Tex Tweet1: Matt Leinart’s son to him after AM walkthrough: “Dad, that was the lamest practice EVER.” less than a minute ago via Twitter for BlackBerry® Favorite Retweet ReplyPeter King
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KSK’s favorite nutmeg evangelist, Peter King, spent yesterday tooling around Texans camp in search of the type of Munchakian nuggets that made this week’s MMQB column so devastatingly depressing to Titans fans. And what was PK able to deliver to his adoring public? That Wade Phillips awards raisin roundies (his special no-raisin recipe!) for each pass deflection? Not even! Instead, we got a bratty quote from Cole Cameron Leinart, son of quarterbacking virtuoso Matt, that fully illustrates that the apple doesn’t fall far from the apple-scented Axe body spray tree.

Ignoring the sad fact that it might be PK’s best piece of original reportage all year, we were left to wonder what other kinds of things Lil’ Leinart is saying. Follow us on a thought experiment in which we use a small child as a vehicle to make cruel jokes about his father. You won’t feel scummy at all!

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Christmastime is coming. Unless you’re Jewish, in which case, I really envy you right now. Read the rest of this entry »

This dad is the Marv Marinovich of the fan world. Little Ben here may never come to know his actual age or wear anything other than shoes with Velcro laces, but he’s going to have his own talk radio show by age 9, only to later flame out in a horrible, dizzying spiral of nitrous oxide, Juggalo orgies and homicide. But it will make the basis for a fantastic drama on AMC. Can’t wait!

[Rick Chandler's wheelhouse]

Donovan McNabb: Damn, man. You couldn’t have waited one more week to get your form back? What got into you?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Wife got pregnant.

Donovan McNabb: How does that work?

LaDainian Tomlinson: sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsex

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Egg fertilized.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Cells divide.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Pee on stick.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Positive test.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Surprise in my locker.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Two touchdowns.

Donovan McNabb: Wow, that’s crazy. I gotta try that sometime.

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You might think it cruel of me to be picking on this misguided tyke, for no other reason that he violates the first cardinal rule of fandom (to wit: YOU CANNOT ROOT FOR MORE THAN ONE GODDAMN TEAM). But I feel if he stumbles upon some of the negative comments bound to crop up on his YouTube page, he might correct his problem before he reaches the age where he would be forced to answer for his crimes with foot-fed mouthfuls of a parking lot curb.

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If you think you’ve screwed your life up sufficiently, just relax. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to jam the proverbial shovel into the soily base of that sorry pit that you call a life, and dig yourself an even deeper hole. Then, when the judgement comes [clutches bible in one hand and shakes it vigorously in your direction], you’ll have to answer for all the bullshit thou hath wrought, motherfucker.

But suppose you catch a break, and someone upstairs decides to grant you one more chance to atone, to come on down and spin the wheel or answer that riddle or eat that bug or whatever the fuck. Suppose you were put on a game show, against other dipshits like yourself. But in this episode, your fabulous cash and prizes for winning would be one first-class aisle-seat ticket to Heaven, or your religion’s equivalent. If you’re atheist, let’s just say you’d get a nice watch.

And herein lies the basis for our latest summoning of the vox populi. You are selecting a game show that you will be forced to play to determine your future in the afterlife. And, as with any other half-assed stab at democracy, there are a few stipulations to consider:

Your game must be played against other people. Single-player game shows, such as Deal Or No Deal, are out. That game creates a conflict of interest anyway, as host Howie Mandel is, in fact, a minion of Satan.

You may select a game show that would team you with a celebrity or celebrities, or anyone you like. You are asked to specify who will be rounding out your team with your selection.

Reality shows shall be considered game shows for our purposes here, and may be selected, provided that your selections meet the aforementioned criteria.

Your game show does not have to have originated in America. You are expected to provide a link and explanation for games that may seem unfamiliar to the rest of us. Use hyperlinks; the spam filter will block your pick if you copy and paste a URL. Also, only one incarnation of any game show can be selected.

Wait at least ten picks before making subsequent selections.

I’ll pick first, and I’ll take the Nickelodeon classic Double Dare, since my parents were assholes and never let me go on the show when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure I can outsmart a couple of 12-year-olds. Kids are dumb! And since I’ll need a smart, athletic partner upon which to hang my hopes, I’m also picking USA Gold Medalist, Harvard alum, and Celebrity Apprentice veteran Angela Ruggiero.

This might be the first commenter draft where the post was longer than the picks. Either way, it’s your turn.

“I like my new Aaron Rodgers jersey, but I told Dad to have the Brohm one ready by mid-October.”



Lovable scamp David Witthoft has finally taken off the Brett Favre jersey he has worn everyday for over four years. According to his pop, the youngster decided his twelfth birthday was the limit.

Sooner or later we all have to let go of our old clothes, no matter how treasured they are. Except my badass Jackyl ’93 tour shirt. That thing will ALWAYS be cool, bitchez!!!

What you’re seeing is a camera phone pic of the Carolina Thunder softball team soliciting outside of the Wal-Mart in Travelers Rest, South Carolina. From what I can tell, the team is made up of 12- and 13-year-old girls, which you would only find interesting if you happened to be a Japanese businessman or a lonely junior high school teacher.

I hope this team is good at softball, because their soliciting outside of a Wal-Mart on a rainy day DURING AN ECONOMIC DOWNTURN WHILE THESE SPOILED LITTLE BITCHES ARE WEARING CUSTOMIZED PULLOVERS WITH NUMBERS ON THE BACKS doesn’t strike me as a positive PR move.

If I could openly give these young ladies some advice, it would be this:

At least make some remotely uncalloused effort for my donation. I don’t care what you do. FUCKING BAKE SOMETHING, maybe. Don’t stand in front of a discount store and hold an empty bucket in front of me and expect me to fill it. My Diet Sam’s Choice Cola gets higher priority over your dipshit redneck fuckface parents trying to make you feel important. It’s best you realize your place in the world now, so that when you get married at 19 and have three kids before you turn 25, you don’t have delusions that you could have amounted to something with your sorry little Dixie dick-gobbling life.

You can fill that bucket with a handful of kiss my ass. Fuck your softball team and fuck you.

As a father, I’m normally against the idea of slaughtering children. But I dare you to watch 20 seconds of this clip without resisting the urge to grab a machete and start playing “got your nose” for real. I bet these kids never even learn to read a fucking traffic light.

Not pictured: Peter King behind a music stand waving a conductor’s stick.

Though receiving scant attention from the mainstream press, Marvin Lewis yesterday was continuing his mentoring program with Cincinnati-area at-risk youth.

Marvin Lewis: Okay, glad you could make out here today, uh…

At-risk youth: Terence Hawkins.

Marvin Lewis: Terence, right. Okay, I’m gonna let you take over for a bit. We’re up 3-0. We stopped the Steelers on their opening drive, but now they’re moving down the field. This is a critical point in the game. Our offense is playing well, but we don’t need to play catch-up on this defense. Whaddaya got for me?

At-risk youth: Okay, right. Okay. Yeah. I think I remember what my mans was telling me to do last week. Let’s try this…Madieu Williams, spin around real fast.

Madieu Williams: Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoa

At-risk youth: Cool. A’yo, Leon Hall. When Hines Ward makes a routine move to the inside I want you to run straight at that goal post.

Leon Hall: Goal post. Got it.

At-risk youth: Dhani Jones, take a seat.

Dhani Jones: Has anyone espied my copy of “Piscatorial Eclogues”? You would be ill-advised if you displaced my Dr. Cornel West bookmark.

Marvin Lewis: Okay, who are you subbing in for Jones?

At-risk youth: No one.

Marvin Lewis: But you only got 10 men on the field.

At-rish youth: ‘xactly. It’s called the 46 defense. Because four plus six equals ten. I learned that shit last week from the new Mick Boogie mixtape.

Marvin Lewis: What’s it called?

At-risk youth: ‘s called “Four Plus Six Equals Ten.”

Marvin Lewis: What does tha–

At-risk youth: It’s about drugs.

Marvin Lewis: But you can’t have only 10 men on the field. It makes it easier on the offense.

At-risk youth: Nah, nah, coach. My man told me ’bout this thing, right. Like, he told me, if you play 10 dudes on dis down, you can play, like, 12 on the next and shit. And you if you play nine dudes…

Marvin Lewis: YOU CAN PLAY 13! Oh, man. That is genius. Yo, Bresnahan.

Bresnahan: Yeah?

Marvin Lewis: You’re fired. Terence here is my new defensive coordinator.

(Bresnahan shrugs, walks away without bothering to take headset off.)

At-risk youth: Aight. I’m thinking, like, we play, like, five guys per play in the second quarter, then in the second half, we can play the whole team on defense.

Marvin Lewis: Fantastic. If Tomlin didn’t wear sunglasses all the damn time, you could see the terror in his eyes.

At-risk youth: Yo, can I get your prints on this gun, right quick?