People with Blackberries are a fact of life now. I’m grown somewhat immune to fuckheads who will happily tap away at a Blackberry in the middle of meetings, dinners, drinks out, movies, and the like. All because they CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF GOING THREE GODDAMN MINUTES WITHOUT SEEING IF SOMEONE WROTE ON THIER FUCKING FACEBOOK WALL OR SOME GAY SHIT LIKE THAT.

I can’t fight the tide. If people are going to be shitheads with their Blackberries and iPhones, so be it. I’m tired of trying to rail against them.

But you know what I won’t abide? I will not abide fuckhead asshole douchebags who will happily leave their Blackberries lying around while they tend to other matters, thus allowing their stupid fucking Blackberries to ring incessantly at a spine-piercing volume.

I see people do this all the time. And it makes me want to hunt them down and hack them to death with a paper cutter blade. Hey fuckhead, PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE OR PUT IT ON VIBRATE. Or take it with you to the shitter. Is it so hard? Instead, I gotta sit there while some asshole phone starts going dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUN!

You know that Blackberry ring. That obnoxious, stupid, soul-raping ring. SO HELP ME GOD, IF I CATCH ONE MORE PERSON DO THIS IN PUBLIC, I WILL EAT THEIR BLACKBERRY AND SHIT THE REMAINS OF IT INTO THEIR FUCKING HANDBAGS. DIE. STOP LIVING. BECOME DEAD. I WANT YOU MURDERED.

We were going to have only one Meast this week, and that was Larry Fitzgerald.

Why was Fitty left uncovered for the entire first half? Because YOU CAN’T FUCKING COVER FITTY. So he was all set to be our only meast, and then US Airways pilot Chesley B. “FACKIN’ SULLY!” Sullenberger III safely landed a powerless passenger jet on the Hudson River and saved the lives of 155 people.

I believe that gets you co-meast honors. Honestly, that is all kinds of awesome. Bet HE doesn’t leave Blackberries lying around to ring for hours on end. Get that man a bottle of Booker’s and the finest chocolate hooker money can buy. SAVING LIVES GETS YOU THE CHUCK BARKLEY BLOWJOB PACKAGE.

It’s over. After 17 weeks of bliss and horror the regular season has gone dark like the deepest recesses of Peter King’s capacious colon. For some, like the tortured soul seen above, the end is a welcome one. Of course for others, let’s say those living in New England, the end is unbearable. Then there are those like me whose teams finished somewhere in the neighborhood of .500. Sure we’ll miss watching our favorite team week after week, but frankly we could probably use a break from one another. At least until they draft somewhere in the middle of the first round come April.

In the meantime those of us not fortunate enough to have a rooting interest in the playoffs can just sit back and watch as other fanbases come crashing back down to our level like so many of Tarvaris Jackson’s ill-fated heaves. But before we get too excited over the playoffs we have to take care of some lingering business. So continue after the jump for the regular season’s final Sean Taylor Memorial Meast of the Week.

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Merry Christmas to all of you gentiles out there. I may be a Jewish, but seeing as how the holiday has devolved into little more than one huge sale I can get down with it.

It’s going to be a slow few days here at KSK as we gear up for the final week of the regular season (noooo!), and seeing as how I have to run off to my company’s Christmas party I’ll keep things short.

Your Sean Taylor Memorial Meast of the Week is none other than Jason Jones.

Wait, no, not him. It’s actually the other Jason Jones, the rookie defensive end out of Eastern Michigan who now plays for Tennessee. He’s the guy pictured below literally scaring the ball away from Ben Roethlisberger.

The rookie had a career day on Sunday with five tackles, 3.5 sacks, and three forced fumbles. Enjoy the holiday, and go get drunk for the love of Christ!

In the hierarchy of things I dislike about the holidays, gift shopping ranks just below jewelry ads every commercial break and spending time with the family. That’s because I’m the worst gift giver ever. I only know about my narrow range of interests, and if the person I’m shopping for doesn’t share those, I’m shit out of ideas.

The first time I bought anyone any gift, I was 8 years old and bought stuff for six people at the grocery store on a budget of $20. I don’t remember what I got the other five folks, but for some reason I bought my female cousin a copy of Black Beat magazine, because it looked vaguely like all the teeny bopper mags on the rack. So, yeah, my family thought it was hilarious and still laughs at me about it to this day. EXCUSE ME FOR SEEING PAST SKIN COLOR, YOU RACIST ASSHOLES! Maybe that’s responsible for instilling an early antipathy for buying gifts, I don’t know. Why can’t I just hand cash out to people on my list? That’s about as thoughtful as any random DVD I’m going to buy you.

Anyway, this week’s Meast is DeMarcus Ware, who had three sacks and two forced fumbles in the Cowboys win over the Giants.

You could make a convincing argument for Andre Johnson as well, but Ware gets bonus points for quietly being a badass while every other fucktaster in the Cowboys organization courts controversy from the media. Even people who aren’t on the Cowboys are trying to gin up controversy about Dallas. It’s all part of the great media crescendo building to their early-round playoff exit.

The Meast is not awarded based upon scientific reasoning or common sense.  It’s two parts groupthink, one part laziness, and a dash of homerism.  And that’s the way we like it.

Nonetheless, there were some remarkably measty performances this week, and I think it’s only fair to recognize the runners-up.

- Antonio Bryant: 9 catches, 200 yards, 2 TDs, and the sickest one-handed Velcro catch of the year.

- Roddy White: 10 catches for 164 yards in a tough loss. This was Drew’s vote, and White falls into the category of players whose season-long meastiness we’ll have to honor at the end of the year (see also: Boldin, Anquan).
- DeAngelo Williams, Jonathan Stewart, and the entire Carolina offensive line: You just don’t get to see ass-raping like that very often. Unless you’re a Lions fan. Or you work for Nick Denton.
- Brian Westbrook: 39 touches, 131 yards rushing, 72 yards receiving, two touchdowns. With a bum knee and ankle. Against the Giants.
- Matt Schaub: 414 yards passing and two TDs in his first game back from the knee injury. Not bad.

However, this week’s award goes to Ed Reed for his role in the Ravens’ 24-10 domination of the Redskins: two interceptions, a forced fumble, and a fumble recovery return for a TD — just two weeks after he had two picks and a record-tying return TD against the Eagles.

It’s obviously not a popular pick with our own Christmas Ape, who’s eagerly anticipating this Sunday’s Baltimore-Pittsburgh showdown for superiority in the AFC North.  Ape adds his unique brand of hatred for Baltimore with an impressive Steelers homerism, calling the Ravens D “statistically inferior in every way to the Steelers D.”  Just as long as that statistic isn’t a highly respected metric like DVOA.

Anyhoo, the point is: nice job, Ed Reed.  Even though we hate your team, you’ve got some badass measts on that defense. And it’s your award to keep until — as Ape will point out — Hines Ward cold-cocks you with a brindside brock.

This week, we’re holding the second annual KsK Kares Kharity Drive for Fisher House, which helps build temp housing for disabled veterans and their families. You can donate directly to FH here.

Few things bring me more joy in life than eavesdropping on people on the Metro. Especially if those people are crazy drunks conversing with Canadian tourists about the looming threat of other ethnic groups taking over.

And so was the scene this morning when a 40ish black guy, wearing a ball cap and sunglasses, had this slurred exchange in the row in front of me with a bunch of white Canucks (redundant?) in town to see the District.

Man: [Leaning across the aisle] Excuse me, ma’am, is that your child?

Mother: [Surprised] Huh? Y-Yeah.

Man: Can I offer you a word of advice?

Mother: W-what? Sure.

Man: You need to make sure he learns another language when he grows up. There are three times as many Spanish-speaking people in this city than blacks. They takin’ over.

Mother: Okay.

Man: Yeah. So, you need to make sure he knows Spanish, because he’s gonna have to deal with Spanish-speaking people.

Mother: Mmhmm.

Man: You don’t have to do this today, but soon, soon, go to a book store and go to the instruction section and you got to ask them “WHERE THE SPANISH-SPEAKING TAPES AT?”

Mother: I’ll do that.

Man: Good. That’s good. If he can learn Spanish, he’s in good shape. I never got the Spanish, so I can’t deal with them. Once they take over, he’s gonna have to. [Now sounding like he's talking through his teeth] And, and, once he gets the Spanish, you know what you got to do next?

Mother: What?

Man: Learn him some Chinese. They got 1.5 billion, million people over in China. IN ONE LAND! We as Americans gonna have to deal with them sooner or later. I know you saw the Olympics. They comin’ up in the world. Women over there, they’re only allowed to have one baby. That’s crazy, if you ask me.

This went on for another 10 minutes during which I nearly pissed myself about five times. The drunk guy took five minutes just to get the freaked out Canadian husband to admit where he was from. (The guy would only saw “Not here” until his defenses were clearly worn down by the drunk’s persistence — a tactic I’ve used on many an occasion).

Anyway, your Meast this week is Plaxico Burress’ 40-caliber Glock.

Some might say it’s inappropriate to give an award named in honor of Sean Taylor to a gun on the anniversary of Taylor’s death. We do so not to make light of Taylor’s murder, but to highlight the fact that it was not the implement used in the killing that it is to blame, but the intentions of its user. Guns are not the enemy. Sure, they can be used to kill innocent people, but they can also serve the purposes of good, like when they go off randomly into Plaxico Burress’ leg.

Putting together this week’s Meast was more vexing than anticipated. Every time I tried to give the serious contemplation befitting such an esteemed mythical internet award, I was distracted by a stream of troubling questions. Maybe some of them are plaguing you as well:

Do I try to squeeze in three or four rushed, unfulfilling Thanksgiving visits, or make a single quality visit and try to work in everyone else at Christmas?

Should KSK feature more accounts of light-hearted cockplay? Or should we leave that to experts like Chris Cooley?

Where does that little twerp Michael Cera get off thinking he can suddenly big-time all his Arrested Development co-stars? Ungrateful little bastard.

Am I ready to live in a world were a venerable Monday Night theme song crooner suddenly becomes “Senator Bocephus”? If he runs on a populist “Cadillac Pu$$y in every pot” platform, who knows how successful he could be?

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Steve Harvey: Welcome back to Amateur Night at the world-famous Apollo theatre! How’s everybody doin’ tonight? Real good, real good. Our next performer just flew in from Washington, DC, and boy, are his arms tired. Help me give a big Apollo welcome to SENATAH! JOHN! McCAIN!

[McCain walks out. Audience applauds.]

McCain: Friends, did I ever tell you the one Hillary Clinton walked into Barack Obama’s office and said, “Hey, why does your economic plan involve raising taxes on only me?” Obama thought for a second and said, “No, no. I’m raising taxes on the RICH.” Get it?

[Crowd starts to boo]

McCain: What’s the difference between Barack Obama and a bar of soap? We KNOW the soap isn’t Muslim! Hey, these are the jokes, friends. Oh, I had a great one about the environment, just gimme a minute to remember it…

[crowd boos louder]

Crowd: Womp womp! Womp womp!

McCain: And then there’s the one where Barack Obama, Leelee Solbieski, and Mark Fuhrman walk into a bar. The bartender says, “If you’re here to see the goat, I have bad news. The goat is–

[sirens go off, crazy tap-dancing guy runs out]

Sandman Sims: Git y’ass off stage, fool!

McCain:Alright, I’m going, I’m going! Your meast is Aaron Ross, who had two interceptions and a touchdown last week. Thank you Harlem, goodnight!

Nnamdi Asomugha is the best corner in the league. In fact, he makes Champ Bailey look like a steaming pile of puke. The Panthers tested Nnamdi but once last week and he was on that ball like Romeo Crennel on the last loaded potato skin. While not well-known among casual fans, he commands the respect of other teams, having only a dozen or so balls thrown his way this entire season. Excellence like that demands appropriate recognition. Accordingly, Nnamdi Asomugha is your Meast of the Week.

Some of you might be saying to yourselves, “No freakin’ way, the Raiders suck out loud, plus they lost last week.” If you are of that school of thought, I kindly invite you to take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. I’m tired of waiting for the Raiders to stop being inept before I give this award.

It’s hard not to pity Asomugha. He’s the best at what he does, yet he toils in the midst of the Oakland Raider shitshow. In his honor, the KSK gang sought out to recognize other superstars who are surrounded by talentless jackanapes. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

Isolated beacon of talent ——————————- Crap factory they are/were stuck with

Alec Baldwin ———————————————————————— Baldwin bros.
Cris Collinsworth ————— other 37 assclowns in NBC’s “Football Night in America” studio
Andy Samberg —————————————————————- Saturday Night Live
The Nuge ————————————————————————- Damn Yankees
Honey Nut Cheerios ————————————– All the other varieties of Cheerios
Chris Walken ———————————————————————— Suicide Kings
Jack White ————————————————————————- White Stripes
Big Daddy Drew —————————————————————————— KSK
Colin Powell ——————————————————————- Bush administration
Jeremy Piven ——————————————————————– “Entourage” cast

The last issue of Esquire that I picked up did this thing called the “Endorsement Issue,” where they endorsed Barack Obama, a candidate in every Senate and House race, and various simple things that can be enjoyed by Esquire-reading douchebags like me at some higher intellectual level.  Random stuff like Clontarf Irish Whiskey, shoofly pie, and threesomes with Thai hookers.

So, in the spirit of completely random endorsements, I’d like to take a few moments to endorse the finest non-alcohoilc drink on the planet: Horchata.

The usual description of Horchata is “rice-cinnamon drink,” but that doesn’t begin to touch upon what it is to experience this heaven-sent elixir made in buckets by illegal aliens at Mexican taquerias.  What’s Horchata?  Take the flavor of a nice, soft churro, mix in the addictiveness of crack cocaine, and somehow turn it into an ice-cold drink.  It is the perfectly sweet companion (for your palate AND your digestive tract) to tostadas, gigantic burritos, authentic soft-shell tacos, or whatever else you’ve loaded with fiery tomatillo salsa.

Listen to me, people.  I’m a barely functioning alcoholic.  But when I get Mexican food, I skip the Dos Equis and Pacifico and order a Horchata (an Horchata? Damn Spanish).  GODDAMMIT IT’S SO DELICIOUS!  I need it RIGHT NOW!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

/runs six blocks to nearest taqueria

HORCHATA!  HORCHATA NOW!  GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!!!!!!  ÁNDALE MOTHERFUCKERS!

/sticks entire head in Horchata bucket

There.  Much better.  This week’s Meast is Justin Tuck.

Tuck notched 2.5 sacks and was penalized 15 yards for a completely legal hit that the referees deemed “too measty.” Well, it’s not too measty for KSK. We won’t be satisfied with hits on Brooks Bollinger until Bollinger craps his pants out of the league.