KSK whipping pud Peter King is holding an online auction which will allow a lucky bidder to treat him to yet another inordinately expensive meal under the guise of charity. The meal can occur wherever the winner deems appropriate, so long as it’s within the continental United States, because Alaskans and Hawaiians are nugget-free and decidedly unlofty for people going through something non-contiguous.

Anyway, despite the “prize” of further gorging Peter King being somehow valued at $4,000, the real entertainment for we blog simps is the eminently goofy and lumpen photo of PK included on the bidding page. It’s like the Heisman trophy were extremely uncoordinated and stricken with Elephantiasis. Never ones to slink from Photoshop bait, we include our offerings after the jump.

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The Lions seem to be making incremental gains in talent with each passing year since the exorcism of Dark Lord Millenstopheles, though it’s still a little premature to call them a decent team. They are, however, displaying marked gains in the capacity to amuse and delight, what with coach Schwartz publicly beating off to Jahvid Best highlights, while a helmeted, tube socked, ’97 era South Park shirted Zack Follett wanders into a CVS Target in search of tampons and Barbie Band-Aids to administer to the punished opponents of this year’s team.

With all these high jinx, I dare say my image of the Lions could very well change from

to

Chew chew!

/shoots water out of boutonniere

The Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame tried for the second time to induct Al Davis into their pantheon of localized sports greatness, only for Count Al to blow them off once again and not show up for the ceremony without telling anyone first. That left John Madden to present and accept the award on his behalf, all the while explaining that Davis is simply a misunderstood megalomaniac who really only has the best interests for your discarded entrails at heart.

Though Davis wasn’t at the ceremony Monday, don’t think he doesn’t care. Displayed with each inductee’s plaque is a brief biography written by a sportswriter. When BASHOF sent Davis his bio for inspection, a courtesy aimed at correcting errors, Davis rejected it and asked that it be completely rewritten by a different writer.

“You call this hagiography? BAH! Get me that Theodore Dreiser fellow. Now there’s a scribe who could make Dengue fever as popular as Audie Murphy.”

The Bengals’ web site has one of those garden-variety off-season redemption profiles of Chad Ocho Cinco, in which he vows this coming season won’t be quite as unremarkable as the last. It being Ocho, bland anecdotes about being inspired from one conversation with Denzel Washington and Kobe “Moutheyes scowl” Bryant at the NBA Finals are interspersed with magically disjointed and pause-worthy quotes about his relationship with Carson Palmer.

“I know people are trying to say we’re mad at each other and all that, but we’re good,” he said. “We’re like Brokeback Mountain. I’m going to be with Carson so much in July that I’m going to be the nanny (for his new twins).

I’m not totally up on my state-by-state gay adoption laws, but I’m pretty sure Ohio hasn’t granted those sort of rights for gay couples, but shine on you crazy kids.

“I’m going to babysit. We were getting down to the details. If he and the wife go out, they have to be back by three. I asked for permission to have company over.”

And he gets to keep this old birdcage!

Painfully tired Brokeback jokes aside, is there a worse idea than leaving your children alone with Ocho? Even if he doesn’t make them play inside the dryer, his circles of logic will render their still-forming minds to gelatin. Because he’s an alien. (Sorry Hulu)

It’s a good thing he brings the crazy in this profile, because there exists a distressing paucity of it in his Twitter feed. So far not a single mention of Car Boat (the boat with cars) and 8,000 responses to Ray Lewis’ feed. Someone’s peyote supply is diminished.

Elsewhere, Cedar Point amusement park will host a Brady Quinn Day this Saturday. In future news, Quinn will be disappointed to learn that “Batman the Ride” is a roller coaster.

THE DEFINITIVE TOME FOR ELITE FLYERS. Yes, free-floating text oaf Peter King will be releasing a book this fall, which, judging from the title, sounds like a best-of collection of his columns. Finally, a compendium of all his random indulgent shout-outs to call my own! Amazon cannily has it pegged for ages 9-12, but I imagine kids as old as 14 could use its pages for rolling papers.

And, in a savvy move, he’s beating Bill Simmons to the bookshelves by two weeks, thus assuring your book-buying budget for the fall will be extinguished before you get a chance to lay down $27 for 700 pages about the ’86 Celtics. That’s usin’ yer noodle!