Posts Tagged ‘in poor taste?’

Surprise, Muthaphuckkas! I Ain’t Dead!

Tuesday, April 1st, 2008


BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! APRIL FOOL’S, BITCHES!

Bet y’all shocked to see me, ain’t ya? Omigod, if y’all could see the looks on y’all’s faces right now! You can’t tell whether or not you’re glad to see me or ready to fucking cut me in half with a machete!

TEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!

I’m tellin y’all, THIS will never be topped, muthaphuckka. Bet y’all really thought I was gone! With the bigass funeral! And the open casket! And my grandma fallin’ on the coffin! And coach Gibbs cryin’ and talking about, “He’s with Jesus now”! BAHAHAHAHAHA! Man, I wasn’t with Jesus! I was with my boy Fred, down in Aruba! Check this out!


Best five months in hiding I ever spent!

C’mon now, you really think a group of punkass kids are gonna shoot down Sean Taylor in his prime? FUCK THAT! That was jus’ my cousin Dave! The whole femoral artery thing was his idea! Said you’d fall for it like a little motherfucker. AND YOU DID! He’s always thinkin’ of crazy shit like this! One time, for April Fool’s Day, he keyed his landlord’s car! How fucking funny is that shit?!

And you really think the police would solve the murder of a famous black man that quickly? C’mon, now. That shit doesn’t happen in real life. Didn’t their incredible effort tip you off?

Besides, how else was I supposed to avoid practice?! We were in pads two days a week! That shit was murder!

Are you still mad? Oh, c’mon now! It’s me! Sean! Don’t be angry, bitch! You wouldn’t have made the playoffs without me dying! I watched that shit from the pool bar. It was great! And you got to talk about violence in the black community and shit. I’d say we all learned a valuable lesson, namely that Y’ALL SOME GULLIBLE-ASS RETARDS!

Still angry? Okay, man. Okay. I’m sorry. Here. Have a beer.


BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! YOU GOT SOAKED, ASSHOLE!

I feel so refreshed.

Next year, I’m getting disemboweled!

KSK Lays Waste to Competition, Attracting Admiration of Public Radio

Saturday, November 10th, 2007

For the second straight year, Kissing Suzy Kolber has been voted Best Sports Blog, at least if you’re going by The Weblog Awards. Which you should. The Bloggies don’t count for shit.

Thanks to our readers for heeding our pleas for running up the vote total. We conquered, then we conquered a little more, then we let this guy go after their tattered remains.

KSK finished with more than 50 percent of the vote. No doubt seeing in us a great example of how to run a pledge drive, NPR yesterday cited Drew for the coinage of the Purple Jesus moniker. Yet it’s Mottram who’s making coin on his Horse Balls and Purple Jesus shirts. Hey, we should be the ones soaking Drew’s talents for cash. Step off, Blogfather.

To our rivals, thanks for participating. We’ve got a fine parting gift for you.

You’re in luck. It could’ve been New England-style fish assholes. They come with Sully sauce.

credit oomsa for fishhole pic

Kevin Everett Meast of the Week — Week 1

Thursday, September 13th, 2007

Having sufficiently honored our bestingraychested Memorial Meast Steve Irwin, we’re re-naming KSK’s most prestigious honor after Kevin Everett, who we think is a total fucking badass for shattering his neck vertebrae and then having the constitution to not be totally paralyzed. We’ll be rooting for you all year, Kevin (plus well into the future after that).

You’d think that because we’ve re-named the award the Kevin Everett Meast of the Week, we’d adopt a more politically correct stance with regards to cheering for injuries. Absa-fuckin-lootly NOT. Are you kidding? Cheering for injuries is part of the fan experience. Listen, we ALL feel badly about Kevin Everett. Nobody wanted him to get hurt. But his injury shouldn’t necessitate us feeling guilty about our schadenfreude about other players’ injuries.

Take Big Daddy Drew (PLEASE! -ed.), a former Tiki Barber fantasy owner. He has long cheered for Brandon Jacobs to get a knee injury. Actually, that’s not true: he’s wished for much, much worse. Well, last weekend that vulture finally got his comeuppance. And again, it’s really too bad about Kevin Everett, but that fucker Jacobs had it coming. We can’t let every somber event get in the way of every long-fantasized fantasy football injury.

So, let’s go ahead and re-open the gates on cheering for injuries. From here on out for the rest of the season, go ahead and insert this standard preface into every I-hope-Player-X-gets-injured joke: “The horrible event of Kevin Everett’s injury notwithstanding…”

To warm you up, please practice by putting that statement in front of the following bits of evil that we jokingly (but not really) wish would happen.

…I can’t wait until Trent Green gets another concussion.
…if Derek Anderson breaks something, really: Who cares?
…I’d love it if everyone packed into Heinz Field for a Steelers game contracted ebola. Except Steely McBeam.
…I have Michael Turner on my fantasy team, and it would really help me out if LaDainian Tomlinson got hit by a car. Or a bus. Or a train covered in cobras.
…I wish people who take the time to write emails of complaint to bloggers would all die in a government-sponsored fire.
…Terrell Owens is way overdue for karmically-triggered season-ending injuries.
…I hope Green Bay fans who are still fervently devoted to Brett Favre choke on a big silver platter of steaming cock. Your lives are small, meaningless, and not worth prolonging. Do your part to save humanity and kill yourselves.

That’s the spirit!

This week’s Meast is Randy Moss. He was thrown to nine times for nine catches and 183 yards, including the 51-yard touchdown catch to where he outraced — ho-hum — triple coverage.

As with most Measts, though, it’s not the numbers we’re impressed by, but the meastiness. Moss provided a true statement game, and that statement was, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, and fuck you. I’m out!” Simply put, Randy Moss’s performance was neck-breakingly impressive.

(Oh, fuck off. The Everett preface is supposed to be automatic.)

Don Imus Tactfully Reviews The New NFL Schedule

Thursday, April 12th, 2007


These panty-waist toddler touchers here at…whuss’ the name? Kicking Sally Tolbert? want me to break down this here new slate of footbaw’ games for their readers. What’s wrong, fellas? Eyes gone strained from eye-fucking the guys who change your oil in your Prius?

Call yerselves the Gay Mafia, does ya? Mafia’s for the Eyeties, boys. Back up the sissy sailboat to Pier Get a Clue. You’re too white to be that dumb.

Okay. Here we go. The best of each week of the coming season of the NFL, or as I like to call it, the Nappy Faggot Lapdance.

Week 1

Obvious choice here is the Saints and Colts. Peyton seems like an upstanding fella, if a little light in the loufah. The one that really runs my gun is that Reggie Bush. Did you see that coon shake he gave to the Bears in the playoffs last year? Disgraceful, if you ask me. He reminds me of one of those bushmen.

Week 2

Nigh Jets at Baltimore. Kinda personal obligation here. That sanctimonious child-touching priest Cal Ripken Jr. blew off my show but I ticked off a few thin-skinned, ahem, UPSTANDING AFRICAN AMERICANS in New Jersey, so I’m throwing ‘em a bone. But I’ve heard all I need to know about that Ray Lewis. Just like the blacks to commit all the crimes.

And while I’m on it, who the fuck has aged worse than Cal Ripken Jr.? He’s been out of the game for about six years and he looks like Marlon Brando right before he died.

Week 3

Tampa Bay at St. Louis. Only because by this time Chris Simms and Jeff Garcia will be well acquainted and we can watch them scissor each other on the sidelines. It’s in a dome, so they won’t get their underroos soiled with anything other than santorum.

Week 4

Pittsburgh at Arizona. Something about a team meeting its old coach or some hooey I could give three-eighths of a fuck about. I’m just upset that Gov. Bill Richardson turned down his appearance on me show. I know he represents New Mexico but that’s close enough. I’m pulling for the Steelers here. That’ll show that greasy fucking Julio.

Week 5

Detroit at Washington. Two black towns here, so expect the government have to come in and bail one, if not both of these teams out. It’s not my fault they can’t have decent schools and…

Aww, horseshit.

Ok, sorry boys. That’s Sharpton on the phone again. He’s got some hair up his ass ’bout something. Lord only knows. I’ll have to let you guys swish your way through the rest of this mess. You should probably get all them womenfolk do it, after they pasted your narrow asses in that wager. I mean, so long as none of ‘em is of the dusky persuasion.

ESPN’s Director of NFL Programming Addresses the On-Screen Talent

Monday, April 2nd, 2007

Hey guys, thanks for making it out. I know you’re all busy, and — what the fuck are you doing here, Ley? Don’t you have an Outside the Lines or the 4:00 a.m. SportsCenter to tape? This meeting is for NFL personnel ONLY. Beat it!

[waits]

[under breath] Douchebag!

Okay, sorry about that. Anyway, as we’re ramping up for our non-stop draft coverage, I wanted to go over some changes in network policy that have been made to correct some stuff we’ve had problems with in the past.

To be specific, I’m talking about Sean’s little incident. No, not the photo of the “Salisbury Steak.” The Jew thing. Listen, everyone knows it was just a slip of the tongue, but we’re going to try to eliminate the possibility for that to happen again. That’s why I’m going over the revised list of banned words. We don’t want to piss off the Jews again — they control the media, right? I kid, I kid. I really shouldn’t make that joke, even if that Jew bastard Eisner is gone.

What are you looking at me that way for? I said chew bastard,” ha ha.

Anyway, here are the words you can no longer use on air:

Section A: Jews


1. “Chew” — This one’s obvious, but we gotta make it official. Don’t say “chews up yardage,” say “eats up yardage.” Or “masticates.” If it helps, think back to the holiday party when Berman ate two yards of that super long-ass deli sandwich. Oh, just kidding, Chris. We all know you only ate four feet of it.

2. “Choose” — Same reason. Instead, say “select.”

3. “Shoe” and “shoes” — Since we’re talking about the NFL, say “cleats.” If you talk about a player’s shoes off the field, use “sneakers.” If you’re black and hosting SportsCenter, you may call them “kicks.”

4. “Juice” — We’re still working on this one. Stick with “sports drink” or “OJ” for now. If you get nervous, just call it “Gatorade.” Don’t worry about it being incorrect — worry about the backlash from the goddam Chosen People if that “S” sound comes out as a Z.

Other: Address Mel only as “Mel” or the full “Mel Kiper Jr.” I’ve heard some of you call him “Kipe” around the studio, and that could go REALLY wrong… when talking about our departed experts Joe Theismann and Michael Irvin, we prefer that you call them “asses.” Trying to tone it down by saying “heinie” could backfire… I’m SO glad we didn’t hire Shannon Sharpe — he always says “heeb” instead of “he’s”…

Section B: African-Americans


1. “Cone” — Thank God the NFL uses pylons.

2. “Niggling” — To my knowledge, this has never been used on air, but I’m pretty sure we’d get complaints. What’s that? Yes, go ahead, Mr. Schlereth…

No, that’s not a dumb question. Niggling means trivial or inconsequential… Yes, like John Clayton. But now that you know a new word, don’t go using it on-air.

3. “Niggardly” — This is another one we can’t — yes, Mark?… Another good question. A niggard is someone who’s reluctant to give or spend… ha, ha! Yes, like the Jews! Good one, Boomer. Wait, aren’t YOU Jewish? Stop being such an Uncle Shlomo.

Anyway, we’ve had some fun with this one, but don’t EVER call a Jew a niggard on the air. Holy hell that would be the worst situation imaginable.

Section C: Asians


1. “Chap” — The Japanese are a proud people with a heritage of dignity, and the term used throughout World War II is extremely derogatory. And it’s even worse when you call a non-Japanese Asian a — ahem — “chap.” I tell ya, those… “kooks” can be really thin-skinned.

2. Yeah, “kooks” is on the list too.

3. “Glucose”

4. “Slopes” — We got some complaints during last year’s draft when we discussed Jeremy Bloom’s skiing career.

Other: If you interview Scott Fujita, and he’s wearing a hat, do NOT make the mistake of calling it a “chapeau.”

Section D: Hispanics


1. “Spic and span” — If it’s clean, just say it’s “clean.” Don’t try to dress it up.

2. “Carabiner” — I’m pretty sure there aren’t any rock-climbing enthusiasts in the NFL, so we should be good here.

Other: If a steady rain has created a sodden end zone, do NOT say that it’s “really wet back there.”

Section E: Caucasians


1. “Honking” — This especially goes for any description of post-game traffic in Jacksonville.

2. “Firecracker” — People might think you want Bill Simmons to resign. If Page 2 loses him, the dot-com is royally fucked.

3. “Sauerkraut” — Don’t want people to think that’s two words, you know? Say that in the same sentence you’re talking about some Boxhead Fritz, and you’ll never hear the end of it.

Other: Do not refer to any team’s star player as “the Man”… Boomer, we love you, but no more yelling “WOP!” when a player makes a great juke… Italian-Americans get their greasy ire up when you say that a “day goes by”…

Section F: Other Ethnicities


1. Out of respect to our Arab fanbase, we ask that you not say that any defense looks “ragged” at the end of the game.

2. Likewise, for our Filipino fans, we can no longer use the term “coin flip.” Please, use “coin toss” instead.

3. Just to play it safe, the team from Washington, D.C. should be called the “Native Americans.”

…Phew. Okay, I hope that clears things up. I’ll have that foxy blonde Nancy from personnel circulate a copy of this. Be sure to squeeze her ass when she stops by your office. I swear that thing is made out of titanium.

Questions?

Cancer/Countercancer: NFL Free Agency

Wednesday, March 28th, 2007

This week saw the announcement that two somewhat prominent political figures - one the unattractive harpy wife of the king of the trial lawyers and alsoran presidential candidates, the other a soulless repository of glib untruths -
are struggling with cancer. Elizabeth Edwards’ breast cancer has returned and Tony Snow may have to put off the colon rollin’ for a spell.

Oftentimes, KSK writers enjoy a delightfully inappropriate tweaking of current events, but, in general, we’d sooner delve into Andy Reid’s urethra than the realm of politics, therefore we declined our initial impulse to chat up Snow and Edwards about chemo and dealing with personal tragedy in the public eye while still furthering the message of stupid people. And, naturally, football, the unflagging focus of our humble site.

No, we’d rather talk with the cancer, knowing full well how eager the supposed “disease” would be to cut through ther vast anti-polyp bias in the mainstream media.

Christmas Ape: Welcome, cancers.

Edwards’ cancer: Glad to be here.

Snow’s cancer: Hey buddy.

CA: Now, Edwards’ cancer, as breast cancer, how equipped are you to discuss-

EC: Football? Plenty. Remember, breast cancer does affect men. Sure, it’s fewer than one percent of all diagnosed cases, yet I dare you to explain away the fact that 50 percent of NFC East coaches are afflicted.

CA: I can’t. Staggering. Point well made. Let’s begin with a discussion of recent free agent activity. Okay, Chris Cooper to the Cardinals…

EC: Excellent in Breach.

SC: Masterful in Adaptation. Mediocre defensive lineman, however. And totally healthy, insofar as we know. Next.

CA: Marshall Faulk announced his retirement…

EC: Hope he starts smoking.

SC: Or standing in front of a radar gun.

CA: Thoughts on Pacman Jones?

EC: Sorry, we only have insight on actual, not clubhouse, cancer. His marked determination in spreading other forms of disease is admirable, however.

CA: Okay. Moving along. Ken Hamlin to the Cowboys…

SC: Is it irradiated ham? If so, superb signing.

CA: Not sure. Jason Fabini to the Redskins…

EC: The fundamental problem with big fat guys is, even though they’re susceptible to contracting one of us, they’re just as likely to keel over with heart failure.

SC: You go through all the trouble to get your pseudopod in the door and you’re not even a direct cause of death. Very demoralizing.

CA: Still no cure, though.

SC: Yeah, that is nice, let me tell ya. But you never know when that cure might be coming down the pike. I’m just trying to kill as many humans as I can before that happens, then maybe settle down and kill a cat or something.

EC: That tainted pet food is a godsend, by the way.

CA: Alright, I think we’ve reached the end of our time here. Appreciate your taking your time out during this hectic period for you two.

EC: Always a pleasure, Ape. Be sure to always sit real close to your monitor when you’re doing your blog thing. And carry your cell phone in your pants pockets at all times. Maybe play with some plutonium and drink lots of tap water.

CA: Uh, thanks.