Last week, in our intensive studies of mysterious Alaskan sea blob Peter King (scientists describe the blob as hairy!), we learned the story of Peter’s desperate race against time to keep his bowels from exploding in mid-air. It was a story rife with suspense and uselessness.

This is our last week covering Klassic King columns here at KSK, as the Lofty One returns next Monday from his not-at-all deserved month-long vacation with a fresh, steaming cup of Tarduvian Blend. But before we get into our final Klassic King installment, this Favre-heavy enema bag from October 2007, a quick word about the recent fill-ins hired by SI.com during King’s break.

As you may or may not know, King’s MMQB column has been taken over in the past month by current NFL players and coaches. Saints coach Sean Payton did the column today. Matt Birk (MATT BIRK ROOLZ!), Chris Cooley (who did NOT use the term “bag of dicks” in his guest spot), Matt Light, and Trent Green all also contributed. They all performed their task well, in fact far better than King ever has. But I don’t know. Isn’t it kind of fucked up to have your column taken over by the people you’re covering? What’s Peter King do if the Saints go 3-13 this year and Sean Payton deserves to be fired? Why would I take anything King says about Payton’s imagined predicament seriously? Won’t he end up protecting his guest authors just as he’s protected Brett Favre all these years?

FIX YO ETHICS!

Okay, onto the column…

MINNEAPOLIS — Deanna Favre leaned over the railing after her husband’s very big day at the Metrodome and asked: “Do you still have an MVP vote?”

“Yes,” I said.

And it can be all yours for the low, low price of a basket of Sonic onion rings.

“You might have to vote for Brett again,” she said.

No kidding.

If Tom Brady and Peyton Manning weren’t playing like Bird and Magic in their playoff prime every game, Brett Favre might actually be ahead in the MVP derby right now.

Take cover, people. HERE COMES THE ASSLICKING.

In nine days, he turns 38. He’s got a daughter who’s a freshman in college. Still, he looks just like he looked when he was Mike Holmgren’s Wild Child, doesn’t he?

/cue “Sunshine Of Your Love”

“His wild, untamed facial hair revealed a new world of rebellion — of change. A world where doors were open for women like me.”

Lifting receivers off the ground, throwing 101-mph fastballs that dislocate fingers, showing deft touch when needed.

Gripping my inner thighs like a hawk carrying its young…

With one difference. ”He’s really playing within the system so well right now,” coach Mike McCarthy told me Saturday night.

“He decided to not play like shit!”

In the past couple of weeks, people have taken the playing-within-the-system stuff to mean he’s Mr. Dink and Dunk. That’s not totally true. He’ll still throw the risky slant and the long pass into traffic up the seam.

Oh well, thank God for THAT. You can see how that old Favre derring-do ended up helping the Packers in the NFC Title Game just a few months later.

So Favre’s gotten in great shape in each of the last two years, listened to his coaches as much as or more than ever and studied his opposition more than he ever has. Used to be that quarterback coaches would have to wake Favre up during meetings once or twice a week, back in his partying days. No more.

So let’s be clear about this now. Journalists have always been enamored of Favre’s don’t-give-a-shit attitude towards his job. But I swear to fucking God, if the guy had been black, he’d be Aaron Brooks.

I was surprised to hear the positive reaction in Minnesota to his record throw Sunday.

Me too. This is the problem with Minnesotans. They act very nice to people when, deep down, they are seething balls of fat hate. You people in the Metrodome that day should be ashamed of yourselves. BOO THAT FUCKER.

I guess it’d be something like Fenway fans cheering A-Rod if he hit his 500th home run in Boston.

“NICE FACKIN’ HOMAHHHH, YOU GAY SPIC!”

There’s a great rivalry between the Vikes and Packers. But the Metrodome fans let the moment wash over them and appreciated it. The crowd was maybe 40 percent Green Bay fans. But they were joined in appreciation by people in purple, too.

Yeah, well then those people aren’t good fans. You want to clap for the opponent? Go root for the St. Louis Cardinals. This is football, and the laws of football fandom state that you NEVER STOP HATING THE FUCKS ON THE OPPOSITE SIDELINE EVER. I fucking hate this shit. “Oh, Brett Favre’s record was so magical that even Viking fans came under his spell. He’s so dreamy!” Screw that. BOOOOOOOOO.

When Favre left the field after the game, he stopped to hug the Vikings mascot, the stringy-bearded Ragnar.

The fuck are you doing HUGGING that asshole, Ragnar? Or should I call you by your real name – ALDRICH AMES?!

Fucking traitor.

It was the 16th time Ragnar — a Minnesotan named Joe Juranich — had seen Favre come into the ‘Dome, and the first time they hugged.

It would not be the last, as the two men became closer than they ever could have imagined.

Ragnar stands for all things Vikings.

NOT IF HE HUGS THE LAND BARON, HE DOESN’T.

Favre has been the archrival. Juranich knows he should hate Favre, but he can’t.

Well then, Joe, you are fucking WEAK.

When Favre had gone, Juranich said: “I went out into the parking lots today before the game, because I wanted to tell the fans, ‘Don’t you dare boo this man today. He’s been through so much, and he’s such a credit to the game. We should cheer him, and give him credit for being such a great player over the years.’ You just have to admire him. I mean this: It’s good to see him break it here.”

/vomits

You listen to me, Ragnar, you piece of shit. I hope you get run over by your own motorcycle. Oh, I bet you’re just soooo happy your secret lover is now finally joining the Vikings. WELL, FUCK YOU IN THE HAT. It’s good to see that asshole break a record against your favorite team? What kind of bullshit is that? I bet this asshole buys coffee filters from Biloxijim.

Need a feel-good story for your sports year? Fed up with Bonds, with asterisks, with Spygate, with dogfighting, with soccer goalies ripping other soccer goalies? With the effect money has on the games you love? Well, Favre’s writing a pretty pure story in Green Bay. There might be more good chapters to it. Keep reading.

So to sum up: Brett Favre is everything good and pure about sports. Particularly now that he’s not a lazy boozehound!

“I didn’t have anything in my contract about the ability to control trades, which is why I’m riding this bus right now.”

— Former Atlanta coach Jerry Glanville, Brett Favre’s first coach in the NFL and now the coach at Portland State. Glanville was interviewed by cell phone Friday, as he rode with his team to a Saturday game at Eastern Washington University in Cheney, Wash.

However, Glanville didn’t protest the 1992 trade of Favre very much at the time, according to former Atlanta GM Ken Herock, who told me Sunday: “Jerry kept telling me what a problem Brett was. When the season ended, he made it clear that Brett would be nothing more than a third-team quarterback for us. He told me, ‘If you can get a first-round pick for him, you’re a genius.’ ”

You make the call.

Ooh! Ooh! Let’s use the power of hindsight to humiliate Jerry Glanville for trading Brett Favre back when he was a bratty alcoholic who loved throwing picks! That makes Favre look even more heroic! I BET JERRY GLANVILLE USES TOO MUCH AIR CONDITIONING.

Offensive Player Of The Week

Green Bay QB Brett Favre. Hard not to get gee-whiz watching Favre play right now.

Hard for me not to unzip my pants and go to town when he plays!

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week I

All-over-body tattooed young lady to the clerk in the Marriott City Center gift shop in Minneapolis on Saturday morning: “Can I get change for a $20?”

Clerk: “Let me see if I have it … How do you want it?”

Tat woman: “Can I get five fives? Four or five fives, I’m not sure, you know.”

That really happened.

ZOMG! NO WAY! It’s like something out of a Roald Dahl book!

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week II

I am amazed at the omnipresence of fantasy football. On my trip home from New Orleans last Tuesday after the Titans-Saints game, a 28ish man behind me in the Delta line was talking on his cell phone, apparently to the co-owner of his fantasy team.

“We gotta do something about our receivers. Who’s out there right now? … Roddy White’s gonna get some garbage yards because the Falcons stink … What about Nate Burleson? … Yeah. Yeah. I totally blew it with Kevin Curtis. Coulda had him two weeks ago … Why don’t you see if you can trade Calvin Johnson for McDonald and something? Martz loves McDonald. See if you can dump Berrian. [Unintelligible] might want him. He’s a Bears fan … Maybe we can get Burress with his ankle being that bad … Yeah. No, DO NOT overpay for Galloway. I don’t trust Garcia to stay healthy … Stay away from Williamson. Childress wants to cut him. They hate the guy …”

Roddy White? Shaun McDonald? Troy Williamson? This was some fan. The conversation was three minutes, maybe, and I wasn’t taking notes, so I’m sure I have a few of his words muddled. But we were near the front of the line when he got off the phone, and I turned around and said, “You have an amazing knowledge of what’s going on in the NFL.”

So if you folks out there want to impress Peter King, just start spewing as much shit as you can about fantasy, the kind of shit that millions of people talk about on fantasy message boards every day. He’ll be dazzled by your breadth of knowledge of the game. You’ve heard of Troy Williamson? Who was picked 7th overall in the draft to replace Randy Moss after he was traded to Oakland in a huge story? You’re like a Junior Belichick! Even Peter King didn’t know who Troy Williamson was! He was too busy enjoying brunch with the Bowers!

I think that was a good Tuesday Morning Quarterback column on ESPN.com last week, Gregg Easterbrook.

It was quasi-RedGrangish!

I particularly liked the part where to sternly lectured everyone for not noticing something you noticed!

8. I think this is what I didn’t like about Week 4:

a. LaDainian Tomlinson, 16 rushing yards in the second half.

b. I mean, how much louder does it have to be said. RIDE LADAINIAN TOMLINSON, AND RIDE HIM ‘TIL YOU’RE OUT OF THIS MESS. Stop moving away from him, period.

And we again welcome you to Peter King’s Seminar On How To
I. Improperly deploy bullet points
d. On any given topic
e. Kudos to you, “The Usual Suspects.” You had a twist at the end that I did NOT anticipate.

9. I think every sports fan should be sad and happy today about the retirement of Craig Biggio.

Or be sullen and ecstatic. Your choice.

Sad because one of the class athletes in the history of American sports — and yes, I want to be that lofty about it —

LOFTINESS IS A CHOICE.

Hope Solo. The most apt last name in sports.

Until you meet the backup catcher for the Cincinnati Reds: Mike Dustytaint.

Sometimes hockey, which I really like, is so stupid. Hockey preseason games are totally off our radar screens, logically, but the brawls in so many games (Flyers, Devils, Isles, Rangers mostly) are totally out of control. The league’s got to do something.

Yeah, hockey. START CURTAILING THE COOLEST THING ABOUT YOUR SPORT.

Coffeenerdness: Best decaf brewed coffee in recent history: Starbucks Sumatra roast. Liquid gold.

This must be exactly what hiking in Indonesia is like.

Missed House and The Office season debuts last week. I’m in mourning. Heard both were great.

No worries. I’ll fill you in. On House, Doctor House was a dick to everyone, and finally figured out what was wrong with the patient after four or five wrong diagnoses. On The Office, Michael said something REALLY fucking dumb, yet somehow managed to keep his job despite the fact that he would have been fired ages ago if he were a real person. Then Dwight said something random. The Jim and Pam looked at each other. Fin.

Oh no! I’m going to miss Friday Night Lights this week. On Friday. Maybe I’ll learn to use that red button on the remote that magically records programs — the DVR switch, I think.

HOLY SHIT. You have DVR and you don’t even know how to/bother to use it? A fucking child could operate a DVR. Deanna Favre’s amputated breast could program it. But it remains a mystery to you, not unlike chemistry? “I have a DVR. But you know what? I think I’m doing the world some good by not using it. It’s a lot like my car in that way.”

/jumps out of moving van