Welcome to the Week 15 edition of Always Be Covering where we’re pleased to offer you cheerleaders and guns. This week I managed to remember to actually place my bets, so I’m a veritable lock to go down in a blaze of ignominy. Continue after the jump for this week’s choicest picks.
Well it’s week 14 and as of this morning my Bodog account is down $.20. So much like Pusha T after a particularly active night out in Virginia Beach, it’s time to re-up. But before we get to all of the fun gambling stuff, I’d like to present you with two very different music videos. The first, an original Sean Taylor tribute song presented by 93.9 WKYS, features an unreal lineup of singers and rappers highlighted by the likes of Raheem DeVaughn, Big G of Backyard Band (aka Slim Charles), the soon to be legendary Wale, and Miss Kim of Rare Essence. The track is produced by Jamil Face Johnson, and it is fucking amazing.
Now granted, that wasn’t all that “humorous” (setting aside the line that references the Michael Pittman spitting incident), so I’ll follow up with what might very well be the funniest music video ever created. I don’t know who these people are, but they make me extremely aroused.
That just happened.
On to the picks!
Welcome, one and all, to a special mid-week edition of Always Be Covering. Today we’ll take a close examination of the Thanksgiving day (and night) offerings while thinking about eating some oyster stuffing from between that cheerleader’s tits. It’s a wonder that people even bother asking me what holiday I enjoy most. What do you think I’m going to say, Christmas? Fuck that. Continue after the jump for a special bet of the week.
Welcome to another edition of Always Be Covering, the internet’s worst gambling advice column. Hopefully you’ve gathered by now that KSK isn’t in the “information” business. See what separates us from other gambling advice columns is that other gambling advice columns are gambling advice columns. Sure, sometimes my picks will be absolutely perfect, but then there are occasions like last week where I managed to go a staggering 0 for 7, which is kind of perfect in it’s own imperfect way. Regardless, I feel bad that I may have steered some of you in the wrong direction last week, so I’ll make my amends after the jump.
I lived up to my end of the deal, Snake. You said I keep the Steelers from covering and you’d bring Angela back safe and sound. Well, I did it. I compromised everything I believe in for my girl and you got your $64 million swing. That’s how much I love my daughter. Now where is she?
Look where? Outside? Hey, that’s her favorite bag! What game are you playing?
Fine, I’ll open it. A note! “Make… sure… the…Titans…finish…sixteen…and…oh… and…lose…in…their…first…playoff…game.” What is this? We had a deal. I did my part. Where’s my Angela, you scum. I’m tired of being your stooge. You gave Hochuli his favorite weight-lifting gloves back. All I want is a fair deal. Don’t hang up on me. Don’t — I…FUCK!
THAT WASN’T PART OF THE BARGAIN!
THAT WASN’T PPPPPPPPAAAAAAARRRRRRTTTTTT
SSSSSSSSNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKEEEEEE
DDDDDAAAAAAAMMMMMMMNNNNNN YYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUU
Int. FedEx Field, Pregame Warmups
BEN: PEW PEW PEW!
Yeah yeah, my travel schedule fucked up my posting this week, and that of course includes Always Be Covering. Fortunately I’m ready to let loose with my simply awful picks just in time for some last minute wagering. Continue after the jump for a quick list of the week’s bets.
I’m in a bit of a hurry this morning because as you’re reading this I’m cramming into some piece of shit plane surrounded by assholes with some hellish strain of the flu that will keep me from enjoying Mastro’s. I’m heading out for a few days of meetings and general spa-ing in Scottsdale after which I head to LA for a few days. Fucking LA. Usually when I go there I immediately begin to suffer from Alvy Singer syndrome. But I have to go there, because that’s where my brother lives, along with plenty of other family and friends. I’m operating under the assumption that they all moved out there to piss me off. Seriously, fuck that place.
Except for Applepan. Applepan makes it all worthwhile.
Oh and the shoe stores!
Oh and the crazy hot bitches I get to stare at while the woman looks on in appreciation of my fine taste!
Hmmm. If I get to meet Sarah Silverman I might just have to cancel my plans to blow everything between Pasadena and Long Beach into the Pacific.
Anyway, ON TO THE PICKS!
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I consider myself to be a young man of moderate intelligence, but I’m willing to admit that my knowledge in the field of economics is lacking. In fact, I’m pretty sure I got a 76 in econ at Pitt. But to be fair, I barely even went to class after midterms. I’m sorry, but the Cathedral of Learning is fuckin’ spooky when you’re high. One time I was sitting outside the building when I was approached by a guy who recognized me because he worked at the one thing bordering on a headshop in the area. He was on his way to a class taught by the professor on whom Michael Chabon based his iconic character, Grady Tripp. Oh I’m sorry, was I rambling?
“I could be wrong, but it sort of reads in places like you didn’t make any choices. At all. And I was just wondering if it might not be different if… if when you wrote you weren’t always… under the influence.”
Well… thank you for the thought, but shocking as it may sound, I am not the first writer to sip a little weed. Furthermore, it might surprise you to know that one post I wrote, as you say, “under the influence,” just happened to win a little something called the Pen Award. Which, by the way, I accepted under the influence.
My fault, I’m a little high. And I really want to fuck Hannah.
ON TO THE PICKS!
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Dear AFC South,
Get fucked by the Washington Monument. Houston, I knew you’d fucking suck, but the one week you don’t suck I turn around and you stick it in me dry. Speaking of which, how about those fuckheads in Jacksonville. You assholes let the Texans cover? The FUCKING Texans! Indy is coming off of a bye, but before that they were blowing a cover, and a “win”, against Jacksonville. It’s an endless cycle of suck that can only be saved by one thing.
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