When we last left record-setting piece of saltwater douchetaffy Peter King, he was celebrating 20 years of bitching about airport auto flushes, droning on and on about a college baseball game you don’t care about, and comparing the unparalleled experience of traveling through Italy to the inside of a Peet’s. No doubt hanging out in Panera is JUST like holding court in a Parisian boulangerie.

But this week, we have an MMQB column that is filled to the brim with pure douchosity. It’s a mammoth douching, as if a meteor made of vinegar crashed into the Black Sea. Let’s splash right in…

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