Sam and Diane, Dennis and Mac, Chuck and the reason people pretend to like Chuck. Network television history is littered with couples who exude sexual tension. This week, inspired by Annie and Britta’s saphic love, you’ll be drafting a fictional couple from a network television show to feature in a sex tape. The only rule is that you can’t pick Annie and Britta. They’re taken. Stop asking.

Image via Warming Glow. Go there for the hi-res image (you’re probably due for a new desktop background) and the accompanying video.

It’s never fun when your favorite character in a movie or on a TV show dies, especially if they die in ignominious fashion, or in a way that you feel ruins the story. That’s why I’ve always wished there was an alternate ending to “Heat” where Robert De Niro doesn’t die, and in fact guns down that douchey Al Pacino in an airfield, instead of the other way around. “I gotta hold on to my angst. I preserve it because I need it. It keeps me sharp, on the edge, where I gotta be.” Whatever, you tool. We all know the wrong man won that fight. NO ONE DENIES THIS!

So today’s draft is all about correcting those perceived mistakes. Pick one TV or movie character whose death you would prevent if you could. Perhaps even explain how the story moves on without their death. A LITTLE FAN FICTION FLAIR, CHILDREN. Pick one character, and then please wait ten picks until you choose again. And yes, you can select multiple characters from one movie or TV show, provided you select them individually. So go nuts. Beware of spoiler alerts below if you, you know, haven’t seen stuff.

I love food. It’s a simple fact that a quick search through the mock draft and kommenter draft archives will confirm. I love to cook, smell, eat, look at, and read about all sorts of different foods. But even somebody like me has a few foodstuffs they wish had never been invented. While it would be easy to pick anything preceded by the words “Guy Fieri,” we’ll try to keep this draft a bit more specific. You are tasked with selecting the one specific dish you would banish from menus the world over.

With the first pick, I’m taking crinkle cut fries. Ugh. Nothing about these is good. They could be made from scratch right in front of my face and they’d still taste like frozen crap. They are by far the worst take on the fried potato, behind the classic french fry, the majesty of the curly fry, and even the overly potato-y steak fry. You hear that, crinkle cuts? You’re worse than steak fries! Make your picks in the comments, and please wait ten picks before selecting again.

I have returned from vacation ripe with inspiration. After spending countless hours strolling through museums I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to commission a portrait of myself. Back in the Renaissance everyone had them. Well, everyone who was a Medici, at least. And those guys were probably assholes. Surely the rest of us deserve such luxuries. Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. If you’re unfamiliar with Eddie Murphy’s old “Boogie In Your Butt” song, please consult the above video. I’m of the mind that singing about putting stuff up people’s butts will never stop being amusing. And so, with that in mind, it’s a special KSK commenter draft today. YOU are going to come up with new lyrics for this classic piece of 1980’s Buttgalia. The rules are very simple. Just complete this lyric:

Put a _______ in your butt.

I’ll also accept:

Say, put a _______ in your butt.

That’s it. No other rules. It can be anything, just so long as it’s not from the original song. For example…

Say, put a clam in your butt.
Put a tram in your butt.
Put an egg in your butt.
Say, put some hay in your butt.
Put a dog in you butt.
Say, put a LOG in your butt

All right, let’s get into this. BOOOOOGIEEEEEEEE IN YOUR BUTT, WHAT , THE BOOGIE IN YOUR BUTT WHAT WHAT THE BOOGIE IN YOUR BUTT.

It’s our last draft of the offseason. That’s right. Next week, the Maj takes over this slot with his weekly gambling column. So, allow me to take this moment to congratulate you, the reader. It’s all but over. You’ve made through another tedious, horrible offseason. And you didn’t kill yourself or stop doing drugs. Good on you. Thanks the Lord Jesus the NFL has just about arrived.

Now, to the draft.

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“Taking Woodstock” opens today. I guess it’s because it’s the 40th anniversary of the concert, or something like that. I don’t know, and I don’t give a crap. I’m gonna just go ahead and say it: There are only about five people on Earth who still care about Woodstock. The rest of us would like it to fade back into history now. Immediately. With no chance of reemergence.

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My life consists of little more than an elaborate web of excuses and lies engineered specifically so that I exert as little effort as possible in all of my affairs. You might call that lazy. I call it victory.

A good, legitimate excuse is like a little gift from heaven. There’s nothing better than when you didn’t do something at work because you really, truly, weren’t copied on the email about it. That’s the BEST. “Look at the cc list, Steve! You see my name? CHECK AND MATE.” I love it when that happens.

Anyway, this week you’re drafting go-to excuses. It can be an excuse or alibi for anything: why you didn’t go to that wedding, why that dead stripper in the trunk totally isn’t yours, whatever. Pick one, wait ten picks to take another. Once you take that excuse, no one else on earth is allowed to make it except for you. So I’ll take the most obvious, annoying excuse of all:

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