JEERS to whoever the fuck “boo’ed” my house the other night. I don’t know if you’ve you heard of this new, excruciating Halloween trend, but allow me to explain. Someone leaves a small bag of goodies on your doorstep, then rings the doorbell and runs away. Then you open the bag and inside is a piece of paper that says:

BOO!

Make 2 copies of this sheet, then make two new goodie bags. Place the sheets inside the bags and get in on the fun by booing two MORE houses!

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

You know, I already have to buy candy for Halloween. Now I have to make fucking party favors with a chain letter tucked inside? To whoever invented this idea: FUCK YOU IN THE PUMPKIN HOLE. I hope you slice your own hand off while carving your fucking jack-o-lantern.

There are some people out there who are WAYYY too fucking jazzed about Halloween. They put cobwebs in their bushes, and fog machines outside their doors, and now they apparently are placing mysterious bags on my doorstep filled with useless crap. And demanding I make photocopies. I’M NOT COPYING SHIT. Fuck those people. I’m handing out cock tacos for Halloween this year.

CHEERS to pad thai. With your delightful mound of crushed peanuts and pan-fried noodles, you are a lunch like no other. I know full well Thai restaurant owners must fume when everyone orders this shit, instead of something more authentic. But who can resist such a delight? No one, that’s who.

JEERS to Seth Meyers. I heard Meyers being interviewed on the Simmons podcast the other day, and I swear it was as if Simmons was talking to a fucking lawyer for 30 minutes. How the fuck did this guy ascend to head writer of SNL? Is he someone’s nephew? Is there some sort of comedy writing cabal that only requires you be a Red Sox fan as a prerequisite to join?

Meyers strikes me as the type of guy who will spend 45 minutes talking about what makes something funny, instead of just BEING funny. And I fucking hate people like that. This guy should be working at a fucking bank, or a lobbying firm. He shouldn’t be hosting “Weekend Update”. Would it kill SNL to hire an actual fucking comedian for that role? Jesus.

CHEERS to “Religulous”. Now THAT is some fucking funny shit. You got Bill Maher getting a goodbye hug from a minister who is a “former homosexual” and asking him, “Hey, you didn’t get a fucking hardon just now, did you?”

I liked this flick because it had a firm point of view about organized religion, which would be that organized religion is a nothing more than a bunch of contrived bullshit. It doesn’t bother being all PC and nice and trying to see the other side of the argument. It’s just, “Anyone who claims they know definitively what God is or what he wants out of us, or that he even exists, is a liar and fucking asshole.” Amen to that, brutha.

JEERS to the Steven M. Fanale of Danvers, Massachusetts. Reader Kyle D. points us to perhaps the most deluded and self-aggrandizing Red Sox fan in world history, which is saying a lot. Check out some of the comments Mr. Fanale has left around the interwebs:

I HAVE BEEN DOWN THIS ROAD BEFORE AND BELIEVE ME THIS IS THE PERFECT SITUATION FOR THE RED SOX. THEY WILL NOT ONLY DEFEAT THE TAMPA BAY RAYS BUT THEY WILL GO ON TO WIN THE WORLD SERIES AS WELL. WHEN THE SERIES WAS TIED AT A GAME APIECE THE TEAM THAT WON THE NEXT TWO GAMES WHICH IN THIS CASE WAS TAMPA BAY LOST THE NEXT THREE BECAUSE THEY RAN OUT OF GAS. I AM CONIVNCED THAT THE RED SOX WILL WIN A CLOSE ONE AT FENWAY ON THURSDAY NIGHT AND THEN BEAT THE TAMPA BAY RAYS ON SATURDAY AND SUNDAY. IT WILL NOT BE EASY BUT THE SOX WILL DO IT. I KNOW THAT THEY WILL. TRUST ME, I HAVE DONE IT AS WELL AND I KNOW HOW TO DO IT. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS NEVER GIVE UP AND NEVER PANICK. A CRISIS SITUATION WILL BRING OUT THE BEST IN THE RED SOX AND THEIR FANS KNOW IT. SO SIT BACK AND RELAX AND WATCH THE DRAMA UNFOLD BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES.
STEVEN M.FANALE

“I have done it as well”? But wait! It gets douchier:

If you want to remain World Champions then you should up the offer to Mike Lowell to four years at between 15-20 million dollars a year. Screw the brass! You have the money and you do need Mike Lowell at third base. Call him right now and make the deal. Look at this way we can pay it. Besides if you want to remain a the top then you better spend the money for the right people. I would in your shoes do it because with Mike Lowell you would not have your second world series ring on your hand. I STRONLY URGE YOU TO DO THIS! YOU WILL NOT BE SORRY YOU SPENT THE MONEY ON MIKE, HE WILL CONTINUE TO PRODUCE FOR YOU FOR MANY YEARS TO COME. SO SIGN HIM, THEO. IF YOU NEED TO CONTACT ME YOU CAN REACH ME AT MY HOME PHONE AT (978) 774-5744 OR ON MY CELL PHONE AT (978) 590-9810 AT ANYTIME. THANK YOU
STEVEN M.FANALE

Bonus points to the first KSK reader who calls Mr. Fanale, pretending to be Theo Epstein, and telling him what a great idea he had. Bonus points if you offer him a job on the spot. (UPDATE: Some of you actually did call this guy. Please don’t do that again, lest we finally get sued somehow.) Oh, Steven. You clueless, clueless man. Goddamn Rays. They were two innings away from putting morons like this to bed for the winter.

CHEERS to the new Freedarko book. I don’t really like the NBA. But that doesn’t matter, because this book has lots of pretty pictures and charts. That’s my kinda book.

JEERS to taking so long to get to Monica Belucci, Heather Kozar, Pam Anderson, Amanda Lexx, and Sydney Moon on a Sexy Friday. JUMP INTO BONERLAND.

JEERS to Will Leitch for leaving just as I found out all kinds of new shit to make fun of him about. Seriously man, fucking raisins? What a freak!

CHEERS to Buzz Bissinger for finally manning up and deciding to go one on one with the fucking great one on November 6th. I ain’t no shrinking violet, Bissinger. Leitch may enjoy being a spineless pushover, but I PLAY FOR FUCKING KEEPS, ASSHOLE. Get ready for a taste of FIAAAAAHHHH! Also, can I have an autograph?

JEERS to the next two months. Seriously, I want to fucking die. TWO MONTHS until the NFL is back? The last Super Bowl feels like it was played eight years ago. I get to spend the next two months sweating my balls off and trying to put together a fantasy draft board, only to end up with a fucking headache after five minutes. JESUS.

CHEERS to Sabra hummus. God dammit, that is some good fucking hummus. Smooth, creamy, salty. I bet Chris Simms rubs it all over his face.

JEERS to Tribe Of Two Shieks hummus. Hey you fuckers, Sabra just served your sorry ass. Take your lumpy, shitty ass hummus out of my grocery store. You’re a disgrace to lunatic, chick pea-grinding Arabs the world over. Go strap a bomb to yourself and run into a Tel Aviv bus. You aren’t fucking worthy of my plate!

CHEERS to me being let out of the house tonight to see a rock concert for the first time in two years. Hey, Hold Steady, you had best be ready to RAWK WITH YOUR FUCKING COCK OUT. I want double guitars. I want SIX encores. I want you to play a slow song once an hour so I can go piss. DON’T SKIMP ON THE ROCK, YOU FUCKERS. I’m driving to fucking Baltimore for that shit.

JEERS to wearing open-toes shoes to any rock concert. Ever wear flip flops to a show? Don’t.

CHEERS to Haterade. You know, yesterday at Deadspin was a real love-in. But that’s not what we do here at KSK. It’s time to wash off all that joy and affection and go back to what we do best: pure, unadulterated bile. FUCK YOU, WHOEVER NEEDS TO GET FUCKED. God, that feels fantastic.

JEERS to fucking Dr. Z for picking the Vikings to win the Super Bowl. You fucking old, jinxing prick. “Dare I pick Minnesota to win it all?” Dare I disconnect your colostomy bag and pull your dick off? Quit needlessly hyping my team, you bastard. Go back to hating them like you normally do.

CHEERS to Lucy Pinder and Cassandra Lynn. Wazzat? They’re not cheerleaders? Eh, who gives a shit.

JEERS to not giving me extra peanut sauce with my summer roll. I could drink a 2-liter bottle of peanut sauce. Crushed peanuts are like Viet Cong sprinkles.

CHEERS to March Madness being right around the corner.

JEERS to March Madness not being here right now. It’s March. Let’s get to the bracketeering right NOW, god dammit. I don’t need a Conference USA tournament to know if you belong.

CHEERS to us for making sure this year that we don’t enter into stupid bets that allow other people to take over our site for a day.

JEERS to letting it ever happen to begin with.

CHEERS to Ufford for taking a well-deserved break in the Dominican Republic. Although, I once heard a story about a girl who went down to the DR and had a steamy affair with a native man there. He gave her a box for her to open on the plane ride home. And when she opened it, there was a small coffin in it. And in that coffin was a note that said, “Welcome to the living dead. I have AIDS.” That’s a true story. It’s called “How Stella Got Her Lesions Back”. Have fun, Matt!

JEERS to AIDS.

CHEERS to the Desert Eagle. Now there’s a gun made for strokin’!

JEERS to me for not buying one when I was out in Vegas. Think of all the people I could have taken out! Did you know Jimmy Fallon is favored to replace Conan O’Brien next year? A .50 caliber bullet would go right through him and could possibly also take out one of his fans, who I assume looks something like Avril Lavigne. I’m such a fool!

CHEERS to Dolphins cheerleaders. Did you know they’re mammals? And that they can communicate using sound vibrations? Just go up to one and say ECKYECKYECKYEEEEEEEEKKKK!!! You’re be on Pleasure Island in no time.

Have a good weekend, people.

JEERS to no games this week. We’ve gone over this ground already. But seriously, what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? Don’t even talk to me about fucking college basketball right now. I can’t even begin to look at that shit until March.

CHEERS to having a Wii in my office this afternoon.

JEERS to Guitar Hero III. The whole reason I don’t play guitar is because I lack coordination. Why have virtual guitaring if it’s just as fucking hard? Double JEERS for not giving me points for taking my cock out during gameplay. YOU. ARE. FAGS.

CHEERS to Leitch for his new book, on sale here. It’s certain to outsell the Gawker Guide To Conquering All Media, which, in an ironic twist, conquered no media of any sort.

JEERS to Heath Ledger’s death. Surely it’s no coincidence that, in his final role, he pretty much looks just like The Crow. And double JEERS to Mary-Kate Olsen for not picking up the goddamn phone. Bitch, you aren’t working. Quit staring at things like a cat and pick it up.

CHEERS to Hillary Clinton for her inevitable win in South Carolina tomorrow. Yes, just like the Democrats to choose a nominee 50% of the nation already can’t fucking stand. Nicely done, retards.

JEERS to me for bring up politics.

CHEERS to eggs. Oh, savory eggs. How I adore your yolky silkiness on a weekend morning. If you’re against abortion, should you eat eggs? I say no.

JEERS to me for bringing up politics again.

CHEERS to these cheerleader gals in bikinis on a Friday afternoon. Everyone in the water! Whee!!!!

JEERS to non-sequiturs.

CHEERS to Scott Van Pelt for mentioning KSK on the radio just now.

JEERS to ESPN for firing Van Pelt an hour from now.

CHEERS to soft tacos.

JEERS to hard tacos. Fuck you, Ortega shells. You do nothing for me. I’m sick of orange beef grease running down my hand. You hear me?!

CHEERS to whatever bourbon is on sale at the store today. Jim Beam Rye, I‘m coming for you!

JEERS to Stoli never being on sale.

CHEERS to me mailing it in!

JEERS to anyone else mailing it in, because it’s only cute when I do it.

CHEERS to Corrine, the Eagles cheerleader.

And, of course, there’s nothing to jeer about that.

Editor’s Note from UM: CHEERS to Mottram and Littles the Bulldog for tonight’s Blog Show (you’ll see).