(prior to Joel Ward’s goal last night)

Well well well, anathah crucial Game 7 fahhh the citizens of FIAH BAWBBY V NATION. No othah city has had more-ah moments of high sparts drawma than ow-ahs. NO ONE DENIES THIS.

(sits spread eagle on own couch with hat sideways)

But I’m nawt worried. Ow-ah beloved SNOW PEDROIAHS will pull this one out. You see, we Bawston fans have been through this time and again. This doesn’t faze us. The moment might be too big fahhhhh you Caps fans, but we know just how to act in times like these. We ahhhh hopeful. We ahhh nervous. We ahhhh cawnfident but nawt too cawnfident. We’ve been through the Sawk game. We’ve been through Kobe going 6 fahhh 24. We’ve been through it awll. NONE OF THIS SURPRISES US. So I’m just gawnna sit back, pawp a Twisted Tea, and have my girl suck my cawk while I wawtch this ovahtime. I always get my dick sucked at the end of regulation, tie or-ah no tie! SUCK AWAY, HONEYBUN.

(Ward scores)

WHAT THE FACK?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHO?

WHAT?!

THAT WAS A DAHKIE!

THEY LET A DAHKIE AWN THE ICE!

(puts in fresh dip)

This is NAWT happening! This is NAWT happening! This is a Level XXXVII Subset 12 Cawkpunch! Sure-ah, we won the title last year-ah, but in this town, you need to win TWO titles to earn ow-ah love! And this PACK OF FACKIN’ LOSAHS FAILED TO DO IT! Worst of awll, they let some dahkie break out of Rawxbury and get one ovah on them!

(begins randomly slapping own biceps)

THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!!!!! IT’S THE WORST THING THAT’S EVAH HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF MY BRUINS FANDOM, WHICH BEGAN LATE LAST SUMMAH!

Oh, no! The ghosts! the ghosts ahhh coming back! I can see them awll now! MOOKIE! TYREE! MANNINGHAM! BIAS! Don’t you see why I can’t stand dahkies? IT’S BECAUSE THEY CAN’T STAND SEEING US HAPPY!!!!!

(Walks past young couple, makes that fake I’m-gonna-punch you motion to the guy)

(sees guy flinch)

(laughs hysterically)

This is a curse! I bet some voodoo dahkie chick is mixing up chicken bones in a bowl and laughing at us! CURSING US TO BE SCREWED OVAH BY BLACKS TIME AND AGAIN! How could Gary Bettman let this happen? I should be the commissionah of hawkey, along with 75 othah sparts! I’m the only person in the world who has any cawmmon sense! You think any othah GM or-ah ownah has more cawmmon sense than me? STAWP, JUST STAWP. And you haven’t kept dahkies out of the game WHY, Gary Bettman?!

(cranks up the Chevelle)

And now the Sawx ahhh 7-10! And Tawm Brady is still a Hawllywood faggot who betrayed us by being from California! And I’m mildly awptimistic about the resurgence of my beloved C’s (the C stands for Coloreds!) , but nawt too optimistic because the C’s awlways let me down except when they won 17 titles. And you nevah know if David Stern will think that we play too tough and set his stupid woman ref on us to screw us ovah! HE DOESN’T LIKE OW-AH LUNCH PAIL STYLE! Our dahkies players play like they-ah white, and that’s why we love them!

In conclusion, Joel Ward is a black! FACK YOU!

Tebow: Oh, heavenly Father. O holy see. You have tested me time and again and I thank you for that, O Lord. I thank You for Your pain. I thank You for Your agonies. I thank You for the gift of Your punishing love. Were it not for my endangered time in utero, or that one time I lost to Ole Miss and cried, I would not be the man I am today. I can only be humble and hope that Your will shall lead me to yet unforeseen places of spiritual growth.

(sky flies open)

GOD: Timothy.

Tebow: My heavens! Do my eyes deceive me? IT IS YOU! (drops down onto belly) O Holiest of Holocenes, I am Your faithful servant and caretaker.

GOD: You will no longer be a Bronco, Timothy. That is not my plan for you. Frankly, your whole thing would have gotten played out crazy fast there.

Tebow: But where now, Your Divine Comedian?

GOD: I am sending You to the wickedest place of all. A land of decay and lechery. A haven of BUGGERY and false worship. Only YOU, dear Timothy, can bend it to My will. And get me the major market ratings that my boss, Roger Cunthead Goodell, demands.

Tebow: Where’s that, O Lord?

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Mark Sanchez: It sure is nice of you to drop by for an unannounced visit, Coach Dungy.

Tony Dungy: Yes, well I wish the feeling were mutual young man, but rest assured I am here today only at the request of a dear, dear friend.

Sanchez: Really? Who?

Dungy: Oh, ho ho! You’re not getting that out of me so easily, young man. Suffice it to say, I am here to serve as proxy to a very, very important person.

Sanchez: (excited) Stephen Sondheim?!

Dungy: No.

Sanchez: Twyla Tharp? Nathan Lane? Rodgers & Hammerstein?

Dungy: NO ONE IN THE MUSICAL THEATER INDUSTRY.

Sanchez: Oh.

Dungy: That industry is filled with sexual deviants and mindless secular poppycock! No, I answer to a far higher calling than that. Now, though it pains me to set foot within these walls once more, I shall have to take a look around the premises in order to give my mystery colleague a proper evaluation.

Sanchez: Well, I think you’ll find that the place is spic and span!

Dungy: Oh, really? Then what are these?

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One more team could soon be taken off the relocation block, as the Vikings stadium bill appears likely to pass in the Minnesota State Legislature. Los Angeles will just have to be content with only having taken one sports franchise from the hands of frozen but welcoming white people. Our resident dejected Vikings fan is about as ecstatic as you’d expect about the idea of never being freed from the albatross of Vikes fandom.

Minnesota governor Mark Dayton is doing his best to put a happy spin on the deal, according to the terms of which the Vikings will front slightly more than half of construction and operation costs. That could be as much as, like, 50.1 percent! Anyway, Dayton swears none of the public money for the stadium will come from general fund tax dollars, meaning local pols will be hard at work coming up with sneaky extra charges for public services. Revenue from ominous sounding things called “electronic pull tabs” will also help fund the stadium. That sounds like the state plans to taser residents on the street and take the money that falls out if their pockets. In truth, they’re just a portable gambling device, which only slightly less sleazy.

It’s the offseason. There’s no football on, and there won’t be for a long, long time. You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re hateful. We understand. At KSK, hating things is what we do best. Which is why we have the ongoing series This Week In F–K You. This week: The Wall Street Journal.

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FACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!

Has they-ahhh evah been a more-ah tortchahhhhed fanbase than the LEGENDARY FANS OF BAWBBY V NATION?!

(dips)

I had a bad feeling about this game! WE AWLL DID! When you ahhh a Bawston fan, you can spawt trouble comin’ round the cornah! Like when a pack of Rawxbury dahhhkies comes sweeping into town because it’s payday and they need to buy Keno tickets! WE CAN SMELL THEM COMING A MILE AWAY, BECAUSE DAHKIES SMELL LIKE CHICKEN AND PISS.

(visits Hoosiers gym because he loves white people)

THAT is why we didn’t travel to Indy for-ah this Supah Bowl! We KNEW that something wasn’t quite right, and that’s why we were-ah smahhht enough to stay away! No fanbase has evahhhh dreaded a game like this one, nawt since we had to beat back that cunty Tebow! I have lettahs to prove it! NAME ME ONE OTHAH FANBASE THAT CAN SENSE A LEVEL XXVIII(B) CAWKPUNCH GAME LIKE THAT! I am a hahhhdened veteran at this! I am bettah at taking lawsses than any othah sparts fan, even if that intentional grounding call was faggot shit! I AM BETTAH AT MANY THINGS THAN YOU, INCLDING TRIVIA, EDDIE MURPHY’S MOVIES, AND LOSING GAMES.

(also better than you at writing angry 1,000-word missives to editors in the dead of night)

Do you know what it’s like to experience missing out on a Fahhhhhth Supah Bowl becawse of some bullshit David Tyree catch, and then to experience the same thing five year-ahs latah? YOU DO NAWT. Don’t bawthah trying to tell me you do. STAWP. JUST STAWP. Fahhh Dunkin’ Donuts Nation to go out like this – to a hated bunch of fags from New Yark! – is the cruelest blow of all! THE FIRST THREE SUPAH BOWLS MEAN NOTHING NOW!

(stalks around on street corner wearing oversized Bruins jersey)

And Brady? Brady is NAWT ONE OF US. You see, we BAWSTON people stick close to our own! We ahhh born here, and then we go to school in Greenwich, and then we move to LA, and then maybe we die here-ahhhhh! WE’RE JUST THAT LOYAL. No othah town is like this! So when Brady is hangin’ out in Santa Bahhhhbahhhhara and fackin’ some undawcumented non-Mass resident, we get suspicious! WE KNOW SHIT IS FACKED! Tawm Brady is gawnna have to win us ovah again! Don’t tell me that wasn’t a shitty pass to Welkah! WELKAH CATCHES THAT BALL 150 TIMES OUT OF 100! I blame Glamour-ah Boy Brady fahhh fahhhgetting his roots! And I blame Bernahhhhd Pawllahhd! WE AHHH THE ONLY CITY THAT HAS HAD OW-AH PLAYERS HURT BY ANOTHAH PLAYAH!

(pisses on nearby lamp post)

I fackin’ hate awll of you right now! It’s a good thing I’m so good at accepting hahhhtbreak! I’m gawnna go fack an Indian chick and slap the dawt off of her head! WE NOW ONLY HAVE ONE MAJAH SPARTS TITLE AND THAT IS A CURSE! Even if we had won, we know that it wouldn’t have been prawpah revenge for Super Bowl Farty Two! NO ONE DENIES THIS! BAWSTON WAS IN A LOSE-LOSE SITUATION! You can’t pawssibly get that! I FEEL THE GHOSTS AND THEY SMELL LIKE OLD PUSSY!

When we last left Geno Auriemma’s biographer Peter King, he was marveling over Mike Mayock’s travel schedule. How can one man be in both the continental US and Hawaii all in the SAME DAY?! That defies physics! He was also not proud to tell you he watched a bit of the Kardashians (MOAR FUNKHAUSER PLEEZ), and told you that he wasn’t gonna write about Peyton Manning, then proceeded to write twelve thousand words about Peyton Manning. There will be PLENTY of time to talk Peyton later this week, gang! For now, it’s important that we talk about how scary that Tigers’ batting order is!

So what about this week? Did Peter save his receipts from the Conrad Hotel? Was this game exciting for the seven state-like territories in the upper right-hand corner of your United States map-like object? And did Seattle ever give Marc, Peter’s barista, a raise? Well, let’s just see how he makes my latte first. READ ON. But first, a special announcement…

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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 Republican Presidential hopeful Newt Gingrich.

By the end the fourth quarter, the Patriots will have won this game by a score of 37-26. Tom Brady will have thrown four touchdown passes, and Aaron Hernandez will have caught three touchdown receptions. Brady will win the MVP by a decisive margin, just as I shall win by a decisive margin in the Nevada caucuses on February 4th.

Five weeks from now, I will have overcome last night’s loss in Florida, won a majority of states on Super Tuesday, and cemented my place as the GOP party nominee. I WILL be the nominee. In November, I will defeat Barack Obama by a margin of 60 electoral votes and take back control of this country from Socialists and freeloaders. By the end of my first term, we will have created 5 million new jobs, ten percent of them located on the moon. We will have established a permanent base on the moon, and will send out a team of privately funded super buggies to survey the entire surface of the moon and bring back 400 kilotons of moongold, securing this nation’s economic future for the next 700 years. Here is a simulation of that Moon Patrol.

By the end of my first 100 days, we will have learned to control the weather, summoning rain in dry seasons and sunshine in wet seasons. We will be able to grow hydroponic corn inside hotel saunas. We will have also completely weaned black people off of welfare for good, forcing them to either finally get a job or leave the country. My preference, frankly, would be the latter. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying that.

We will have assassinated Vladimir Putin and installed in his place a fully functional Yakov Smirnoff android, who will sign favorable deals with us to export Russian oil and underage Russian call girls. By the end of my first term, I will have divorced my current wife, married one of these call girls, given her a position in my Cabinet, fired her over creative differences, and replaced her with a 23-year-old GOP pollster with killer legs and a pretty mouth.

By the end of my second term, we will have invented cold fusion. Now, we’re gonna need a place to store all that free, clean energy. And I will have set up permanent energy stations in formally blighted urban areas vacated by minorities who were too lazy to afford proper health insurance and died as a result. We will have bulldozed many of these corpses out of the way to make room for clean, efficient new ultramalls that will offer people fine food and clothing at reasonable prices.

We will have annexed China. We will have taken over that nation completely and finally gotten them to stop spitting on the sidewalk. We will build an elaborate system of treehouse condos that will be the envy of every other nation. We will have cured death, and found a way to accommodate the resulting spike in population. We will have expanded the United States by 20,000 square miles by building an elaborate network of man-made islands shaped like a palm frond. We will have cured obesity thanks to a special new brand of prescription chewing gum. EVERY American will have an IQ over 150. People that wish to replace their defective limbs with robot parts will be able to. We will have developed a special DEATH RAY that can take out alien spacecraft from 22 lightyears away, more than enough time to fend off the coming Xerophians. We will have fully irrigated the Moab desert and learned to clone pineapples. And we will have finally made auto-fellatio a skill all men possess.

All of this WILL happen.

When we last left fate xeroxer Peter King, he was personally clearing his airplane seat of refuse, which is something that should only happen if you’re living in INDIA. I also put him under legit fire for declaring a carrot he ate to be his first memorable moment of championship weekend. In Peter’s defense, it WAS a big carrot. Thicker than Tebow downstairs. He also rode the cable cars, lamented the lack of Rams home games featuring Tom Brady, and expounding on the wonders of cooking and toxicity.

So what about this week? Did Peter find some other complete idiot who doesn’t like football who Peter thinks has lots of out-of-the-box ideas about the sport? I’m told that Paul Krugman would like to do away with the sport entirely in favor of a series of town hall meetings to discuss the economic effects of raising the capital gains tax. PRETTY HARD HITTING STUFF. And did Peter get to drink more Blue Bottle coffee? READ ON. There’s something about this Fun With Peter King that’s hard to put a finger on, but also very tough to beat.

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Ted Allen: Four chefs. Three courses. One amazing meal. The stakes have never been higher. The ingredients have never been more outrageous. Who will come on top in this very special Super Bowl competition, and walk home with $10,000? And who will be sent home? Let’s meet our contestants.

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