KSK Super Bowl Celebrity Pickakke: Jason Whitlock!
The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are more than happy to take part in. For the next two weeks, stars from all over the world will drop in to make their picks. Today, it’s Jason Whitlock.
Last night I got an email from Kerry Washington. “Big Sexy,” she told me, “You know how much I love you. But you know what I love even more? When you drop those NFL truths on me. Won’t you skeet some hot truth all over me on a cold winter’s night?”
And I told her, “Baby, you don’t get it. A lot of people don’t want to hear the truth. They know I’m controversial. I speak my mind. I tell it like it is. No one else had the balls to say Jay Cutler is a pussy, except for Wilbon, Mark Schlereth, and four million people on Twitter. But I did. I said it, consequences be damned. You can’t contain me. Ask any sofa or loveseat you come across.” Kerry knew what time it was. When it comes to the truth, Big Sexy doesn’t mess around. He tells no lies. Unless we’re talking about my gym routine yesterday. Here are your Super Bowl truths:
1. Both of these teams would be better off with Jeff George as a backup QB.
No one fears Dennis Dixon or Matt Flynn. Both these teams should have put an insurance policy in place in case Aaron Rodgers or Tang Chaser Ben got hurt. And trust me, Jeff can still throw the ball long. Also, his mother died. GM’s that can’t understand what that can add to a team are damn blind.
2. Chris Jones Doesn’t Know Jack Shee-at
I see you, Chris Jones, trying to bait me:
Well, here’s the stone-cold truth, kids: Jason Whitlock has no soul. He’s neither a good reporter nor a good writer. He’s a bloviator who’s somehow carved out a niche for himself as a kind of anti-establishment figure by making references to The Wire and pretending he’s the second coming of Ralph Wiley, when Ralph Wiley would be fucking mortified to be associated with Whitlock’s brand of self-serving buffoonery.
Child, please. Ain’t no bojanglin’ in this column. Head up Scoop Jackson way for some real minstrelsy buffoonery. Your criticisms are real rich coming from the Moneyball Dude Of Game Shows. I knew Ralph Wiley. I studied under Ralph Wiley. I read many of Wiley’s Road Dog columns on Page 2, which were secretly really fucking terrible. You think you know Ralph Wiley? Ralph Wiley woulda had Bodie take a bat to your dome for tryin’ to start a beef like that. OMAR STRINGER BELL MY BOY BUNK LOVED HIMSELF SOME PUSSY.
3. Has anyone seen my wallet?
For real. Lost it for 15th time yesterday. It ain’t easy keepin’ a wallet when you can’t see your pockets. It was a nylon wallet with the Ball State logo on it. Mighta left it at Arthur Bryant’s. Come on, tweeps.
4. I have very small hands.
No joke. Take a look next time you see me. Look like a deformed T-Rex. Somehow I ended up with the body of Oliver Miller and the hands of a Pakistani IT technician. This is why I always go for sliders of regular sized burgers.
5. Ben Roethlisberger is not a Hall of Fame QB.
He’s surrounded by the most stable organization in football and has Troy Polamalu and James Harrison to save his bacon on the other side of the ball. He doesn’t belong in the Hall of Fame if he wins three titles. YOU WON’T HEAR THAT OPINION ANYWHERE ELSE. Some people might call me arrogant. Some people might say I say other people call me arrogant just so I can build up my own self-image. BULLSPIT. This truth comes right from the gut. Although I admire Ben for overcoming his addiction to Pussy Galore. And by Pussy Galore, I mean Pussy. FOX will actually print that.
6. Rashard Mendenhall is just like that insane girl you were freakin’ with back in high school who can’t keep her hands off you.
By now, you’ve seen the Mendenhump video making its way around the Internet. Tell me that doesn’t remind of you of the crazy girl you dated back in the day. Sure she had the body of Tisha Campbell, and she’s down for a little action, but then she goes and lays it all out for you with her oozing pumpkin butt on the dance floor in front of your friends and you’re saying, “Damn, girl! How about a little discretion?!” But you end up hittin’ that anyway because you know she’s good to go but you know damn well that ain’t the kind of girl you want bein’ your baby momma, but then she LIES about being on the pill and suddenly you find yourself trapped like Antonio Cromartie. Rashard is JUST like that. Come on, you guys know the type of bitch I’m talking about. I watched movies about girls like that ALL THE TIME when I was 19.
7. This will be the most watched Super Bowl ever because of the lack of cornrows and tattoos.
James Harrison? No cornrows. Charles Woodson? No cornrows. Greg Jennings? No cornrows. Americans are sick and tired of athletes bojanglin’ up themselves on the national stage. No one wants to see these black kids live up to their stereotypes. In other news, I would fuck the SHIT out of Robin Givens. All three holes. Don’t care if she gets double pregnant. Damn, girl. You fine. UNNNGHHHHH!
8. Does anyone have the link to my last column?
I can’t find that shit. Surely, one of you has a link you can send me. Tell me you’re out there, reading me. Tell me you’re there to respond. I have to know, or else I will cry into my very small hands.
9. I did the damn thang watching Cinemax last night.
It was an episode of the “Best Sex Ever.” THE DAMN THANG GOT DONE TO MY THANG. TAKE A CELL PHONE PIC OF THAT, DAULERIO.
10. The Steelers will beat the Packers 30-28 on an Aaron Rodgers pick-six at the end.
That is the truth, my friend. Don’t settle for some corny Ziggy Sobotka shit. I ain’t even playin’ with this column. Tell me you read it. Tell me I brought the heat. I NEED VALIDATION. I NEED TO KNOW I STIRRED THE POT. PLEASE. PLEASE. IF YOU AREN’T OUT THERE I MAY DIE ALONE.