Someone at my gym was telling me about a guy who went into the hospital with back pain; he told the doctors he was afraid he had spine flu. And that’s not a joke. That apparently really happened, according to the second-hand story that I’m now making a third-hand story.

Naturally, I spent the next ten minutes thinking about various influenza FAILs. Like, there’s a pine flu epidemic in the Northwest… I’m not sure if this is a hangover or wine flu… Sarah Jessica Parker has a nasty case of equine flu. Et cetera.

I bring this up because I was sick for the last three days. I had this weird stomach pain that wasn’t quite gas and wasn’t quite indigestion, and mixed with my light sleeping habits it wrecked my REM sleep. I ended up taking something like six naps over the span of two work days while consuming a helluva lot of healthy crap like miso soup and peppermint tea. And the kicker was this: no booze or caffeine for MORE THAN TWO DAYS.

That’s no way to live, people. Don’t trust Mormons, those people are powered by the dark arts.

Week 10 Meast and Least below:

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Chris Johnson is your lion-maned Meast after shredding the 49ers defense for 135 yards and two scores. Add to that the fact that he had another 80-yard TD nullified by penalty after it was ruled he stepped out of bounds, and that’s a textbook Meastian performance. We almost gave it to him the other week after his “getting-away-from-the-cops speed” game, but opted to shock the world with Ted Ginn instead. Gus Johnson was later forced to apologize for that remark (he defended the call by saying people of all races run from the police, which is true, BUT ONLY BLACK PEOPLE GET AWAY!), which is about as stupid as Muslim groups having to apologize for the Fort Hood shooting. But people are stupid and expect these things, I guess. Anyway, if Johnson were on any less putrid of a team, he’d probably be in the thick of the MVP race. He’s on pace to run for close to 2,000 yards and is averaging an insane 6.7 yards per carry. That’s more than the Redskins gain most weeks.

Your Least this week is Champ Bailey, who’s often wrongly still referred to as the best cover corner in the NFL, even though it’s been a few years since that’s actually been the case. Sorry, Champ, Darrelle Revis and Nnamdi Asomugha done took yo shit. After the Broncos secondary was fluffed for the entire first half of last night’s game, Bailey was routinely torched by Santonio Holmes in the second. He then capped the night by letting a small dirty playing Asian guy jump over him into the endzone for some piling-on points. We also considered Andy Reid and DeAngelo Hall this week, but then we know they’ll be back for more suckling at the teat of suck in no time at all.

This weekend, the Patriots are playing the only team in the NFL that could possibly make me root for them, the Purplish Carrion Crows of Deepest Rottencrotch (Officially: Lord Baltimore’s seaside queef depot).

P-Drizzle, so jovial

So it would be the ideal time for me to admit that for the past few months I’ve been seeing a girl who’s (GASP!) a Boston fan. Me! The guy who hates Boston sports teams so much! It’s like I’m actually able to compartmentalize preferences in trivial things and focus on a person’s other, more important, qualities (like tits)! Me! The guy who usually isn’t able to compartmentalize preferences in trivial things and focus on a person’s other, more important, qualities (like tits)!

Luckily, she doesn’t understand football nor does she care at all about the game. This might otherwise be an issue, but is fantastic in this circumstance because her not caring is the only thing keeping her from being a Patriots fan.

(She does actually own a Tedy Bruschi jersey and threatened to wear it to my D.C. book reading. Or just wear it at all. In response, I vowed to visit swift death upon her, which was a surprisingly effective deterrent. Try that one in the future, you guys)

Granted, I still have to put up with (if she’s reading, that means ADORE) the SAWX stuff, but I don’t particularly care about baseball and it’s fun to go to Nationals games and laugh at how she fumes when the Nats play “Sweet Caroline” during pitching changes (”THAT’S OW-UH FACKIN SONG! NO ONE DENIES THIS! EVERYONE HE-UH IS A FACKIN COWPYCAT! THEY AH-RUNT BAHSTONISH ENOUGH!”).

Plus she frequently and openly admits that no one cared about the Pats until they started winning titles, and she gets irritated whenever she talks with someone from back home in Boston who brings up the Patriots while the Red Sox are still playing (”They never used to do that before!”).

So keep reinforcing all the negative stereotypes I have of Bawston football fans, honey, and we’ll get along just fine.

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We just couldn’t help ourselves. More non-football Kanye VMA incident Photoshoppery available at Holy Taco.

Emmitt Smiff will appear on The Today Show on Friday (why the hell not? They already let Jenna Bush be a regular) to help Matt Lauer and Al Roker “serenate” the Cowboys new stadium. “If a punt were to stripe the Jumbothong, we would have what they call in golf, a Cortland Finnegan.” [Awful Announcing]

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

You’ve probably seen it elsewhere by now (as in, the live broadcast when it happened) but here’s video of Brady being a dismissive slapdick to the Matron Saint when she was trying to get a simple postgame quote. Listen here and listen good, Dreamscrote, you are messing with forces beyond your limited comprehension. You will show the Matron Saint her due reverence or, so help me, I’ll tear your nuts off and have Aaron Schobel run them back for six. [WithLeather]

There was some disagreement among the KSK ranks about who is the most deserving of the dubious distinction of being the Jeff George Memorial Least of the Week for Kickoff Weekend. Then we remembered that we hadn’t had a poll in a while and thought we’d leave it to the readers to make the call.

There weren’t any spectacularly awful performances in the Super Bowl, so the Least is a little difficult to determine in this, its final installment of the year. Mike Gandy did get called for three holding calls, but then he was blocking DPOY James Harrison. Clancy Pendergast gets a big fail for the Cards lack of pressure and coverage schemes on the Steelers’ final drive. It could go to the three Cardinals blanketing Santonio Holmes in the end zone, but then Roethlisberger did make an amazing throw.

Then Maj suggested it go to Aaron Francisco for getting roughed up by James Harrison in the 4th quarter, which puts me in a fun position to write about it while pretending not to boast about an obvious foul by one of my favorite players. Lots of people think Harrison should have been ejected and point to him only receiving a personal foul as proof that the refs favored the newly renamed (guh) Sixburgh Steelers.

Then again, on the first play of the second quarter Cardinals defensive end Bryan Robinson punches Chris Kemoeatu after he goes to the ground, then gets up and throws a right hook at Hines Ward, for which he receives no flag. But NBC didn’t grant it a replay and Madden didn’t get all huffy about it so no one seized on the incident as part of some kooky officiating conspiracy (Quoth Punter: “The Steelers will never lose a Super Bowl as long as Goodell and Rooney are both in power”). So, in the end, these things kind of even out.

In conclusion: The Dansby roughing the passer call was the only truly horrible one in the game. Everything else was at worst borderline and bad calls swung both ways. Don’t be gay like Jason Whitlock, Bill Simmons or Punter and blame the refs. The game is over. Let’s get back to the dick jokes.

/dick joke

YOUR JEFF GEORGE MEMORIAL LEAST OF THE WEEK is pretty fucking obvious. Jake Delhomme put on a truly Favreian performance in primetime on Saturday night, one that will surely haunt him for years to come. Or until he hangs himself. Of course then he’d turn into a ghost, what with all of his unfinished sucking left left on accomplish on Earth. I assume he’d be charged with the task of haunting Bank of America Stadium by tossing footballs at unsuspecting members of the opposing team and leaving crawdad shells all over the locker room. What I wonder is whether a ghost can be haunted while simultaneously haunting others? But all of this takes away from the thesis of this post, that Jake Delhomme is a complete fucking trainwreck of a quarterback. And that’s why Mr. 6 turnovers is your Least of the week.

Huh, this post certainly took a strange turn. Maybe that’s because I had another post ready to go based off of Black Sports Online’s excellent highlight reel of Delhomme’s suck set to Beck’s Loser (hence the headline) only to see it removed from YouTube by some fucktasting lawyer. Fuck Beck with Delhomme’s dick.

UPDATE: The video lives on in BuzzCuts form! It’s also back up at Black Sports Online.

YOUR JEFF GEORGE MEMORIAL LEAST OF THE WEEK is deadlocked. It could easily go to Chad Pennington or Tarvaris Jackson. Flip a coin. We defy you to choose between the two. Each had horrendous performances in home playoff losses on Sunday. Chad was picked four times while Tarvaris completed only 42 percent of his throws. On one hand, it’s amazing that any of Tarvaris’ passes are even intercepted given how wildly inaccurate he is. On the other, it’s truly remarkable that Ed Reed has the patience to wait for Chad Pennington’s wounded ducks to make it into his lateraling grasp. Sure, you could argue Chad should get a break because he was facing a slightly better defense. Or that Tarvaris was struggling in his first playoff start. These are moot points that ignore the fact that Pennington and Tarvaris are but components of a larger, suckier host being that, once fused, will wipe clean life from the planet and bring upon the reign of Thanatos.

Jeff George Memorial Least Of The Week, Week 17: Forgot to award this last week (it would have been DeSean Jackson, I assure you), but there’s no doubt who the biggest piece of cock jerky in the NFL was in Week 17, and for time eternal. It fucking Brittfar, who cost his team a playoff spot, cost his coach his job, announced to ESPN that he’d need a few weeks to make up his mind on retirement (and ESPN actually considered this news), and generally acted like the old preening media slut he always has been. FUCK YOU BRETT FAVRE. I LITERALLY HATE YOUR GUTS. I HATE YOUR SPLEEN, YOUR PANCREAS, AND YOUR GALL BLADDER. I HOPE YOU GET KIDNEY STONES THE SIZE OF FUCKING GIBRALTAR. DIE. (Honorable mention to wideout Roy Williams, who played on an 0-16 team and shortarmed everything for Dallas during their collapse. If Roy Williams were to drown in pig blood, I would not be sad. Muhammad Ali could run more precise routes.)

As you may have surmised, I’m the sort of person who delights in negativity. I’d far rather read a Worst Movies of 2008 list than a Best Movies of 2008 list. Oh, you liked “The Dark Knight”? Well, no shit, asshole. So did everyone else. Tell me more about what made “Witless Protection” a festering cinematic abortion. I’m not interested in hearing you lavish praise on a bunch of already overpraised actors and directors. I demand BILE. AND BITTERNESS. AND HATEFUL INVECTIVE. I cannot get enough of people talking about how much something or someone blows. It’s a weakness.

So it is in that spirit (and in the spirit of this entire site, really) that I present you with our new weekly award, the Least of the Week. We already have the Meast of the Week for players and/or concealed weapons that have demonstrated excellence in the field of FUCKING SHIT UP on any given week.

But we’ve long needed a flipside to that coin, an award for the week’s biggest piece of pussified tampon lint. There are many great players in this league. But there are also many who deserve nothing less than our most bitter scorn. Players who are little more than douchetastic, short-arming little twatgoblins. They deserve our recognition as well, so that we might cruelly mock them until their reputation and sense of self-worth have all but evaporated. Nice.

But who to name it after? Well, the Meast was first named after Steve Irwin, who never hesitated to jump into an open crocodile mouth for no reason other than for my fleeting entertainment. Then I think we named it after Bill Walsh for a week. Then Kevin Everett. And then, of course, the original meast Sean Taylor, who will hold the name of the award forever more.

So I think whoever we name this award after needs to embody the very opposite elements of meastiness. He must be whiny, and afraid of contact, and underperforming, and easy for us to baselessly accuse of homosexuality. I’d like to name this award after Brett Favre, but since I loathe the very idea of typing his name every week, let’s go with Jeff George! Look at that throwing motion. He may as well be a waiter in Key West.

Your Jeff George Least of the Week for Week 15 is Reggie Bush, who injured himself by avoiding contact last week and is now out for the year. Pussy.

Congratulations, Reggie. You’re a flaming gash. I hope you suffocate while trying to give your girlfriend analingus.

NOTE: Tomorrow is mailbag day, fuckos. Send in all your fantasy football/sex advice questions quick as you can.