Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

While rumblings of a Buffalo Bills move to Toronto are hardly new, they certainly have gained traction since the team announced last week they were seeking league permission to play some of their games in the Great White North.

Sadly, the writing is on the wall for the upstanding people of upstate New York– as soon as the old man buys the farm that team is his-toe-ree. Enjoy your Sunday afternoons at the Anchor Bar after you get Irsayed. Unless you are willing to do something about it, of course. Like maybe assembling at the border with pitchforks and torches and showing those Canadian fuckups what you’re made of.

I wanted to dedicate this week’s column entirely to the Buffalo Jills (yes, they actually call their cheerleaders the Jills). Problem is… they’re not that attractive. Enjoy your weekend.

By popular demand, a different shot of a favorite Bronco honey from the past. Popular demand = me. I’m popular. No, really.

“Oh, eat my chair.” – Rick Gassko

Maj hates to see them leave, but he loves to watch them go.

Worst upskirt ever.

Bob Glauber (not as mellifluous as Bob Dobalina, but close) is reporting that Michael Strahan has folded like a cheap pup tent and will slink into Giants’ camp within the next day or two– without the renegotiated contract he so desperately sought. I’m no Archimedes, but I know a little something about leverage. And rapidly aging defensive ends with ridiculously large alimony payments have no leverage.

Elsewhere in Giantdom, the Eli Manning-Tiki Barber catfight is reminiscent of the recent beef between Donald Trump and Rosie O’Donnell in that we really don’t give a rat’s ass about either side and would be perfectly content to see all parties hop into a roaring fire. Tiki needs something to ramp up his transition from lousy teammate to lousy broadcaster.

On the other hand, before the 2004 draft– for what seems to be the first and last time in his life– Manning decided to play hardass. He forced the Chargers to grant his wish and trade him to the most intense media crucible in all of sports. Now, according to Tony K. on PTI Wednesday, we should feel sorry for Eli because Tiki is picking on him. Fuck. That. Noise.

Remember Eli, there’s much less scrutiny on the squash court.

The many faces of Manning: running the gamut from mild confusion to utter bewilderment. From the Sports Hernia.

Oh noes, Namath’s coming after Captain Caveman! Hit the “smug” button.

You know who got knocked the fuck out this week? Sav Rocca, that’s who. Rocca, former Aussie Rules dude, was playing his first NFL game when he got his dick knocked in the dirt by the Ravens’ Antwan Barnes. Watch it again below.

Monday Morning Punter (surprise, surprise) thinks this was a bush-league play. I’m not convinced it was dirty, but even if it was– we are talking about a punter here — not an actual important player. Let the real players tee off on these guys with impugnity, I say.

Also this week, the Giants’ Will Demps let us know he has better things to do than engage in casual orgies with NFL groupies. While this sounds noble, we suspect it’s only because he hasn’t met anyone like Fallujah Super8–the sports blogosphere’s most legendary groupie. NFL players get paid righteous bucks, thus insuring a pulchritudinous crop of groupies, but sports bloggers aren’t pulling down the same kind of scrilla. Nonetheless, Fallujah (we hear) will rock the socks off of a lucky blogger (or four). If she really exists. All we have to go on are stories.

Fallujah Super8 (think: not quite as nice as Paris–
not as well-cared for as a Hilton)

With that in mind, let’s check out this weekend’s nationally televised games:

• Vikings at Jets 8:00 PM Fox (Yeah Joe Fucking Buck and Troy Aikman. If Buck is also calling the MLB game of the week tomorrow afternoon, you have our permission to pull a Rambo.)
• Chargers at Rams 8:00 PM CBS (Showdown between the league’s premier running backs. Except one of them isn’t playing. Nevermind.)
• Giants at Ravens 8:00 PM NBC (Halftime feature: Jared Lorenzen will attempt to stuff an entire pot roast into his mouth.)

Before we cut you loose for the week, here are the weekly cheerleader pics. This is rapidly becoming an honored Friday tradition, much like sneaking out of work early and blowing the paycheck on black tar heroin. Let me be sure to give full credit Punter for choosing this first one.

C:\Documents and Settings\Vick-punchline.doc

Unless they hang on to their skirts, they may
suddenly fly off into the crowd.

Have a good weekend. Have some fun, but for god’s sake, don’t end up like Uncle Kracker. Peace.

What a week! The off-season is officially over for both the NFL and KSK, bitches. Here is a run-down of this weekend’s nationally broadcast games. Unbelievably, the Cardinals-Raiders tilt is regional coverage only.

• Tonight: Bills at Saints, CBS, 8 pm (east coast, You live somewhere else? Figger it out your damn self!). We can’t wait to see which Saint gets absolutely demolished this week.

• Tomorrow night: NFL Network has the ‘Skins at Titans. Turn down the volume on Bryant Gumbel and throw on something funky.

• Sunday night: Is Football Night in America, or so we have been told a thousand times lately. The Chargers host the Seahawks, live from the Whale’s Vagina (see what I did there? That’s a line from Anchorman!) We have high douche-level expectations from Tiki Barber. We’re confident he won’t let us down. Also, NBC’s studio promises to be as crowded as a Tokyo subway car.

Speaking of San Diego, this week’s cheerleader picture comes to us from last month’s Comic-Con International. (Follow that link for more hot, nerdy chicks.)

Christmas Ape totally wants to (wait for it) “bone” these chicks.

For those not into the whole necro thing, here are couple of Niners cheerleaders who look a little more lively.

Sorry, they have no interest in helping you pull a Fredo.

Have a good weekend, kids. We anxiously await Big Daddy Drew’s triumphant return from vacation at the Renaissance Faire. Even though I’m sure he plans on doing lots of posts about his trip, he’s probably hoping all of you ask him about it anyway. If he says he doesn’t want to talk about it, he’s just being polite– so it’s okay to ask him repeatedly.

[In case you missed the post from earlier, there are still some spots available in the KSK Suicide Pools. Hawesome!]

If you’re like us, you have been jonesin’ for real football for months now. The real shit, the kind, not that Europa or arena crap. We need the genuine article– nothing but mainlining some uncut NFL will do. Starting Sunday, the fiends can get their fix.

Steelers and Saints. NFL Network. Prayers will be answered.

We are so starved for football that we will ignore the fact that these games are less than meaningless and possess merely the verisimilitude of an actual athletic competition. We know that EMTs probably scraped more of Ben Roethlisberger off that windshield than we will actually see on the field Sunday… and we are fine with that.

Because we are so freaking starved for NFL action, we will sit through the dog-and-pony show of undrafted rookies who have no shot of making a team south of the Canadian border with big, stupid grins on our faces. We pretend that what some scout team defensive tackle does will have implications stretching into the playoffs. We ignore the fact it is hotter than dogcrotch right now, and no one in their right mind should be playing football in that stuff. As long as we can watch.

KSK is often (rightfully) accused of being negative and snarky. But this week, motivated by the return of the game we love, we’ve made an effort to extend olive branches to former enemies. In that vein, one of our favorite whipping boys has long been Baltimore. Our observations on Charm City have, on occasion, been less than flattering. In that spirit, we want to say something nice about Baltimore. Namely, they have a couple of fine-ass cheerleaders. Enjoy the weekend.