As many regulars of the site are well aware, when Patriots fans feel slighted, they are wont to unleash a flurry of statistics and shoddily reasoned arguments in the comments section to prove that they are, in fact, only 87 percent as racist as we claim they are.

Now it seems Pats fans are getting out in front of us by boasting about research that, at least this dippy Boston Herald writer says, proves Pats fans are “smarter, classier and healthier and own pricier homes than the riff-raff who root for the New York Giants.”

Let us now cast a discerning eye on the results:

Some 62 percent of Pats fans living in the Boston area earned a bachelor’s or postgraduate degree or have some higher-education experience, compared to 59 percent of Giants fans.

Beyond failing to state whether that three percent difference falls within the margin of error, there seems to be some flawed methodology here. Fans in the Boston area? Aren’t they the NEW ENGLAND Patriots? Seems as though you’re culling from a pretty select sample of one fanbase and not the other.

Likewise, 72 percent of Pats fans live in homes worth north of $200,000, compared to 63 percent of Giants yahoos.

“Look how much aaah propahtee vaahyoos go aaahp once we chase aaat all tha daaaawkies!”

Pats fans consistently show better taste than their Gotham counterparts. We drink Amstel Light, not Bud Light. Giants fans slug back lots of whiskey.

This is something to be proud of? Drinking Amstel Light in lieu of whiskey? Not sure who the arbiters of taste are here, but Ufford’s rifle would like to have like to have a quick word with you.

We are likely to read connoisseur magazines like Wine Spectator. Gotham fans like to pig out on junk food like pretzels, chips and nuts. They’re also less likely to favor organic food than other New Yorkers.

Reading Wine Spectator is fine and dandy, I suppose. I enjoy me some vino every now and then (Read: drinking it now, will be drinking it then) but I don’t really bother to read up on it. If that’s your hobby, that’s cool. But bragging about reading Wine Spectator? Those are pretty rarefied heights of doucheiness with subtle notes of smoky asshattery. Also, I’m pretty sure every NFL fanbase is less likely to prefer organic food than the other residents of the surrounding area.

When Pats revelers aren’t watching football, they’re hitting the slopes skiing or going for a sail. They’re also more likely to belong to country clubs. When Giants fans aren’t booing Giants coach Tom Coughlin or punk quarterback Eli Manning in that New Jersey stadium they call home, they’re out practicing their tennis backhands in the backyard.

Belong to exclusionist country clubs, do you Pats fans? Shocker. And, to be fair, Giants fans practice their backhands on their wives in the backyard.

It’s also worth noting that the Patriots are an equal opportunity franchise, drawing more female fans than the competition. Nearly half of all Pats backers – about 43 percent – are women. In Giants country, just 31 percent of the fans are female.

The Patriots are actually done a disservice with this one. 100 percent of their fans have a vagina. That only 43 percent identify themselves as strictly female is a touch unclear.

There you go, Pats fans. Get your charts ready.

Thanks to miamidiesel for the tip.

[Theme to Naruto ringtone]

Eli: Hello?

Peyton: ‘Sup Dong Wong DeMarco.

Eli: What do you want, suckbutt? I’m trying to watch old episodes of Goof Troop.

Peyton: Heard the news? I’m coming to watch my lil’ brudda play in the big game. Need a quick pep talk? A cell phone plan? A credit card? Flood insurance? Tasteful decor for your living room?

Eli: What? I told you to stay away, Pey-Pey. You know how I play when you’re around.

Peyton: Can’t just let you tie the Manning Family Record for Super Bowl titles that easy. Gotta pay your dues. I had to wait a bit longer for mine.

Eli: You’re just gonna let Brady win? Is that it?

Peyton: That asshole already has more rings than I’ll ever get. What’s one more?

Eli: I’m gonna tell dad! He’ll set you straight, like that year he made you sleep under the sink when you put the milk back in the fridge with only half a sip left.

Peyton: Tell him all you want. He’ll be right next to me in a big Oreo costume. We’ll be walking up and down the aisles selling programs and beer. We move product, youngin’. That’s grown man business.

Then we’re gonna pass out masks of my face to Patriots fans at six bucks a pop. Ruin Romo had a good ring to it, so this’ll be Make Eli Cry. A whole stadium of Peyton faces staring you down. It’ll be like that scene in Being John Malkovich where everybody is Malkovich.

Eli: You know I don’t watch grown-up movies!

This isn’t fair! I want my ring like Peyton has! He won’t share his!MMMMOOOOOOMM!!!!

Welcome to a special Super Bowl Bye Week edition of Always Be Covering. Since we can’t bet on any games this week, we might as well take an early look at the all-important Super Bowl props.

Coin toss: Tails -105 vs. Heads

Fifty percent of the time, it works every time. This is quite possibly the best bet of the week.

Coin toss winner: New York -105 vs. New England -105

In the five Super Bowls won by New England and New York the eventual winner was the team that lost the coin toss. It’s science, people!

Team with longest kick return: New York -155 vs. New England +125

Is Domenik Hixon fast?
Yes.
Could his parents spell retard?
Only if you spot them the “retar-”
Does any of this matter?
Just the first part.

Team to score first: New York +160 vs. New England -200

Sure, why the fuck not. I’m going to go ahead and call it as a 32 yard field goal by Lawrence Tynes.

The bonus to the above bets is that you could potentially lock all of them up within the game’s first possession, leaving you with a large sum of money to bet on the remainder of the game. Plus it’s a way to bet on the Giants without actually betting on the Giants!

Super Bowl MVP: Asante Samuel 15:1

Brady is the obvious favorite, but his payout doesn’t really make it worth the investment. Moss and WelKAH! may tempt some at 4:1 and 5:1 respectively, but imagine what they’d have to do to wrest the award away from the Dreamboat. That’s why I’m going to the defensive side. Well, that and Elisha of course. Sure, the mealy-mouthed little brother has been pretty fucking impressive in recent weeks, but I think we all know that he’s going to crack under the pressure like a wayward Mormon in Vegas.

Australian Open Women’s Final: Ana Ivanovic vs. Maria Sharapova…

The Winner: Your Throbbing Erection!

Have a restful weekend, apparently there’s something big on the horizon. Now I’m going to go erase the image of our readership’s collective phallus with heavy doses of grain alcohol.

P.S. I think I just spoiled next week’s pick.

P.P.S. Buy a fucking t-shirt, Punter worked hard on ass kicking logo!

Sorry that we’ve been here for, shit, 18 months now, and we haven’t done as much as come up with a logo.

Sorry we keep coming up with awesome merchandise that some of you are spending the final remnants of your lunch money to order.

Sorry that we didn’t have anything in our online shop to blatantly express your KSK love…until now.

This is the original KSK tee. You might recognize the logo from Ape’s WYG post earlier today, and it reads KISSINGSUZYKOLBER.NET on the back. It takes 1-2 business days to ship, so you can still get it in your hands before you head to Glendale or that one guy’s house that you don’t like, but has a really sweet TV.

Click the shirt or go here to order this shirt.

UPDATE From 289: To help you share the love we are offering 14% off all orders over $18.00 from Jan 21-Feb 7. Use Coupon Code LOVE308 (In Canada CADLOVE308).

Thanks.

CHEERS to my new recliner, a purchase suggested by my orthopedist. Is it worth two months of horrid sciatica to hear a doctor mandate that you buy a La-Z-Boy? Fuck and yes.

JEERS to no games this week. We’ve gone over this ground already. But seriously, what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? Don’t even talk to me about fucking college basketball right now. I can’t even begin to look at that shit until March.

CHEERS to having a Wii in my office this afternoon.

JEERS to Guitar Hero III. The whole reason I don’t play guitar is because I lack coordination. Why have virtual guitaring if it’s just as fucking hard? Double JEERS for not giving me points for taking my cock out during gameplay. YOU. ARE. FAGS.

CHEERS to Leitch for his new book, on sale here. It’s certain to outsell the Gawker Guide To Conquering All Media, which, in an ironic twist, conquered no media of any sort.

JEERS to Heath Ledger’s death. Surely it’s no coincidence that, in his final role, he pretty much looks just like The Crow. And double JEERS to Mary-Kate Olsen for not picking up the goddamn phone. Bitch, you aren’t working. Quit staring at things like a cat and pick it up.

CHEERS to Hillary Clinton for her inevitable win in South Carolina tomorrow. Yes, just like the Democrats to choose a nominee 50% of the nation already can’t fucking stand. Nicely done, retards.

JEERS to me for bring up politics.

CHEERS to eggs. Oh, savory eggs. How I adore your yolky silkiness on a weekend morning. If you’re against abortion, should you eat eggs? I say no.

JEERS to me for bringing up politics again.

CHEERS to these cheerleader gals in bikinis on a Friday afternoon. Everyone in the water! Whee!!!!

JEERS to non-sequiturs.

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’.

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.

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.

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.

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.