When we last left toilet-stuffing spongeblob Peter King, he was indulging in semi-brief, quasi-LeBronish Favrian semi-arguments, and imploring you to find a rich uncle to spot you ten grand to help Dr. Z. I, alas, have no rich uncles. Anyone who’s seen “Chris Rock: Bigger and Blacker” knows that uncles only come in four varieties: gay, alcoholic, stealing, and molester. So don’t go assuming I have a spate of uncles who are flush with assets, Peter. NOT ALL OF US HAVE AN UNCLE WHO LIVES IN THE BACK BAY.

So what poorly digested thoughts will Peter be excreting out of his mouth-hole this week, baffling auto-flush units the world over? Read on…

You’ll find one very predictable thing in common with every top team in my annual Tick Off Half The Football Fans In America Post-Free-Agency, Post-Draft NFL Power Rankings:

Chemistry?

Quarterbacks.

I’ll be damned. That’s actually a well-grounded criteria for arbitrarily ranking teams. Let’s not see THAT happen again, King!

1. New England

NO ONE DENIES THIS!

Teams don’t stay the same in the NFL.

They shape shift! Didn’t know the Jaguars, at the sight of the full moon, were equinathropes? Now you do. As an adman, I can tell you that Maurice Jones-Drew was ruled out of appearing in an Old Spice body wash ad because his centaurism was too sporadic.

That’s the old bromide. But tell me: What’s the difference between the Patriots of 2007 and the Patriots who enter the season in 2009?

Their linebackers still gum their food? They have issues with Matt Light at left tackle? Tom Brady has become an international raconteur? Their secondary isn’t very good and they signed Shawn Springs’ cadaver to help cover it up?

I actually think New England is easily one of the best choices to win it all this coming season. But shit DOES happen in two years, you know.

2. Pittsburgh… You can be sure Mike Tomlin won’t be much of a laurel-rester, but it’s always quasi-impossible to repeat.

But NOT semi-impossible! Either something is impossible or it isn’t. It’s a term of absolute certainly. Saying something is quasi-impossible is as dumb as saying someone is almost pregnant. Or saying you’re bi-curious. Buddy, you’re not bi-curious. You’re bisexual. Suck a dick and get on with it.

4. Chicago

Wait, what? Are we sure we’re ranking football teams here?

I may not like how Jay Cutler babied his way out of Denver, but by Labor Day, the football world will have forgotten, and by Thanksgiving, the most popular baby name in Chicagoland will be Jay.

No it won’t. “ExtraSausage” will never be eclipsed.

(Unless it’s Jerry…as in Angelo, the man who stuck his neck out and made this deal.)

Well, that sentence construction was tortured like Bob Baer in a Syrian prison.

8. Baltimore
Ray Lewis and his men like smart guys.

Guys smart enough to know how to game the American judicial system.

I love the free-agent signing of Bryant McFadden to pair at corner with Dominique Rogers-Cromartie (does any other corner combination in football contain 13 syllables?)

Um, no? I guess? Who fucking cares? What a factoid. Say, did you know Bears corner Charles Tillman’s name rhymes with Hillman, which was the fictional university on “A Different World”? How about that!

19. Seattle
T.J. Houshmandzadeh’s a very good addition, but he’s not really much different than Bobby Engram…

Houshmandzadeh the past three years:
2006 90-1,081 9 TD’s
2007 112-1,143 12 TD’s
2008 92-904 4 TD’s
AVG 98-1,042 8TD’s

Engram the past three years:
2006 24-290 1 TD
2007 94-1,147 6 TD’s
2008 47-489 0 TD’s
AVG 55-642 2 TD’s

…other than he should be able to stay healthier than Engram.

Wouldn’t that make him WILDLY FUCKING DIFFERENT from Engram? “Hey, here’s a guy who plays well every game. But he’s really not that different from this other guy, who’s much older and is often too injured to actually play. Otherwise, MIRROR IMAGES.”

28. Cincinnati
I find myself liking what the Bengals have done in the offseason, with the exception of not re-signing a sure 100-catch guy in T.J. Houshmandzadeh.

Well, they obviously should have signed Bobby Engram.

The Cutler deal had a lot to do with the relationship between him and Denver coach Josh McDaniels, but there’s no question the thing accelerated when Cutler snubbed owner Pat Bowlen, refusing to return his phone calls. I am told Bowlen said it was the most insulted he’s felt in 25 years as an NFL owner.

“I’ll show that young punk! Let’s see how he likes it when I give him what he wants by trading him and making my team worse in the process. I WIN!”

“It would be a wonderful little salt to rub in the eyes of some of our Green Bay Packer friends.”
– Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty, on the prospect of the Vikings signing Brett Favre.

I wonder how many votes Pawlenty lost with that quotation. Think of it: My guess is the state of Minnesota has maybe 10 percent Packer fans. Just a guess from being there over the years for a few Viking-Packer games; it could be 15 or 20 percent. But there’s a vocal minority of Green Bay followers. Very vocal. And here’s your governor saying he’d love to sign your hero and rub it in your face.

It’s true. There’s no shrewder political move in Minnesota than to be nice to a relatively small minority of Packer fans. This is why Norm Coleman couldn’t beat that dude who used to wear a satellite dish on his head.

Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me

The blogging, the instant-knowledging, the Tweeting … it’s all getting pretty hard to follow.

Is instant-knowledging a digital communication platform I am unaware of? I better tonguezoom Ufford to find out.

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week

I refuse to brag any more (after this column) about the joys of living in a city…

I swear, after this column I’m done being a haughty prick. Say, do you know I barely even need my BMW anymore? IT’S MORE LUXURY FOR ME THAN NECESSITY. If you have a rich uncle, I suggest you ask him to buy you a condo in my building.

…particularly a city near the airport.

I was going to make a joke here that all cities are near airports. But I’ve been to the Denver airport before, and that thing is in fucking Idaho.

But it’s pretty cool when you can fly into Logan International Airport, hit the tarmac at 1:50 p.m., gather luggage, walk through customs, get in a cab, and walk into your apartment at 2:35. That just happened to me.

No way! That’s amazing, given your usual waddling speed!

I think we’re going to like it here.

But only if Sibling Rivalry gets their fucking act together.

The other night, my phone rang. “Mr. King,” the voice said, “it’s Mark Sanchez.” Stop with the Mr. King business, I interrupted.

“Please, Johnny Damon. You should refer to me strictly as The Baroness.”

I think I’ve been so focused on helping Zim that I’ve short-shrifted the Dallas scout, Rich Behm, who was paralyzed in the collapse of the Cowboys’ practice bubble.

He too could use my magic healing powers!

4. I think that Jimmy Buffett thing with the Dolphins is weird. What’s his role? Playing a few songs in the parking lot? I’m amazed the Dolphins have so much trouble selling tickets and haven’t been able to build a constant-sellout fan base in south Florida. It’s weird.

It IS weird. Who knew professional sports team would have problems selling out in a sunshine-drenched metropolis full of alternative entertainment options and populated by nothing but housebound old people and Cuban gays?

They have a competitive team almost every year, and they beg to sell tickets, and they use stuff like some unclear relationship with an old pop star whose last hit was (I googled this, so apparently it’s true) “Margaritaville,” in 1977.

I’m shocked King is so hostile to Jimmy Buffett. Wouldn’t he make the perfect Buffett fan? No other musical artist caters to old, smug, well-to-do assholes quite like Jimmy.

This is the part of the column where I bring up the chick I know who fucked Jimmy Buffett once. Actually, more than once. She ended up being his New York road beef (road cheeseburger?). Small world.

5. I think I love the Brian Leonard trade for Cincinnati.

He’s like the Wes Welker of the backfield! And his name has four syllables! Don’t see that very often!

I think I don’t have much illuminating to say about Brett Favre…

No. Fucking. Shit.

Last year, I sat with him for a few hours five days before he signed with the Jets. It was a discussion about everything — playing, not playing, venom about the Packers’ decision to not allow him to come back or start or release him…

Ball gags, land, sand, breaded cod…

Happy Graduation Day, Alex Mortensen.

That’s Chris’s kid, right? What did he major in, Guesstimating? I guarantee you that kid never wrote a term paper that contained a single fucking footnote.

And a Happy Graduation Day to you, six days early, Amanda Bowers.

Good for you, Amanda! Whoever the fuck you are! Pam Whiteley has a graduation party spread waiting for you that will make your pussy squirt!

In case you didn’t know, your father is looking quite forward to the trip to Charlottesville this weekend.

But he wanted me to communicate that sentiment to you towards the end of a nationally-read football column. Most efficient way of doing it.

I doubt he’ll be playing any pickup basketball down there, though.

No? Well, that’s a shame. Tell me, what does he plan on ordering for lunch? I’m hoping for lamb!

I’m not going to give you any I-told-you-so reaction to the Manny Ramirez thing.

Perhaps because you never told us, yes?

Coffeenerdness: I’ll say this about England: It has to work on its espresso, in a big way.

Yeah, England! YOU ARE THE MARRIOTT LAGUNA CLIFFS OF SOVEREIGN STATES. Why is your coffee nothing like the pre-fabricated dogshit Starbucks serves me? I will NEVER come back here, unless you as a country decide to treat Donnie Brasco Banks to dinner.

Seriously, King. You’re in London, one of the fucking greatest cities on the planet to visit. And the only thing you can say about when you get back is that you didn’t like the coffee? GO BACK, ORDER A HAND-PULLED THEAKSTON AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Finally saw “The Wrestler.” Touching. Gripping.

Lofty.

Sorry, that was just hanging out there.

Finally saw “Gran Torino.”

And I didn’t have to be EXTORTED to see it!

And why that was not Picture of the Year, I’ll never know.

It’s quasi-impossible to comprehend.

It’s a classic I-laughed-I-cried-I-ranted movie.

You ranted during the film? Is Peter King secretly black? It would explain the hair.

How great was how he conquered the Hmong gang? How great were the Asian brother and sister?

Clint Eastwood is our Bogart.

Every time I read a British sports section, I feel like there’s an inside joke and I’m not in on it.

Must be the accent they write in.

“I couldn’t find London on a map if they didn’t have the names of the countries,” he said. “I swear to God. I don’t know what nothing is. I know Italy looks like a boot. I know London Fletcher. We did a football camp together. So I know him. That’s the closest thing I know to London. He’s black, so I’m sure he’s not from London. I’m sure that’s a coincidental name.”

I’m sure it is.

Thanks: Rotoworld, via Brandon M. (no link sent, so fuck you)

Hello, English people! Or should I say, top of the marnin’ to ya? Huh? Huh? It’s my honor to take you on a tour of all things NFL and explain why it might appeal to you folks in London, or as I like to call it, “Seattle With Funny Accents.” No doubt you’ve heard of the NFL, but haven’t had the chance to learn more about it because you were too busy breathlessly overhyping lousy bands (“The new Travis album is absolutely MASSIVE!”) and eating spoonfuls of mayonnaise straight from the jar. But with this crash course, I think you’ll learn to lurve the NFL almost as much as you enjoy the comedic stylings of Ruby Wax.

In addition, you Brittainians have been bestowed with the honor of hosting the first-ever regular season NFL game to be played on European soil. Unfortunately, that game will be played between the New York Giants and Miami Dolphins, which means it will bear more than a striking resemblance to the World Bowl preseason games and London Monarchs WLAF games of years past. My apologies. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop 40,000 of you from snapping up tickets for the game at Wembley the day they went on sale. Sure, most of those tickets were probably bought by American citizens living abroad. But I’m sure the remaining 6 of you actual UK natives will learn to enjoy watching Eli Manning overthrow receivers with the same inexplicable sense of schadenfreude as us Americans.

Until that magical day on October 28, here’s a handy Let’s Go guide to the NFL tailored to the sensibilities of all you pasty, strawberry-blond Limeys. So let’s get pissed on some American football!

What You’ll Think Is Ace About The NFL:
-The Manning family. They’re just like the Royal Family, only somehow more inbred
-With Americans in the stands, you’ll have a proper outlet for violent hooliganism
-Tampa QB’s Jeff Garcia and Chris Simms only men on Earth gayer than Graham Norton
-Excuse to drink pints of Beamish Red every Sunday between the hours of 6:15PM and 5:30AM
-FOX camerawork eerily resembles hacky jump-cutting of a Guy Ritchie film
-Terrible Cleveland Browns offense mimics the start-stop rhythms of Dizzie Rascal
-Gives Americans something to occupy themselves, delaying them from doing horrible things like invading sovereign nations and producing American remake of “Coupling”
-Fun to notice differences between Stuart Scott’s lazy eye and Thom Yorke’s lazy eye
-Halftime show allows for quick trip to Sainsbury’s for HP Sauce and cold meat pies
-Opportunity to see heterosexual black men, of which England is conspicuously absent
-Being across the Atlantic means John Madden cannot visit
-British affinity for the words “cunt”, “cunty”, and “cunting” will really help drive the inherent sexism in the sport home
-Frequent stoppages in play allow Brits more time to enjoy national pastime of cattily bitching about everything
-NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell looks oddly British
-Switching to NFL allows transition from shitty blogs like Arseblog to superior dick joke blogs like KSK

What You’ll Think Is Absolute Shite About The NFL:
-The padding. Yes, yes, rugby players are tougher because they don’t wear pads and play exclusively in hot pants (nice kit!). Whatever. I’m sure Ray Lewis wouldn’t last one second playing for Leicester. You keep on believing that
-For Welsh fans: distracting amount of consonants in player’s last names
-Not enough advertising on uniforms or field
-Lack of Carling scarves in the crowd
-The coaches. American coaches are far less histrionic than their British soccer counterparts. You’ll never hear things like, “WHAT IS THIS UGLINESS?” from an American coach. Sir Alex Ferguson has more charisma in his gusset than Andy Reid does in his whole big fat body
-Joe Buck. Yes, we also hate him here. So why do we put him on television? No clue. Tough shit. He’s your problem now
-Game played by group of people that still fail to acknowledge subpar talents of Robbie Williams

Tailgate Options:
We all know British food tastes like fresh parrot shit (Cloves? Tom Collins mix? Frozen pie crust? Mmmmm!). But, luckily for you, the early 20th century British slave trade created an influx of Indian immigrants that actually knew how to make passable cuisine. That’s why I suggest an all-Indian tailgate party outside of Wembley. Feast on Aloo Gobi, Samosas, Chicken Tikka Masala, Daal, Naan, and other tasty dishes. But make sure you get some meat in there. That all-vegetarian thing with Indian food is for faggots men who enjoy the company of other men.

Players That Will Appeal To British Sensibilities:
-Eli Manning. No one’s whiter than Eli Manning
-All kickers
-All punters
-Suspended players Chris Henry and Pacman Jones will happily reenact the drunken escapades of Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley
-Persistent fuckup Michael Vick like a black, mobile Pete Doherty
-Dhani Jones. Literate linebacker could pass himself off as lead singer of Bloc Party if need be

I hope you British folk enjoyed our condescending little tour through our American footie league. We’ll see you at Wembley in October! Thought you were seeing Paul Weller Rodgers fronting Queen and destroying Freddie Mercury’s legacy that night? Boy, are you in for a surprise!