunning piece of work. Oscar caliber, absolutely.

Idle Sands: Cactus vs. Tumbleweed. Bye Week Desert Showdown. WHO YA GOT?

It's the first weekend since the summer that's sans football but that doesn't mean we don't have some vicious rivalry that we can occupy ourselves with until the media circus commences next week. All this southwestern indolence is just the thing to make us forget about the mesmeric excitement of the game. Why, I don't miss it at all...I...just... OHGODINEEDFOOTBALLHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEWHOYAGOT?

Contestants

Saguaro__________Tumbleweed

Football applications

Pylon?_______Fuck. I don't know. Just give me football.


Kinda like the Super Bowl because

Prickly, like Tom Coughlin__Contains sticks, dirt, animal feces, like Logan Mankins' beard

Evocative of

Uh, not football________Soccer, in its ability to bore

Provides

Water______Also water. Wait, no. Just sticks.

Can Tom Brady fuck it?

Sure, why not?______Moves too fast for his boot

Can pass for

[Sigh] I don't know_____BRING ME A WHOPPER FOOTBALL

Finishing move

Sitting there______Best guess: tumbling

BREAKING: Indy's New Dome Already F--ked Up

I have a friend in Indianapolis, and we were discussing the oddities of Tony Dungy's reluctant return to coach the Colts in 2008. I think "reluctant" is a fair characterization after Bob Irsay installed a slew of unique perks into Dungy's deal, in terms of time away from the team. As incentive to return, Dungy was granted permission to spend four months in Tampa during the offseason, plus Friday nights during the season to watch his son play high school ball. You know, the one that didn't kill himself.

My friend, who we'll call "Jamie," she and I agreed to as much when she brought the following to my attention (emphasis mine):

I can only imagine [Dungy] wanted to walk - quickly. But we have a new stadium to fill around these parts, and I can't imagine they were going to let him go prior to its opening season. I do expect him to be gone immediately following. Assuming the thing is completed by the time the season starts. They are WAY behind. I was talking to our former city attorney (our mayor was ousted, so he goes too) on Monday, and he said the roof [is] set wrong. Small detail of a design flaw, so the roof physically will not open or close. Along with a laundry list of other problems, I'd be willing to bet not a single preseason game is played there. Who says we don't know what we're doing around here?

To be fair, Jamie can't bet for shit, but that doesn't ncessarily discount her inside information. Besides, it's only 1986 in Indianapolis right now, so they still have 22 years to finish everything on time.

Questions They Didn’t Ask On “The Moment Of Truth”

Last night, former XFL player Tinker “Ty” Keck, who was a bitching returner back in his Bearcat days, was the first ever contestant on FOX’s new game show “The Moment of Truth”. I’ve only watched one episode of this show, but I think it’s reasonable to come to this conclusion.

THIS COULD BE THE GREATEST SHOW IN THE HISTORY OF EVERYTHING EVER.

I always wanted a show where contestants were forced to empty out their ids and mentally traumatize their loved ones for cash, and here it is. At one point, they even brought out Rodney Peete (who appeared to have eaten Byron Leftwich) to ask Keck if he ever checked out another guy’s cock while in the shower. Well, of course he fucking did! You got thirty naked guys in the shower. You’re gonna see dong. And if some guy is hung like a goddamn mastadon, you’re gonna notice it. They also asked Keck very personal questions such as:

-Have you ever done anything to cause Catia (Keck’s wife) not to trust you?

-Have you delayed having children because you are unsure Catia will be your lifelong partner?

-If Catia grew a belly, would you encourage her to get liposuction?

Each exchange afterwards went something like this.

Host: Have you ever flirted with another woman over email?

(cut to Keck)

(cut to wife)

(cut to Keck's friend)

(cut to Keck)

(cut to wife's friend)

(cut to Keck's tapping feet)

(cut to Keck)

(cut to wife)

(cut to Keck)

(cut to wife)

Keck: No.

Woman's Voice: That answer is...

(cut to wife)

(cut to wife's friend)

(cut to Keck)

(cut to wife)

(cut to stock footage of the stopwatch from 60 Minutes)

(cut to Keck)

Woman's Voice: TRUE!

I wasn’t sure whether to be riveted or bored out of my fucking mind. Hurry the fuck up with it, FOX. Keck’s wikipedia page was altered after the show to include these tidbits, which have since been erased:

Ty Keck looked very nervous on the television show. Im pretty sure his wife no longer trusts him. He should get his teeth fixed and work on his dammaged relationship with his wife."

It has been said that after appearing on the show, Ty is close to a divorce with his wife and is still trying to work out the problems that arose from his candidness. He also admitted to looking at other men's genitalia while in a locker room.

Eh, probably for the best. Anyway, Keck didn’t get terribly far in his quest for $500,000 worth of humiliation. He flunked the 11th question out of 21. BUT, we here at KSK have unearthed the remaining nine questions that were NOT asked of Keck, along with the host’s setup for each question. Keep in mind, the questions get more personal and revealing as we get closer to the end. Here now, is the remainder of the show transcript.

Host: So you think you’re a good husband, Ty? Pretty sure about that? Are you REALLY sure?

QUESTION 12: Have you ever wished you could pull out of Catia and ejaculate on her chest while imagining she was Nina Hartley? Then stick a thumb in her eye?

Host: That was a pretty personal one. I got this next question here. You may find it tougher. You may find it easier. Ready? Here we go. Do you think you’re a good man, Ty? Think so, eh?

QUESTION 13: Have you ever masturbated on multiple occasions to one of Catia’s friends or relatives? Was it her mom? Because she totally looks like she could be Catia’s sister. Amazing ass.

Host: Hoo! That was also a pretty tough one, Ty. Ready for the next one? You went to college, right? Bearcat? Good student? Let’s bring out a 17-year-old Bearcat coed. Tina?

QUESTION 14, ASKED BY A 17-YEAR-OLD BEARCAT FRESHMAN IN A TIGHT TIGHT SKIRT: If Catia never knew, would you bend me over a desk and stick a cucumber in me?

Host: Tough one. VERY tough one. But you’re one step closer, Ty. Let’s move on. Feeling confident? Nothing to hide? Here we go.

QUESTION 15: Could this question be more vague?

Host: Little bit of a curveball there, Ty. Let’s talk about your family now. Love your mother? Are you sure? Really?

QUESTION 16: Have you ever wished your mother would fall off a cliff so that you could collect her inheritance, then divorce Catia and flee to Alaska and assume a new life under the alias Franklin Knox?

Host: You look a little sweaty, Ty. You okay? Remember: you can bow out at any time. You ready to keep going? Okay. Are you a liberal guy? Are you sure? Let’s bring out a black man.

QUESTION 17, ASKED BY A BLACK MAN: Have you ever thought the word nigger to yourself? Have you ever considered thinking it, or begun the process of visualizing it in your head?

Host: Another difficult one. But you’re doing great, Ty. You’ve been honest, and that’s all we ask. Let’s go to the next question. Shirelle?

QUESTION 18, ASKED BY A 37-YEAR-OLD HOOKER: Did you slip a finger in my asshole without paying the extra $50 three years ago?

Host: Here comes another…

QUESTION 19: Have you ever masturbated, then taken a shit and then, without washing your hands, eaten a hamburger?

Host: Very tricky, that one. But we’re only two questions away now. How much confidence do you have in your marriage, Ty? How much faith do you have in your wife? You sound pretty sure.

QUESTION 20: Have you ever wandered the streets of Hollywood, looking for fatties to imprison, starve, and then molest?

Host: Another very hard question. But I think we all admire you for your honesty, Ty. This is the final question now. For $500,000. It’s our toughest one yet. Are you ready? Are you a law-abiding citizen, Ty? REALLY? Certain of that?

QUESTION 21: If you didn't hide the bodies underwater, did you bury them under your house?

Be glad you flunked that 11th question, Ty.

Punter's Atonement

Atonement is now in its first run in theatres, at least for another week, depending on how many women can drag their husbands/boyfriends/casual acquaintances/UPS men to go see it. Such was my fate last night, as I dutifully went to see the film against my own will. As the credits rolled and the theater emptied, I casually frisked myself to make sure my genetalia did not perish in light of my betrayal to my gender.

The thing is, the premise of the movie isn't terrible. The script just needs to be massaged a bit so that it's more presentable to a broader audience. If only there was some asshole with a little free time that could re-write the film in a way that the finished product would actually enhance one's manhood, rather than have one question it. Well, rejoice, dear reader, because I am that asshole.

Without further ado, I present my adaptation of Atonement.

ACT I

England, 1935. Big-assed house. Nobody's fucking, because it's not proper and shit, so everybody has blue balls. This is also why everyone smokes. Anyway, some guy with a moustache is coming to the house for a black tie dinner. And so this little tale begins with 13-year-old Briony, a closet lesbian singer-songwriter who can't find her own clitoris, putting the finishing touches on her first play.

Scene 1: Int. Big-Assed House, Briony's Room

BRIONY: There. It's all there. Jolly good.

[touches self awkwardly, binds the play then runs downstairs to tell MUM]

BRIONY: Mummy? Mummy? I finished it, Mummy! I finished it! My first play!

MUM: Oh, such whimsy! Let me read it. [Reads it] It's stupendous!

BRIONY: I'm going to dedicate it to Joan of Arc, the inspiration for Xena: Warrior Princess! Then I'm going to keep searching for my clitoris using the mirrors in the ball room!

MUM: You will be performing the play this evening, yes?

BRIONY: We can't! The WGA will picket us for sure!

MUM: Oh, you're right. I forgot. This goddamn strike is killing me.

BRIONY: No shit. Even Family Guy's a repeat this week.


Scene 2: Int. Servants' Quarters

ROBBIE: Mum, where's my good shirt? I've been invited to the dinner tonight! Can you believe it?

ROBBIE'S MUM: What a relief that you're not black! This would never happen in America!


Scene 3: Int. Briony's Room:

[Briony is drawn to the window by a bee trying to get out. Since Briony is a flaming dyke singer-songwriter and therefore cares about the environment, she opens the window and lets the bee escape. Then she sees ROBBIE and CECILIA at the fountain. CECILIA takes off almost all of her clothes, jumps in the fountain, jumps out, gets dressed and leaves in a huff. BRIONY would have flicked her bean to a pulp while all this was going on, but she still doesn't know where that is, so she just straddled a rolled-up issue of The Saturday Evening Post and acted like she was riding a horse. And...scene]

Scene 4: Int. ROBBIE'S Room

[ROBBIE is smoking a cigarette (because he has blue balls and the technology and masculine social mores of the day are prohibiting him from engaging in self-mutilation) and typing up an apologetic letter for CECILIA, whom he would care to bang like a tennis ball off a garage door]

ROBBIE: [speaking as he types] Dear...Cecilia...please...forgive me...no, no (pulls paper out and crumples it up, replaces paper, starts over)

Dear...Cecilia...you're breaking...my heart...you're shaking...my confidence...baby...no, no, no (pulls paper out and crumples it up, replaces paper, starts over)

Dear...Cecilia...Old Mother Hubbard...went to her cupboard...to get her poor dog...a bone...Then...she bent over...Rover took over...and she...got a bone...of her own. (pulls paper out, gleefully folds it up and stuffs it in an envelope)

Scene 5: Ext. Dirt Driveway To The Big-Assed House

[ROBBIE is walking up the driveway in a tux and sees BRIONY on her acoustic guitar, strumming and singing "Come To My Window"]

ROBBIE: Briony! Briony!

BRIONY: [Runs to him] Yes?

ROBBIE: Give this to your sister. [Hands her the envelope]

BRIONY: I'm going to read it before I give it to her. [Runs off]

ROBBIE: Cunt!

Scene 6: Int. Foyer, Big-Assed House

[BRIONY runs into the foyer and opens the envelope. LOLA, BRIONY's redheaded cousin, comes to see what's all the bother]

LOLA: What's all the bother?

BRIONY: [Starts reading the letter, gasps] Haha, Rover took over. This guy is a sex maniac!

LOLA: A sex maniac?

BRIONY: Yes, Lola, a...[Licks lips]

CECILIA: [enters] Is that for me? Give me that, you little carpet-muncher! [Starts reading] Haha, Rover took over. Hey, wasn't this in an envelope?

Scene 7: Doorway of Big-Assed House (is that Int. or Ext? I don't know, and I guess it doesn't really matter since this isn't an actual screenplay. Otherwise, all kinds of shit would be capitalized and this whole fucker would be in Courier New, and I've already met my quota for that this week. Shit, we're getting off-topic. Okay, so Robbie's finally at the house...)

[ROBBIE rings the doorbell, CECILIA answers the door]

ROBBIE: Oh, hello. Did you like my limerick?

CECILIA: Uhh, limericks use an AABBA rhyme scheme, you fucking simpleton.

ROBBIE: [confused] What?

CECILIA: Limericks use an AABBA rhyme scheme. The poem in your letter used an AABCCB rhyme scheme. And it wasn't even yourpoem. It's Andrew Dice Clay, and it's like 20 years old.

ROBBIE: Oh. How embarrassing. Let me furrow my brow in embarrassment.

CECILIA: Anyway, I have many leather-bound books. Come see.

ROBBIE: This place smells of rich mahogany. [follows her to the library]

CECILIA: See all these books? Fuck me on the books! [He does, until Briony sneaks in and totally cockblocks ROBBIE]

BRIONY: [crying] This is going in my mood journal! [runs out]

Scene 8: Int. Dining Room Table

[ROBBIE walks in]

MUM: Robbie, please meet Paul Marshall. He plays midfield for Manchester United. And he has a mustache!

PAUL: [says hi in British]

ROBBIE: Hello. You look kinda gay.

PAUL: Good show, chap, jolly good show! Say there, chap. Could you help me find the twins?

ROBBIE: See? I knew you were gay!

MUM: Lola's twin brothers are missing! Let's hurry up and look for them!

Scene 9: Ext. Outside, where it's dark and shit

PAUL: So...Lola...

LOLA: Yes, Paul?

PAUL: Does the carpet match the drapes? [Starts banging her in the woods, all the while they do it doggystyle, until...]

BRIONY: Lola? [PAUL runs off. LOLA, upset from being cockblocked, cries] Lola? Lola, what did you do with your Birkenstocks?

Scene 10: Int. Living Room

[LOLA is carried into the room and set on a couch]

INSPECTOR POIROT: Who could hov done zuch a fine job of hollowing out zis sweet leettle beetch?

MUM: Wilt Chamberlin?

BRIONY: Robbie did it. I saw him do it. With my own eyes.

POIROT: Aha! Zis Rub-bie will be going to jail! Aw-haw-haw!

[ROBBIE shows up with the missing twins and POIROT and THE AUTHORITIES haul his ass off. BRIONY watches the whole thing go down while touching herself, until...]

BRIONY: Heyyyyyyyy...who is this little guyyyyy?

TO BE CONTINUED...