Life as a fish must be nice. Simple. You swim around. You eat. You can have crap hanging out your ass and it’s not a big worry (note: also true for bloggers).

And then… BAM! BIRD OF PREY MUTHAFUCKA!!!!! EATEN ALIVE!!!

That’s what getting drafted #1 by the Lions is like. You’re the food chain’s bitch.

(via Best Week Ever and HuffPo)

It’s Monday. That means it’s time once again to take a trip into the gigantic white void that is Peter King’s psyche. I hope you’ve had your coffee. And by coffee, I don’t mean coffee-flavored water. I mean, the kind of deep, robust, Colombian brew that places like the Omni Penn Hotel have yet to perfect. THE KIND OF COFFEE MADE BY PEOPLE WHO RESPECT THE FUCKING SUN. All it takes is one sip to know if your java was crafted by a true land baron.

The draft is in the air, yes. But it’s 61 days away, and when you get the coaches and general managers together in one place, as they were this weekend here at the Arctic Circle, you can just tell they’re in first grade in 2009 Draftology 101.

Unlike Peter King, who is in seventh grade in 2009 Draftology 424: Advanced Value Charting. Oh, I’m sorry. Were your college courses not divided into separate grades, like a grade school? Because that’s how they did it at Ohio U.

So how cold was it?

It was so cold, Brett Favre couldn’t work the land! Ha! It has to be really cold to keep Nobody Brett away from his prized earth!

Friday morning around 7, Jim Mora and the Seattle staff were getting ready to open the front door of the downtown Marriott, and they all buttoned up and pulled their collars tight, and Mora said, “Get ready for an Arctic blast!” And they all hustled outside, on their way to Lucas Oil Stadium and the Combine.

Yes, folks. Here’s how cold it was in Indianapolis. It was so cold, a group of men bundled up and moved quickly to keep warm. HOLY FUCK, THAT IS FRIGIDNESS ON THE KELVIN SCALE. I’m surprised their legs didn’t shatter!

I think Ray Lewis will seriously consider leaving the Ravens. Will he go? Don’t know.

I think the moon might explode this evening, sending giant, flaming moon rocks hurtling toward Earth, destroying entire cities and creating giant tides that could swallow us all whole. Will it happen? Don’t know.

But my guess — and it’s an educated guess, nothing more…

How educated? Are we talking a second grade sophomore year Guessology 203 level of education?

Wouldn’t that be amazing: Ray Lewis with the star on his helmet.

Well, stars are pointy. So I can see the appeal to Ray Lewis.

I think Jerry Jones would view Lewis as the solution to all the me-first stuff plaguing his team.

Indeed. What better way to bring stability and selflessness to a highly volatile locker room than to add a murderer who calls attention to himself on every play and will almost certainly go into shutdown mode after getting a new contract? FINALLY, THE PAGE WILL TURN.

Nnamdi Asomugha and Larry Fitzgerald are going to be the kind of quasi-Lebronish millionaires this game has never seen, other than at the quarterback position, before they retire.

Indeed. They make even reach pseudo-Jordanesque levels of riches. I was just having a semi-argument with Matt Millen about this the other day.

Last week, Asomugha inked one of the more incredible contracts in NFL history (more about that later, in Stat of the Week); it’s either going to be a two-year, $28.6 million contract or a three-year, $45.3 million contract.

Why, he’s just like a lot of unemployed people in America right now, other than having a job and $28.6 million in guaranteed salary.

Having a couple of cold ones in Jillian’s, a sports bar in downtown Indianapolis, has become a Friday night tradition at the scouting combine for a few scribes. We were there Friday night, a smaller group than usual, when one of the managers walked over and thanked me. “You remember last year?” the guy said. “You wrote about how bad our coffee was. You called it ‘swill.’ And I was so glad to see that, because our coffee was awful. It caused us to change our coffee and brew better coffee in here. I just wanted to say thanks.”

That’s right, folks. Peter King will magically improve your restaurants coffee through the technological marvel of petty online bitching. Sometimes, it takes one brave, courageous soul to step forward and complain truth to power. To think, if Peter King hadn’t blown the skin whistle on Jillian’s, they would have just kept POISONING THEIR CUSTOMERS WITH THEIR TOXIC SWILL.

Say, what did Peter write anyway to shine a light on this hidden injustice?

For years, Jillian’s has been our sports bar of choice in downtown Indy. Huge TVs, fun place, good staff. All those are still true. But the coffee. Wow. That’s some awful swill. I might be the only sportswriter on the planet who wants a good cup of coffee after beers, chips, salsa, more chips and more salsa and dinner, but I can’t change my stripes now. And the coffee-flavored water there … Sheesh. At least make an effort.

“Jillian’s, you run a great restaurant. Unfortunately, I have to chide you to a giant audience because of one tiny detail, a detail only I care about because I’m a weird asshole. I HAVEN’T BEEN THIS OUTRAGED SINCE SHAMPOOING AT THE MARRIOTT MARQUIS.”

I shook the guy’s hand and thanked him for coming over.

No need to thank Peter, young manager! Better coffee is his reward.

After three rounds of beers and appetizers, I had to take off for a pre-arranged dinner. The next day, my buddy John Czarnecki of Fox Sports came up to me with Don “Donnie Brasco” Banks and handed me the $40 I’d left on the table the previous night. Seems the manager comped us.

“World’s luckiest man continues hot streak,” said Brasco.

HO HO HO! Can you believe it? WHAT AN INCREDIBLE TALE OF REDEMPTION. Peter King, who already makes hundreds of thousands of dollars, was able to save $40 just by openly bitching about a restaurant! DOES LIFE GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS, FOLKS?

Yes I am. And yes it does. Thank you, Jillian’s. We’ll be back next year — same table, same time.

NOW FIX YOUR FUCKING QUESADILLAS.

Mark Sanchez looks like Johnny Damon.

It’s true. Look at the pictures.

THEY BOTH HAVE BROWN SKIN! IT’S AS IF THEY SHARED THE SAME DYNASTIC WOMB.

“Really?” he said. “I’ve gotten the guy from Entourage, but not Johnny Damon.”

Probably because you don’t look like Johnny Damon.

Well, you’ll get it now. You look like Johnny Damon.

“YOU LOOK LIKE JOHNNY DAMON, AND IF I HAVE TO CUT YOU TO MAKE YOU LOOK MORE LIKE HIM, I WILL. Don’t underestimate me, Sanchez. Ask the staff at Jillian’s if I’m a powerful man or not.”

Actually, you know who Mark Sanchez looks like? Omar Epps.

I’ll tell you who looks like a man. Brian Orakpo.

He’s got a cock and balls and everything.

Rey Maualuga. Ray Lewis Jr.

Does he use a letter opener?

So none of the running backs ran under 4.4. Big deal.

So this running back class is clearly inferior to last year’s historically productive group. Who gives a shit? It’s not as if you read this article for football reasons.

Pitt running back LeSean McCoy sounded like he was as sick as a dog here, and he revealed to reporters: “When I was flying here, I vomited on the plane. Embarrassing moment. But that’s life.”

Plane vomit is life. Maybe the “Life is Good” people can put that on their summer line of T-shirts.

Good plane vomit. GREAT plane vomit.

I don’t care one bit about Michael Crabtree’s stress fracture in his foot. He’s been playing with it…

That means it cannot ever be damaged further!

…and it can be repaired perfectly with the implantation of some screws.

All it requires is foot surgery!

I think if you want to know why the Atlanta Falcons whacked safety Lawyer Milloy on Sunday night, all you need to know is this: He was a gigantic pain in the rear end. Clubhouse lawyer, yakker, complainer.

Get this: the asshole even bitched about the fucking COFFEE they served at the team facility. What a dick.

I think I know these two things don’t go hand-in-hand, but the Carolina Panthers just laid off 20 employees. Let’s say in salary and benefits, that’s an annual savings of $1 million, or $50,000 per employee. You’re telling me in a week you commit $60 million to Jordan Gross for six years, and $16.5 million for one year to Julius Peppers, that you’ve got to whack 20 employees? I don’t like this one bit, and the Panthers are not the only team to do this, obviously. The NFL is a profitable venture, and in times of economic stress, teams need to show loyalty to the people who’ve worked hard for them — people not at the top of the salary foodchain.

What Peter doesn’t know is that Jillian’s just fired Pepe, their dishwasher. His wages? $40 a day.

I hate it when journalists make points like this. So they should adjust their salary cap to include all salaried employees? This is such a fucking lazy way to look like a socially-conscious asshole. “I can’t believe, in a recession, that a business would have the gall TO SPEND MONEY! WHO THE FUCK DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?” Yeah, it sucks that people got laid off (they’re just like Brett Favre now!). But to assume there’s an even corollary between paying players, who are essentially the product you’re selling, and paying employees, who are there to support the sale of the product, is idiotic. That’s first grade Economics 101, Peter.

I think Josh McDaniels was being far too modest here when he said of Matt Cassel: “I was a small part of his success. He was a big part of my success.” Coach, coach. The next 346 times you and Cassel go to Capital Grille, he’s picking up the check.

Unless you bitch about the coffee. THEN YOU CAN EAT FOR FREE ANY TIME YOU WANT. Capital Grille, you define classy.

I think Marvin Harrison simply can’t go back to the Colts, because Bill Polian does not give scholarships for longer than one year.

In fact, I’m quite sure he doesn’t give scholarships at all.

And Harrison was on scholarship last year. That’s it.

I honestly can’t make fun of this sentence, because I don’t know what it means. This must be another PK Word of the Week gone horribly wrong. Was sabbatical the word he was looking for? I think that might have been the word he was looking for. Except that this is Peter King, so perhaps the word he was looking for was “mandible”.

Kate Winslet is so real.

Not like Melissa Leo, who is merely a hologram.

I’m glad she won Best Actress.

Good for you, Kate. You’ve got Stump’s courage. You’re quasi-almost-Streepish.

Was that one of the great Oscar speeches you’ve ever seen?

No.

Frank Langella, you got robbed.

I agree. The man did play Nixon AND Skeletor.

I understand how great Mickey Rourke was in The Wrestler, and I realize Sean Penn is our Bogart. But Langella was the real-life biggest villain of our political lifetime.

I know Mickey Rourke and Sean Penn were both amazing. But Langella played a dick! A REAL DICK! The stature of a character should factor into an acting award!

Oh and how the fuck is Sean Penn anything like Humphrey Bogart? KATE WINSLET IS OUR MARYLIN.

Coffeenerdness: Shula’s, I’ve got to congratulate you on your coffee. Other nice restaurants should take a page from your quasi-dark-roast and brew good, honest coffee, not coffee-flavored water.

Someone just earned himself a $40 gift certificate!

You had a chance, A-Rod. You had a chance to do the honorable thing and say you either made a mistake or flat-out lied about Selena Roberts breaking into your home and stalking you and your children, which is patently wrong. You didn’t do it.

Also, you look like Johnny Damon.

Anyone tell you that? Yeah well, get ready for it.

I got the Blackberry Storm. Phones are never going to be the same again.

I CAN PLAY COLDPLAY ON THIS PHONE. AND STARE AT THE TOUCH SCREEN WHILE DRIVING ON 95. THE FUTURE HAS ARRIVED AND IT IS MORE INCREDIBLE THAN I EVER WOULD HAVE IMAGINED.

Alabama tackle Andre Smith showed up at the NFL combine out of shape. I’m talking back-of-the-neck-looks-like-a-package-of-Hebrew-National-hot-dogs out of shape. To make matters worse, when he realized how woefully unprepared he was, Smith decided he was gonzo. But before he left he made sure to notify… well, no one.

Smith later issued a statement saying he left to add a couple more chins at Hometown Buffet go work out with a personal trainer in preparation for Pro Day in Tuscaloosa. CNBC’s Darren Rovell estimates Smith’s tomfoolery may cost the big man as much as $23 million.

Damn Dre, you could have bought all kinds of chicken-fried bacon with that kind of cash.

You am see this, sterrpid frippant Japanese asswhore?! This numbell one smaltest leceivel aftell he win second Supell Bowr. Intellviewman am asking him question, but he is so ovelcome with emotion. He impressed with enolmity of moment. Not rike you, frippant Japanese asswhore.

I watch Oscall rast night. Arleady upset that Ordboy not get nomination. So what movie come out in 2003? Ordboy supellfantastic movie. It should be nominated evelly yeal. Rook, he wierd hammel. He clush youl skurr!

Not a singer Kolean movie leplesenting rast night. Make me so sick, I inject mole prasma to fear bettel. Splinker prasma on kimchi. Implove taste 100 pelcent!

We get to Best Sholt Animated Movie, a favolite of Hines, because tarr animated movie suck rike tarr leceivel. They no smalt. But then Japanese asswhore win this one. For movie he make about the Flench! Way to suck up to the loundeyes, Japanese asswhore.

THEN HE DO THIS AT PODIUM AND BLING GLEAT SHAME!

Pray up Asian steleotype? THAT’S LACIST! “Sank you”? What is this? Speak rike plopel pelson. Make arr Asian rook bad. And you quote Styx song!? Why associate with loundeye song? This only affilm hatled of Nippon japs! Filst Koleans as comfolt women in Wolrd Wall II, now this? UNFOLGIVABERRR!

Why so few Captain Caveman posts recently?  For starters, I’m lazy.  But I’ve also been busy getting the new digs up and running.  Check out your new favorite TV blog.  Tell all your friends, and stop being friends with them if they don’t check it every day.  [Warming Glow]

Hugh Jackman doing a mincy, singing performance at the Oscars can’t really do wonders for the upcoming Wolverine movie, can it? Only unless he finds a way to tie in noted gay superhero Northstar of Alpha Flight into his antics, then go Weapon X on him. Man, I hope Alpha Flight is in that movie. Stupid Canadian mutants. Anyway, it’s the Oscars. Long and plodding and no longer honoring dead people.

Apparently the Beaker in D.C. meme is spreading. Okay, College Park isn’t in D.C., but it is inside the Beltway, so it gets a pass. And, you know, because Jim Henson went to UMD (they even have a statue of him – tuition dollars well spent!).

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” [NSFW]

This is a friendly reminder that we’ll be live-blogging the Gay Super Bowl this Sunday starting at 7:30 p.m. Eastern.  As with most years, I meant to get out and watch as many of the nominees as possible, but ended up only seeing maybe half of the big-name movies, because really, who gives a shit?  Do I really need to watch Kate Winslet and Leonado DiCaprio fight and be miserable for two hours just so I can have an opinion at an Oscars party?  Nope.

That said, here are some half-assed opinions about the few films/performances I did manage to see.  Feel free to disagree, as it doesn’t particularly matter to me.

Slumdog Millionaire — The overriding feeling I had watching this movie was “Wow, I NEVER want to go to India.  EVER.”  Everyone seemed to either absolutely love it or absolutely hate it.  I’d give it a B/B+.  I liked the “Millionaire” conceit of telling the story, but the “Ooohh, it’s our destiny” justification for the ending was a cop-out that marginalized the lead female character.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona — What a piece of shit.  I might have been able to at least enjoy the scenery if Woody Allen could have stopped with the insulting narration in every scene.  “That night, Vicky and Cristina went to dinner…” (cut to Vicky and Cristina eating dinner) “…where they drank wine and talked.” (cut to them drinking wine and talking) Jesus Christ!  I HAVE EYES, ASSHOLE!  Penelope Cruz arrived way too late to save this turd.

The Wrestler — Loved it, and not just because of Marisa Tomei’s hard naked body.  The fact that it didn’t get nominated for Best Picture is horseshit.

Gran Torino – I don’t think this got nominated, but I saw it the other night, and I have never laughed so hard or so many times during a drama.  An entire movie where Clint Eastwood calls everyone a pussy and goes around dropping every racial slur imaginable?  That’s quality entertainment, people.

Didn’t see: Milk, Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Revolutionary Road

More Oscar sexiness after the jump.

Read the rest of this entry »

My homerism for Nnamdi Asomugha is well-documented. But now that he has allowed the Raiders to sign him to the richest contract in football, it has bloomed to an all-out mancrush. Why shouldn’t Asomugha make boatloads of scrilla? No one is the game does their job as well as Asomugha does his. A man of his stature commands a salary substantially more than that of Chump Bailey.

The Raiders also re-signed the NFL’s top punter Shane Lechler to boot (heh heh, boot, get it?). Some thought that the Raider would not be able to keep both the NFL’s best corner and best punter, but they proved otherwise. Maybe Al Davis finally realized that he if is going to overpay somebody it should be good players like Asomugha and Lechler instead of wretched bums like DeAngelo Hall and Javon Walker.

With these huge signings, is Oakland really the purgatory that it has been made out to be the past few years? Probably, but it goes to show what some people will tolerate for Scrooge McDuck money.