Make no bones about it: Washington, D.C. is an ugly city.  Oh, not the city itself — L’Enfant’s vision for a noble capital city is wonderfully realized with wide avenues and stately marble buildings.  I’m talking about the people.

The old saw of “Hollywood for Ugly People” is all too true.  The only people who might be superficially attractive there are the collar-popping set: uptight bitches in pearls and cocky jackasses in the douchebag uniform of khakis, blue blazers, and floppy “punch-me” haircuts.  Want an idea of how ugly DC is without the eyesore of going there?  It has the highest percentage of sports bloggers per capita of any major American city.

Oh yeah, DC: you ugly.  You ain’t got no alibi.

All this makes the existence of the Redskins Cheerleaders that much more remarkable.  They are wildflowers growing through the cracked asphalt of a vacant lot.  Like the duck-billed platypus, they are mysteries of nature, miracles of evolution, creatures too confounding and perfect for scientists to explain.  And there’s a whole lotta evidence of that after the jump.

(more…)

She’s got style that woman
Makes me smile that woman
She’s got spunk that woman
Funk that woman
She’s got speed my babe
Got what I need my babe
She’s got the ability
To make a man outta me

But most important of all
Let me tell ya
The lady’s got BALLS

(more…)

 

Since the dawn of time, man has sought out to explore his universe, to understand the places and things around him, and to seek his fortunes about the uncharted plains. Man, while sometimes daunted by these pursuits, persevered, and found himself richer for the experiences of his quest, whether or not that quest itself proved fruitful. And the neverending, ever-changing odyssey of man facing the veritable unknown was undertaken over thousands of years…for one reason.

To get laid. 

Yes, while man’s pursuits have become vast and diverse, his motivation remains singular. Over the millenia, this endeavor became more efficient, ritualized, and somehow involving more paperwork. Gradually there became less paperwork, but then sometimes even more paperwork materialized down the line. Paperwork is unpleasant. But paperwork gets men laid. 

Consider the Wright Brothers, among the greatest explorers of our last century. They sought to conquer the air above us, something no man had ever achieved. They would have told you that their aim was to achieve flight, to obtain a purchasing contract from the government, and to revolutionize the way we travel for decades to come. But they would be lying. For the Wright Brothers sought only to fly to faraway lands, and subsequently fuck every nimble-bodied woman they could find. 

Note the historic words of Neil Armstrong, the first human to walk on Earth’s moon. “One small step for man,” he uttered, “One giant leap for mankind.” Armstrong’s address to the fairer sex was omitted from all the records of the day, but archived audio reveals that the Ohioan was also clearing declaring, “One huge cock for every woman on Earth.”

Man today not only carries a penis, he carries a heavy burden to live up to the conquests of his forefathers. For as the skies and the seas seem familiar to us today, one voyage remains continuous. So go, head forth as your ancestors did before you. Plunge into the depths of your soul and rise with the strength of a thousand donkeys and set forth. 

And get laid.

Here are some photos of women that cheer for NFL teams, or did at some point. Halloween’s coming up, so decide what you’re gonna be. I have my heart set on being Larry Flynt; I won’t have to walk anywhere.

 

 

 

 

And so did we. That’s it for us. Here are some pictures of women that are too good to sleep with you. Maybe you should go outside this weekend and interact with other humans. I would, but I’m surrounded by Southerners, and all they want to talk about is God and the SEC and shit. Fuck them.

This is why these assholes drive around in circles for sport; they’re just as annoyed with each other as they are with themselves. That’s what happens when you can’t buy booze on Sunday.

Photos courtesy of NYJets.com, bigcatcountry, and Bengals.com, respectively.

Mahalo, bitches.

 

    

I’m sure that Cameron (or whatever her real name is) is actually a nice girl, but we’ve already ripped on effeminate men, shown disrespect for the dead, and disseminated tactics to boost album sales. There’s no better way to end the day than some classic oogling.

There has been some debate in the KSK office over what this girl’s native name might be. My money’s on either “Dances With Foreskin” or “Cocka-jewea.” Whatever.

Enjoy your weekend.

Ahhhh… Qwest Field. Beautiful home of Seahawk dominance. The only place in America where fans calling themselves “the 12th Man” have read books without pictures. Site of the annual Seahawks playoff win before a second-round loss. Let’s take a closer look.

Aw jeez. Get out of the way, lady! I’m trying to look at the stadium! You’re blocking my view of the concourse! And part of the word “FIELD”!

Stop smiling for a second. You’re in my sight lines here. Can you maybe just get behind that rock so I can look at Qwest for a second? You will? Thank you.

Oh, Christ. I said BEHIND the rock. You can’t do anything right, can you?

Listen, there’s going to be football played here in the next week, and I’m trying to enjoy this last moment of Zen calm before I start yelling non-stop through January.

Sighhhh. No, I DON’T want you take your top off. Sheesh.

What an absolutely shitty day from top to bottom. One of those days where you think you’re hung over, but no: you are actually bona fide sick. Nothing goes right. People are assholes. It’s hotter than two cats fucking in a wool sock and you worked through lunch.

Well, at least it’s Sexy Friday. Better late than never, I say. Looks like the ‘Skins cheerleaders are in fine form for the Hall of Fame Game:

Welcome back, NFL. You beautiful bitch.

I don’t think it’s appropriate to just throw out random links of porn sites, espeically since your typical Friday fare includes more family-friendly fetishables. But this week is different, partly because “fetishables” isn’t really a word. Unless you read TBL, and then you might as well throw the entire fucking dictionary into the fireplace. Do you even have a fireplace? We have two, but we don’t use either one. I always thought it would be neat to stick a TV in there that was actually showing an image of a burning fire, but getting that together would have been a waste of time. Kinda like this entire paragraph.

This week’s cheerleader pic comes from Hottest Girls Of Cheerleading. It’s a Texans Halloween party. Or something. I think an orgy was about to break out before there was this big bomb scare. And then Tiffany lost her keys and had to get a ride home from Melissa who drove into a ditch and now she can’t see the color orange anymore. In other words, it was a typical Texas night.

And if you’re looking to stay indoors this weekend, I have a movie recommendation for you…

Later on.

Can you believe KSK used to be one of those pussy-ass narrow blogs? Sad but true. But we’ve seen the light, and it’s coming from a web page that uses the full width of the monitor.

Let’s get one thing clear: if your blog doesn’t have widescreen pictures, your blog SUCKS. What, you think people are gonna check out what you have to say because you can form cogent arguments with high-minded prose? WRONG.

Give the people what they want: BIG PICTURES. OF BIG TITTIES.

Examine, please, Sexy Friday’s Exhibit B:

If this picture were smaller, you wouldn’t be able to see the hole from her absent navel piercing, and this additional piece of information from the greater detail enlightens further discussion: Does the Tampa Bay cheer squad forbid belly button rings while the girls are in uniform? It would certainly seem that way; most squads have similar rules that require makeup over any tattoos.

So lemme get this straight. They have to wear tight, revealing clothing that showcases their bodies and enhances their cleavage while they perform sexy dance moves… but no navel piercings! Why, that would take away from their demure image! “You know, I bet most of these girls are bankers or lawy–OH MY GOD! Is that a belly button ring?!?! GET OFF THE FIELD WHORE!!!”

BOOM!

BLAM!

POW!

BANG!

PORK!

HEY, WHO LET THAT ASSHOLE IN?!

Happy 4th. See you Monday, fuckos.