A reader emailed in the other day to point out that, while Peter King is BFF’s with Brett Favre: Land Baron, he’s never actually been able to parlay that friendship into anything resembling actual informative reporting. It was Jay Glazer who broke the story of Brittfar being traded to the Jets. It was Ed Werder who broke the story that Favre was, ahem, “retiring”.

Meanwhile, Peter King will grab his cordless phone, hide under his bedsheet with a flashlight on, talk to Favre to five hours at a clip, and then produce nonreports like, “I think Brett Favre means it this time. Just something about the timbre in his voice when he talks about it. I THINK HE’D JUST RATHER STAY AT HOME AND WATCH CASABLANCA.” Jesus. Anyway, this week produced an inordinate amount of Favre worship from King in his weekly enema flushing. So let’s get right to it.

We’ve got a lot going on for what’s supposed to be a dead time — Michael Vick’s on the block while in the cell block, Julius Peppers is trying to politely talk himself out of Carolina, Alex Rodriguez is lying about Selena Roberts (which enrages me), we’re on the verge of another thrilling NFL Scouting Combine (how many of you brain surgeon college players are not working out this year?), a 10-year-old dog won Best in Show at Westminster … and oh yes, Brett Favre retired. Again.

You probably figured I’d lead with Favre.

Indeed I did.

This is the ground I wanted to cover when we spoke for 40 minutes the other night:

That’s right, Werder. King talked to Favre for FORTY minutes last night. It even says so right on his stopwatch, which he uses to time and log all his Favre calls. Peter talks to Favre about IMPORTANT things, like the quality of the croutons at the Olive Garden. That’s what a journalist-subject relationship is all about.

Is it real this time?

No.

Why wasn’t it real last time?

Because Favre is a phony and an attention whore.

What the hell happened to his game in December? How does he know he won’t act on the itch come August when camps are in full swing — and we know the itch will come — to return to play?

“I’m sitting here watching American Idol, ” Favre said over the phone a few hours after he made everything official.

ZOMG! He watches Idol! He’s real people, just like you and me! Allow me to channel Kornheiser for this: “Hey Brett, can you believe that Casey Carlson made the Top 36?! I mean, DOES THAT NOT STUN YOU? Would you ever have guessed, IN A MILLION YEARS, that Casey Carlson would make it to Hollywood? If you are a Casey Carlson fan, ARE YOU NOT ABSOLUTELY ECSTATIC THAT THIS HAS HAPPENED?”

“Tonight at dinner, [daughter] Breleigh said, ‘So, no more football, huh?’ I said, ‘Yeah, no more football. It’s over.’ She said OK, then she went to chase Charlie around the house.” That’s the family dog.

PUNTER SAYS: Great explanation at the end for those that might have thought Brett Favre’s daughter was fighting the Viet Cong.

Life goes on.

Oh, how I wish it did.

As I wrote the other day, I’m fairly close to Favre…

“We share gum!” Jesus Christ. Hey Peter, do you see that perhaps you’ve grown a bit TOO CLOSE to Favre to cover him appropriately? Is there any value to your fucking audience in the fact that you and Brett like to dine out at the Capital Grille together? DO YOU EVEN REMOTELY UNDERSTAND THE FUCKING IDEA OF OBJECTIVITY?

…yet I’ve made so many mistakes trying to predict what he’ll do that you shouldn’t take anything I say here as gospel.

THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WRITING IT?

“I have no idea,” he said. “I do know this: I’ve gotten bored with everything in my life at some time.”

Indeed, I’ve seen Favre get bored of many things: accurate passing, not being in the news cycle, sending his children to get his oxy prescription, etc.

“I love to hunt, but I get tired of that.”

YOU CAN’T MEAN THAT! DON’T RUIN THE MENTAL PORTRAIT PETER HAS OF YOU DISAPPEARING INTO THE DEER STAND!

”I love to work on my property, but I get tired of that.”

NO! NO! NO! Peter King isn’t listening! He knows you’re lying about your passionate love affair with the soil! Don’t let him down, Land Baron!

”We’ll see.”

In other words, NOTHING Brett Favre says has any fucking weight of any kind. He is the least reliable source in the history of journalism. Hey journalists, STOP SOURCING HIM. A quote from Brittfar is about as useful as a Pete Hammond movie blurb.

Favre knows Aikman is right about missing the game. His life has been a neat grid over the past 17 years — six months of being Favre the football player, then when being Brett Favre has gotten oppressive, six months of being Favre the nobody farmer/hunter/fisherman.

I just… I feel like my brain is trying to choke itself to death. “Oh, no! The weight of Brett Favre is taking its toll on me! I MUST GO PLANT DAFFODIL BULBS.” You get the feeling Peter envisions Brett during the offseason as Clark Kent in “Superman II”. You see, it’s not Brett Favre walking into that menacing biker bar. It’s just Brett the farmer/hunter/fisherman/gatherer/loom operator. He doesn’t have his powers! TURN BACK INTO FAVRE THE FOOTBALL PLAYER, BRETT! AMERICA NEEDS A HERO AGAIN!

Good life. Great life.

Lofty words. True words.

He told me he’ll be looking for something to do — maybe in TV, though probably not in play-by-play.

TV? But he said he wanted to be a nobody!

People, reading this shit is like watching a videotape of a hostage with Stockholm Syndrome. And we haven’t even gotten to the worst part. Peter King has grand media plans for Brett.

The best thing he could do, I think, is interview players informally.

“Let’s talk over pie!”

Not in a sitdown setting, necessarily, but ambling around the house or the field with wireless mikes, just talking.

IN A MEADOW! YES, THAT’S IT! “FROM THE MEADOW WITH BRETT!” THEY COULD PLAY TOUCH FOOTBALL IN JEANS AND EVERYTHING! Holy shit, this is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It’s like some sort of bizarre male Summer’s Eve ad. Why stop there, Peter? Why not have Brett do all his interviews with Ray Lewis on horseback? That would really adD to the authenticity of the proceedings.

I owe Larry the Cable Guy an apology. He’s not the fakest blue-collar personality out there.

Forget the scripted questions;

Yes! Interviews are always better when there’s no preparation!

…he needs to simply talk and swap stories. Having been in those settings with Favre, I can tell you it’s the perfect setting for him to get his subject to talk.

It’s also the perfect setting to have Brett make love to you under the maple tree. God, the man free-range fucks like no other.

Say, Jet fans. Did you know Favre to the Jets was totally Peter King’s idea? IT WAS!

I said to Favre he should at least talk to (Mike) Tannenbaum; why wonder sometime down the road if it might have been a smart way to spend one final year or two in the NFL? A few nights later, Tannenbaum and Favre finally spoke and Tannenbaum began the sales job on Favre.

And the rest is history. Mediocre, forgettable history. Peter King needs no thanks, Jet fans. All he wants in return is the chance to see “Gran Torino” close to his house. For real though, should Peter King really be acting as quasi-agent for players? Doesn’t that strike you as, oh I don’t know, IN VIOLATION OF ANY STANDARD OF JOURNALISM EVER ESTABLISHED IN HISTORY?

Say Peter, what about Favre’s retirement – which even he won’t commit to, and which you say even your predictions could easily be wrong about – what about it is DIFFERENT this time?

This year, he respects the team he’s retiring from.

Unlike that other team that gainfully employed him for nearly two decades, paid him ungodly sums of money, with a fanbase that treated him as a demigod. That team can go suck a dick.

“Part of me coming back last year, I have to admit now, was sticking it to Ted,” he said in a rather startling admission.

No, that’s not startling. It’s petty, childish, and idiotic.

I’ve saved the four-minute voice-message from him on my cell phone the day he quit…

Well, why would you save his messages?

and when I’ve played it for people…

HOLY LIVING GOD. Who the fuck does this? I can just see it at a cocktail party…

Peter: Guys! Guys! You have to listen to this voicemail Brett left! I think he’s interested! He talked for FOUR minutes on my stopwatch! No guy does that if he isn’t interested!

Don Banks: Whatever. You still owe me a free meal, dickhead.

…I’ve asked, “Does that sound like a guy who was retiring with a lot of doubt in his mind?” And everyone says no.

Oh well, that cinches it!

There’s no cute final quote to this story. It’s a story of uncertainty. Favre doesn’t know the end to the story. All he knows is he’s 39, and he’s like an awful lot of unemployed people in America right now, other than he’s got a bazillion in the bank and they don’t.

In other words, he is NOTHING like an awful lot of unemployed people in America right now. You see how having MILLIONS UPON MILLION OF FUCKING DOLLARS negates any similarities you may try and draw, you fucking drooling sycophant?

Good Guy of the Week

Tony Dungy, former Indianapolis coach, current citizen of Florida.

That’s right. CITIZEN. He defected from Indiana not but a month ago.

The press exists, in part, to investigate.

Indeed they do. They have to investigate crucial matters such as:
-Do I like Coldplay? I think I do!
-Why didn’t Mike Whelan invite me to his wedding?
-Did you people know there’s traffic on 95 between New York and New Haven?!

Sometimes reporters have to go where they’re not wanted.

Like the urinal at Jerome Bettis’ restaurant! AM I RIGHT?!

The A-Rod story is infinitesimally as important as Watergate, for example, but in both cases, reporters went down dark roads and asked questions the establishment didn’t want answered and eventually they were answered, and public opinion was changed because of it.

Really? Because I’m quite sure the general public’s current “A-Rod is a douche” stance is quite similar to the general public’s “A-Rod is a douche” stance from a few months ago.

But I shouldn’t quibble with Peter King’s defense of Selena Roberts. After all, Selena Roberts is a reporter who breaks ACTUAL STORIES and treat her subjects in a distant and objective manner. That’s so rare for someone working at Sports Illustrated now, isn’t it?

I think I wouldn’t touch Pacman Jones. But I might be interested in Michael Vick.

Yes yes! Gimme the guy who actually went to prison! He’s way more trustworthy!

You go, Stump. Ten years old and Best in Show. I love it. The one thing about that dog show every year is there’s about 142 breeds I’ve never heard of, and they’re the cutest dogs, and sometimes, the outcome is so incredibly strange that you think the judge must decide the winner by playing pin-the-tail-on-the-Sussex-Spaniel.

And we have reached the nadir. I always thought it was inappropriate for Peter King to use his column as a relay of relaying personal messages to friends and family. Alas, he is now using his column TO TALK TO FUCKING DOGS. This man is Fred Willard. You know why I think Stump won? Chemistry. I don’t know what chemistry is, or how it even works, and nothing I say should be taken as gospel, but I’m certain that’s why he won. STUMP IS 30 POUNDS OF CONCRETE CYANIDE.