Anyone who sat through the BCS National Championship this week got their fill of hearing about anything honey badger-related, given Brent Musburger’s insistence on dropping Tyrann Mathieu’s nickname on damn near every play. So it’s probably poor timing for Jim Harbaugh and the 49ers to tell reporters that they are using the honey badger as their inspiration or spirit animal or what have you in advance of the team’s playoff showdown with the Saints this weekend.

We’re not adverse to the little critter having crossover appeal. Far from it. Recall that KSK featured the honey badger in a KILL KILL KILL post a year and a half back. Our only suggestion is maybe go a little easy on the honey badger overkill, sports figures in search of cheap motivational ploys. Can’t hurt to give the Golden Eagle a chance at being an avatar of badassery. At least you won’t be piggybacking on a nickname that was widely mocked just days ago on a national stage.

Let’s do this, Rex. First order of business: BOUNTIES. A fresh whore to the man who supplies a Tebow part ripped clean from his body. Gotta settle for Jenn Sterger if you only draw blood.

[Bays for blood while beating knife and fork against kitchen table]

Oh, you shut up, Breer. We only like you because you serve as a handy counterexample to Peter King’s overpowering nutmeg-scented laziness. Don’t you start telling us things we don’t want to hear. “OMG HOW DO WE PREPARE FOR A QB WHO ONLY COMPLETES TWO PASSES A GAME?! PLEASE, JUST GIVE US ’07 BRADY INSTEAD. ANYTHING BUT THAT!”

We love animals here at KSK, which is why we like to watch them murder each other. Here’s a lovely 28-second video of a cow eating a chicken, its bites perfectly synchronized to the poor chick’s chirps of agony. I would like to deliver a semi-Kingishesque “Good for you” to that cow. Cows so rarely get to do some killing of their own. Usually, they get herded around and then led to a quick bloodletting in the abattoir. But this cow refuses to play by those rules. He’s the Winston Smith of beef.

(H/T to Anonymous)

Kill, we must, for the Breesus demands it of us.

Now, don’t you enjoy yourselves too much, New Orleans. Brian Williams is on the lookout for adult beverages.

During our first NFL offseason writing this blog, we came to understand the grueling boredom of writing about football when no football games were being played. In order to stay motivated, we regularly watch animal death porn in a segment we like to call KILL KILL KILL. Today: the African honey badger, also known as the Ratel.

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While sharks get all the love on the internet, dolphins are often an afterthought. No more, friends. For if we sleep on these marine mammals any longer they will surely rise up and rule us with an iron flipper (Treehouse of Horror XI was a warning). Scoff if you must, but it’s happening faster than you think. Hell, they’re already mastering the iPad. By next week they very well could have those things playing Flash videos.

Once these creatures figure out how to leave the water for land we’re all doomed. And you know what? They’re getting pretty close.

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February. What a crappy month. It’s bitterly cold, it won’t stop snowing, and there isn’t a shred of goddamn football to be found anywhere. It’s enough to make me want to kill. Then kill again. Then kill for a third time. But that’s it. Any more than that would be overkill. So yes, it’s time once again to satiate our collective blood lust with a feature we like to call Kill Kill Kill.

This week we’re featuring the delicious tuna, and its many predators around the world. Above we have a seal dining in a shallow pool of bloody water on the Galapagos Islands. And really, who among us wouldn’t give it all up to trade places with that cute little guy?

There’s plenty more death after the jump, including sharks, whales, and the tuna’s deadliest enemy…

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There’s good news and bad news today, folks.  Bad news first: the weekly mailbag won’t go up until later tonight.  I made the mistake of thinking I could tackle the mailbag and also help a friend edit a 12,000-word graduate dissertation last night.  The latter lasted until 3:30 a.m., so the former didn’t happen at all.  But the mailbag will be up tonight.  Scout’s honor.

But the good news!  The good news is that one of our more memorable emailers this summer, the gal with the giant truck and a wussy boyfriend with a Saturn, wrote in with an update of her life.  And we’re not ordinarily inclined to post follow-ups to your scenarios, but then most follow-ups don’t involve dead horses being torn apart in an explosion of maggots.  Read for yourself:

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Two days left in July, people.  Then it’s August.  August is the preseason.  The preseason sucks but at least it’s something.  Your fantasy draft is coming up.  For the first time since the draft, there are flickers of life on the NFL fan’s EKG.

We can do this.  If we stick together, we can do this.  All we have to do is watch enough video of a shark eating a dead horse off the coast of Fiji enough times, and we’ll make it to the NFL season.  NOM NOM NOM.  That’s the sound of anticipation, friends.