When we last left Peter King and his size 46 chino shorts, he decided against staging a personal boycott of Westin Hotels. Whew. Dodged a bullet there, Westin. Peter King could have single-handedly brought you to your knees. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.

So, what of this week? Did Peter swipe any new foul balls from area toddlers? Did he hire three urologists to slap his dick around? What kind of breakfast did Pam Whiteley put out for him? Better yet, did Pam Whiteley put out herself? Read on…

I wasn’t in Denver, but I watched Bears-Broncos on TV. Or should I say, I felt it.

Little do you know, but NBC has equipped all of Peter’s home televisions with VibraVision. Any time a pass is completed, a little butterfly vibrator that directly connects the TV to King’s asspussy goes off. So when Kyle Orton goes 12 for 16, the man comes like a LION.

Hmm. Interesting how King always gets so giddy for games that take place in Denver. I think it’s time for us… to FLASHBACK.

/waves arms

CUCULOO CUCULOO CUCULOO!!!!

We interrupt Hype Week to bring you news from the other 30 teams in the NFL. Actually, just one team. The Packers

I’d just gone to bed without about two minutes left in the fourth quarter of the Green Bay-Denver Monday nighter, but I couldn’t resist. I put in an ear-bud with the Westwood One broadcast, listening to Dave Sims and Bob Trumpy describe how the Broncos went the length of the field and forced overtime on yet another Jason Elam clutch field goal as time ran out. Then Green Bay won the toss to start overtime, and the rest soon became history.

Brett Favre, 38 but playing like 24, faded back to pass for the 14th time since the half. For the 13th time he completed the pass, according to Sims, a high-arching spiral to Greg Jennings down the sideline, caught in perfect stride at the Denver 40 over Broncos corner Dre Bly. He jogged in for the winning touchdown.

“Brett Favre is magic!!!” screamed Trumpy

“I need oxygen!!!” screamed Sims

Stupid me, I should have stayed downstairs, with the TV on. Now there’s no way I could sleep for at least 15 or 20 minutes. My heart was beating a mile a minute, like I was there.

He felt it, people. He felt it right in his asscave. Back to today’s column.

This wasn’t August football against an NFC team with no rivalry history. This was a December game with the playoffs on the line. Against an archrival.

Until the third quarter, when the starters were pulled and the game became utterly meaningless.

Everything the Broncos have touched in the last five months has turned to crap.

And I know just the cleansing process to flush all that out! Just don’t fly when you do it, or else your assdam will burst!

From his car early this morning, McDaniels sounded a little edgy.

Dare I say, even hip?

Almost angry, but not quite.

Let’s call it semi-apoplecticish.

Defiant might be a better way to put it.

An NFL coach, believing everything he’s done has been correct? I’m stunned.

I can see what Pat Bowlen saw in him, and still sees in him.

Fresh face. Supple skin. Cute butt. Hoo boy, time to fetch the Lubriderm again.

“Well, I can tell you that certainly I don’t feel sorry for Kyle Orton,” said McDaniels, his voice rising an octave or two.

Oooh! Now he’s an alto!

“Kyle Orton is one tough son of a bitch.”

He can drink a fifth of Jack and still kick your ass in any unsanctioned drag race.

“Kyle Orton doesn’t feel sorry for himself, and no one feels sorry for him in our locker room. What he has here, both with the coaching staff and in the locker room, is a tremendous amount of respect.”

And he’s the perfect anchorman for our weekly games of Flipcup.

“You have to be pretty happy with what you saw from your offense, and what you saw from Cutler, tonight,” I said to Ron Turner.

Another brave question from Peter King. He asks the questions even sideline reporters would find embarrassing.

“Jay, you just drove your team 98 yards for a touchdown. What grit.”
“Matt Forte! You are underrated as a cutback runner, sir.”
“Champ Bailey! Jack says you have a great big cock.”

Tedy Bruschi retires.

“NOOOOOOO! NAWT TEDY! HE WAS SO HAHHHHD-NOSED! Why does fackin’ Gawd wawnt to take all ow-uh Teds away! Next thing you know, he’s gonna take away Teddy Sullivan’s package store-ah!!!!! Just when I was ovah Teddy Kennedy’s demise! He was like a fahhhhthah to us all! IF YOU AHHHN’T A PATS FAN, YOU CAN’T UNDAHSTAND WHAT THIS IS LIKE! HE PLAYED THE GAME THE WAY WE WOULD HAVE PLAYED IT IN QUINZEE! HE PUNCHED DAHHKIES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PILE! FACK YOU!”

Speaking of Bruschi, reader Brian M. send us this old link from 2000 talking about Bruschi potentially leaving the Pats. It includes this delightful quote from King.

If I’m New England Patriots owner Bob Kraft, I have to say no to Bill Belichick now, hire Tom Donahoe to run the football side of business, and get on with my life… I like Belichick as a coach, too, even though I find his actions this month despicable and totally without honor. I just think enough’s enough. Move on. Donahoe and Dom Capers sound good to me.

Everyone hated Belichick back then. But I like using the wisdom of hindsight to make fun of Peter King anyway. He also bitched about AirTran in the article. SOMEONE GOT A MELTY NUTRAGEOUS ON THAT FLIGHT. Back to today…

All the vibes from the Patriots locker room seem positive about Brady’s shoulder, rammed into the ground Friday night on a legal hit by Albert Haynesworth of the Redskins, and he has 17 days from the time of the hit until the Pats’ first regular-season game, against the Bills. The news, though, is sealed with a Belichickian seal.

That seal depicts a 40-year old cougar being bent over an overhead projector cart.

“Three games, no punts, 31 points in this game,” said Aaron Rodgers, who’s looking more like Brett Favre than Favre.

Someone’s aiming for a nuzzlin’. Say, what do the Pats think of losing Ted Kennedy?

The NFL loses a very big fan.

And Old Granddad loses half of its market share.

When the Patriots released Ben Coates a decade ago, New England Bob Kraft got a letter from the senior senator of Massachusetts — and a former tight end at Harvard. “I’m available,” Ted Kennedy wrote. “Anything I can do to serve the team.”

“I uh, er uh, could run a flag route. And then I could cornah a cheerleadah and uh, er uh, fondle her-uh private pahhhhts.”

That’s something he did often, write letters.

“Dear-ah Tanqueray, I uh, er uh, love your gin.”

Kraft got quite a few over the years, and Belichick got several too.

“Coach B, let’s uh, er uh, go trolling for wifeys.”

As years went on and Kraft bought the Patriots, Kennedy stayed an ardent fan.

“I uh, er uh, love that Tim Bradley as our-uh quahtahback.”

“He was the third or fourth phone call after we won those Super Bowls. First the president, then [close friend] Elton John, then Teddy.”

Wait, what? Lemme read that again.

“He was the third or fourth phone call after we won those Super Bowls. First the president, then [close friend] Elton John, then Teddy.”

/throws hands up in the air

I don’t even know what to make of that. I’m speechless. Saturday night’s all right for illegal videotaping, I guess.

“There’s no ‘Jay’ in team.”
-Sign at Invesco Field Sunday night, prior to Jay Cutler’s return for a preseason game between Chicago and Denver.

Particularly when that team is about to go 3-13.

Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me

Roy Williams, the Dallas wide receiver, wears No. 11 for two reasons:

1. He thinks it makes him look slim.
2. It’s an easy number to write when giving an autograph.

Think about just how lazy you have to be to give that second point serious consideration. Don’t overexert yourself there, Roy. I’d hate to see you waste precious energy writing autographs that have complex numbers like 8’s and 5’s in them.

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week

You Know You Live In Boston Sign of the Times Dept: Across from each other in Terminal A at Logan International Airport are a Dunkin Donuts and a Starbucks. Last Monday at 5:55 a.m., 17 people were in line at Dunkin Donuts and two at Starbucks.

“THAT’S JUST BAWSTON PRIDE! WE LOVE OW-UH DUNKIN’! You Stahhhbucks faggots can have all the hawt jahvah you wawnt! We go with Dunkin’ becawse it’s more-ah blue collah!!!! No othah city has a bawnd like this with a franchise!”

Ocho is aiming to set some Tweet record. He’s averaging 63 Tweets a day since becoming a Twitterer on May 15. I asked him if he thought he was, well, you know, over-Tweeting, and taking too much time away from the job that pays him a lot of money. “Really, if you think about it, it keeps me out of trouble,” Ocho said. “In this job, we have a lot of time on our hands, and after I study and do my film work, I’m Tweeting. The time when trouble might be happening with other guys, I’m Tweeting.”

“Instead of driving over people’s lawns with Odell Thurman after a Rockstar and vodka, I can just talk about taking a dump!”

Rashied Davis, the Chicago wideout, can be a gunner for my team any day.

He’s tougher than Jack Bowers!

Maybe (Kevin) O’Connell just can’t do it. And if that’s the case, Belichick is doing the smart thing to cut the cord now and go with either Andrew Walter or someone the team will pick up or deal for in the next couple of weeks.

If I were them, I’d wait till Week 14, then sign Phil Simms. It’s a flawless plan.

I think Ron Jaworski, advancing tonight’s Minnesota-Houston game on ESPN, came away very impressed from watching Brett Favre throw the ball over the weekend.

“I think Brett Favre has a chance to be an OUTSTANDING player in the National Football League. The toughness! The arm strength! When I look at Brett Favre, I SEE A CHAMPION’S MENTALITY.”

/dry heaves at the thought of tonight’s telecast

Lou Holtz, on Sirius NFL Radio the other day with me and Bob Papa, said he thought Florida and Notre Dame had the best shot of meeting for the national championship in college football.

“Ith tellth youth whatth th Oonithirthity ofth Nothre Dameth cuth beeth gooth!”

Now, Holtz is a heck of a guy, but I almost barfed when I heard that.

PK’s gettin’ edgy, gang!

Saw Julie & Julia (and am not afraid to admit it).

Ooh! Was it cute?

Cute movie.

It was!

Would anyone argue that Meryl Streep’s not the best actress on the planet?

SHE’S OUR BOGART!

All the different roles she’s mastered, the disparate roles, and never, ever does she look anything but absolutely natural in them.

She’s Jeter with tits.

Who’d have thought she’d play Julia Child better than Julia Child played herself?

Everyone. That’s what actors do.

Coffeenerdness: I continue to be amazed at the lack of attention paid to coffee at hotels and restaurants.

THIS IS IMPORTANT, PEOPLE!

Do the people who run these hotels — these Marriotts, these Days Inns, these Comfort Inns — even taste the coffee they put out? This is not snobbery, but reality: Most of American coffee is swill.

For True Coffee, you have to go to Pete’s. Technically, it’s on Italian soil, you know.

The last few days were pretty emotional around our new home in Boston, with the death of Sen. Ted Kennedy.

He was a good man! He answered my texts! He gave me his gloves! He worried about sun damage!

I stood in the North End with hundreds of locals watching the motorcade go by, and a crying Caroline waving to the crowds. Touching, touching stuff.

Lofty stuff.

I just moved here, and I was captivated by it.

And there you have it. Peter King: Dead Person Bandwagon Jumper.