The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are incredibly excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in Dallas! Up next, it’s comedian Louis C.K.
I don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to have me pick the outcome of the Super Bowl, but you should probably be fucking fired from whatever it is you do.
Look at this. Look at this gut overlap here. This sorry, flabby, flaccid excuse for manhood. Does this look like the physique of a person who has any insight whatsoever into professional sports? Into athletics AT THE HIGHEST LEVEL OF HUMAN POSSIBILITY. We’re talking about immensely talented, tirelessly worked gladiators of sport. And it’s up to fat stupid worthless schlubby assholes like me to comment on what they do. Is there any profession in the world, as a collective, less qualified at their job than people who gab about sports for a living? These fat fucking smug talentless self-satisfied unaccomplished assholes. In a just world, I wouldn’t be called upon to predict anything other than how an evening at home watching my two daughters is going to play out.
“You know, guys, this might not be the conventional wisdom, but I can totally see me sitting on the couch eating my weight in Rold Golds as the girls watch a bootleg copy of Tangled. I’d place the over/under at three times jerking off after I put them to bed. To Tangled, of course.”
I’ve tried to watch football with my daughters a couple times. You’d expect the youngest one to have questions about the rules and what’s going on, but no. Nothing like that. Instead, every time a player hits another one, she stares at me for what I swear is, like, 15 seconds and asks, “Why did that man hit the other man? What did he do?” And this repeats because the only rational answer I can give is “that’s his job, sweetie.” And this invariably leads to, “isn’t hitting wrong?” AWWWWW FUCK! JUST LET ME WATCH THE GAME! STOP STICKING YOUR INNOCENCE IN FRONT OF THE SCREEN!
I mean, how do you explain moral relativism to a kid? So of course she wants to know what other situations in which hitting might be okay. Look, I just want to watch this stupid, pointless fucking game. This game that has no bearing on my life. I want to relax for 30 goddamn minutes, so I give in to my worst impulses. “People who wear helmets,” I tell her. “Anybody who has a helmet on is allowed to hit anyone else wearing a helmet. That’s how hitting is okay.” And I instantly know what I’ve done. There’s no way I’ll ever get this girl to ride a bike because she’s gonna assume some 300-pound behemoth is going to have free rein to destroy her because she’s being forced to wear a helmet on her bike. All because I needed quiet time for 30 fucking minutes. You have to wonder how many terrible traits were ingrained in people just because their parents needed a breather. Probably most. Most fucking problems, I would bet.
So, yeah, I’ll deal with that in five years or so. Who’s even in the Super Bowl this year? The Packers and the Steelers? What kind of retarded method do they use to name football teams? Did they just flip through the dictionary, find random mundane nouns and verbs and add an -ers on the end.
“Let’s see – we could have the Signers. The, uh, the Laundryers. The Spacers. You guys good with the Rafters? Well, I don’t know, it fits on the marquee. Let’s hear a better basic noun, then, douche. Huh? You wanna get stuck with Douchers? ‘Cause that works.”
Seriously, what the fuck a Steeler? Is that even a thing? In what other context have you ever heard that word? No wonder the American steel industry collapsed. We didn’t even have a proper name for the people who worked in it. “You there – you helped create steel, you… steel…er.” And Packer just sounds fucked up. “Let’s hope the euphemisms for anal sex don’t evolve beyond their current state or this team could be in trouble.”
These names are already quaint by today’s standards. What are we going to do 50 years from now when the average American has even less of a concept of what manual labor is? They’ll have to change the names by then. It’ll be the Pittsburgh Online Content Producers vs. The New Inflatable New Orleans Facebook Updates.
Honestly, I have no idea who’s gonna win this game. Does it really fucking matter? Like, at all? In the grand scheme of things, is it really going to improve your stupid, rudderless existence, even if you actually like one of these teams? You know who really wins? Whichever fucking company has the most popular commercial. ‘Cause that’s what the majority of the people watching the game give a shit about anyway at their stupid party where it’s another American holiday masquerading as time to get shitfaced. They’ll forget the winning team by the next day and giggle to themselves in the grocery store that it sure was funny when the man hit himself in the nuts trying to get a bag of Doritos from a pretty lady. That’s my pick – Doritos over those GoDaddy teasing cunts. But don’t hold me to that shit.
I want more like this!
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