When we left Peter King last week, he had just discovered the pleasures of casual dining and wooden bars at rural Ohio eating establishments like Toone P. Wiggins, marveled at the panoply of luxury dog bakeries in his chic new Boston neighborhood, and challenged Starbucks to reach the lofty standards of latte-producing excellence demonstrated by the South End Buttery. Oh, and I think he talked about football for at least a paragraph. Solid.

What incredible examples of non-reporting and mindless self-indulgence will we find this week? Join me as we once again take a tour of Peter King’s toxic, vanilla-scented brainspew…

But before I delve in, a brief note. Many of our commenters, understandably, feel a profound sense of annoyance at Peter King after our weekly breakdowns. This makes sense, since Peter King is a huge fucking tool. Unfortunately, this annoyance has fueled ever more angry comments, such as “I hope Peter King gets the shit beaten out of him”, or “I hope Peter King gets cornered in a dark Boston alley and is repeatedly raped with a fork until he bleeds to death.” People, people. Let’s not go overboard with our anger. If Peter King really WERE killed, who would be there to teach us to respect the sun? No one, that’s who.

So remember to appreciate your hatred for Peter King. Hating Peter King is such a personal joy of mine, I’d hate to see anything happen to it. Now let’s go tear this fat fuck a new one…

So you’ve come to the annual NFL meetings, or at least you’ve come to read about the meetings, looking for big news. Sorry to disappoint you. I’ve got Meeting McNuggets, but I don’t have the whole Porterhouse, mainly because there simply isn’t one.

Oooh, Meeting McNuggets! Made from mechanically separated meeting byproducts! Kids adore them. But rest easy, parents. These are all-white meetings, so you know they’re good for you. Very lean meetings.

News Item: I don’t see Jay Cutler getting traded.

Peter King last week: “Denver will have to strongly consider trading Cutler.”

Now, I can’t say with conviction that Cutler’s going to be the Broncos’ opening day starter,

Didn’t you just do exactly that? If you can’t say anything with conviction, then why the fuck are you saying it? “Hey guys, wanna hear an opinion that has no weight or usefulness? HERE COMES THE KANG!”

I called Charlie Weis, the Notre Dame coach and mentor of McDaniels, and asked what I considered the biggest question McDaniels must ask himself as he figures how far he’ll go to keep Cutler…

To which Weis responded, “Bacon. No one strays from bacon.”

If I have to kiss this kid’s feet and kowtow to him to make him feel comfortable enough to stay, is that any way to form a coach-player relationship with the most important player on the team? “It’s a rhetorical question, but it’s one I definitely would ask,” said Weis.

Because there’s no better person to ask about offensive leadership than Charlie fucking Weis. Ooh, look! I just saw Jimmy Clausen throw a ball directly into a lineman’s ass! That’s schemeriffic!

Last week, the venom from the Cutler camp was so toxic I said I thought he’d have to be traded. But it was interesting here, listening to former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice speak to the body of league people (including McDaniels) and media here Sunday night. She talked at one point about how “history has a long arc”…

A long arc? YOU SAID THIS A FUCKING WEEK AGO.

I was thinking of McDaniels and Denver management. I think, like Rice used to do in the Middle East, the Broncos will exhaust all diplomatic means.

So then McDaniels will pretend like he gives a shit about talking to Cutler. Then he’ll bomb the fuck out of Cutler’s house. Then he’ll move into Cutler’s house for seven years. THAT’S TOP NOTCH DIPLOMATTING.

I toured the 70-percent-complete (Cowboys) stadium last October, and it’s just like what Elaine Benes found out about the Teri Hatcher-girlfriend character’s northern endowment on Seinfeld: It’s real, and it’s spectacular.

Timely reference right there. Wait till you see the new Yankee Stadium, Peter. It’s like a deeeeluxe apartment in the sky!

The Mississippi tackle is probably the second- or third-most athletic tackle in this draft, and the book among some teams after the Scouting Combine was big money in the first round would ruin him, because of his well-publicized upbringing on the poor side of Memphis. But (Michael) Oher has impressed teams with his maturity and intelligence, and the fact is, he was adopted by an upper-class family in Memphis during his high-school years.

He was? WELL THAT SOLVES EVERYTHING. If Oher was taken in by a Montclair-caliber family, then surely they were able to tame his more primitive ways, and get him to appreciate things like nutmeg-flavored lasagna. Good life. GREAT life. THIS FAMILY SHOWED OHER THAT KIT KATS DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE EATEN WARM, AND THAT IS WHAT MATTERS.

And responding to a question about the world’s most dangerous hotspots, (Rice) said we should look much closer to home than we have been — to the war being fought between Mexican law enforcement and the drug cartels threatening all strata of Mexican society. So I looked up a few things early this morning on the drug war, and I found this, from this morning’s New York Times, about how Tucson is being invaded by the drug culture and the resulting conflicts:

“This city, an hour’s drive north of the Mexican border, is coping with a wave of drug crime the police suspect is tied to the bloody battles between Mexico’s drug cartels and the efforts to stamp them out… Law enforcement authorities say they believe traffickers distributing the cartels’ marijuana, cocaine, heroin, methamphetamine and other drugs are responsible for a rash of shootings in Vancouver, British Columbia, kidnappings in Phoenix, brutal assaults in Birmingham, Ala., and much more.”

What a world.

Indeed. Who knew there was drug-related violence in America? “Hey everyone, I just read something in a major publication and would like you to know I am now aware of it! Next week, I want to talk to you about energy efficiency!”

the highlight for me was the most dogged of scribes among us, Bengals.com editor and writer Geoff Hobson — in a sidebar after Rice’s talk, with Steelers owner and U.S. Diplomat to Ireland-nominee Dan Rooney waiting to speak with her — asking about Rice’s affection for Paul Brown and one of her favorite teams, the Bengals.

“One of” her favorite teams? Condi, you are a fucking whore.

Say Peter, what happened to your efforts to get the NFL overtime rule changed?

The pro-overtime forces went out meekly this year.

Such bullshit. WHAT IF SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENS TO THE MONTCLAIR PEDROIAS?

So this is what I root for: In the Super Bowl next year, I hope the game is tied after four quarters, and I hope the team that wins the toss to start overtime returns the kickoff to the 39, and I hope they advance the ball 21 yards in five plays, and on fourth-and-six from the opposing 38-yard line, the winners kick a 57-yard field goal.

That would be the best Super Bowl ever.

And I hope a 5-foot-9 kicker goes pirouetting in the air, pumping his fist while most of the free world shuts off the TVs feeling disgusted and 79,000 fans and one very ticked-off team leave the field feeling totally deflated.

Funny you mention that, since Peyton Manning never took the field in a playoff game against San Diego earlier this year and even THAT wasn’t enough to change the rule. THAT NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF TOONE P. WIGGINS HAD BEEN IN CHARGE.

Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me

The St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort and Spa must be doing quite well in the face of the economic downturn. I attempted to eat breakfast at two of its restaurants Sunday. I was turned away at one, with the place half-empty, because I was not a guest in the hotel. I was turned away at another because I was not a guest at the hotel and I did not have a reservation.

All those without a black AmEx card had better be full when they walk in the door here.

How dare they? Those insolent fucking pricks. Do they not know this was Peter fucking King they were turning down? The man who MADE the Capital Grille? Big fucking mistake, St. Regis. NOW PETER CAN’T WARN YOU ABOUT THE MEXICAN DRUG CARTELS.

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week

Some of the media, SI included, chose not to fork over the $425 a night at the St. Regis and ended up a couple of miles down the Pacific Coast Highway at the Marriott Laguna Cliffs, a lovely place in its own right.

But???????

With one serious flaw.

Oh, I know where this is going.

Sunday morning, 6:17, I stumble down to the lobby, desperately needing coffee.

I can just picture Peter King frantically running out of an elevator in a hotel lobby, reeking of onion rings, wearing a blue bathrobe, with his hair all fucked up, manically demanding coffee from anyone he sees. “You, sir! Do you have coffee on you? Do you know where I can get it? I am Peter King. I am an important person in the Back Bay. I have a Macbook Air. Businesses hire me to speak for a small fee. Everyone knows how much I adore non-coffee flavored water coffee. MONEY ISN’T AN ISSUE. GIMME MY FUCKING COFFEE, BELLBOY!!!!! I’LL SUCK YO DICK!”

Any coffee. I look in the quiet lobby for a coffee urn, a coffee station, a coffee shop open to get a to-go coffee.

“I begin to shake. I go up to a stranger and begin sucking on a stain on his sweater. I pull a gun. I take hostages. I begin to hallucinate that everyone walking by is Juan Valdez with his trusty coffee mule. Oh, coffee mule. You bring me the coffee I need when I want to spend an evening talking amongst the trees. I can smell your deep, robust harvest right now. I MUST HAVE YOU! GAHHHHHHHHH!”

“Sorry, sir,” the front-desk guy said. “No coffee on the weekends ’til 7 a.m.”

Then you don’t define clutch!

That’s what I call a full-service hotel.

ZING! Uh oh, Marriott Laguna Cliffs. You just got the Omni Penn treatment. YOU’RE BROWNLISTED.

Maybe if the hotel manager had been adopted by an upper class family in Memphis, he’d understand the importance of having coffee ready and available so early in the morning.

Want a coffee at 6:30 on a Saturday or Sunday? Get in your car and go find one.

ZOMG! You poor thing! You actually had to go get in your fucking car to buy coffee at a nearby shop! My God. What a sacrifice. That’s the worst thing ever. We’re a society on the fucking brink here, people. If people like Peter King cannot get coffee on demand, how much longer until we’re rounding people up in camps and turning them into canned stew? Answer: NOT MUCH LONGER.

(UPDATE: The commenters have astutely pointed out the Laguna Marriott, like every other hotel, HAS COFFEE MAKERS IN EVERY FUCKING ROOM. But get this: they aren’t Krups! Is it really a coffee maker if it doesn’t froth milk?)

I think I keep hearing that Marvin Harrison is finished. He’s not even being pursued by any teams now, and I think he’ll never play again.

But you never know. History has a long arc.

Springsteen did a great job on The Jon Stewart Show the other night. Did “Working on a Dream,” alone, with a guitar and harmonica.

Thanks for the summary there. It’s as if I were in the audience! Did Jon Stewart also do a tiresome imitation of an Italian wiseguy at one point?

You can’t pay cops enough.

You can’t?

You just can’t.

Oh, okay.

Three cops dead, and a fourth gravely wounded, after a routine traffic stop in Oakland Saturday.

“I read about something again!”

We don’t tell police officers enough how much we value their service.

That’s because we offer them lifetime pensions and early retirement. I think cops tend to prefer that over a pat on the back.

Still, Peter makes a salient point. YOU PEOPLE DON’T RESPECT COPS ENOUGH. NOW THAT PETER HAS READ ABOUT IT, IT’S A FUCKING IMPORTANT ISSUE THAT MUST BE ADDRESSED IMMEDIATELY. I suggest we respect cops as we do the sun. If you see a cop, be sure to bring him fresh coffee. Take him to Jillian’s. Hire Travis Henry to speak to him about making mistakes.

Coffeenerdness: Peet’s may be outnumbered by four Starbucks here in Dana Point, but the drive to find the lonely little Peet’s is worth it.

THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD THANK THE FUCKING MARRIOTT FOR MAKING YOU DRIVE YOUR FAT ASS THERE.

They over-built in Orange County. So many people want ocean views that they crammed hundreds of units on the beautiful, weather-whipped hillsides and cliffsides of the county abutting the Pacific Ocean. And now the beautiful, weather-whipped hillsides aren’t so beautiful anymore.

“You people are ruining the view for my two days here!”

Couldn’t you just feeling a nation pulling for Siena yesterday?

Flubby says: Fuck and no.

I still think the best way to have a chance to win your tournament bracket every year — after the research the NCAA does putting the brackets together — is to take the team with the better seed in every game. That wouldn’t be as fun, but it would give you the best shot to win.

Last year was the first year ever all four top seeds advanced to the Final Four. Picking chalk will almost always end up fucking you over. You see, you never know which teams will have chemistry. Or even what chemistry is…