Today we’re proud to re-introduce you to our own special version of the much ballyhooed mock-draft season. In the weeks leading up to the NFL draft you will be besieged by meaningless predictions as to how things will play out in April. Some will come from reputable experts who might actually provide a hint of useful information while most will come from biased pricks with bad haircuts. We here at KSK would never imagine forcing such needless analysis on our beloved readers, so instead we offer our own variety of the mock draft every Friday leading up to the big day.

The topic of this off-season’s first mock draft is as deep as it is star-laden. The key terms here aren’t Upside Potential or Length, instead we focus on attributes like Fuckability and…uh, Fuckability. So now without further ado, we present the KSK Mock Draft: Who Would You Do, the movie character edition!

The rules are simple, draft a character from a movie, once the movie has been picked it is off limits and once an actress has been picked all of her other roles are off limits. Additionally, the character or actress must have been over the age of 18 at the time the movie was released :(

No porn allowed, and remember, you’re sleeping with the character (think one night only) and not the actress.

We drafted in the traditional serpentine fashion with the draft order as follows… Maj, Ufford, Flubby, Punter, Drew, and Ape (Drew would have gone last but he cried like a little girl separated from her mommy.

1. (UM) Nancy Callahan – Sin City

I’ll get things started with a character played by the most beautiful woman alive. She’s an innocent dancer with a heart of gold in a cruel and unforgiving world, and I’d like nothing more than to bang the shit out of her.

2. (Flub) Lacey Underall – Caddyshack

That’s a quality pick right there, I was foolish to hope she’d last longer.

3. (Uff) Rollergirl – Boogie Nights

Ufford: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck it kills me not to take Scarlett.

The draft’s first shocker!

4. (MMP) Linda Barrett – Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Ufford calls the pick “savvy” and I all it “classic.” Then I start to think of Jimmy Kimmel and I get a little sick. Regardless, Judge Reinhold had the right idea and I like to think that he got a little piece of Phoebe Cates in between scenes.

5. (BDD) Nola Rice – Match Point

Drew: Easy pickins.

My draft board is in shambles and my pants are tightening by the minute.

We take a break here while waiting for Ape to show up. Apparently somebody forgot to tell Mr. Commuter that Adrian Fenty never promised to make the trains run on time.

Ufford: I have a Word Document and IMDb open. I forgot how consuming these drafts are.

Drew: It’s hard to ignore Jesssica alba, but Carla gugino is Sin City is just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Me: If i wanted an old chick i’d pick Mrs. Robinson

Drew: We need about thirty rounds for this draft. I am trying to take a mental inventory of just how many times I masturbated to each of these characters.

6. (Ape) Catwoman – Catwoman

Ape: Okay, I’ll take the Halle Catwoman, then, y’know, for the jokes.

Insert cat joke here ________.

Insert Ufford’s righteous indignation at this lack of a joke here _______.

7. (Ape) Mikaela Banes – Transformers

Yep, that’s one sexy bitch.

8. (Drew) 8. The Girl In The Ferrari – Vacation

Drew: “Are you gonna go for it?” Why, yes. I believe I will.

Christie Brinkley really got jobbed out of the Oscar on this one.

9. (MMP) Mary Ann Lomax – The Devils’ Advocate

I like it when she starts turning into that other chick. It’s like fucking two at once! I also like the idea of fucking an MRF.

10. (Flub) Girl Washing Car – Cool Hand Luke.

Flubby: “That’s a Lucille, you mullet head! Any girl so innocent and built like that gotta be named Lucille.” – Dragline

Everyone: Awesome pick.

And now for your viewing enjoyment, the video goodness!

11. (Uff) Selene – Underworld

Ufford: BAM!

Bam Bam: BAM BAM! BAM!

Emeril: BAM!

12. (Me) Charlie Nicholson – High Fidelity

Ufford: Charlie was a snooty bitch.

Me: Charlie was a snooty bitch who was HOT AS SHIT!

13. (Me) Hannah Green – Wonder Boys

Before Scientology got their alien tentacles all over her Katie Holmes was right up there on my overall list with Alba, Berry, and Kournikova (hallowed territory to be sure). She showed the tits in The Gift but I’m a huge fan of Wonder Boys and something about that red-boot wearing literati really gets to me.

14. (Uff) Kelly Lanier Van Ryan – Wild Things

Ufford: Dump champagne on her huge tits and have a threesome? Don’t mind if I do.

Sure, if you’re in to that sort of thing.

15. (MMP) Nadia – American Pie

You want me jerk you off?

And all this time I thought Punter didn’t care for the foreigners.

16. (Flub) Cherry Darling – Planet Terror

Flubby: Because who hasn’t always wanted to do a chick with a machine gun/rocket launcher leg?

17. (Drew) Tracey – Bachelor Party

Drew: I had this movie on my VCR and wore out hte tape rewinding and jerking to this scene. sometimes I couldn’t finish in time, so I had to rewind with my dick in my hand. NSFW picture can be found here.

18. (Ape) Bai Ling – 2046

Saucy. Exotic. Scary?

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT!

There are way too many honorable mentions to list them all here and frankly, we could have gone all night long. So feel free to add in your own picks in the comments.

Oh fuck it, here’s one (NSFW!) honorable mention…

A couple weeks ago, I noted in a Jamboroo that I didn’t abide by bleu cheese dressing with buffalo wings. I was then sternly taken to task by members of the pro-bleu cheese community, which, like the cheese itself, is surprisingly robust. But I didn’t take the time to explain WHY I was so strongly against bleu cheese. Some people obviously like it, and some do not. But I am different. I have a history with bleu cheese.

You see, when I was a child, I adored bleu cheese. Loved it. Stilton, gorgonzola, saga bleu, you name it, I happily devoured it. Some girl said to me once, “You know it’s blue because it’s moldy, right?” And I said, “Really? That’s fucking cool!” I enjoy bleu cheese in all its delicious forms: on a cracker, on a steak, on a salad, on a GoBot. No matter the occasion, it was all good to me.

Until one day in college.

Upon returning home for Christmas vacation one year, my brother, his girlfriend, my sister and I all hit the mall one day to do some Christmas shopping. In the middle of the day, we went to go get lunch. We chose Pizzeria Uno.

Let me state this plainly: NEVER EAT AT FUCKING PIZZERIA UNO.

We ordered two pizzas. One was a veggie deep dish. The other was a sausage deep dish. Guess which one I ate. My brother and I split the sausage pie and then went about our business.

Then we got home. And that’s when the trouble started. Later in the afternoon, I noticed a distinct rumble in my stomach. As I do when trying to solve any problem, I laid down to see if it would simply go away. It did not. Soon it felt as if my stomach were being used as a set of bagpipes. My brother looked at me.

“Drew, you don’t look so hot.”

“Uh, maybe I should have something to eat.”

It was Christmas. I really didn’t want to be sick and miss out on all the food. So I tried eating. Bad move. By dusk, the retching began. As you know, I am a hugely talented projectile vomiter. It’s not unlike a dam breaking. My jaw unhinges and the maximum volume of vomit physically possible exits my body at an astonishing speed. My brother came into the bathroom to check on me. Oops. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so hot. We began taking turns having a Roman Holiday in the toilet.

All my life, vomiting always tended to make things better. But this was hardcore food poisoning, and it didn’t stop. Through the night, my brother and I traded dry heaves until my mother decided she could take no more and took us to an ER.

The ER made everything worse. I had to lay on the floor just to keep from doubling over, but the fluorescent light made me dizzy as shit. Next to us was a very old woman who also could not stop vomiting. Only when she did it, my brother and I found it HILARIOUS. It sounded like she was on a carnival ride she didn’t enjoy.

“OOOOO WAHHHHHH!!!! WOOOOO!!!! HO HO WHOOOOOOOAAAAA!!!!”

They shot us with some sort of anti-nausea medicine. It failed. Finally, doctors brought out suppositories.

“You two can’t keep anything down. We’ll have to go the other way.”

It was shaped like a little chalky missile. Fun! Not caring, I quickly jammed it up my ass. They gave us two more to take through the night. My mom drove us home. We both felt a little better. We thought we had turned a corner.

We were dead wrong.

For Christmas, my mother had bought a very large wheel of bleu cheese that she kept cool by covering with a cheesecloth and putting out on the breezeway between the garage and the main part of the house. You couldn’t get in the house without going through it. My brother and I had completely forgotten about this. And when we hit the door exiting from the garage…

Have you ever been truly sick and miserable, and so tired you’re practically near whimpering, only to be kicked while you‘re down? Imagine going to a doctor, only instead of treating you, the doctor wipes your face with a pair of used running socks.

It was like that.

We all have our food traumas in life that put us off something for good. This was mine. I’ll never eat bleu cheese again unless it’s by accident. In fact, whenever I see it, I now think:

“OOOOO WAHHHHHH!!!! WOOOOO!!!! HO HO WHOOOOOOOAAAAA!!!!”

And whenever I see a Pizzeria Uno, I think of jamming a chalky missile up my ass. Life’s a bitch sometimes.

Well, Patriot fans, it’s been well over ten days since the Giants upset the Patriots, and I just thought I’d check in on you. How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is everything all right? I know how you Boston folks like to treat every loss as if it’s something that saddens the entire world as a whole. I know how you can’t possibly go on without someone offering you sympathy, as if you yourself were on the field for that loss. Surely that’s the reason for the downward turn in the US economy. Sports fans in Boston are unhappy! Oh, what a tragedy! Everything feels so dark and cold! Quick, someone play a Des’Ree CD to cheer them up!

I’m just kidding, of course. I do not wish you Patriot fans a Happy Valentine’s Day. Unless this is the day your girlfriend decides she’s had it with you and the 500 empty tins of Kodiak you keep leaving around her apartment. I don’t wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day at all. But I will wish you a happy “Eat A Fucking Bowl Of Dick” Day. Or a “Get Run Over By A Fucking Cement Mixer” Day. Or a “Get Your Klan Rally Petition Rejected By The Board Of Commerce” Day. Or a “YOU FUCKING LOST” Day. Or a “Why Don’t You Take A Job As A Commercial Fisherman And Fucking Drown 500 Miles Off The Coast Of Nova Scotia In A Fierce Nor’Easter?” Day.

I hope you choke on rose stems. You fucking losers.

And, while we’re here, let’s tear that Simmons mailbag apart.

One gigantic disclaimer before we get to the collection of post-Super Bowl e-mails: I would have included more Giants-related e-mails if I had received more coherent ones — 99 percent were of the “Hahhhhhhhhaahahahahaa! You suck!” or “18-1!!!!!” variety.

Yes, because no one from New York is creative at all! Such an unimaginative town! What do they do there, sell insurance? It would have been far preferable if New England had won, and Patriot fans could have taunted the world with more florid taunts, such as, “FACK YOU, YOU FACKIN’ BRAWNX IMMIGRANTS! WHY DON’T YOU GO GET A FACKIN’ GREEN CAAAAAD!” Yes, if you root for a non-Boston team, you are nowhere near as gracious or poetic in winning. Maybe if you had been more fawning of the Patriots in victory, Simmons would have deigned to publish you.

Let’s play a game. How many emails did Shitbox have to comb through to get dogshit like this?

Of course, I have no pity for the Patriots, but I DO feel for their great fans.

I’m guessing 300. But wait! There’s douchier!

I really do feel for Pats fans after that loss — I still think this year’s Pats are easily the best team of the modern salary cap era. If you need proof of that, consider the fact that after Plaxico Burress made what became the game-winning touchdown, the single thought in the head of every Giants fan watching the game was “Oh God, Brady has 35 seconds and three timeouts.” I’m not sure there has ever been a team that has caused more doubt in the minds of the opposing fans than these Patriots.

So true! Great teams don’t even need to close out games! The mere fact that other teams’ fans consider the possibility of them coming back to win is all the reason anyone needs! Why even play the end of the game WHEN FANS MAY HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT THE OUTCOME? Crazy!

Finally…

What are the odds that Asante Samuel’s dropped INT at the end of the game will replace Buckner’s bungle as the worst play in Boston history? That was devastating on a level far surpassing anything I’ve seen in all my years as a Boston sports fan. If he ever wears a Pats jersey again, it’ll be too soon.

Allusion to ’86 Red Sox loss? Check.
Boston fan playing up his emotional devastation to invite your pity? Check.
Throwing longtime, outstanding player under the bus? Check.
Desire in me to choke this person with a hockey stick? Check.

Fuck your Valentine’s Day, Patriot fans. I hope you get the runs.

Whhhhhhaaaa? You got something for mmmmeeeee? Nnnnnnoooo, you shouldn’t've, YOU BIG SILLY.

Oooh, thank you, thank you, you big huge Mister Mansssssss. Now I forgive you for all that nasty talk you was giving me on New Year’s Eve. You always knew I liked to be debased just a lil’.

That’s right, put down that gushing bottle of EAS and come give me some sugar, cuddlefish.

And don’t think I forgot YOUR gift.

Alright ladies, let’s bring it in. Bring it in tight. I’m only gonna say this one time. We’d better have a good family break this week, so be prepared. This ain’t no picnic. Well, Saturday at the park actually is a picnic, but the rest of it is not! I want clean rooms, clean children, and no burnt suppers. I can get any rookie in her to burn supper for one-tenth of what we’re paying you.

I want a clean family this week. If you think we’re gonna have a repeat of Christmas this week, the fucking lot of you are in for a rude goddamn awakening. Meagan, if you bring home any more baseball players, I’ll sit you this entire week out in the guest room without a second thought. Clean family means soap, you fuckers. Better scrub that shit down good, you get 10 minutes and that’s it. I’d better have some goddamn hot water this week or all of you will suffer. And I want PRODUCTIVE showers, too, not a Jerome Bettis shower where you dance in the water and shake hands with the soap. Get it done in there. I want hair, pits, arms, titties, legs, and don’t forget the red zone downstairs, which had still better be dick-free. I’m looking at you, Meagan.

[Juts out chin]

We have a short week together, so you better have a system for what you’re doing out there. Your mother has been working hard with the staff while you’ve been gone to get everything ready for this week, so get your craniums out of your anuses and pay attention! We have a lot to accomplish this week: the zoo, dinner at P. F. Changs with Hines, and then the big one with the Youngs on Saturday night. No fucking around this week, we have to get out there and execute!

[Cell phone rings]

This is Bill…Hello Mr. Snyder, good to hear from you again…Well, unless every news report in America is wrong, don’t you already have a coach?…Sure, but shouldn’t he at least coach one game before you buy his contract out?…Right, right. If I may, I’ll be a bit more frank than I was three weeks ago: Suck my asshair through a straw, the answer’s still no.

[Hangs up, punches hole through drywall]

That’s right, I’m not neglecting my family again until I’m goddamn good and ready. Now get out there and let’s have a good break this week. You’re dismissed.

Suzy, no one would blame you if you had a crummy Valentine’s Day. You have to be feeling down in the dumps right now. Here you are with a shortie on the way and ESPN is kicking you unceremoniously to the curb. We think that is a total load of bull flop. You should hire that guy from Boston Legal and sue their asses good. He’ll show them that you can’t push Suzy around and get away with it.

But we don’t want to cure your legal woes; we want to mend your broken heart. We can come over and fix you a nice dinner. (We have a kickass spaghetti recipe.) Fudgie the Whale for dessert. Then it’s Backrub City and Grey’s Anatomy!

People say we’re crazy. They say Suzy hates the dick, and we’re just wasting our time. Well Suzy, we’re cool with your life-choices. In fact, if asked, we would be willing to pretend to be Jodie Foster or k.d. lang.

Happy Valentines Day Suzy, if you ever, EVER change your mind– give us a call. We’ll be waiting by the phone.

Jeweler: Oh, hiiiiiiiiiii! Anything I can interest you in today? We’ve got a great selection of pieces in for the holiday. Some lovely diamond pendants, diamond solitaire earrings and an assortment of gleaming shiny rocks that women would do unspeakable things for. Let me know if you need to look at something.

Husband: Yeah, you know, trying to pick out the Valentine’s gift. Gotta say: I’m looking for something a little away from the tried-and-true ordinary diamond and gold thing.

Jeweler: All right. Okay. So you’re cheap. We have just the thing.

Jeweler: We call this “The Tesoro.” It’s a garnet pedant with superb detailing of the ventricles and the ateries. Me? I would to get one of these from my boyfriend. The symbolic connection with the heart and Valentine’s Day is, like, so strong, y’know. And for a mere $849.99, it’s practically a steal.

Husband: Hmmm. I don’t know.

[Door flies open]

Philip Rivers: Ya betta ask someboddddaaaaaayyyyy!

Jeweler: Oh, hiiiiiiii! Did I hear you correctly? Are you looking to pop the question to that certain somebody? Well, I can -

[Rivers throws shopping bag, which wafts in the air for 30 seconds then falls two feet in front of him, spilling the contents onto the floor]

Rivers: NO GODDAMIT! LIKE FELLOW HENPECKED HUBBY OVER HERE [slaps him on back], I’M LOOKING FOR A GLEAMING FUCKING BLOW JOB BAUBLE THAT’LL MAKE MY NORMALLY PRUDISH WIFE BREAK OUT THE FREAK NASTY SAUCE! SEE FOR YOURSELF!

[Takes photo out of wallet, shoves it in her face]

That’s Jerri Blank, I mean, my non-football playing half, Tiffany. Think her libido belies her dead-eyed Laura Bush gaze? Helllllllll no. Sure, she looks like my slutty Persian nanny, but she’s only as loose as an old British nanny. That’s what I get for getting hitched with my high school sweetheart. Why else do you think I keep up this public celibacy stuff. There can’t be no fun if Laserface don’t get none.

Of course, if LaKneeInjury hadn’t bailed on me in the conference title game, I’d be swimming in wifey poon right now with a Super Bowl ring. You see how beatable those Patriots were? DID YOU? THEY WERE! I HAD THEM! FUCK YOU!

If I had half a ligament and some willing teammates, it could’ve been the real superstar QB pulling the upset of the century, instead of Eli going back to his hotel room to suck face with his Pillow Pal in celebration.

Now I have to make the golden sacrifice to the pussy gods.

Jeweler: Oooookay. Well. We do have some fine pieces for your wife. Let’s start with the “Perno dei Vestiti.”

Here we’ve got twin 14 carat gold pin earrings with an inlaid diamond at the center, perfect for reminding your special someone of her wifely, distaff, domestic duties. Women love that! I know if my boyfriend bought me one, I’d totally fall for him all over again. What a considerable return for a small fifteen hundred dollar outlay.

Rivers: Yeah, uh-huh, she’s married to an NFL quarterback. That bitch don’t do laundry, or cook, or stay off the phone with her stupid friends or keep her weight down or GIVE THE ME THE PROPER RELEASE I REQUIRE!

Jeweler: Not so hot on the Perno, huh? Okay, let’s move onto the “Dolore.”

Look at the craftsmanship on those tiny embedded spikes. You’re sure to get a reaction from her from you slip that on her finger. And I want to point out that the spikes are diamond-tipped, to ensure greater sharpness. As a woman, that’s something I’d like to know. And, of course, we only accept non-conflict diamonds due to the -

Rivers: Are you fucking kidding me? What’s the point, then? I wanna know that some African kid suffered to get that shit! If Tiffany can’t wear it knowing that someone endured unspeakable hardship and possible physical mutilation for her material gain, I might as well slip an onion ring on her fattening digits. That’s why we only go to places that only sell Shaq Trade Coffee. We need to constantly reaffirm our dominant status.

Jeweler: Well, I can see you’re a tough sell. Or should I say your wife is! [forced laughter] Now, I’m not supposed to show this to aaaaall our customers, but for you, I’m willing to make an exception.

It’s the championship ring for the 1979 Pittsburgh Steelers, in pristine condition after being ripped from the lifeless, homeless corpse of former center-turned-trainwreck Mike Webster. The four diamonds symbolize the fourth world championship that the team had won. Now, I know what you don’t play for Pittsburgh…

[Rivers swipes it from her hand, slams money clip on counter]

Rivers: WWWWWOOOOOO! LIKE SHE CAN TELL THE FUCKING DIFFERENCE! SHE THINKS FOOTBALL INVOLVES JETSKIS! YAAAAAAA! I FINALLY GOT ONE! THINK YOU’RE SO HOT, BEN AND ELI? CLASS OF ’04 DRAFT, MY HAIRY, THROBBING COCK! I GOT ONE NOW TOO, ASSHOLES! TIME TO SIRE A FEW MORE DAUGHTERS!

This guy was shouting homophobic slurs at people other than the reflection in his church bathroom’s mirror…

The call at 2:35 a.m. came from Seth Harris, who reported that he encountered the group in front of La Fogata Grill at 790 North High St. The Mexican restaurant is next door to the Union Cafe Bar + Food, one of Columbus’ most popular gay bars in the gay-friendly Short North neighborhood.

On the 9-1-1 call, Harris said that “Brady Quinn from the Browns” was “trying to cause a fight.” Harris told the operator, “I just walked outside and he exchanged many profanities with me and called me a faggot, of course.”

Reached Monday by The Plain Dealer, Harris confirmed that Quinn was the person who used the slur.

“I knew who it was,” he said. “It wasn’t just directed at me, there were other people around, too.”

Is it possible that he was merely extolling the virtues of La Fogata Grill’s selection of sausage, cucumber, and other phallic edibles?

Probably not.

It takes a real big man to round up some friends, head down to the gay neighborhood, and talk shit to a bunch of stylists. Hey Brady, the gay population of Columbus has enough problems (living in Ohio, for example) without you projecting on them.

Welcome back to a new season of the kill kill kill tag. As you know, it’s very hard to go seven months without NFL-sanctioned violence, which is why we at KSK attempt to fill the void during the offseason with explicit videos of animals killing other animals.

I have to say, ever since I got an HDTV, I have a newfound respect for these animals. They are so majestic, and so beautiful, and so totally dead. Seeing them out in the wild gives me such a sense of peace and tranquility. It makes me want to eat trail mix and write in a journal. I could watch them viciously tear into each other’s carcasses all day long.

In this clip, a hyena is eating a dead giraffe from the inside out. That giraffe provides vital nutrition to the hyena, and its luscious fur will no doubt make an excellent chaise lounge for the hyena’s den. It is well known that hyenas have a penchant for laughing. They’ll laugh at anything, which is why they are frequently invited to be part of the studio audience for “Mind of Mencia” as well as Comedy Central specials such as “Blue Collar Comedy Tour: What’s With Them Chinks?”

It’s primary day here in the DC area. Due to the fact that I am a registered independent and a convicted embezzler/animal sex offender, I’m not eligible to vote in any of these things. I tried to change my registration, but I was far too late to do so. But, if I were eligible, I would totally vote for this guy, Barack Obama. In fact, I even gave his campaign ten dollars, and I plan on happily voting for him in November. Now, I have political reasons for voting for Obama. I like him, I like his policies, I think he’s a great leader and all that shit.

But fuck all that for a moment. There’s another reason I want to vote for Obama, and it is this. Voting for Barack Obama gives me, a white person, a new and refreshing way to let people know that I am NOT a racist. For years, after making a terrible ethnic joke, I always tried to counter any accusations of racism with the tired excuse, “Hey, I’ve got black friends.”

First of all, this excuse has been beaten into the ground by too many white people (such as me) over the years. No one buys it anymore, and rightfully so. You’re just a boy crying black wolf if you say it. Second of all, I haven’t seen my one black friend in over a year. Which sucks, because my friend Turk (not his real name, nor does he call me JD) may know more about pornography than any man in history. The darkest friend I have after that is my friend Tony, and I only say he’s dark because he wears lots of black and is on lithium. The rest of my friends are whiter than a blank Word document.

So that excuse doesn’t wash any more for my lily-white preppy Bethesda ass. If I want to deflect any and all racial criticism, I’m gonna need something better. And that’s what this knight in shining chocolate armor gives me. How racist can I be if I actively contributed to and voted for a silky smooth black man to be leader of the free world? Answer: NOT RACIST AT ALL!

Did I complain about that fat black woman who was walking too slowly down the sidewalk, whom I could not get around? Sure did. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT. Do I know every line of “Blazing Saddles” by heart? Oh, yeah. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT. Does my sphincter tighten if I’m alone in a parking garage late at night after a movie and I see a black man approaching? Possibly. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT. Do I think that John Thompson may be legally retarded? Good God, yes. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT.

You see? With one pull of the lever, I’ve got a whole new excuse for all my minor prejudices and subconscious anxieties towards people who are different from me. And that buys me another decade or so to avoid confronting and trying to fix all those pesky inner flaws. Oh, the freedom tastes so sweet!

AND it gives me carte blanche to accuse OTHER white people of being racist, which is just about the most enjoyable thing in the world. Because, if you didn’t know it by now, the fact is that the most racially offensive thing to call a white person today is “racist”. “Honky” and “cracka” don’t bother them in the least. But call a white person the r-word? Holy shit, do they get upset. It’s terrific fun. Look at all those Massholes. They voted for that white Clinton bitch in the primary. WHAT A BUNCH OF FILTHY RACISTS! If only they had voted for Obama like me, then they would be extremely NOT racist. But they didn’t, so fuck those unenlightened, Klan-rallying racists.

I’m also hoping this vote gives me an opportunity to broaden my ethnic joke repertoire. Ever notice how Asian people treat other people as if they’re completely invisible? Or that some black grocery store clerks always need the key? Those are topics I’d really like to touch on. Not that I’m racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT.

I tell you, playing this Obama card will work absolute wonders for us all. We’re about to enter a whole new world of acceptable ethnic humor, which I think will help unify us all. Can we make it happen? Well, if I may be so bold: YES WE CAN!

UPDATE: Some other asshole had this idea before I did. Well, fuck that guy. He’s a fucking racist.