Andrew Luck is the arm that launched a thousand sinking ships. Every loss is in his name. No teams hope to acquire him, for he is strictly for the hopeless. The media know this, which is why Andrew Luck is a handy way to include the eight or 10 otherwise unremarkably horrible teams in the larger NFL discourse. It makes for a nice counter to the usual standby conversation of who is FOR REAL and who are the CLOWN FRAUDS. “That team sure is terrible! But are they ‘Suck for Luck’ terrible? Time will tell. Anyway, back to the coach fight.”

Mike Florio cannot resist this game, as it allows for further trolling. For example, he posits, what if the team that sucks for Luck the hardest is consequently too sucky for Luck to accept? He’ll pull an Eli and demand to play elsewhere. Oh, the Catch-22 of it all! This is what happens when you give those disgusting greedy players free will. That should have been removed in the latest CBA!

Florio then lays out this nightmare scenario, which is apparently too frightening to contemplate, or even structure in a coherent sentence.

Of course, the ultimate irony would arise if the Broncos lose to the Dolphins on Sunday, if the Broncos ultimately “earn” the top pick, and if the best Stanford quarterback since John Elway does to the team Elway currently runs that which Elway did 28 years ago, forcing a trade just like Elway did.

In the galaxy of quasi-PK-esque butchered sentences, this is one. Jesus. I’ve seen commands in Excel that more closely resemble English. Could it be that King and Florio take turns whispering tortured syntax as they’re “nailing each other pretty good on Friday nights“? MAYBE. But I doubt it. Instead it’s obvious to me that Mike Florio is trying to devise and patent some sort of fiendish troll language, not unlike J.R.R. Tolkien’s elvish. Think of the royalties ESPN will have to fork over.

Remember when Mike Florio prophesized that the civilized world would be torn asunder by a pack of ravaging NFL players no longer reined in by the humanizing forces of owners and coaches? Of course you do, what with your womenfolk now carrying very athletic rape babies and your home demolished by an errant launched shoulder tackle.

Everything he predicted has come to pass, and now we exist in the post-apocalypse, which is like post-modern, but more metal. The latest proof comes in the form of Falcons safety William Moore, who terrorized the populace by speeding, driving with a suspended license and failing to appear in court. Please put this in pseudo-context for us, Sage Florio!

Yes, the lockout lock-up continues.

It’s the 10th player arrest since the lockout began 40 days ago. That’s an average of (calculator on) one arrest every four days.

THE HTC HERO FROM SPRINT WITH BUILT-IN CALCULATOR APP DOES NOT LIE! That is one very ominous calculation! How does it compare to previous off-seasons, during which no lockout existed? What? Why are you asking questions when you should be fleeing and cowering? Would you have your last moments of life wasted pleading for comprehensive reporting? Enjoy the hereafter, doof!

To whomever may be listening: it is imperative that you put a stop to the NFL lockout. The consequences of a prolonged work stoppage are more dire than you could ever begin to imagine.

At the time the lockout commenced, it was thought that the worst that could occur was perhaps that a full season of the NFL would be lost, stripping billions from the economy and leaving tens of thousands of wage workers, whose livelihood depends on NFL games, without a source of income. While these did in fact happen and are unfortunate, it turns out that they should be the least of your worries.

What fools we were. Had only we heeded the warnings of warrior-priest-hierophant Mike Florio. For it was he who prophesized that without the steadying guidance of the NFL, its erstwhile players would engage in untold acts of violence and mayhem, leaving only heaps of corpses and leveled towns in their wake. His words were met with swift and unstinting ridicule at first. But it wasn’t long before the world witnessed the realization of his doomsaying.

As the months passed, petty episodes of violence and isolated fits of malevolence worsened into full-scale acts of terrorism and anarchy. We underestimated the civilizing force that the ownership and coaching staffs had on these beasts. Even players once thought to be utterly moral and God-fearing transformed into rapacious monsters. With my own eyes (before they were later ripped from their sockets by Patriots corner Devin McCourty) I saw Tim Tebow and Larry Fitzgerald bite through the jugulars of an entire district of schoolchildren. They wouldn’t even settle for ripping their throats out with their hands. They had to use their teeth. If only my mind’s eye could be blinded as well. I don’t wish to see those images anymore.

Even as the violence escalated, military and civilian leaders were unconcerned about the threat, despite Florio’s continued pleas for sanity. After all, what match were a few hundred genetic freaks against the National Guard or, if needed, the rest of the Armed Forces? Of course, it wasn’t only the Pandora’s box of drug use and violent crime that was thrown open by the lockout, it was all kinds of conduct unbecoming of the league, specially sex. Antonio Cromartie and Willis McGahee could have increased the size of their fighting force tenfold on their own. When the players didn’t wish to risk their own bodies to topple the government, they had at their disposal a vast legion of unhinged fanboys willing to put love of Adrian Peterson above their own family and country. A regular human shield would have been effective enough on its own, but one so fat and blindingly pallid turned out to be immensely more impenetrable.

It is tragic that we lost the great Florio during the early stages of this struggle. He was betrayed by the very owners whom he wished to fellate one-by-one before expiring. It was not long before the players seized control of the government and all the resources that came with it. Again they were undone by their untamed animalistic urges. Jared Allen caused meltdowns at a dozen nuclear facilities only because he liked the sight of the explosion. A few players – gritty and deceptively fast ones, preached for order by Tweeting #SMH – but they too were cut down. One piece of Wes Welker’s body flies in front of every state capital as an example to traitors.

Now all is left is The Resistance. Who knows how long we will be able to hold out? Our supply of diversionary white bitches runs ever thinner. Once that cache is exhausted, we may be forced to live out our days in seclusion underground, only emerging to feast on the ample amounts of food that these uncontrollable behemoths waste daily on a whim.

For those disinclined to follow media circlejerks, the latest one involves Washington Post columnist Mike Wise, who, for whatever fatuous reason, decided to take to his Twitter account on Monday to try an “experiment with online media” where he made up a report saying he heard that Ben Roethlisberger’s suspension is being reduced to five games. A few online media outlets, including ProFootballTalk, fell for the ruse, which Wise later stupidly bragged about on his radio show. Wise did an interview that day with Dan Levy, in which he responded to Florio’s contention that the Tweets were a dick move by suggesting that Florio has no right to talk because he’s a remorseless ethically challenged dick, which is true but doesn’t make Florio’s claim any less right.

As a result of his dumb prank, Wise was suspended by WaPo for a month. Florio, still self-righteously fuming over being duped, complained that Wise should have been fired. Speaking as someone who has been fired from The Washington Post for an infraction less serious than Wise’s, even I thought his punishment was fair. Later, The Post’s ombudsman, who doesn’t have the authority to fire anyone, weighed in, saying that Wise was lucky not to have been shitcanned. Uh oh, someone agreed with Florio! Time for gloating! And not just any gloating. CRAZY DELUSIONAL GLOATING.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Who exactly do you think are, the David Broder dean of the football press corps? No one cares who you think should be fired. You’ve carved yourself a nice and probably lucrative place among the great sports media borg, Florio, but don’t let your success floating rumors and theories fool you into thinking you’ve achieved some elevated place from which you can impose your demands.

Former Dolphins coach Nick Saban got on his high horse yesterday at the SEC’s media day to cry and moan about agents who provide illegal benefits to college players. The NFL has largely sidestepped the issue, pointing out the players’ association registers and oversees agents. NFLPA Executive Director De Smith is engaging in some empty saber-rattling about cracking down on offending agents. But really, how likely are players to tighten the reins on the very same guys that got them paid?

Some well-intentioned, but misguided, souls have suggested that the NFL adopt a policy to discipline players subsequently found to have accepted some dirty, dirty scrill from agents. But why oh why, you ask, would the NFL voluntarily adopt a problem that has plagued college sports since its infancy? PFT suggests that “the league has a strong incentive to avoid the alienation of the men like Saban who preside over pro football’s free farm system.”

I’ve got to call bullsh1t on that theory. If Saban wasn’t in Tuscaloosa, then some other jackass in a headset would be running the show. The players are the commodity– college coaches are essentially minor league scouts. There’s no need for the league to curry these egomaniacs’ favor by doing their jobs for them.

Another reason why this is a horrible, horrible idea: the league already has enough methods of keeping players under a microscope without introducing a whole new layer of scrutiny. Think about it Vince Young got called on the carpet for punching a loudmouth hater at a strip club. What kind of horseflop was that? That’s EXACTLY the kind of guy NFL players should be punching. Not pregnant girlfriends; not middle-age guys named Irving working at mid-sized financial planning firms. Giving the league another cudgel to wield against players will do nothing to contribute to the quality of the game.

Lastly, PFT suggests that such rules “could go a long way toward deterring some of the kids who have in the past pocketed money without fear of any consequence.” If getting stripped of a national title and probably a Heisman isn’t sufficient disincentive for players, how is an outside chance of a slap on the wrist in the future going to change anything? College football is FUBAR. The last thing the NFL needs to do is wade into that hot mess.

“These agents,” Saban asked yesterday, “how are they any different than a pimp?” While I don’t have time to fully address the question, I will say that for one, Nick, an agent won’t throw you through a plate-glass window if you try to sneak out without paying for your BBBJ. [ Obvious exception: Drew Rosenhaus. ]

[pic via ]

When we last left winter weather worrier Mike Florio, his concerns were being countered by our own Mr. Ufford. Now Florio has taken to one of his other homes at the Sporting News to hop up on his soapbox (and a couple of phone books) to expound in long form.

What ridiculous new arguments will he present? Which mid-nineties sitcom will he look to for inspiration? How much does one have to spend for a decent pair of long underwear? Will anyone stop to think of the chilly children? Read on and find out.

NFL takes unacceptable risk with New York Super Bowl

Right off the bat you know that this column is either about terrorism, the weather, or it’s a drawn out excuse to make a George Costanza risk management joke.

When I first heard the NFL was seriously considering staging an open-air Super Bowl in a cold-weather city, I was intrigued.

Well at least it’s not about terrorism.

After further deliberation, the NFL’s decision to hold a Super Bowl in a cold-weather climate with a stadium that has no lid makes us wonder whether plenty of people have lost their marbles.

Fear not, my marbles are safe inside their container. Their lidded container.

The Super Bowl is the single greatest day on the American sports calendar.

For page views.

It needs to be protected from circumstances that can make the experience something other than super.

Like terrorism?

Any of you who have ever stood for three-plus hours in single-digit temperatures for an NFL game know exactly what I’m talking about.

God, I wish we were talking about terrorism.

Folks familiar with going to outdoor games in cold-weather cities understand how to properly prepare for multiple hours in the hostile elements.

NO ONE DENIES THIS!

But what about the sandal-wearers from California whose idea of a winter coat is a windbreaker with a hood?

Hey brah, the name’s Brody Strawman.

When it’s time for them to pay for tickets that with a face value in the vicinity of $2,000, will they realize that they’ll also need to spend roughly that much more on coats, boots, long underwear, gloves, hats, scarves, hand warmers, and foot warmers?

Holy Bleacher Report! Let’s go to the bullet points…

• Warm clothes don’t have to cost that much money.
• A lot of Californians already own coats.
• You’ll need most of that crap to attend a game in Minnesota or Detroit.
• You know what costs more than clothes? Airfare and a hotel room in New York during Super Bowl week.
• The lead argument in a column decrying the NFL’s decision is about these things.

The message to the customers who’ll be likely paying record-high prices? As the late Peter Boyle playing New York resident Frank Barone would say, “Suck it up, Nancy.”

But at least it was backed up with an Everybody Loves Raymond reference.

Maybe the NFL is hoping to make it “cool” to go to games in bitterly cold weather.

Should Super Bowls only be played in controlled environments?
Would awarding the Super Bowl to Seattle be ‘alt’?
Is Florio also Carles?

But maybe the NFL wants to show it can navigate a nightmare. Imagine the hand-wringing over whether the league can get a concert-quality stage in place for the halftime show, if the snow is falling at a rate of one inch every 10 minutes.

I was told there would be no word problems.

If the NFL can make it look easy even when the conditions are difficult, the league will look even better.

They’re trying to push their limits. Like daredevils!

On a brighter note, there should be no worries about any wardrobe malfunctions.

Remember that night in Houston? Justin Timberlake was wearing a jacket when he tore the tit lid off of Janet Jackson’s long sleeve top.

Look, I love New York.

Based on what he’s seen on Seinfeld and Raymond.

And I love the Super Bowl.

As long as he doesn’t have to wear a hat. They make him look so silly.

But New York and the Super Bowl don’t necessarily mix like peanut butter and chocolate.

Did you know that Kitkat makes a chunky peanut butter version that’s only available in the UK and Australia? That’s BULLSHIT!

If the fans have to suffer through the misery of a cold, windy day at Meadowlands Stadium in February 2014, it’ll be more like a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray.

Which, coincidentally, was the house specialty at the old Giants Stadium.

The celebrity Super Bowl pick is a time-honored tradition, one we at KSK are incredibly excited to be a part of, as we have in the past. For the next two weeks, stars from the world of entertainment, politics, and more will drop by to make their picks for the big game in Miami! Up next, it’s Pro Football Talk’s Mike Florio.

[Twitter update shortly before 2 p.m.]

[15 minutes later]

[10 minutes later]

Gross! Drew’s kissing a cat!

Welcome to the Friday Five, our unimaginitively-named Friday afternoon post where we provide you with five things the KSK staff is looking forward to this coming weekend. Today’s sponsor is the recently discovered Gangsta Cat, aka Sebastian, the cat with gold teeth.

This week, we’re looking forward to…

1. Big Daddy Drew returning to Minnesota and eating bin after bin of fried butter.

2.  Todd Haley yelling, losing:

3. Eli Manning’s flippin’ sweet new ad:

4. The return of BEEF MOE:

5. Mike Florio calling Randy Moss lazy after he catches 10 passes for 116 yards on an injured knee:

Drink irresponsibly. We’ll see you Sunday.