Sometimes I’m actually not unintelligent. I actively planned my JetBlue flight home to the Pacific Northwest on a Monday night so that the MNF telecast would eat up 3+ hours of the transcontinental flight. Then some reading, a little Conan and Colbert, and I’m home. It’s a shame that this kind of foresight only happens once every three years or so.

• My iPod and headphones have mysteriously disappeared. I have to use the free airline headphones. They’re embarrassing-looking, poorly constructed, and largely worthless… kind of like the Detroit Lions.

• Jack Del Rio looks okay in a suit. Certainly better than Tom Coughlin on the opposite sideline. But Mike Nolan he is not.

• Bob Whitfield, famous for loving the thick saddle of this site’s Patron Saint, starts at tackle. Oh please oh please oh please somebody make Suzy interview him.

• I’m reading What is the What, the new novel by Dave Eggers. It’s a harrowing and heartbreaking story of a Sudanese refugee who fled the country’s civil war, spent a decade in refugee camps, then came to America, where he got robbed and dealt with the murder of his girlfriend. It’s a nice bit of perspective that takes the edge off of listening to Joe Theismann. Because in all fairness, I’d rather listen to Joey T than walk naked through the jungle starving, running away from crocodiles, lions, and a ruthless Arab militia.

• On ESPN2, Dick Vitale is calling a Duke game. I would much rather be naked in the jungle, stricken with malaria, and torn limb from limb by lions than watch that.

• Aside from What is the What, I’ve packed Pale Fire and Life as a Loser to read while I’m at home. So it’s going to be Eggers, Nabokov, and Leitch. If Will doesn’t hold his own, we’re no longer friends.

• The Jags’ black-on-black unis look fucking sweet. Well, except for the Jaguar heads on each hip. That’s a little gay. But still, note to people starting new sports franchises: black is awesomer than teal.

• Suzy Kolber reports that the Jags’ receivers claim that the difference between Garrard and Leftwich has contributed to their rampant drops. Theismann: “That’s a crock of baloney, Suze.” Christ, Joe. She’s just the messenger. Fuck off for a while, huh?

• With the Giants backed up near their own goal line, Manning has a pass batted at the line that’s nearly intercepted. This is an imporant moment in the game, as we get our first shot of a fan rocking a mullet. Oh man, and it’s a beaut: full-bodied, with just the right amount of curl.

• Mike Tirico really is great as the lead announcer. Following a Manning interception, Theismann launches into a typically bitchy hissy fit about Plax Burress’s lack of effort and Eli’s bad throw. As Thees pauses to catch his breath, Tirico – acutely aware that Ronde Barber, an actual, you know, defensive back, is sitting in the booth – says, “What did you notice about the play, Ronde?” Wow: involving a booth guest in the game, instead of just talking about People’s Sexy issue. Fucking brilliant.

• Jeff Feagles: an NFL record 298 consecutive games. And in some of those, he’s even made contact with other players. Sometimes on purpose.

• Byron Leftwich has to go to Alabama for surgery on his ankle. Translation: Jacksonville doesn’t have adequate medical facilities for its professional football team. And Los Angeles can’t keep an NFL team. I love it.

• Halftime: Chris Berman’s tie is two parts TV test pattern, two parts vomit, and one part Irvin. With just a little dash of epilepsy.

• Eli Manning is having an embarrassing game. The details are simply too much for this bullet-point format. Suffice to say, though, he’s bad when he has time in the pocket, and under pressure he’s downright Aaron Brooks.

• Jay-Z enters the booth, and Joey T and Kornheiser fall silent. I guess they weren’t fans of The Blueprint.

• Suzy begins a 4th quarter report by saying, “Eli Manning is just killin’ himself on the sideline.” And for the briefest of moments, I think she might mean that literally. I could see Eli doing it Elliot Smith-style, stabbing himself in the heart. But not in public. Because that would take stones Eli doesn’t have.

And now I’m in Washington state. It’s gray, dreary, and soggy. But this coffee is fucking awesome. I’m pretty sure you have to buy it off the street to get it this strong.

When it’s all said and done we may look back on this past Sunday as the most pivotal day in the grueling epic commonly known as fantasy football.

On a side note, I think it’s about time we change the name of this game that we all love so much. When I hear “fantasy football” I think about Scarlett Johannson trying to tackle the Greased Up Deaf Guy…but I’m kind of weird like that.

Ufford isn’t the only KSKer with a wet soft spot for Scarlett

Regardless a number of measty stat lines could be found in this week’s box score, but who was most deserving? Lee Evans had a monstrous day that ruined my fantasy football team’s week, but he did it against the triple A Texan defense. Frank Gore rushed for over 200 yards but his end zone allergy really started flaring up. Sadly it manifests itself in the form of a condition known as “sloppy wet vagina hands”, the very same ailment that nearly ended Tiki Barber’s career before he was popular enough to get a television job.

This week I’m handing out the KSK Meast of the Week to Ocho Cinco, CJ 85, Mr. Chad Johnson. I am an unabashed fan of the greatest thing to happen to to Cinci since Tony Cottrell became DJ Hi Tek (not too much happens in that city). Chad finished the ritualistic rumphing with a meast dampening 190 yards and three touchdowns. Those 190 yards just happened to account for 69% of the Bengals’ aerial output, and yes, the entire purpose of this sentence was to see 69 in print.

With all that being said I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out the single meastiest play of the week. In fact, I’m going to be bold and declare this the official Measting of the Week. This is Robert Griffith, he will not be trifled with.

I haven’t seen a Lion get massacred like that since Mufasa…what? too soon?

If you have a new name for fantasy football please feel free to post it in the comment section…unless your suggestion is “huge waste of time for fucktards”…thanks a lot grandma.

NOTE: Like certain other people, I consulted carefully with my lawyer prior to writing this, so every word you are about to read is entirely theoretical, and therefore inadmissible in a court of law.

This whole thing didn’t happen about 12 years ago. I attended a rather snooty prep school in New England. And by “I”, I mean an undetermined, imaginary person.

There may or may not have been a traditional Secret Santa gift giveaway in my dorm. And this alleged giveaway could be construed in one’s imagination as being rather evil. See, the idea was to give an incredibly cruel and spiteful gift, as opposed to a nice one. Again, this isn’t the truth. But if it were, this is a reasonable idea of what it would sound like.

Now I may or may not have been the beneficiary of some mean-spirited gifts as an underclassman. One time a senior stole all the things in my room and them gave them back to me. So I (again hypothetically) was all too eager to take my spite out on a junior named Billy (not his real name, not even a real person) that I liked making fun of. So I may have intentionally picked Billy’s name out of the draw. But there’s no proof that was premeditated. That name in the hat could have been planted. By me.

Then, I may or may not have procured a Rubbermaid container from the local grocery store. Again, the details are fuzzy. This is strictly a dramatization inside my own head of how this thing played out, because I totally didn’t do it. I also didn’t take that Tupperware back to my dorm, carefully float it in the toilet, and then nail it dead center with a big brown poopy missile. That’s all pure speculation. You can’t prove that. It’s just hearsay. From me.

I also didn’t keep that container of poop under my bed for two whole days, not realizing that I easily could have pooped in the container hours before the giveaway. I may have used Glade in my room to mask the scent. But there’s no record of that. No Glade was found anywhere at the scene. To imply there was is racist and elitist.

Anyway, if I were to have shat in a box and given to someone, here’s how I would have finished the job. I would have wrapped the offending Tupperware in the nicest Christmas paper possible, then placed a lovely bow on top. Then I would have attached a note that said:

For Billy:

A piece of shit for a piece of shit.

Then I would have placed it in a pile next to all the other gifts, made sure Billy’s gift was opened last, then squealed with delight as Billy opened the shitbox while everyone in the room recoiled in horrified laughter.

Billy threw the box out of the dorm skylight, where it may or may not rest to this very day. I don’t know, because I wasn’t there. And I didn’t do it. I think Billy was involved in some kind of drug deal gone wrong, because I am 100% not guilty.

But, if you’d care to read my theories as to how I would have done it had I been the perpetrator, feel free to pick up If I Did Shit In Tupperware As A Secret Santa Gift Once, Here’s How It Happened by Big Daddy Drew at your local Barnes and Noble, or anywhere else fine Regan Books are sold.

UPDATE: FOX has cancelled airing the OJ interview and publishing the OJ book, citing bad taste. Airing in the place of the interview, presumably, will be a very special episode of “The Swan”.

Read more about the controversy in Rupert Murdoch’s new book, “If I Did Try And Profit Off The Gruesome Murder Of Two Innocent People By Giving A Pathetic Murderer Millions Of Dollars And Free Publicity, Here’s How It Happened”.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral
The church bell chimed, ’til it rang 29 times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

11/20. A day that will live in fantasy football infamy. Holy shitballs, what a fucking bloodbath. No one was spared. I think I injured myself just watching it. This follows a week where Clinton Portis, Byron Leftwich and likely Willis McGahee were all lost for the year. Let’s take you through yesterday’s carnival or horrors, starting with the most brutal one of all:

Donovan McNabb
Status: Torn ACL, Out For Year
This will be the third regular season that McNabb has failed to finish in his career. Making matters worse is the fact that the Eagles have a penchant for picking up backup QBs based upon their knowledge of the West Coast offense, and not based upon whether or not they blow. Hence, the 2006 Eagles are the new 2005 Eagles. Yay! Now you Eagle fans get to spend the rest of the season with the fabulous Jeff Garcia at the helm. Garcia has already suggested new fonts and paper stock sizes for the Eagles’ playbook. He’s also thinking a sort of creamy butter interior for the team’s indoor practice facility. That will soften the harshness of the Eagles’ future offensive performances.

Oh, and a note to one Andy Reid: Do you think that perhaps throwing the ball 9,000 times a game puts your QB at greater risk than is necessary? Here’s an ingenious idea for you, you stupid mustachioed fat tub of shit: RUN THE BALL.

Oh, and all of the Eagles’ skill position players have now been rendered useless. Thanks for playing.

Marques Colston
Status: Ankle Sprain, Time Out Unknown
Colston was having the best rookie season for a wideout since Randy Moss back in 1998 when he turned his ankle and was forced out of the Bengals-Saints contest yesterday. Consider this karmic payback to all you folks who picked up Colston and started him at TE because Yahoo! was too gutless to take the TE designation off of him. What’s the matter, Yahoo!? Can’t take a few death threats? Pussies.

One other quick note: There’s a link on the side of this page to the Fantasy Football Cafe. The forums at the Cafe are the best on the internet for getting instant injury info or spotting players who suddenly get lots of playing time. The people in these forums are completely out of their fucking minds. These are people who would happily fight you to death when discussing the fantasy potential of people like Quentin Griffin and Darius Watts. They take this shit very seriously. Here’s what one of them said when Colston went down:

Thanks for 0 points today,cole-slaw!

Yeah, Colston! You were a waiver wire pickup in the midst of a legendary season, helped fantasy owners win tons of games, and then you had to go sprain your ankle. Thanks a lot, dick!

Lamont Jordan
Status: Torn MCL, Out For Year
Consider this a mercy killing.

Kevin Jones
Status: Ankle Injury, Time Out Unknown
Jones was quietly having a great season. Unlike last year, when he loudly had a shitty one. He got plenty of carries, caught balls out of the backfield, and got goal line duty. But with the short week, he’s almost certainly out for the Miami game and perhaps beyond. Why so cruel, God?

Brett Favre
Status: Elbow Nerve Injury, Status For Monday Unknown
I think we all know how this will play out. Favre will play. Theismann will ejaculate praise juice all over him. And the Packers will lose. That Favre is so daggum tough! He’s a fighter! He’s the Chevy Silverado of QB’s! He doesn’t know when to quit! Seriously, he doesn’t.

Deshaun Foster
Status: Hyperextended Arm, Probable For Next Week
Foster stayed healthy enough this year to make you think hey, maybe he won’t get injured this time! And then, of course, he got injured. Foster’s injury isn’t considered serious, but backup DeAngelo Williams played a sterling game in his absence. Which means Foster could lose his job anyway. Fred Taylor says you’re a pussy, Deshaun.

And let’s not forget Shaun Alexander, who caused more pain to fantasy owners by playing than by not playing. With LaDainian Tomlinson shattering records and Larry Johnson scoring consistently, you’ll excuse Alexander owners if they crack each other’s heads open and feast on the goo inside.

Not a fun week. From our family to yours, the deepest condolences.

SHIT, I forgot about Reuben Droughns, who was a late scratch with a toe injury. Christ, even when it’s bad news, the Brownsa get ignored.

That’s three hours I’m never getting back.

This is usually the spot for our cheerleader fapfest at KSK, but we feel that we’ve provided enough of that content for this week. Instead, we turn our attention to those sinister seven fuckwit teams that choose to keep their sidelines unadorned by between-play eye candy: the Bears, Packers, Lions, Jets, Giants, Steelers and Browns.

The later two renew their increasingly tepid rivalry this weekend. The Browns players were making some noise this week about avenging their 41-0 defeat to the Steelers in Cleveland last December, and yaaaawwwwnnnn. The battle for the cellar of the AFC North isn’t really the stakes on which this may finally be settled, no?

Most Steelers fans will tell you that cheerleaders are too “Hollywood” and that the team is too gritty for that shit. On this point I must strenuously disagree with the rest of the armed militia of the Steeler Rogue Nation. Gritty or not, we all know it’s just because the Rooneys are too damn cheap to hold auditions and buy uniforms. And if we got any, they’d only be pitiful castoffs from other teams. Such is The Way.

I will say, if you’re decidedly against cheerleaders, quit ogling them on the road, like this unfortunate Chargers cheerleader, who is trying to awkwardly simper her way out of an enclosing pack of Steelers fans. Sorry, lady, they both smell and are attracted to fear.

As for the Browns, well, I’m not sure I’d be interested in seeing any unit of scantily clad Cleveland women they could cobble together. However, if any brood should issue forth from the unholy alliance pictured below, the Dawg Pound could strap its many chins into a stolen wheelchair and have it crash into things for the crowd’s approval.

You’ve intercepted his heart.

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.