Wishing you a Measty Christmas from KSK.

Hopefully you got what you asked for. Not me. I had all three of my fantasy teams in the playoffs this year, two of which had the one seed. And they all lost, the last of which lost this past week by 0.22 points. And I had Carolina’s Steve Smith, meaning had Tom Coughlin not pointlessly challenged his TD catch on the one-inch line (Panthers scored on the next play) I would have won. Gggguuuuuhhhhh

HI BLOG READERS

TOUGH WEEK FOR THE BEN. BEEN CHEWING ON THIS GUM FOR FOUR DAYS AND IT LOST FLAVOR LONG TIME AGO. I HOPE FLAVOR COME BACK SOON. COME BACK AS CHOCO TACO FLAVOR MAYBE. HARF HARF HARF THAT’S JOKES.

BUT WEEK BEEN HARD FOR MORE THAN GUM. GOT ANOTHER OWIE IN MY KNEESPOT FROM STEPPING IN MUD. WHAT’S THE KNEESPOT GOT TO DO WITH FOOT IN MUD? BODY WORK IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS. LIKE I YELL PEW PEW PEW OVER AND OVER AND GET A HEADACHE. WHAT THE HEAD HAVE TO DO WITH PEW PEW PEWING?

THEN MEWELDE TELL ME (HINES BUSY WITH THEM VIETCONG) SEATTLE QUARTERBACK CALLED ME A GIRL. WHAT A STUPID THING TO SAY. EVEN BEN KNOWS HE’S A MAN ‘CAUSE HE’S GOT ONE OF THEM SANTONIO THINGS THAT MAKES THE PEE. PLUS, HE GOTS THE SWEET MAN-MAN GOATEE. ONLY GIRLS IN CLEVELAND GOT THEM.

NOTHING WRONG WITH THE GIRLS, ‘COURSE. THEY SOME OF THE BEST FANS WE GOT. EXCEPT THEY THROW THEIR UNDERWEAR AT THE BEN, WHICH IS SILLY. HE DON’T WEAR GIRL UNDIES. THROW SOME THE BEN CAN USE. BUT I LIKE THE ONE WHO SENT ME THIS VIDEO.

FOOLISH DIVE WITHOUT HELMET? ME THINK ME NOW UNDERSTAND THIS CRAZY THING CALLED LOVE. AND WITHOUT HINES HELP!

[The sound of volcanoes exploding in the distance blends with the cawing of exotic birds and the howls of unidentifiable beasts. A few long-haired wild men swing from the trees, dropping into sight only to snag lava rocks just before they hit the ground]

Ben Roethlisberger: HI WILDERNESS UNTOUCHED BY MAN

THANKS FOR BRINGING ME TO YOUR ISLAND, TROY. EVER SINCE SOME KID POINTED A LIGHT GUN AT ME AT THE GAMESTOP, I DON’T FEEL SAFE! GOTTA FIND BODYGUARD IN YOUR VERSION OF THE SAVAGE LAND! CAN IT BE SAURON?

Troy Polamalu: [Mutters something softly about Jesus]

Ben: THE JEEBUS MAY WORK FOR YOU, BUT THE JEEBUS DON’T EVEN KNOW ABOUT TIES!

Troy: [Complains softly about the NFL's increasingly stringent policy on hits]

Ben: BEN NO PANSY! JUST NEED FEEL SAFE WHEN OUT IN PUBLIC

[Dense jungle brush flies open]

Samoan Warrior: UUUUNNNNNNNGGGGGGGAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Ben: HALP! [Runs behind Troy]

[Troy and the warrior exchange flying headbutts, get up, stare at each other uneasily, then shake hands.]

Troy: He’ll be your bodyguard now.

Ben: BEN HAS BODYGUARD NOW! CAN BE JUST LIKE PACMAN! OH BEN GONE DRANK! BEN GONE DRANK 10 RED BULLS AND STAY UP PLAYING FALLOUT 3! HARF HARF HARF

HI AMERICA

EVEN WITH THE OWIE IN MY SHOULDERSPOT, I HAD TO EXERCISE MY DUTY AS AN AMERICAN AND RESERVE A COPY OF GEARS OF WAR II AT THE GAMESPOT THIS MORNING.

BUT NEXT DOOR I SAW BUNCHES OF PEOPLE ALL GATHERED TOGETHER. I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE CHOCO TACO TASTING BUT IT WAS SOMETHING CALLED VOTING INSTEAD.

I ASKED HINES WHAT WAS VOTING AND HE SAID SOMETHING COMPLEX AND SO I THOUGHT ABOUT TIDAL WAVES INSTEAD. STILL WE WENT INTO THE PLACE AND THEY PUT ME ON THIS MACHINE. I WENT PEW PEW PEW ON THE BUTTONS AND THE MACHINE SAID I VOTED AND THEY GAVES ME A STICKER.

I TOLD THE MAN I VOTED WITH A OWIE IN MY SHOULDER AND THEY EVEN GAVE ME TWO STICKERS FOR BEING A TOUGH BEN! VOTING IS THE BEST THING SINCE LINEMEN WHO BLOCK FOR YOU! I HOPE TO DO IT EVERY YEAR.

I won’t be joining you fine readers for the liveblog this evening, because I’ll be sitting in my wondrous limited view seats in the shittiest stadium in the NFL. If that’s what it takes to miss Berman with Obama and McCain, it was well worth being ripped off. Worry not, the Maj will probably be here, because rich boy is wealthy enough to afford season tickets and never use them.

This is actually the first Steelers regular season game I’ve attended in 10 years, since I went to the first ever game in PSI Net/M&T Bank/Whatever they call that shithole with purple seats in Baltimore in 1998 (Steelers won). That probably means I’m a bad fan. Whatevs. Still stoked.

Silky Garrard: Ah, yes, hello sir. Please, please, do make yourself comfortable. You strike my eye as a man of exquisite tastes and insatiable appetites. I can tell that you’re interested in the higher end of our bouquet of delectations.

Or, perhaps, in a manner of speaking, it’s not the “higher end” that you seek at all.

Just a joke, sir. I can see that you are a man that does not take his pleasure-seeking lightly. I admire such qualities.

Let us get to the business at hand.

But first, a glass of the house red. Doesn’t that go down smooth?

Ben Roethlisberger: HI DAVID

Silky: No one but my mother gets to refer to me by that name, good sir. But I know you won’t make that mistake again. [Pulls back suit to reveal gun holster] Will you?

Enough of formalities. Let us be frank: I can assure you that you are in for an evening of the finest in corporeal delights.

Roethlisberger: HARF HARF HARF I DON’T WANNA CARPOOL

Silky: …No.

No…

I shouldn’t think so.

You know, I think I have a specimen might be just right for you.

This is Georgia. Let me promise you that this statuesque figure you see before you is 100 percent woman. Never a man. Check for scars. No, not there, over here. She’s merely been on a steady diet of growth hormones since she was seven, which makes her both your equal in stature and intellectual capacity.

Roethlisberger: CAN SHE BLOCK?

Silky: She can render any service it is that you desire. And all for the modest price of… how much do you have on you?

Roethlisberger: HINES DOESN’T LET ME CARRY MONEY

Silky: So you got nothing?

Roethlisberger: GOTS OWIE IN MY KNEESPOT

Silky: Tiny! Please show this man the exit. And the wall next to it.

Bruce Arians: All right, Bruce. Think for a moment. Dick LeBeau always gets the credit for being the genius coordinator on this team. They all want to blame you for the playoff loss to Jacksonville. But here’s where you’re gonna show ‘em. You’re gonna put their doubts to rest, their minds at ease, their pants at knee level. By gum, you’re gonna dazzle ‘em!

Arians: Okay Ben. We had a pretty good first drive, but this is what I’m thinking for the rest of the game.

Ben Roethlisberger: GLUG GLUG GLUG

Arians: I’m gonna need you to stop drinking for a moment and pay attention, Ben.

Roethlisberger: HOKAY

Arians: They’re bringing the house on every single down. Rather than counteract that with some runs or screen passes or quick slants, I say we play directly into their hands. It’s just daring enough to work. What do you think?

Roethlisberger: YOU’RE THE COACH, COACH

Arians: Yes. Yes I am, aren’t I?

Arians: All right, guys. Our QB is taking a lot of heat. So I’m gonna need you to run a bunch of fly patterns that take forever to develop.

Hines Ward: All you sule, Alien? That sound rike exact long thing to do.

Arians: Look, dammit, don’t question me. I’m the coach. THE coach.

Nate Washington: Eh, I’ll drop it no matter what you call.

Arians: That’s what I like to hear, Nate. Way to be a team player.

Hines: It youl funelar…

Arians: Phew. Okay. Good. Okay. I think we’re gonna be aaaallllllll right.
(more…)

Donovan McNabb: It’s about that time, my Benny bear. I’ve waited so long.

Ben Roethlisberger: HI DONOVAN

McNabb: Four years. Whew. Four. Long. Years. Can you believe it?

Roethlisberger: WE’RE DOING GOOD RIGHT NOW!

McNabb: I bet you are. How’ve you been holding up?

Roethlisberger: MY SHOULDER BEEN SPRAINED. OR SEPARATED. I THINK SPRAINERATED.

McNabb: Sounds like you need a rubdown.

Roethlisberger: GOT TRAINERS FOR RUBDOWN.

McNabb: How ’bout I be your trainer?

Roethlisberger: GOTTA ASK COACH

McNabb: Don’t be like that. You let coach tell you how to run your life?

Roethlisberger: SOMETIMES

McNabb: Well I think you – Oh shit, that cameraman is watching us. Play the part, man, play the part. [Raises voice with forced bass] Yeah, well, ya’ll got us last time, bitch, but that was then! I’mma throw all over the field on your lame-ass secondary! Me and Westbrook gone light shit up.

Roethlisberger: HOPE SOMEONE TAPES THE NEW ENTOURAGE FOR ME

McNabb: Yeah, well, FUCK YOU, man. We’re the only real team in this state. We gone keep it all the way live in the 215! For real!

Roethlisberger: HARF HARF HARF THAT RHYMES

McNabb: … All right, he’s gone. [Adopts tender voice] You know I love that laugh. Makes my dick wanna vomit like it’s the Super Bowl all over again. So you’re gonna call me, right? I mean it. Call me, Ben.

Call meeeeee

So I can make it juicy for ya.

C-call meeeee!

So I can get it juicy for ya

C-call meeeee!

Roethlisberger: OKAY, BUT HINES GOTTA SHOW ME HOW TO WORK THE PHONE.

Hines Ward: You know, othel leceivel, many peeperr say now that thell all injewlee to Tom Bladee and Shawne Mellyman that Steerel are team to beat in AFC.

Santonio Holmes: [Admires own penis] …

Ward: I say no be so hasty. As Supel Bore winning leceivel, I know season not won or rost in Week 1.

Holmes: [Admires own penis] …

Ward: You must take rong view. Think of season as tlek up gleat mountain. Some may stumber at filst, but smirre berong to those who pelsist.

Ben Roethlisberger: HEY GUYS, THERE’S A MARIO WILLIAMS ON ME. I’M TRAPPED! HALP!

Ward: Foll examperr, you no have good Week 1. Fumberr barr, no get many yalds, too busy rooking at big-ah penis.

Holmes: [Admires own penis] …

Roethlisberger: HARF HARF HARF, THAT’S GOOD JOKES! F’REALS GUYS. THIS MARIO WILLIAMS IS KIND OF HEAVY. HE’S DIGGING INTO MY SHOULDERBLADE. AND THE BALL IS JUST SITTING THERE.

[Cloud of dust flies open]

Willie Parker: Hey man.

[Lifts Mario Williams off with one arm and chucks him aside.]

Willie: I got stronger in the off-season.

[Runs off]

Roethlisberger: WHO WAS THAT MASKED RUNNING BACK?

Steelers fans: YYYYAAAAA LET’S CALL HIM “JACKED” WILLIE PARKER!!!11!!

Rashard Mendenhall: [Said while fumbling ball] Aw nutbunnies.