DENIED OUR SEVENTH CHAMPIONSHIP! NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW SUFFERING LIKE YINZBURGH NATION!

I guess that was the result of karma for being the most hated team this year or just the fact that the Steelers were minus-three in turnovers. Probably depends on your overall wishy washiness or contempt of all things Steelers. Either way, congrats to the Packers. I watched the game at the Steelers bar in D.C., which happens to be two doors down from the Packers bar. The Green Bay fans managed not to be huge dicks as I dejectedly walked back to my car. So good on you guys. Other Internet folk weren’t quite so kind.

Looked up the KSK commenting history of dustybot@gmail.com and turns out he’s a Colts fan. Mocked me and typed between A and H in quick succession? That’s like five months worth of working out for a Fat Hump. Quite a day for you. Congrats.

We’re in the dreaded post-draft period of the NFL offseason. There’s still no real football for weeks. You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re hateful. We understand. At KSK, hating things is what we do best, which is why we have the recurring This Week In F**k You series, to soothe your white hot anger. This week: prestigious comedy hack Eric Stangel.

Read the rest of this entry »

I stand before you, a broken fan. If you’re looking for some sort of explanation then your ass is as lost as mine. We focus on the funny around here, but right now I’m just tired. I’m tired of reading about Jim Zorn’s level of experience, I’m tired of thinking about ways to maim Vinny Cerrato (I’m leaning towards Ling Chi, not to be confused with Lin Chi Ling), but mostly I’m tired of picturing Danny’s smug sense of self-worth.

OK, that was pretty damn funny. I guess I’m ready to delve into this debacle.

Jim Zorn? Really? The guy must have designed and implemented one hell of an offense in the past two weeks. Never mind the fact that he’s making the jump from Holmgren’s quarterbacks coach to the head coach of a playoff team despite never even handling the duties of a play caller.

No, wait. Let’s mind that fact for a little bit…

This prick may be the greatest guy to ever live (think “Hitler in Bizzaro World”) but he’s never done anything. Being an offensive assistant under Holmgren in the early nineties might have meant something, but now the fatass does everything himself.

League sources tell us that Holmgren’s assistants have been relegated to duties such as combing plankton out of the coach’s beard and collecting his discarded ambergris. Hell, Holmgren guards his play sheet even more closely than his family’s secret recipe for salt pork (take one pig, salt to taste… serves one). And now this assistant is supposed to take the reigns of our entire franchise? That guy must have been coaching the shit out of Seneca Wallace behind closed doors.

…

You know what Danny? I’m done.

No, I’m not done being a fan, that could never happen (but stop testing me, asshole). What I’m done with is you, Mr. Snyder. So that means I won’t be purchasing any more of Fed Ex Field’s $8 Miller Lites or $12 shots of Grand Marnier. Moreover, I’m done with all of your precious “licensed” merchandise. If I want a jersey I’ll buy one, but I’ll be damned if your seeing one damn penny of my flawless $35 Mitchell & Ness Doug Williams knock-off. Oh, and as for the rest of your business ventures…

And as for you Mr. Zorn, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt for now… but watch your damn step. Redskins fans get pissed enough when you confuse the colors burgundy and maroon, but confusing gold for black? I’m already worried that you’re taking Mark Shapiro’s retard pills.

The combine can’t get here quickly enough.

photoshop via Thighs Wide Shut who got it from somewhere else. Here perhaps?

Me not so implessed by your rong sclamble, Sirky Gallald. I eat bigger cat than you.

Me has more heart than your whole team or any other store in town, and will sell for you, super exclusive price.

Jaglar grab facemask super fantastic hard on two-point conversion but official pletend he no see. He can no marry my daughter.

No feel rike smirre now.

Okay, maybe rittle smirre.

Jets fan: Hey, Steeluh fan. I like your little sign with the word Jets with the little circle job and the line trew it. You do that in colored pencil? Where’s the sparkles and glued on macaroni? Good thing you didn’t let Roethlisberger help you out, he probably would’ve spelled Jets with two down facing arrows, the number four and a motorcycle.

Steelers fan: …

Jets fan: How dare ya come into Giants Stadium and insult this team. We’re the J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS! Fear our fleaflickers and long pass interference penalties!

Steelers fan: …

Jets fan: That’s a nice offensive line you got there, Steeluhs. More like steel wool. Am I right? Eh, am I right? Eeeehhhh, you know I’m right.

Steelers fan: …

Jets fan: Holy shit. Ay, you know what? Your coach looks like Omar Epps. HAAAAAAAAA. Love and Basketball, more like Love and Losing on the Road in Football. No shit, I just made that up. How fucking clever am I? If your team didn’t suck, you’d be laughing so hard right now.

Steelers fan: …

Jets fan: I can’t believe people was saying you was going to beat New England in a few weeks. You don’t understand that you don’t beat the Patriots, you just start accusing them of shit. That’s what we’re doing when we go to Foxborough. Opening possession, BAM!, we hit ‘em with the Cameragate stuff. When they get up by a few touchdowns and the game is far out of reach, WHAMMO, we whack ‘em with the running up the score charges. After the game, we’ll be talking for weeks about how our audio equipment wasn’t working. Blueprint for success, sweetheart.

Steelers fan: …

Jets fan: Yo, don’t you think this white hoodie makes me look like Stormshadow from G.I. Joe? I bet if the Jets were in that show, all their guns would shoot green lasers and they’d win 20 percent of the time.

Steelers fan: …

Jets fan: You know this is just jokes, right? Why don’t I take you back ’round my spot. This area may not look like much, but I bet you ain’t seen West Rutherford. It’s got a Fuddrucker’s and shit. Lemme get that number. C’mon. I’ll even let my man Frankie hit it. I owe him for taking my sister out last week. She ain’t the prettiest, you know. I worry about her sometimes.

Steelers fans,

What the fuck are you trying to do to me? Okay, it’s not your fault the franchise saw fit to introduce some wholly unnecessary mascot to commemorate the team’s 75th anniversary, as opposed to, say, some goddamn cheerleaders. But given the chance to submit names for the Bruce Campbell doppelganger, the best 70,000 of you assholes could come up with was Steely McBeam.

Steely McFuckingBeam. See that “fucking” in there, it’s called a tmesis. I’m pointing that out to you because I’m going to try to impart a few facts in each post from now on because YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY SO GODDAMN STUPID. WHY AM I CONSTANTLY DEFENDING YOU FROM UFFORD?!

Seriously, do we really need to name the mascot the way an 8-year-old names his hermit crab?

“Look, ma! It’s Pinchy McShell!”

“Look, it’s Hermie McCrab!”

Fuck. You.