Like most of you, we, too, are recovering from last night’s meth binge.  It’s really the only way to properly celebrate a new Raiders head coach.

Our secret for waking up in the mornings?  It’s something stronger than coffee.  No, not cocaine.  Although that’s a good idea.  If you’re out of blow but have an internet connection, we strongly recommend EIGHT FUCKING MINUTES of NFL players getting their shit rocked.  It always makes us feel better to know that other people are in severe pain.

(thanks to Hot Clicks)

“A sausage?!? Ewwwwwww!!!” - unseen girl in the video OR Suzy K. seeing Justin Tuck in the locker room?

Matt Ryan does not like that his roster bonus was paid out as an actual-sized check, instead of one of those big cardboard checks. Matt is upset because he just watched Happy Gilmore, and he thought one of those big checks would have been really neat.

“Trust me, kid. Nobody’s gonna know that we snuck that Alex Smith jersey in there.”

NSFW language, animated jizz

In case Big Daddy Drew’s Peter King fan-fiction gay erotica just isn’t doing it for you anymore, the twisted sickos at ZubazPants.com have unleashed this tale of wanton lust. We may have to do two cheerleader posts this week to atone for this.

Yee-Haw! Good golly jee-willickers! Holy Moly! Dad gummit! D’yoo see that, maw! I gots me a new trofee for da shed out back! Man, I was going so gotdang fast, I was hotter than a pidgeon covered in molasses on a Tuesday morning! Whoo-wee!

I gonna git me some money now, buy Jim Bob Junior that second pair of blue jeans he’s always wanted. An’ me and my girl ken finally get hitched. We won’t even be cousins anymore! This is so dang great! I’m the grand champeen of racin’!

What yew say? This only the firrst race o’ the year? Sheeit.

The historic staff meeting this past weekend marked the first time ever that all six of the KSK contributers were in the same room. And that room was in the Charles E. Beatley, Jr. Central Library in Alexandria, VA.

We felt that the ambiance of the occasion, the awkwardness of our first live interactions, and the content of our discussions warranted documentation, and what better opportunity to share some footage of that get-together than right here, after the official end of another NFL season.

The BlogWorld convention is starting today! And our friends Will Leitch and Jamie Mottram are there! It’s gonna make ComicCon look like a goddamn Alpha Beta party! WITH stair diving!

Fuck this bullshit, why do I do this to myself. I hate cursive and I hate all of you! I’m never playing fantasy football again, NEVER!

Like most of you, I’ve managed to accept preseason football for what it is, an imperfect substitute that will hold me over until the real thing starts in two weeks. But lately, I feel like the concept of the whole exhibition thing has really rubbed off on other aspects of my life. I suppose I could give you some examples…

I was going through my Gmail contacts yesterday and noticed that I have exactly 70 email adresses stored there. I sent out a group email telling everyone that they had “better show me something” before the end of the week, because that’s when I’m trimming the list down to 53. Aunt Tammi is in the hospital, so I haven’t decided whether to put her on the injured list or cut her right away and hope she catches on with another relative.

Our local Shakespeare in the Park has been pretty lame over the past month. I hear they’re saving all their good plays for September.

My best friend’s wife suggested to him the other day that they try a threesome, just for some summer fun. He refused, but then she suggested a compromise: he would get to be inside her for the first 30 minutes, and then the other guy would get whatever was left over. I know he’s concerned about “controversy,” but she reiterated that he’d still be the No. 1 guy after Labor Day.

And me? Personally, I’ve been focusing on technique this summer…

Our office had a meeting not too long ago to celebrate our division’s exceeding revenue expectations. At the end of the meeting, I stood up in the conference room and plainly said, “This don’t mean shit. Let’s see y’all do this when it matters.” The veterans in senior management slowly nodded in approval.

The meeting was at noon, and then some kid just out of college finished my work for the rest of the day. Paul in accounting tripped over a open filing cabinet and dislocated his shoulder. Now he’s out four-to-six. Never shoulda been there, man.

I caught the new kid in the neighborhood cutting through my yard the other day so I taped him to a flagpole and made him sing his school’s fight song. It didn’t have anything to do with football; I just did it because he’s a dipshit.