Billy “I Own Four TV’s” Simmons had an article detailing the Pats 4th and 2 call from Sunday Night. It contains the usual assortment of Simmons arguments that he deems irrefutable. But forget all that. Look at this:

Seattle loves me for defending its Sonics after Clay Bennett hijacked them and moved them elsewhere. If there was ever a place I could get out of a speeding ticket, it’s Seattle. Or so I thought.

And he walked away with my license.

Someone buy this cop a fucking steak and a blowjob. It’s one thing to pull the “Do you know who I am?” bullshit with a cop. It’s another to assume that people will find that story charming. Oh, and Simmons also uses his column to brag that he used to watch 12 hours of football every Sunday when he was in elementary school, which is funny because Sunday Night Football didn’t start until 1987, when he was 18 years old. Bill Simmons is a FUCKING IDIOT. YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I PUT THAT IN ALL CAPS, BECAUSE THAT MAKES MY POINT INARGUABLE.

Yesterday it was announced that Tony Dungy will head the Players Advisory Forum, a group that will serve as a intermediary between players who want to bitch and the league executives who want to ignore them. Already committed to the cause is a religious nut (Kurt Warner), a phony dickbag who conveniently adopted religion to cover for his sordid past (Ray Lewis) and Brian Dawkins (Brian Dawkins).

Now, Dungy has already played guardian angel for Michael Vick. He’s trying to do it again with some college football coach. But what’s his angle? If there’s anything I distrust, it’s a guy with a savior complex. I search for greed and self-interest in the basis for every action. Why? BECAUSE EVERYONE IS GREEDY AND SELF-INTERESTED!

Therefore, I must conclude that Dungy is starting a cult. A big awesome football cult. I bet he’ll call it the Indianapolis Cults (ba-zing?).

Now, I have no problem with cults. One of my uncles is actually in one. Growing up, I’d only see him at holidays, but he seemed a fairly normal and affable guy. As a teenager, I began picking up on the fact that in-laws commented that they never knew where his income came from, and they joked that he was probably a drug dealer (he lives in Miami, which is for drug dealers what D.C. is for lawyers). Then finally when I was about to graduate high school, they dropped the bombshell on me that he joined a cult right after he got out of college. “Who’s the cult leader?” I would ask. At the time he joined, it was some Indian kid who was anointed a deity at birth, which sounds like a pretty sweet deal for the kid. I’m guessing he’s a grown-up deity now. “So what does he do for the cult?” I would press. They didn’t know entirely, but they’d answer, “well, he mostly flies around on The Guru’s jet.”

I know Waco gave cults a bad name, but my uncle got a good arrangement at this benign cult where he would just fly around everywhere on jets and party with crazy cult floozies. My conclusion: CULTS. ARE. AWESOME.

Sadly, I never got in on the lazy floozy banging cult life. Instead, I became a layabout blogger. But this cult sounds like it could work. Add football to the equation, and I want in on the ground floor of Dungy’s football cult. I imagine hating the gays will be a big part of it, which I can’t say I would be crazy about. Me and the gays got no beef. But if they got a sweet jet, then shit, all bets are off, gays. Sorry.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way of me saying Ray Lewis is going against Dungy’s former team this weekend. But Terrell Suggs is out, so even though the Ravens were already boned against the Colts, they’re extra boned now.

Here’s the NFL Play 60 ad with Breesus, DeMarcus Ware and Troy Polamalu cavorting and capering on the South Lawn of the White House that will air beginning Thanksgiving weekend. C’mon Troy, I know you have a PCL sprain, but you should be able to cover a middle aged socialist Mooslim.

Here’s other NFL marginalia in bullet form.

We had some great questions submitted after lunch today, and that’s too bad, because the bulk of the mailbag is always written the night before. Wednesday, people. That’s the best time to submit questions.

Now, on to the mailbag! Some compelling stuff this week, including HPV, the trade deadline, the Nuva Ring, my dong, shrooms, Chad Henne, Rod Tidwell, veterans in college, high school handjobs, and MILFS! MILFS! MILFS!

Hi,
Long time (female) reader, first time writer. So, I went for an annual exam a few weeks ago and tested positive for HPV. Apparently, something like 75% of sexually active adults will contract it at some point in their lives. A few more facts: Most people will shed the virus within 6 months or a year and never suffer any ill effects. You don’t have to have sex to spread the virus. Condoms aren’t 100% effective at stopping transmission. Guys can’t even be tested for it; the only way to know is if genital warts appear.

Some more facts: condoms aren’t 100% effective at stopping anything, but you should still use them. Oh, and the strains of HPV that aren’t harmless cause cervical cancer. Cancer kills people.

Now there’s a guy in the picture and I want to know whether the Gay Mafia thinks he needs to be told. We used to live in the same area (but have stayed in touch since moving); now we’re about six hours apart. We’ve never had sex, but have been intimate otherwise. In fact, odds are that I picked this up from him, or I’ve already exposed him to it. He’s planning to visit soon and I’m unsure what to do. I really care about this guy and want to do the right thing: should I tell him the whole situation or keep my mouth shut? If I tell him, I’d prefer to do so in person, but would he rather know before he drives 350 miles to see me? So many questions!
Thanks,
Confused

Guhhhh. Don’t you at least have an easy fantasy football question?

You’re right that HPV is widespread and usually harmless. And frankly, he’s likely never going to know if he has it — unless you share a warty strain with him, in which case: you’re the girl that gave him genital warts. Not the best way to ingratiate yourself to someone you care about.

As usual, I think honesty is the best policy. Tell him about your annual check-up, and let him know that there’s a good chance that he gave it to you/you shared it with him already because you’ve only had X number of sexual partners since your last check-up, where X is the smallest believable number you can get away with. The good news is that this conversation is best held in person, so wear a low-cut top while breaking the news and you’ll be breaking out the condoms for a weekend of safe sex in no time.

Dear KSK,
My girlfriend uses the Nuva Ring for birth control, and it’s fantastic–it’s just as effective as the pill but she doesn’t have to remember to take it every day, and I don’t have to wear a condom. Awesome. And 99% of the time, you never know the thing is in there. However, once in a while when we have sex that’s a little more frisky than the usual, I will wind up with the Nuva Ring around my cock at the end. I find this hilarious and like to pretend I just won a ring-toss game at the fair. No real question, just wondering if yourself or any of the commenters have had any similar experiences with the Nuva Ring. Thanks.
-Ringer

Personally, I’m not a huge fan of the Nuva Ring. A few years back I got my then-girlfriend pregnant while she was on it, and more recently I dislodged one during sex, leading to a lost Nuva Ring that knocked my girl’s cycle out of whack and forced an unscheduled trip to the gynecologist.

However, my experiences are not the norm, as most men are less virile and incapable of the sexual gymnastics I perform. Oh, and to answer your question: my penis has too much girth to get the Nuva Ring around it. Call me, ladies!

Dear Men of KSK,
Sex: I’ve been going out with this girl for nearly a year and our anniversary is coming up. When I met her she was a total hippie but she’s made a lot of changes and is always doing things for me. For our anniversary she wanted to have sex on shrooms because she said it was one of the best feelings she’s ever had. I’ve never done shrooms and I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea. Am I being unfair if I don’t do this one thing for her?

Nope. Whether it’s drinking, smoking, or doing drugs, a person in a relationship shouldn’t feel pressured to adopt their partner’s vices. If sex on shrooms is one of the best feelings your girl’s ever had, she can take them and you can focus on providing the sex.

On the other hand, relationships are about compromise, and your girlfriend is trying to share with you what she considers to be a wonderful experience. Now, I’m not recommending you take illegal hallucinogenic drugs here, but if you decide to demur then you should at least consider her feelings and intent with the proposal — and the possible repercussions of turning it down.

Football: My fantasy team is doing well, so I wanted to ask a general football question. Is Chad Henne really a long-term solution at QB for the Dolphins?

No.

He makes terrible Cutlerfuck decisions sometimes but then again his wide receivers have worse hands than people who hold on to fireworks too long.
-CJ

The Dolphins score touchdowns because of the Wildcat. Chad Henne only plays to mix the offense up.

Gents:
Football: Drafted Hightower and Beanie Wells. Wells sucked, dropped him on waivers. Wells starts taking carries away from Hightower. Kinda looks like Wells is going to get most of the carries. Picked Wells back up. Do I drop Hightower or keep both? Please advise.

Keep them both and hope one gets injured.

Sex: More of a general question. Asked my girlfriend to marry me (she said yes, the poor girl), let the world know, all the sudden every girl I’ve ever fucked is coming out of the woodwork and wants a piece of my cock. What is up with this shit? This is confusing. It’s not that I want to get back with any of these girls, there’s a reason I’m not fucking/dating any of them now, it’s just confusing that now i can’t go 5 minutes without another former crazy texting me about how she wants my dick inside her. What the fuck? Please advise.
Thanks!
(insert creative moniker here)

Have you not heard? Bitches be crazy.

You, sir, have just made yourself unavailable to all other women on the planet — and if there’s one thing women love, it’s a man that they can’t have (to a certain extent, the gender-reverse of this is true as well, but I’m writing as one male to another, so bear with me). Sure, the relationships you had with all these previous exes didn’t work out, but as long as you were single and they were single, there was still a CHANCE they could have you again — a chance that they didn’t really consider until they couldn’t have you again.

Does that make sense? Of course it doesn’t. This concludes Understanding Women 101.

KSK:
Football: I need 1 RB, 2 WR, and 1 Flex out of the following: Slaton v. Ten; Beanie @ STL; Harvin v. Sea; DeSean Jackson @Chi; Kevin Walter v. Ten. Right now I’ve got Walter as odd-man-out, but something is nagging the back of my mind. Our league is standard scoring except yards are 1 per 25 instead of 1 per 10, so touchdowns are at a premium. I’m leading the league in points, yet am on a five-game losing streak thanks to Bye Week Madness, so I really need to get this one right.

The fuck? 1 point for 25 yards? Who are you people?

Because of your fucked up scoring system, I’d play Walter instead of Slaton. You think Fumbly McButterhands is gonna get goal line carries? Hell no. Walter at least stands a chance of getting into the end zone, especially with Owen Daniels out.

Sex: I’m boning a divorced chick with kids. First time I’ve ever dated a mother. Relationship is pretty casual, but she wants it to be more. I’m worried because I feel like if we get to the point where all of a sudden I know her kids (I’ve been pretty well avoiding that), there is some magical line there that is hard to cross back over. Am I being worried for nothing, or is this tread-softly territory?
Signed,
Thanking God Each Day I Drafted Chris Johnson

Oh Christ. Now I have to embed this:

Unless Larry Fitzgerald is willing to write a guest column, that’s the best advice you’re getting from a Cardinals wideout this season.

What it comes down to is this: if you want to keep it casual and she wants more, get the hell out and don’t waste her time, you selfish ass. If you like her and decide that you want more, then meet her kid and become an important part of that family’s life. Don’t be the guy who dicks over a single mom. You don’t want her frumpy Bonnie Hunt-like sister judging you.

Douchebags,
Fantasy Question first: Due to my level of intoxication during my league’s draft, I am stuck with a plethora of mundane running backs. Select two from this list of inconsistent asshats: L. Betts (@DAL), L. McCoy (@CHI), J. Stewart (MIA), R. Grant (SF). Grant has been my one stable starter, which isn’t saying much.

I’m pretty staked at WR,

Staked?

pick 3 in a non-PPR league: R. Williams (WAS), The NYG Smith (ATL), Colston (@TB), Chambers (PIT), Edwards (@NE), Austin (WAS)

WR: Smith, Colston, Austin. At running back, you should start Grant at one slot and wait and see who’s going to get the reps on Sunday. Betts has run pretty well over the last two games since Portis’s concussion, and if he gets the start for the Skins he should get the start for you. Of course, Brian Westbrook has been listed as Questionable every fucking week for the last three years and he randomly misses every fifth game or so, so keep an eye on the Eagles’ situation as well.

Sex: I’m 25 and recently separated from the Army after 4 years of service, and am back in college. My question is: Is it wrong for me to fuck 18/19 year old broads that attend my school? I feel that since I missed what would have been a productive college career by deploying to Iraq, I should be entitled to make up for it. Your thoughts?
-Scarecrow

You are absolutely correct. Fuck away, soldier. Think about the friends you lost in that shithole: what would they want you to do? That’s right, they’d want you to nail all the hot college ass you possibly can. And you know what? If you didn’t exploit your legal drinking age and harrowing war stories to sleep with those hot young college girls, do you know what they’d do? They’d just end up with a lesser sexual experience with some 20-year-old douchebag who never fought for his country. Bang them for America, Scarecrow.

*hums “Battle Hymn of the Republic” while watching porn*

Gay mafia,
Football first, of course. Pick 2 out of these- Moreno (vs SD), Forte (vs PHI), Maroney (vs NYJ), Snelling (NYG), Forsett (MIN), Breaston (STL) or Roy Williams (WAS)- I’m leaning towards Snelling, Forte and Maroney. And yes I did get royally fucked over by Forte by drafting him 4th.

Those three sound good, except you said pick two.

Sex: This isn’t exactly sex, as I’m in highschool and haven’t hit the jackpot yet. I’m getting with a sophomore girl (I’m a junior), and we hook up most weekends. It goes pretty well (making out, I finger her, what have you) but then it gets awful. She can’t give handjobs. They are terrible. The first time I assumed she just didn’t know she had to go until I finished, but then it happened again. It’s the worst. Most recently I just made her stop. So, should I just ask her to blow me next time? (I’m not sure how comfortable she’ll be with that), or if she says no should I just guide her? Because honestly, she can’t do it as well as I can. I have years of practice goddamnit!
P.s. we are not dating (yet- I’m probably going to ask her out soon), so there’s no deep connection here.
Evan

My God, you’re getting handjobs from a high school sophomore and the two of you aren’t even dating? I may need to think twice about ever having kids.

First, on handjobs: Handjobs suck at any age. In fact, as you get older, a handjob becomes an insult. “Really? You’re really going to try to give me a handjob?” Welcome to high school, pal: frustrating and unsatisfying pseudo-sexual encounters is part of the experience.

Now, for the advice: Frankly, I don’t condone casual sex among high schoolers, but if you can muster up some respect for this girl and start dating her, and assuming you want some sexual release, then you’re going to have to give her some guidance regarding oral sex. You don’t want her going off to college and blowing other guys without ever having learned to give head, do you? C’mon, do her future boyfriends a favor.

Hey fellas who like football and females,
Fantasy: I have a pretty good group of receivers and some decent matchups this week, and I’d like to avoid being the guy who leaves 20 points on the bench. Would you help me decide? Start 3: Housh at MIN — Colston at TB — Big Steve Smith vs. ATL — Breaston at STL.

I’d go with Colston — ALWAYS Colston — Housh, and I guess the Giants’ Steve Smith. Breaston’s been finding the end zone recently, but as a policy I’ll play a #1/#2 guy in a solid passing attack over a #3 guy, even if he can be as productive as Breaston.

Sex: My wife has an incorrectly healed episiotomy and not only is sexual contact excruciating for her, but even mental stimulation or non-contact stimulation (increased bloodflow to the area) causes pain. Reconstructive surgery is planned, but imagine the dry spell after THAT. No question here, just wanted to say FML. Because I cannot FMW.

An episi-whatty?

/Googles episiotomy

//feels ill

Yo, you people,
Fantasy: PPR league, .1 point per carry, 1 point per 10 yrds rushing, 1 point per 15 yards rec. Options at RB (start 2): Gore @ GB, Grant v SF, Mendenhall @KC. Gore seems obvious, I’m a bit stuck between the other two.

.1 per carry and only 1 point for 15 yards receiving? Seriously, some of you people have absolutely retarded commissioners. Gore and Mendenhall.

Sex: I’m a college student and spend my summers/breaks at home. At the end of last summer, I was at the bar with friends and saw my neighbor there–a 50 year old cougar. We’re chatting, I buy her drinks, we smoke (”I don’t often do this!” yeah, ok woman), one thing leads to another, and we’re exchanging uglies later that evening. The sex is great–she was fiending for that youth. I mean GREAT. But there are a couple issues:

-This woman is good friends with my mother, who provides the shelter while my poor ass puts all my money to tuition. They have tea or some shit, whatever older women do, once or twice a week.
-She has a daughter I know. Well. As in we fucked before I fucked her mother.
-College pussy doesn’t compare for the most part. There have been a few, but GOD DAMN this woman knew how to work it. And most girls think I’m fairly awkward, while this MILF thinks I’m God’s gift to personality or charm (don’t ask, I don’t know), so it’s not like I have it available on hand every weekend–I gotta work hard for a college girl. I’m not ugly but no model either, so girls just don’t flutter their eyelashes at me with every Crest-approved smile. The MILF has made it well known I have permission to land whenever, and I have been going home every other weekend, or roughly that, to park my engine in her landing strip.

I read this column every week and I know how you emphasize how much us youngins should be taking advantage of that shaved poon the academics run with, but this woman is moving soon and I may not come across a cougar as hungry for all that in the future. Shit, this may be a last time. It isn’t like she’s some Marlboro Light chain smoking hooker type–she’s a natural woman with natural beauty and a natural sex drive. There aren’t many of those that aren’t botoxed to the face, and when I do get older I’m afraid they won’t go for the older man, or as fiercely as they go for this. But at the same time, if my mother or her daughter find out, it could mean some terrible things for my social and regular life. (Mother could kick me out of the house or never let me back there for breaks, etc.–she would–and daughter knows some dirt I’m not willing to let out, she may not figure it all out as she is in college too, but that’s also the risk factor).

Is it worth it to keep going back home for the consistent crazy sex until she moves and risk jeopardizing many aspects of my life, or should I strain myself with awkward jokes and bad flirting and only get it that once a month/every couple months, while always knowing there’s a woman back at home that will go nuts for the nuts, nuttier than any nut here would?
Help me, Poony Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.

flubby: I would watch a movie about this email.

Many of us already have.

The Graduate is crazy overrated, but dammit if I couldn’t watch Katharine Ross ’til my eyeballs dried out.

Anyway, my first reaction is: congratulations, sir, on the rare — and rarely desirable –mother-daughter combination. That’s a box, so to speak, that most of us will never check.

As for what to do: certainly your Mrs. Robinson is also turned on by the illicit nature of the relationship, and I don’t see a problem with saving money in college while having mind-blowing sex. And since she’s moving, you have a pre-programmed end date to the fling, which is helpful since this isn’t the sort of thing with a future, unless you’re Ashton Kutcher and pretending to be straight.

The downside, of course, is that every weekend that you risk your ass by getting your ashes hauled by Mrs. Robinson, you’re removing yourself from the environment that provides you with many young single ladies your own age — and even if you don’t date them in college, those are important connections to make as you enter the real world and end up in the same city or working for the same company as some sexy acquaintance you know from some a cappella festival or a Phish concert or whatever crappy things college students like these days.

I’d suggest keeping the visits to Cougar Town to once a month. Find a happy medium between the hot, dangerous older-woman sex and making the most of your time in college — even if that means striking out with some stuck-up Tri-Delts from time to time.

Laura here is in her first season with the Cincinnati Ben-Gals cheerleading team. At 41, she is also the oldest cheerleader in the league. Admirably, she has refused to let age stand in the way of her desperate, desperate need for attention. Sorry, that’s a really mean joke; actually I think it’s kind of cool to have a cheerleader who is old enough to have given a hanj to Ickey Woods at Riverfront Stadium. [ KyPost via Deuce of Davenport ]

Jeremy Shockey thinks there’s no way LeBron James could even make an NFL practice squad. So shut up before he punches you in your fag mouth.

The league admits officials mistakenly gave the Browns four timeouts in the second half Monday; thus giving Eric Mangini an extra two minutes to blink in silent terror on the sidelines. [ PFT ]

The NYT’s Freakonomics blog discusses the decade’s most overblown fears. Number one in the NFL? Mike Martz’s coaching prowess.

The Bills’ hometown newspaper reports that interim coach Perry Fewell has benched quarterback Trent Edwards in favor of Ryan Fitzpatrick. If you have Edwards on your fantasy team you should go ahead and make a roster adjustment… and then never play again for the rest of your life.

THIS FACKIN GREEK FAKE-HISPANIC BITCH IS RAWPONSIBLE FAH ALL OW-AH SAWFFERING! That’s right, everybody. Put down all the statistical analyses proving that Belichick did actually make the correct decision by trying to convert the 4th and 2. Turns out, the Patriots were fated to lose anyway, because Access Hollywood host and Boston native Maria Menounos Tweeted that the Pats were going to win before the game was actually over. DIDN’T LITTLE BILLY SIMMONS EVAH TEACH THIS FAKE MEXICUNT ABOWT THE POWAH OF THE JINX? WE SHOULD REVOKE HEH BAHSTON CITIZENSHIP! SHE’S NAWT IN THE BROTHAHOOD ANY MO-AH!

I cry for this couple’s future children. Hell, I weep for all of us. Thank goodness we’re all gonna be wiped clean from the Earth in 2012. Because, really, once you see a bald, schlubby white groom do the spastic Ray Lewis “dance” to greet friends and family with his Flacco jersey adorned bride at their wedding reception, you know there’s no reason for us to wasting God’s splendors.

Besides a shocking paucity of purple camo, I did notice that this is a crowd appreciative of mediocrity (guess they have to be), as you can spot two people in Mark Clayton jerseys and another in a Sam Koch. No Kyle Boller for the estranged in-law everyone hates?

Careful about watching past the two-minute mark. It gets a little tender. [stifles tear]

Poor young saps. They never had a chance. At least once they get divorced, you know they’ll just blame the refs.

[Thanks to reader Alex for the tip]

I hear yer lookin’ for a new football coach. Shoot fella, this is your lucky day. It just so happens that, after much careful reflection, I have decided to draw a curtain on my distinguished college coaching career and return to the scene of my greatest triumphs, the NFL!

Hey fella, you know what this league doesn’t enough of anymore? Zany coaches! When I was in the league, there was a place for a zany coach, now everyone is so durn serious all the time. But I got some good dad-gum news for you. You are gonna make me your new football coach and we are gonna turn this league on its dad-gum ear!

Looka me fella, I wear a cowboy hat. You know who just loves cowboys? Why kids, that’s who! Hire me as your next coach and your kid attendance will double in a season. Double or I eat this here Stetson. Kids love cowboys and I am the greatest cowboy the great state of Michigan has ever produced. We can even dress some of the coloreds up like Indians! It’ll be zany, I tell ya!

An’ I’m not just a cowboy! Imma tough guy, fella! I wear black! A tough guy who’s also a turd of a race car driver! And don’t forget zany, watch me dump this grape jelly in my trousers and do the Charleston! Ha-cha-cha! Boy howdy, that’s zany!

But of course, you’d have to be zany as a polecat to leave game tickets at will-call for Elvis Presley, but that’s what I do. Course, I gotta keep the act fresh. I’ll prolly leave tickets for Michael Jackson or mebbe John Kenneth Galbraith. Don’tcha think people will just eat that…

What’s that? You already hired a coach? Perry Fewell? Never heard of him? Well heck, fella, why dincha say so? Say, you reckon the Oilers need a coach?

Someone at my gym was telling me about a guy who went into the hospital with back pain; he told the doctors he was afraid he had spine flu. And that’s not a joke. That apparently really happened, according to the second-hand story that I’m now making a third-hand story.

Naturally, I spent the next ten minutes thinking about various influenza FAILs. Like, there’s a pine flu epidemic in the Northwest… I’m not sure if this is a hangover or wine flu… Sarah Jessica Parker has a nasty case of equine flu. Et cetera.

I bring this up because I was sick for the last three days. I had this weird stomach pain that wasn’t quite gas and wasn’t quite indigestion, and mixed with my light sleeping habits it wrecked my REM sleep. I ended up taking something like six naps over the span of two work days while consuming a helluva lot of healthy crap like miso soup and peppermint tea. And the kicker was this: no booze or caffeine for MORE THAN TWO DAYS.

That’s no way to live, people. Don’t trust Mormons, those people are powered by the dark arts.

Week 10 Meast and Least below:

Your Meast this week is LaDainian Tomlinson, who returned to relevance with 96 yards, two touchdowns, and a brand new embryo in his wife’s uterus. Those numbers aren’t as impressive as Chris Johnson’s, but Johnson was up against the shitty Buffalo run D, and besides, he won the Meast last week. Also in the running was Peyton Manning, but Pey-Pey had two ugly picks and benefited from Belichick’s Leastiness. Besides, it’s too much fun to torture the Colts fans who care about arbitrary awards handed out by half-assed blogs.

Speaking of the Least…

That right there is one sulk photo for every interception Jay Cutler threw on Thursday night, arranged in order of increasing sulk. What an absolute delight.

LeBron James loves football, attention. LeBron James still pines for the sport he left behind in high school, and he’s not too humble to tell people he could still be a “really good” receiver in the NFL. Of course James isn’t stopping there. The Cleveland Cavaliers superstar has decided to quit basketball in deference to his idol Michael Jordan. “[Jordan] can’t get the logo, and if he can’t, something has to be done. I feel like no NBA player should play basketball. I’m starting a petition, and I’ve got to get everyone in the NBA to sign it. Now, if I’m not going to play basketbal, then nobody else should be able to play basketball.” [AP]

NO DICK, WE’RE NOT HIRING. Dick Jauron was fired by the Buffalo Bills yesterday. And yet Charlie Weis is free to graze around South Bend without so much as a cattle prod. Too bad for Jauron; his teams always seemed so well-prepared. And they had such depth. And they routinely play in such pleasant conditions. the monolith.

Image courtesy of NY Post via Upstate Underdog

Here’s some more of this lovely young woman for your enjoyment…

Now I don’t have any funny caption for this last picture, but…

Images via Yahoo! and SI unless otherwise indicated.

Donovan McNabb: Damn, man. You couldn’t have waited one more week to get your form back? What got into you?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Wife got pregnant.

Donovan McNabb: How does that work?

LaDainian Tomlinson: sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsex

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Egg fertilized.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Cells divide.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Pee on stick.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Positive test.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Surprise in my locker.

Donovan McNabb: And then?

LaDainian Tomlinson: Two touchdowns.

Donovan McNabb: Wow, that’s crazy. I gotta try that sometime.

[Later]

LaTorsha Tomlinson: Oh my god, I’m so excited!

LaDainian Tomlinson: smilesmilesmilesmilesmilesmilesmilesmilesmile

LaTorsha Tomlinson: This is so crazy, honey. I haven’t even told my parents yet. How am I supposed to spring this on them? I know you liked how I surprised you, but I don’t know if my dad could take that shock.

We have so much to do. I had Shaunice over here the other day and she told me what we could do with this room over here.

[Nursery doors fly open]

Philip Rivers: Ya betta ask someboddddddaaaaayyyyyyy!

Congra-tu-fucking-lations, LaExpectingCouple! Hey wifey, you finally let LaToeInjury slip some of his lean meat protein past the goalie, did you? FUCK YES YOU DID, BECAUSE THE GOOD LORD DEMANDS PROCREATION! ANY COPULATION THAT DOESN’T LEAD TO CHILDBIRTH IS SHAMEFUL IN THE LASEREYES OF GOD ABOVE! THAT’S WHY I GOT ME A WHOLE MESS A’ YOUNGINS! I NAMED ONE OF THEM AUDIBLE RIVERS JUST TO FUCK WITH THE LITTLE PRICK!

LaTorsha Tomlinson: What’s this crazy white boy doing here?

Philip Rivers: WHAT? HUH? WHAT? THAT’S REVERSE RACISM! CONTROL YOUR WOMAN!

LaToeInjury, did you ever stop to think why your tentative line-dancing ass was useful for the first time since Marty was running the team into ground? Because you gave God the opportunity to work His miracle of life. And He rewarded you by removing the Curse of Fuckstainery your immoral ways have placed upon you. But the Lord is demanding. HE NEEDS MORE LITTLE PISSING MECONIUM-PRODUCING BEINGS OF LIGHT TO LAVISH UPON HIS WORLD! No more children, no more touchdowns.

LaDainian Tomlinson: But my wife’s already pregnant.

Philip Rivers: She’s only a little pregnant. We can make her full capacity pregnant. With enough fertility drugs, we can make her LaBlackOctoBitch. Each week, more babies AND THUS MORE TOUCHDOWNS! Then, once I get Malcolm Floyd on board with this holy war against the Mooslims, WE’LL BE THE PREFERRED TEAM OF HIS HOLINESS!

LaTorsha Tomlinson: LADAINIAN! GET THIS MAN OUT OF MY HOUSE! NOW!

Philip Rivers: WHO HAS PERMITTED THE WOMENFOLK TO SPEAK?! I knew you’d do this to me, you gimpy legged henpecked little fucktaster. That’s why I already tried with Tiny Darren, but he’s too small to please a woman. Then I suggested he swim into a woman’s uterus and fertilize an egg himself. BUT HE WOULDN’T DO IT, THE UNCOOPERATIVE LITTLE SHIT!

THEN JACOB HESTER TOLD ME HE’S ONLY INTO ASIAN WOMEN! AND I DON’T WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR CREATING MORE ASIANS!

Fine.

FINE!

ME THE HIGH SCHOOL SWEETIE WILL CONTINUE TO PUMP OUT THE KIDS UNTIL HER WOMB IS ON THE OUTSIDE! THEN I’LL GET LITTLE AUDIBLE RIVERS UP HERE TO FUCK YOU BOTH IN THE ASS! HE’S JUST ABOUT AT THAT AGE!

Wade: Gosh dangit. We had to go and ruin a perfectly good four-game winnin’ streak by strollin’ into Green Bay and layin’ a darn egg! Ugh.

Well, guess I better get to work. We got those pesky Redskins comin’ in this week, and I know darn well they’ll be loaded for bear. I better study some tape. Except… aw hell, no one around. No need to get cracking just YET. Lemme just play one game of solitaire. Helps sharpen the ol’ noggin.

(opens up solitaire game)

Oh, that’s a lousy draw.

(resets the game 50 times)

Ah, much better. Now, to just drag these three aces up to the top…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEHAW!!!! YEEEEEEEHAW!!!! YEE! HAW! DOUBLE GODDAMN YEEHAW! WELCOME TO THE JERRYDOME, FAT POWER!

Wade: Oh, crap.

Jerry: What you got there, Tubby? Little bit of solitaire? Ah, solitaire. OFFICIAL GAME OF FAT CRAPS THE WORLD OVER!

Wade: I just had this open as a goof, sir. I’m getting right to work. Honest.

Jerry: Oh, save it, Tubby. You just go right ahead playing your little game.

Wade: You mean, you aren’t mad? What’s going on? Why aren’t there horns comin’ out of your head? We got killed on Sunday.

Jerry: Haven’t you heard, lard shark? THIS IS THE NEW GODDAMN DOUBLE J! They said I couldn’t be patient! They said I’d kick your flabby ass to the curb the second things went wrong! BUT I’M NOT! AND YOU KNOW WHY?

Wade: Because stability is good for a football team?

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA. No, no. Stability is for children and faggots! No, the reason I’m keeping you around is because, if I fire you now, I don’t get to fire you LATER! And firing you later is gonna be sooo much better, chubtard! I can hardly wait! I AM GONNA FIRE THE SHIT OUT OF YOU! I’m gonna sneak up behind you and ZAP YOUR FAT STEER HIDE WITH A GODDAMN CATTLE PROD!

Wade: Ugh.

Jerry: Now you listen to me, Fatass. You are my puppet. My big, fat, mushy puppet. And for the rest of the year, I’m gonna have my three-ringed hand right up your endless ass! You see that phone over there?

(points to giant red phone with two big J’s painted on it)

Wade: Yes.

Jerry: That’s your new Jerryline, you fat shit. Anytime that phone rings, you better pick it up. And you better do exactly what I say! OR ELSE I’LL FIRE YOUR ASS FOR CAUSE! If you want to see the balance of your contract, you better do EVERY GODDAMN THING I SAY! And I know you got a daughter who acts, so YOU NEED THE DOUBLE J’S CASH!

Wade: Sir, this hardly seems necessary…

Jerry: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! You’re gonna get your fat on me! You just answer that goddamn phone any time I tell you to! AND IT MIGHT RING AT ANY TIME, SO YOU BETTER HAVE YOUR FAT ASS IN HERE ALL DAY AND NIGHT!

Wade: But who will run practice if I have to stay in the office all day long?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. Methinks my portly companion here doth protest too much. Also, he doth EAT too much!

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHA! Good one, Princeton Boy!

Wade: Oh, shut up, you big jerk.

Garrett: Calm down, my good man. You just stay here in your little suite. I have a game plan that will make those little Redskins cower in fear! Do you know the secret? GOAL LINE PASSES! GOAL LINE PASS AFTER GOAL LINE PASS, AND ONLY TO OUR WORST RECEIVERS! They’ll never see it coming! And then, my good friend Jerry and I shall have a fine EATING. Would you like that, sir? We shall dine on scallops, and pumpkin soup, and other refined foods that would never cross the visage of Melville’s creation over yonder. OH, WHAT A FINE EATING IT SHALL BE!

Jerry: Good idea, Jason!

Wade: This is ridiculous. I can’t be expected to…

(Jerryline rings)

Wade: What the? (picks up) Hello?

Jerry: (on cell phone) YOU’LL DO AS WE SAY, BEARCLAW!

Wade: Oh, for Pete’s sake.

(door explodes into pieces, whose pieces then explode individually)

MBIII: JASON GARRETT! JASON MOTHERFUCKING GARRETT! WHERE’S THAT MOTHERFUCKING RED ASS HONKY?

Garrett: Oh, Marion! My dear friend! Will you be joining us for bruschetta and other fineries?

MBIII: BRUSCHETTA THIS, MOTHERFUCKER!

(puts Garrett in choke hold)

Garrett: Marion, I can’t breathe!

MBIII: I GOT A POP QUIZ FOR YOUR ASS, HONKY. HOW MANY TIMES DID MARION BARBER GET THE BALL ON SUNDAY?

Garrett: Oh, well I’m not quite sure. You see, my game plans are often so intricate, it can take hours of film study to discern…

MBIII: (chokes harder) FIVE! FIVE MOTHERFUCKING TIMES, YOU MOTHERFUCKING RETARD! WHO THE FUCK KEEPS THE BARBARIAN IN A CAGE?

Garrett: Bluhhhhhhhh!!!

Wade: Heh heh. Choke on THAT!

MBIII: SHUT UP, FATASS!

Wade: Yes, sir.

Jerry: Marion, what I think my boy JASON is telling you is that he has every intention of getting you the ball. Isn’t that right, Jason?

Garrett: Bluhhhhhhhh!!!

MBIII: Y’ALL BETTER GET MARION BARBER THE MOTHERFUCKING BALL. OR I WILL BURN YOUR WHITE ASS TILL IT’S BLACKER THAN MY ANCESTORS! DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOTHERFUCKING MOUTH?

Jerry: Yes! Yes, we do! In fact, we now have a system in place to ensure my boy ROMO gets you the ball! Watch! (calls Jerryline)

Wade: Hello?

Jerry: (on the phone) GIVE THE BALL TO BARBER, FATTY ICE!

Wade: Oh, for Pete’s sake.

MBIII: YOU BETTER CALL THAT MOTHERFUCKING PHONE 25 TIMES A GAME, JERRY JONES! YOU BETTER CALL MARION BARBER’S NUMBER, OR ELSE MARION BARBER WILL TEAR OUT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING TONGUE AND PUT HIS FOOT THROUGH YOUR MOUTH AND OUT YOUR FUCKING ASSHOLE!

(leaves)

Jerry: You heard the man! You sit by that phone all day, you fat cunt!

Wade: Oh, god dammit.

(phone rings)

Wade: What the?

(phone rings)

Jerry: Well, PICK IT UP, FATTERLINE!

(Wade picks up phone)

Pacman: CHUH CHUH. Iz diz da place I call fo da puzzy? Pacman need sum puzzy. BULLEE DAT. He gon shine. He gon smack dat puzzy till it luuk lik a dik. AND HE GON DRANK…

Wade: (hangs up) This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEEHAWWWW YOU BETTER ANSWER THAT PHONE, PIZZA BOY! OR ELSE YOU’LL BE COACHING GIRL’S VOLLEYBALL BY NEXT WEEK! WOOHOO! YEEHAW! GOD DAMN, YOU ARE FATTER THAN THE SUN! HOT DIGGITY GOD DAMN, I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Well then it would almost certainly look just like this, only with a few more homoerotic double entendres. [Funny or Die]

It makes you wonder how Flacco didn’t make this post.

The Browns are hanging with the Ravens through the first quarter, even if that isn’t likely to continue. Making Bawlmer burn their entire complement of first half timeouts in eight minutes will probably be the top Cleveland accomplishment of the evening, not that the Ravens will really need them. Mike Tirico did sneak in a Bert Flacco reference, however, which can’t begin to atone for Gruden dubbing (before even kickoff, mind you) Jarret Johnson “The Anvil,” Terrell Suggs “Clubber Lang” and Ray Lewis “The Master of Disaster” but then with this booth you take anything worthwhile you can get.

UPDATE: Upon further review, I suppose Tirico is saying “Birk-Flacco”. That’s what I get for thinking anyone in this booth could say something halfway interesting.

Or, alternatively: X MARKS THE RAPIST.

Yes, that’s Shawne Merriman with the logo for something called POWERADE ION4 shaved into the side of his head, because who wants Brent Celek to get away with being the biggest guerrilla marketing whore in the NFL? Puhlease. Who’s he ever forced himself on? I mean, besides my mom.

All you future sexual assailants out there better get with this Powerade stuff, especially now that they’re outlawing Joose (the bastards). It promises revitalized, angry sperm.

Everyone got so swept up in Patriots chokery, it’s like they forgot all about Steelers schadenfreude. Yesterday the Bengals essentially locked up the AFC North by completing a sweep of the Steelers thanks to getting one of those unglamorous tough slog victories that the Steelers are notorious for boring people with. Punte would have a celebratory rant but he’s more quiet about his homerism, which is why he’s a stand-up good egg kind of fellow, and not a raving jackass like myself. Suffice it to say, today I am a sad Steeler fag. And sideways-camera-holding fat guy who wears Oakleys on overcast days clearly did tell us Steeler fags that he would do something crazy this week if Cincy won, like burn a towel or submit a job application. I’d probably be upset if I didn’t do this myself three months ago.

Maybe we’ll be treated to a Saints-Bengals Super Bowl, so Who Deys and Who Dats can get together and finally get some long-awaited answers.

BOLD SUPER BOWL PREDICTION

Dats 30
Deys 23

Sorry, Deys.

/braces for annoying fellow Steelers fans who will claim that this guy just cursed Cincinnati or cursed himself or cursed roads and also cursed fire and placed a low calorie curse on Miller Lite for daring to desecrate a Terrible Towel.

NOW THAT IS A LEGALLY BINDING CONTRACT FOR LONG-TERM EMPLOYMENT! THAT IS OUTSTANDING BOILERPLATE LEGALESE! I’M GONNA CALL THIS GUY “THE NEGOTIATOR” Why, God, whyyyyyyyy? F*ckface cliche machine Jon Gruden has reportedly agreed to a long-term deal to remain in the Monday Night Football booth, thus ensuring that we will be subbing more future live blogs to the Sunday night game. He’s also going to contribute to college football coverage, but who cares? He can ruin that all he likes so long as he quits telling me about THIS GUY on Monday nights.

When we last left professional groin watcher Peter King, he was growing up before our very eyes, stomping all over poor Taylor Swift’s red dress with his size 14 circus feet, and finding himself entranced by Peyton Manning’s words. Oh, Peyton Manning’s words and stories. I could spend weeks in your semi-sirenesque thrall.

So what about this week? What does Peter have to say about Belichick’s 4th down call in the great city of Manning? Did Peter JUST discover the thrilling sounds of the Postal Service? Will we ever see Philip Rivers squint? Read on. BUT FIRST… a letter. This letter has nothing to do with Peter King. And it was submitted for tomorrow’s Deadspin mailbag. But I want to make fun of it NOW, because I’m a dick.

This is from reader Joseph R, with the subject PISSED OFF NEW ENGLAND FAN (cue the bacteria-sized violin):

It just had to be that way. Lakers are the champs, Yankees are the champs, and the Patriots are now blowing games and letting the team that consists of Hoosiers basketball and Vols football fans get their shit eating kicks some more.

Aw, poor baby! Truly, no fanbase has ever suffered from such a terrible run. Not only have your sports team not won a title for a wrenching fifteen months, but all the teams you greatly dislike are winning them! HORRORS! THE CLOUDS ABOVE MAY NEVER PART!

You listen to me, you stupid fucking Boston fans. I don’t GIVE A FLYING FUCKING FUCK about who your rivals are. I don’t care about the history you have with them, and I don’t sympathize with you. AT ALL. Ever. Those aren’t my rivalries. I don’t give a shit. In fact, BULLY FOR THE YANKS AND COLTS AND LAKERS. GO BOSTON RIVALS! WOOHOO! YOU GUYS DEFINE CLASS!

We could’ve just done the normal, fuck we suck lost, I could’ve shut the game off around the 10 min mark, caused some accidents in NASCAR practice mode to vent my frustration, and then gone to bed, ready to start my fucking job that doesn’t pay me enough to afford a place in the damn Boston area without either working weekends or selling my nutsack to the mafia.

You must live in the Back Bay!

No, we had to take a big lead, I had to start saying OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG, and then only to see retarded thing after retarded thing happen, only for that fucking system product superstar Reggie DA U Wayne put the final dagger in…

Indeed. When I watch Reggie Wayne play, all I can think to myself is, “Well, Todd Pinkston easily could have put up similar numbers in this system.”

…allowing me another yell to dwell in my hatred of that team and their shitty fucking 95% female fanbase whose knowledge of football is Peyton Manning and Spygate.

So I’m fucking stuck Drew, there’s babies to be punched, and shit to be thrown, and you know what the worst part of this all is?

No, and I don’t give a fuck. You lost. Your coach made a retarded gamble because he’s so smart, and your team choked because of it. Now go die in a ferris wheel accident.

Now, to Peter…

Three o’clock in the morning, and I’m still rolling Bill Belichick’s call around in my head. I wonder how many people in New England aren’t asleep yet … and how many won’t be able to sleep all night.

BECAUSE OW-AHS IS THE MOST TAHHHHCHAHHHED FANBASE IN ALL OF SPARTS! I COULDN’T SLEEP AT ALL! I HAD TO GO PUNCH A DAHHHKIE IN THE CUNT JUST TO CALM MY NERVES! LET’S SEE WHAT THE FACKIN’ STOOL HAS TO SAY ABOUT IT!

First of all I have no idea how we lost that game. Like no fucking clue. Like you can’t dominate a game more than we did and lose. And yes it was a horrible use of the 2 timeouts on offense before we went for it on 4th down. But let me just say this loud and clear. I LOVE the decision to go for it. LOVE IT…LOVE IT….LOVE IT. Anybody who critcizes that move is just a fool. If we punt that ball Peyton Manning takes it right down the field and scores. Doesn’t matter whether he has to go 60 yards or 30 yards. Our defense was gassed. We had ZERO chance of stopping them. So the right move was to try to end it with our best players on the field. And guess what? It was a horseshit call by the refs. Sure Faulk juggled the ball but he juggled it for a nanosecond and then caught it. The spot was full yard and a half off. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is Belichick made the right decision. I go for it 100 out of 100 times there. Just look back to the AFC Championship game when we blew that huge lead. What happened then? We punted it and it took them 3 seconds to go the length of the field and score. Bottomline is that our offense is our moneymaker. Let Tom Brady and company win it or lose it and that’s exactly what Belichick did. The only thing that sucked was the timeouts because we should have been in a position to get the ball back after the score and get a game winning field goal. But the call to go for it on 4th was absolutly the right call. I literally can’t say that enough. It took balls of steel to make that decision and that’s why Belichick is the best coach in the league.

PS – We’re still a team to be reckoned with in the playoffs.

PS – the Bar Stool Sports guy has a buttpussy the size of the Mariana Trench. I LITERALLY CAN’T SAY THAT ENOUGH. It’s like reading Harry Knowles defend and Uwe Boll film. Know what other genius coach would have made that ballsy call, Boston fans? Mike Martz. Back to King.

Belichick’s too smart to have something so Grady-Littlish on his career resume

Some may say the call was even semi-John McNamaralike.

He trusted Brady to get two yards. Let’s place the odds of Brady getting two yards at 60, 65 percent. The odds of Manning going 72 yards to score a touchdown in less than two minutes … that’s maybe 35 percent.

Reader Mike P.:

OK, so if he thinks the Colts have a 35% chance of scoring that TD, that means that they have a 65% chance of NOT scoring that TD, meaning the Pats win, right? That’s the same percentage he gives for converting the 4th and 2! So he’s arguing that one call was horrible but gives the same percentage for a Pats victory with either decision.

Defensive Player of the Week

First, Woodson winning this is an achievement in itself, because the Bengals had about five guys who deserved this.

But YOU won it, Charles! And now you get Peter’s special prize of a SPICY CORNCOB! Ross Tucker only ate half of it!

Goat of the Week

I hear the natives in the Loop are beyond restless, and they’re not naming sandwiches after Trader Jerry Angelo anymore.

What about the veal Cutler? ZING

Stat of the Week

The ESPN documentary on Jimmy “the Greek” Snyder was absolutely terrific the other night — insightful and accurate.

Except for the part where they hired a voiceover to IMPERSONATE JIMMY’S FUCKING GHOST. That part, not so insightful.

As I tried to think of a way to put the importance of The Greek and his show in perspective, I thought of one word: volume.

As in, he was often both loud AND wrong, not unlike today’s NFL analysts. Truly, a pioneer.

For those too young to remember the significance of “The NFL Today” and Jimmy The Greek, or for those of you reading this in a college dorm and who know Brent Musberger only from the big college games on Saturday, take a minute to learn history.

It’s important history you should know, on par with the history of both World Wars.

The Greek, angry at a perceived lack of TV time, once slugged Musberger in a bar. He was fired after the 1987 season for making racially divisive comments. The ESPN show focused on the tragic life that Greek’s became. Good viewing.

Lofty viewing.

People ask me what the biggest difference is in covering the NFL today versus the early years I covered it; my first season as an NFL beat guy was…

I’m sorry. This is boring me. I’m gonna have to pull an Elvis Costello here and change the tune. Get a load of this piece of shit from pock-marked, pubic headed retard Dan Shaughnessy. Keep in mind that King moved to Boston specifically to read this man’s work.

This was as bad as anything the Red Sox ever did. Had it been a playoff game, it would be right up there with Bucky Dent, Bill Buckner, Aaron Boone…

HOLY GODDAMN SHIT, DO YOU ASSHOLES EVER NOT LINK ANY EVENT TO THE HISTORY OF THE FUCKING RED SOX? “Honey, the dishwasher’s broken. THIS IS JUST LIKE THE TIME CALVIN SCHIRALDI LET GAME 6 GET AWAY FROM HIM! Oh no! I broke a glass. This is reminds me of the fragility of a Red Sox lead in the AL East!” Jesus fucking Christ.

And Bill Belichick played the part of Grady Little.

That’s TWO assholes now comparing Bill Belichick to some baseball manager you and I don’t give a shit about. Stop doing this. STOP. This is not some historical tapestry you are fucking weaving for the world.

Even the legions of zombies who say “In Bill We Trust’’ and the formidable pay-for-play Patriot media machine will have a hard time defending the brilliant coach on this one.

Oh, I see. So the reason Boston fans trust Bill Belichick’s judgment is NOT because he won three Super Bowls, but because he’s William Randolph Hearst.

This one will linger for a while, maybe into the winter. This was a horrible loss. It changes everything.

I’LL NEVER LOOK AT ANYTHING THE SAME WAY AGAIN! IT’S AS IF A PARENT DIED, WHICH IN TURN TOTALLY REMINDS ME OF SOMETHING THE RED SOX DID.

Die.

Back to King.

Access to players and coaches is monumentally different. The NFL landscape is under siege from reporters, producers, anchors and editors, all wanting to do something different, something new, and all wanting time with the big players of the day. I don’t get angry about it, and I don’t pound my fist on desks of PR guys or agents, screaming for access.

The perfect example is the Peyton Manning story that graced the cover of Sports Illustrated last week. Manning had no interest in cooperating or dining or sitting down with me.

And he never ate the boxed chocolates I sent!

Today, it’s rare to talk to a player the night before the game, and actually being in his room, having an in-depth interview?

Why can’t I be in the player’s rooms anymore? Where’s the companionship? The spooning? The bathrobes I steal and then go home and never wash, only smell deeply?

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week

Three Kindle readers in my Amtrak car to New York on Saturday.

AND THEY ALL CHEWED GUM!

I had the thinish John Grisham book of short stories…

Semi-skinnyesque.

…and the Kindles were thinner — and they contained up to 200 books. I peered over the shoulder of the woman in front of me for a minute and saw bright, easy-to-read type, and I thought of every bookshelf in our apartment being full, and I thought: I know exactly what I want for Christmas.

AND I’LL GET IT, BECAUSE I HAVE A GREAT DEAL OF DISPOSABLE INCOME AND I DO NOT USE AUTOMOBILIZED TRANSPORT, SO I EARNED IT.

Tweet of the Week

What an odd choice.

The NFL choosing a very old band to perform at halftime? BIZARRE.

Why, oh why, would Bill Belichick have arguably his most important pass-rusher, Tully Banta-Cain, playing special teams in Indy?

Because he always has starters play on special teams. Check out the punt returner.

When we talk about the great tight ends, we too often forget Antonio Gates.

Who? Never heard of him. Oh, the mean the tight end who always goes to the Pro Bowl and is usually the first or second tight end drafted in fantasy? BUT HE’S SO QUIET!

When’s the last time you heard Patrick Kerney’s name?

Does it matter?

I think Todd Haley’s going to blow a gasket on the sidelines soon. Good for him, winning his second NFL game in Oakland Sunday…

No, not good for him. Todd Haley is a cock. He doesn’t deserve to win. He deserves to be shot in the back by his own men.

…but if he wants to last in this job, he needs to learn to swallow some of the anger. He really laid into Matt Cassel at one point in Oakland — and that’s in a win.

Because he’s a dick.

Not bragging or anything…

BUT I ALREADY KNOW I’M GETTING A KINDLE!

LaDainian Tomlinson had some special inspiration Sunday, his wife leaving the positive results of a pregnancy test for LT at the stadium so he could find it before the game.

“Fuck. I need a new contract now.”

e. Play of the Day I: Buffalo running back Fred Jackson takes a Wildcat snap, pauses, rears back, throws a perfect spiral 35 yards in the air, hitting Lee Evans in stride in the end zone. You talk about your basic amazing play. That’s one right there.

You talk about your everyday miracle!

Ricky Williams is very much alive and well.

This just in: Ricky Williams? ALIVE.

Why the timeout with 14 seconds left, Tony Sparano?

Because he might have wanted to punt.

Department of Redundancy Department: ESPN’s Jesse Palmer referred to the Western Athletic Conference as the “WAC Conference” Saturday night. Does he know he was saying the “Western Athletic Conference Conference?” If you say the WAC, you’re saying Western Athletic Conference. But Palmer added an extra “conference” on the end. Same as announcers who call the Mid-American Conference the “MAC Conference.”

This item brought to you by Gregg Easterbrook’s Department of Nitpicking.

Hilarious “Rear Window” spoof on “Saturday Night Live” the other night.

And so timely! Can’t wait for their West Side Story riff!

Coffeenerdness: Saw Dan Marino early Sunday morning outside the Manhattan hotel the NBC and CBS crews use on NFL weekends. Good ol’ Dan — sucking down the Starbucks.

Then spilling it on himself, and blaming everyone else around him for it.

In honor of him (Dan always loved the green tea in our HBO “Inside the NFL” days), I went with the China Green Tips Sunday morning at my West 57th Street Starbucks while working.

Good to know.

Stay, Jason Bay.

You say…

Come, Adrian Gonzalez.

Let me touch your groin.

UPDATE: I loved this comment over at ESPN:

monsterdog5 says:
November 16, 2009, 2:27 AM ET

Live by the sword, die by the sword. The Patriots’ decision to go for it on fourth down will pay ample rewards later on. Belichick just flat-out told his defense “I believe in you guys”. Come playoff time, that’s going to matter.

I believe he told his D the exact opposite there, monsterdog.