Now that it’s the NFL off-season, we’ve been dabbling in a little bit of this and that while cooling our heels and enjoying a more relaxed posting schedule. However, in the wake of several reader emails saying, “You guys should write about X!” — where variable X is anything from Phil Mickelson’s pectoral flab to a link to some NBA story or blog post, I thought I’d lay down some ground rules and reminders for how we go about keeping our NFL rudder straight in this sea of stories about other sports.

Remember: this blog is committed to two things: the NFL and dick jokes. Generally speaking, we’re not looking to expand our coverage.

I can already hear the naysaying. “But you go off-topic all the time! Unsilent Majority even did a college basketball post!” Yeah, and if we had any kind of connection besides email, he would have gotten his ass kicked for it. That’s why you can now catch UM talking college hoops at The Big Lead.

“What about the mock drafts? Black people you want as your friends? Cities you want destroyed?” Uh, yeah: mock drafts. Just like Mel Kiper Jr does relentlessly for six months a year. It’s totally NFL-related.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: We make the rules. We make the agenda. We appreciate legitimate tips like photos of Chris Simms rolling blunts and Kyle Orton pretending to give fellatio, but we don’t want your suggestions. We’re the Gay Mafia for a reason, and if we want to post the nine and a half minute director’s cut of Justin Timberlake’s “What Goes Around… Comes Around,” then we’ll post the nine and a half minute director’s cut of Justin Timberlake’s “What Goes Around… Comes Around.”

And we don’t need to justify it.

Goddam. If you told me in the year 2000 that I could someday masturbate to a Justin Timberlake video, I would have punched you in the throat.

Today we’re thrilled to welcome back our exclusive Combine scout, the re-animated River Phoenix

This blogging thing is out of control man (seriously though, what the fuck did you guys do to Wil Wheaton? I told him Star Trek was a bad idea). I just told some guy what I was doing here and he told me that my old friend Flea was blogging for the NBA. Apparently everybody that was there when I died went mainstream. Bastards…

The only experience less thrilling than watching defensive backs running 40’s was playing a gay pseudo-Falstaff opposite Keanu Reeves. Why isn’t he dead yet?… The two safeties everybody clamored to see were Laron Landry and Reggie Nelson. Landry ran a 4.32 to Nelson’s 4.53 (Deion thinks the dreads were worth .1, and you people say he went clean). Nelson gained hasty revenge when he beat Landry unconscious with a pylon–good to see him get his swagger back… Former Terp Josh Wilson led his group with a 4.35. Rich Eisen just said, “that’s one fast turtle!” HAHAHAHA! Please put me back in the ground now…

These guys sure make funny noises when they run. I think Brandon Meriweather just ejaculated at the finish line–that’s gotta slow you down a step or two… Damien Hughes ran a 4.7-something 40 and his vertical test made him look like a white guy. A little bit of advice young man, whenever I had a bad audition I wasn’t afraid to suck the occasional cock. I saw that look in Vinny Cerrato’s freaky eyes…

Sabby Piscetelli reminds me of a young Marky Mark (now I know he’s dead, right?)… Aaron Ross was trained for the 40 by his world record holding girlfriend. He just ran a 4.45 before the testicles fell out of his shorts… If I had lived I’m convinced I could have become Governor of California by now… I fucked Helen Mirren on the set of Mosquito Coast. Just sayin’…

Thanks River! Check back later for a combine wrap-up from our esteemed scout..

I’m resigned to the fact that Brad Childress, who is to football coaching what Matchbox 20 is to rock and roll, will be coaching the Vikings in the 2007 season. Given that the Vikings will be quarterbacked by either A) Brooks Bollinger, B) Tarvaris Jackson, C) Jeff Garcia, or D) A crude robot Childress has created to resemble himself, complete with Frank Oz mustache, I’m betting they won’t be very good. In fact, they may be excruciatingly bad. And nothing is worse for a fan than being unable to regenerate excitement even during an offseason. Hope springing eternal, my ass.

But there is a faint glimpse of hope for myself and any other NFL fan whose team is destined to suck in the coming year (Hello, Cleveland!). I have found the man destined to become the next great coach in NFL history. His name is Bear Grylls, and he’s the host of Man vs. Wild on Discovery Channel.

Holy fuck, this man is a badass. Last Friday night, I took in a marathon of Man vs. Wild. Over the course of two hours, I saw Bear:

-Get dropped into the Moab desert
-Jump into canyons of that same desert
-Piss on his headdress to keep cool
-Eat a raw raven’s egg, WITH the shell (Bear says it has vital calcium. And if you think Bear is wrong, then you can fuck the fuck off.)
-Extricate fresh water from a mud pit
-Climb out of a canyon by placing one foot on either wall and hoisting himself up with his arms
-Get dropped into an Alaskan forest. Alaska, in case you did not know, is very large.
-Climb DOWN a vertical Arctic waterfall wearing only ski boot linings on his feet
-Quickly construct a shelter out of stick and fronds that was arguably stronger than any Montgomery County municipal building
-Rock a British accent and not sound gay

And he didn’t cry once. Good Lord, what a man. Grylls is a former British Special Forces agent. I bet he’s killed lots of people and is too dignified to even mention it. I bet he’s banged women while fighting off rhinos. I would totally do that if I were him. I bet he has a bearskin rug in front of his fireplace and tells chicks, “See that rug. I made it. I replace it with a fresh one every week. Let’s shag.” I bet he could kick Ufford’s ass. I’m putting a poster of him in my bedroom. Mrs. Drew can cram it if she doesn’t like it. I have two spouses now.

It takes a lot to name your occupation as “adventurer” and not come off as a complete douchebag. But this man pulls it off beautifully. Now, of course, Grylls knows nothing about American football. But I don’t really care about that. If the Vikings hired him, I could just stare at him on the sidelines all game and imagine all the cool shit he did. And that’s really all I need along with the scotch. And if a QB were to break a finger, I bet he could snap it back in place and then stitch the wound with a loose jersey thread. I’d pay to see that.

Plus, his name is Bear. Coaches named Bear are already 1-for-1 in the goodness department. And did Bear Bryant ever become the youngest Briton to climb Everest? Fuck and no. Dead old bastard.

Bear Grylls is such a badass, he doesn’t even need vowels in his last name. If the Vikings hired him, he could probably turn the Metrodome into some sort of elaborate kill zone, equipped with booby traps all over the field to fuck the other team up. Again, I’d pay to see that.

So let’s make that happen. Fuck Obama in ‘08. I want some bear meat.

Just shut up about students storming the court already, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People.

We get it, you don’t like it when fans storm the court or field after what you would not consider a “big win.” I heard one of you on the radio today refer to it as “disgusting,” which is a shameful overstatement, but I’ll get back to that. You guys pull shit like this all the time whenever you see fans doing something you don’t like, just like when people are booing your favorite athletes, like your favorite White Person, Derek Jeter:

Derek Jeter’s getting booed! Nobody should be booing my Derek! He’s earned the right to play at a mediocre level without reprisal from the populace! Whaaaaaaah!

You don’t fucking get it, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People. We’ll boo whomever the fuck we want. And we don’t require a blessing from the national media to do so. It’s not like you assholes are paying to get into these games.

Same rules apply with storming the field or court. It’s not like students are storming the court after they lose. When your team wins an important conference game at home, you might as well get out there, because who knows when you’ll win another one. If the practice allows a few on-campus couches to live another hour or so, how is that a bad thing?

Storming the court is special, sure, but its scope isn’t limited to the world of sports. It’s part of the college experience. Remember when you went to college, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People?

So, Old, White (and occasionally Jewish) People, maybe your time would be better spent by going back to traditional “sports talk,” that is, your cryptic whining about how much you hate it that there are 25-year-old black kids out there making more money than you. That’s where you Old, White People seem to excel. Dipshits.

It’s combine time, so we here at KSK asked a high-ranking scout to analyze the prospect’s workouts.

There’s nothing quite like Indianapolis in February. It almost makes me wish I’d never been re-animated… Even though a lot of prospects think they’re too good to participate in the workouts (they aren’t) there’s still a lot to be seen. For instance, Joe Thomas proved that he can in fact run 40 yards quite effectively for an offensive tackle… JaMarcus Russel’s a fatty fatty boombolatty… Some receiver Yamon Figurs ran a 4.3 40. Even though he only has three fingers he’s now expected to go to the Raiders in the second round. At least he can still order a glass of scotch at the Viper Room.

Calvin Johnson is 6′5″ 239 with a 4.35 40. He also pisses excellence while shitting pieces of the True Cross. Matt Millen and Al Davis had such an intense reaction they had to be escorted out by mental health professionals for further examination and treatment… Troy Smith says he’s not working out because he just came off the banquet circuit which is known to cause shortness and weakening of the throwing arm. Hey, has anybody seen Chris Penn?

Brady Quinn’s trainer told him to be a bear before beginning the bench press exercise. Quinn asked if he could still be a bottom. 24 reps, that’s 1 for every guy that’s going before him in the first round. Even I didn’t spend this much time mugging for the cameras (and I was smoldering)… Jarvis Moss just sacked Troy Smith again… Isn’t there any god damn coke in this fucking city? If I don’t get a bump I’m gonna tear out Kiper’s throat with my teeth…

Syndric Steptoe might be short (5′8 5/8″)–but he’s also slow (4.52)! To be fair he was probably just caught up in that banquet circuit, those award shows are really banging down his door… Robert Meechum is really good, he just beat the record for the gauntlet drill (previously held by Questor the Elf)… Florida State’s Chris Davis just fell over his feet on both attempts at the short shuttle drill. After proclaiming himself as Christ Almighty he underwent treatment for Lyme Disease… I need a drink.

Thanks River! We’ll have more from our esteemed scout coming soon.

The Gay Super Bowl was Sunday night. And since we’re obligated to cover anything obliquely related to the Super Bowl, here are our thoughts from the four hours of Oscar coverage.

- Check out the tits on Jessica Biel.

- Is it wrong that I think Helen Mirren is hot?

- Man, I love a good movie montage during the Oscars. Thank God all those people died.

- Reese Witherspoon looks good enough to eat.

- Scorsese finally won, as did The Departed. Totally deserved awards, if you ask me. But then, I’m white. As any sensible commenter can tell you: white people are pussies and that movie is bullshit.

Want more coverage? Go to E!, ya freakin’ homo.

Watch your back, Broncos! If he’s dying, he’s planning on taking as many of you with him as possible.

Tails never fails, motherfucker.

So Cleveland “won” the coin toss today. Actually, the Bucs lost it. The Bucs GM called heads. What the fuck is heads? And why did HE get to call the fucking coin? Shouldn’t there be some arbitrary method to figure out who gets to call the coin?

Anyway, we’re done for another week. We may have a surprise for you coming up after the weekend, but we won’t jinx it. Your cheerleader today is Christy, seen here playing quarterback. I hear she’s also a great tight end.

See you next week.

Man, why are all these quarterbacks so gay? I don’t understand how football can pretend it’s the manliest of sports with the most homophobic locker rooms when every team is led by a flaming homosexual.

Peyton Manning. Queer. Yeah, he’s married, but how many kids does he have? Zero, because he only has sex with dudes. Check this out: he once appeared onstage to sing with Kenny Chesney. And we all know singing is gay.

Don’t get me started on Jeff Garcia. This guy is so gay he had to get engaged to the 2004 Playmate of the Year, Carmella DeCesare. What a crock. Why would a coveted nude pinup deign to marry a wealthy professional athlete? It just doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows that a good beard is proportional in fame and hotness to the gay man she moonlights for. It’s why Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are such a joke, and why Tom Brady has most of America fooled.

Besides, Terrell Owens insinuated he was gay. If we can’t trust T.O., who can we trust?

Speaking of Tom Brady…

Just look at him. Oh, sure, he’s “dating” Gisele. Wink, wink. Are we really supposed to believe that he impregnated Bridget Moynahan? Get real. She’s old and he’s gay. How do I know? Well, for starters, he’s good-looking and dresses well. That’s fucking queer. Plus he was photographed holding a goat. And anyone photographed with a farm animal automatically likes bestiality, which is the same thing as being gay.

The evidence is just overwhelming. I can’t believe more people don’t realize it.

Donovan McNabb. Disliked by Rush Limbaugh; in commercials with his mother. Gay.

Chris Simms. Too easy. Next.

Tony Romo. Dimpled, attractive, youthful face = obviously gay. His public announcements of crushes on blonde pop starlets Jessica Simpson and Carrie Underwood were painfully contrived. Why? Because his favorite blond is Chris Simms. Did I just make that up? Probably.

Trent Green, Mark Brunell and Kurt Warner are all devoutly Christian, and we all know devoutly Christian = closet case. Well, except for Warner. There’s nothing closeted about marrying a man.

Matt Leinart actually might not be gay, but now that he’s slept with Paris Hilton, he’s at least got the gay diseases.

People seem to think Rex Grossman has a way with the ladies, and they give him a lot of credit for being the Sex Cannon. More like the Butt Sex Cannon. Have you seen his eyebrows? That shit gets waxed twice a week, and tweezed daily. He’s a three-dollar bill, my friends. A three-dollar bill.

Alex Smith. Women find him atractive. Thus, he is gay. (See also: David Carr, Philip Rivers)

My favorite gay quarterback is Matt Hasselbeck. He did a pretty good job of pretending he was straight for a long time, having a wife who gave birth a couple times to babies that he allegedly donated his sperm to. But then he took this picture:

And it is obvious, conclusive evidence that Matt Hasselbeck likes sex with men. It was probably his idea for him and Trent Dilfer (also gay) to take their shirts off. Also: black and white photography is gay.

J.P. Losman. Long hair. Loses a lot. Gay and gay.

Eli Manning was clearly sexually abused by his older brother. Hence his closeted self-loathing is taken out on the football field (where he is timid and cowardly) and in karaoke bars (where he is fabulous).

Michael Vick. NOT gay. Also: not really a quarterback. QED.

Joey Harrington plays the piano. See also: Elton John; Liberace.

Brett Favre has a long-running secret affair with columnist Peter King; Chad Pennington feathers his hair; Vince Young is a top; Brad Johnson is a bottom; Aaron Brooks is a queen; Ben Roethlisberger is a bear; Marc Bulger likes hard cock so much, he changed his last name to Bulger; Jay Cutler’s mother cuts his hair [EDIT: see also Carson Palmer]; Byron Leftwich pretends to be injured just so his big, strong teammates will carry him downfield; Daunte Culpepper moved to Miami for the lifestyle opportunities in South Beach; Charlie Frye throws like a girl; Jake Delhomme is willing to try anything; Steve McNair actually uses Nair; and Drew Brees… hmm… I got nothin’ on him. I guess he’s the exception that proves the rule.

Gay, gay, gay, and gay. So there, John Amaechi. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. You know, figuratively.

*Not included: Jon Kitna. I think he’s some kind of asexual alien.

Ok, I know I’ve gone over this before, but I feel it’s something I need to stress.

You must get me a goddamn Oscar.

I’ve taking this to the legions of our nation’s football fans because you, if anyone, understand the notion of a meritocracy. As such, you know that those who reach the uppermost plateau of achievement are those who truly belong, not some media darling people assume deserve something by pedigree. Just look: a gritty, unassuming team like the Colts just won the Super Bowl, for the love of fuck.

See, what I’m driving at here, wise-ass son of a bitch, is that a grave injustice is being done every year I don’t get that award. I’m one of the four directors whose names you know, and that’s why I know I can count on you.

Also, what I like about you guys is that you don’t have high-flown notions of what a Best Picture film should be. There’s no Hollywood politicking. None of that shit. No campaigns, no last minutes surges or what the fuck. Admit it, my movie was one of three you saw last year. You saw The Departed, you saw the new Rocky movie and you saw Borat. You might have seen that high school football movie with the Rock and the other coloreds, I don’t know. Bear with me.

Yeah, okay, I know, Borat made you laugh and, yes, between guffaws, you though about the festering racism that lurks just beneath the patina of normalcy that is American life. It’s omnipresent, that stuff. It also had that nasty 69 scene (stolen from me!) and a few quotes you can repeat ad nauseum to your hungover friends working on the factory floor. DON’T TRY TO REMEMBER THEM!

The new Rocky movie wasn’t as horrendously bad as you might have feared, and that’s really all you can recall about it. If you recall, it was only the original Rocky that beat out Taxi Driver for an Oscar. DON’T TRY TO REMEMBER IT!

But then, my movie. A true paragon of cinematic achievement. A masterstroke of Hong Kong film remakery. Virtuosic, even. Tarantino, that little fuck, is impressed.

I mean, remember the head shots? There were at least 10 of them.

Patriot Act jokes? That’s fucking topical. Does that mean nothing to you? You had your head up your ass watching Bridge to Terabithia since 9/11, is that it?

That’s what I do. Make gory, nay, visceral films with snazzy jazz soundtracks. Always have.

Babel is a bunch of scarcely interlocking, depressing nonsense with some vaguely geopolitical undertones. It had nice young Japanese girl tits in it, but, overall, totally unfocused. Babel is like hippie ADD.

Little Miss Sunshine features a 10-year-old acting like a prostitute. I tried that with Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver. Let me tell ya, doesn’t win you any awards.

The Queen was some overwrought bullshit about the reaction to Princess Diana getting killed. Coulda used some negro junkies, I think. No. Wait. Maybe. Yes., okay - scratch that. But it would have been somewhat compelling, except she dies in a car accident. Where are all the head shots? Rogue paparazzo with PTSD from some war photography - I don’t know, work with me -whips out a Desert Eagle and splatters her royal head all over the street. Do you know what a .44 Magnum would do to a vagina movie? People would watch that.

And, finally, that squinty fucker Clint Eastwood is back trying to rip another statuette from my mythic grasp like he did two years ago with “Girlfight II: Now With Less Michelle Rodriguez.” Listen, if you want to watch a movie that humanizes people trying to kill American troops, I think you’re sick. At least my movie has Americans shooting up fellow Americans. In the head.

Ok, we done here? Great, now I have to plead with the NASCAR people. Dumb fucking mental midgets are probably still hoping Brokeback doesn’t win this year either.