Peter King Celebrates A Quarter Century of Hackery

06.02.14 3 years ago 129 Comments


When last we left secondhand pizza victim, Peter King, he was conducting his annual Tom Brady off-season check-in to make sure Dreamboat is still the bi-coastal bland quote fountain from which Peter is happy to sup. In other news, Peter discovered the majesty of Portland food truck scene. Food on wheels? What a country!

But what about this week? Well, it’s an important milestone for Peter. 25 years at Sports Illustrated. Is it time for some desperately needed self-awareness? Nope, Peter’s just gonna tell us how he met Johnny Cash on his first assignment and it’s only gotten better since. Get your doggy diarrhea bags ready and READ ON.

Players, get ready for a lot of HR talk in the next three weeks.

“From now on, when you assault your spouse, we’re going to need a written apology made out from her to the team BEFORE you compel her to do it at a press conference. We have protocols, people. We can’t let a Ray Rice issue happen again.”

Not home runs. Human Resources.

That’s it. Tapping out already. No thanks. See you next week, everybody.


Oh, fuck it, who am I kidding?

The NFL’s executive vice president and chief human resources officer, Robert Gulliver, leads a three-man NFL team into Flowery Branch, Ga., today to meet with all players, coaches and selected executives (owner Arthur Blank will be on hand) to discuss how to improve locker-room culture.

“If you are going to bully or haze, make sure you don’t say anything that looks bad in a headline.”

Gulliver and former NFL players Patrick Kerney and Donovin Darius will talk to the 100-plus Falcons at the team complex as part of the league’s efforts to make sure a Dolphins-type hazing situation never happens in an NFL locker room again.

I’ll get the Mission Accomplished banner printed.

What can be accomplished in an hour?

Nothing substantial, but then again, they’re not really trying to solve anything. They’re paying lip service to a scandal and you’re all too happy to be the mouthpiece.

It’s a logical and skeptical question.

Making it staggeringly out of place in an MMQB column.

“It’s to start the dialogue, to provoke conversation,” said Kerney. “As players, we need to understand we’re all going to be out of there soon and into the real world. If we continuing some of the behavior of the past, we’re enclosing ourselves in the bubble even further.”

That doesn’t sound like he has a problem with what happens in a locker room so much as players being unprepared for what happens after they leave. So this endeavor should work wonders.

In the wake of the Miami hazing culture blown apart by Jonathan Martin quitting the team last year, the league invited values-based-leadership author and speaker Dov Seidman to keynote the opening session at the league meetings this year. The NFL also has engaged former NFL player Wade Davis, who came out as gay after his career, to speak to teams about understanding homosexuality, both in society and the locker room; Davis was dispatched to consult with the Rams for several days after they drafted openly gay defensive end Michael Sam in April. Now this.

“The moment is now,” said Gulliver.

Will it work?


Can it work?


I think the most important element here is the acceptance by coaches and the team leaders—especially the team leaders. In Atlanta, Mike Smith needs to be open to this; I’m told he very much is.

Daring stance. I’d like to hear a coach advocate against it. “Frankly, I don’t think we have enough bullying and intimidation.” Wouldn’t put it past Jim Harbaugh.

But it has to be the players accepting it even more than Smith.

“Because if a terrible situation surfaces again, we want to make sure that only they are accountable for their actions.”

Just because it’s been the tradition is many NFL locker rooms, why does it have to continue?

Well, I can’t tell you why it doesn’t: because the NFL got terrible press because it went horribly wrong in a very public way, which is the only why they’re trying to curtail it now, or at least create the impression that they are.


The anniversary.

I got a bit nostalgic on Friday when I told my crew at The MMQB—we were gathered in New York City for our microsite’s offseason seminar—that Sunday was the 25th anniversary of Sports Illustrated managing editor Mark Mulvoy offering me a job and saying, “I want you to cover the NFL your way.”

Fuck you forever, Mulvoy.

Also, Jesus, how terrible does it have to be to work for Peter King when he brings his entire staff together to celebrate his own personal milestone?


Two of the staffers in the room on Friday, Andy DeGory and Emily Kaplan, weren’t born when I started at SI. Which means one of two things. Either I should get lost, and go where the dinosaurs go. Or I should, as many athletes say, stay till they kick me out of the game.


I’ve opted for the second choice, at least for now. Twenty-five years, 25 memories:


1. First assignment: June 1989. The NFL’s trying to birth a minor league, the World League of American Football, and I’m sent on the road for three days with the new exec of the league, banished Cowboys czar Tex Schramm, as he private-jetted from Jacksonville to Orlando to Birmingham to Charlotte to Nashville scouting for American franchises for an uninvented league. Highlight: I’m sent down the stairs of the plane first when we get to Nashville, and at the bottom of the stairs is the Man in Black, with his right hand out to shake. “Hiyah, welcome tah Nashville. Ahm Johnny Cash,” said Johnny Cash. Those were the days: three days on the road for 370 words buried in “Scorecard.”

I’ve neglected to include all of these precious memories to spare you more PK musings than are necessarily (in fairness, none of them are necessary) but one prominent theme you’ll find is Peter complaining that his job, which has rewarded immensely both financially and socially, requires more work than it did when he first started, to which we all should reply: BOO HOO YOU FUCKING BABY SORRY YOU NO LONGER ONLY HAVE TO CRANK OUT ONE PIECE EVERY THREE DAYS TO EARN YOUR MILLIONS OF DOLLARS!

2. One of the great things about the Sports Illustrated of a generation ago was access. A PR man in those days would actually value a writer for us more highly than an ESPN reporter or anchor.

Basically, everything Peter remembers is some gripe about how his job now falls juuuuuuuust short of being absolutely perfect. “HOW DARE ADAM SCHEFTER GET THAT SCOOPISH NUGGET BEFORE ME! HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR THE WRITTEN WORD THAT I TORTUOUSLY MANGLE EACH WEEK!? I’VE KISSED ASS FOR YEARS AND HAVE THE CHAPPED LIPS TO PROVE IT!”

And so less than 48 hours after the biggest trade in NFL history—the 18-player/draft-pick Herschel Walker deal between Dallas and Minnesota — I’m in a car with Walker as he runs errands the day before his first game as a Vike.

Truly the sports journalism world is a much poorer place now that Peter King doesn’t get to run errands with players after they’ve been dealt in blockbuster trades. Imagine what material we could have gotten had Peter been with Trent Richardson when he applied for his Indiana driver’s license.

4. Most often my first three or four years, pre-TV, I’d sit in the office on Sundays and gather enough material on an NFL Sunday for a four-page “Inside the NFL” notes column. Or I’d go on the road and get a lead for the column out of a Sunday game. I liked the weird stats. Like this after the Colts fired Ron Meyer in 1991: In his last 72 games, Ron Meyer went 36-36. In his last 72 games, Chuck Noll is 36-36.


5. In a Jersey movie theater watching “A Few Good Men” in 1992, something happened that made me say, “You work at a cool place.” Tom Cruise’s character was on the streets of Washington D.C., and stopped at a newsstand. He bought a copy of Sports Illustrated with my “One Happy Camper” story from Colts camp the previous year, on Eric Dickerson, and flipped through it for a few seconds. Had to call my mother and tell her about that one.

Is there any chance Peter didn’t actually say that out loud to himself in the middle of the theater?

Peter’s mom: “That’s great, dear. I hope that copy of the magazine can invite Tom over to dinner one of these nights.”

7. The media … what a difference a generation makes. I traveled in the early nineties with a large notebook, a few pens and a small computer that most often stayed at the hotel. I’d take notes at a game, do interviews post-game, and go back to the hotel and write my piece for the magazine. When that was done, so was I for the week. The End. Now: I use a smart phone, a tablet and a laptop, daily. I phone, I Tweet, I Skype, I research the ‘net. I do talk shows. I do video chats. The other day I did something called a Google + hangout with Brandin Cooks and A.J. McCarron.


In a 2014 game week, I’ll get up Sunday morning, try to polish off 2,500 early words for my Monday Morning Quarterback column for The MMQB. Then I’ll go to NBC to watch games, and I’ll interview some players and coaches by phone, and then the NBC pre-game show comes on and I’ll have a little segment in it, and then I’ll report whatever needs to be reported. Then I’ll go home to my Manhattan apartment

See, let me stop right there. These ordeals you’ve laid out include a little bit of writing in the morning, WATCHING FOOTBALL GAMES in the afternoon then making a few phone calls. In exchange, you’re wealthy enough to own an apartment in Manhattan. The slightly semblance of self-awareness prevents this diatribe from being written.

and finish my Monday column, and then go in the office to do some video work and the multi-media thing will start all over again. Back in the day, you prayed something you found out on a Friday would hold till it got to people’s mailboxes six days later. Now that thing you found out will probably be on the internet in six minutes by someone else if you don’t rush to get it up first.

I’ll grant that your job has gotten more difficult. And that’s good because it was way too easy before. You basically had little to no competition, let alone scrutiny of your work aside from your higher-ups back when you started. I mean, there’s not exactly accountability. You’re still terrible at job. It just takes more effort to be bad now. Fucking woe is you.

9. In 1995, Mike Holmgren, the Green Bay head coach, let me spend a week inside the Packers. That was fun. Brett Favre farted in quarterback meetings a lot. What a memory he had.


He’d be looking up at the ceiling, seemingly not paying attention, and QB coach Steve Mariucci would say, “Brett, what are you looking for with this protection?” Favre would just spit out, “Strongside ‘back. C’mon Mooch. Gimme something tough.”

From the back of the room, Peter King whispers, “I’ll give you something tough on that strongside back.”

11. Maddest a coach ever got? One time Bill Parcells told me we were through—he was coaching the Jets, and thought I told another writer something out of bounds—and that lasted about six or eight months. Now we talk a lot. I guess Bill Belichick got mad after some of my coverage of Spygate in 2007. I’m not sure, though. He hasn’t talked to me since.

I take that as evidence of Grumblelord’s greatness more than anything else.

12. Regrets? You’ll probably say, “The Saints’ bounty story.” Nope. I don’t regret a syllable of it.

Nice that Peter King jumps in there to tell us what we should suggest as his biggest career regret, which he tries to spin as conviction in his work. Never mind committing clear journalist impropriety by plugging EvoShield in exchange for a free van, accepting tickets to The Masters from the VP of a sports marketing firm, letting anonymous GMs bash a openly gay player and not even ask for them to go on the record, having a clear bias for the Rams front office, Brett Favre, Greg Schiano, to name a few. And that’s not even mentioning the time he bragging in print about stealing a foul ball from a child.

Fuck you, Peter King. Fuck you, forever.

Sean Payton and Mickey Loomis and Gregg Williams and Jonathan Vilma should be mad at themselves, not at me, for not stopping it before it got out of control. I’d love to have a relationship with smart men and brilliant coaches like Belichick and Payton again, but these things happen in this business.

“Really, they should THANK me, as should the rest of the world, for reporting on this one case of bounties in football, while ignoring all the rest because my buddy Roger Goodell needed to make a example of this one team to end the practice as it only lent even more of an image of barbarism in a sport that is increasingly being depicted as too brutal.”

13. Best locker-room scene: Steve Young, after he threw six touchdown passes in super Bowl XXIX to shred the Chargers, hugging the Vince Lombardi Trophy so tight I honestly though he might bend it. “THEY CAN NEVER, EVER, EVER TAKE THIS AWAY!!!!!!!” Young screamed before the media got let in. (I worked for ABC at the time, and the game network got to be everywhere. Lucky me.)

That might be the most telling detail in all of these points. That Peter King doesn’t actually consider himself a part of the media. He’s somehow ABOVE it. He’s part of the fabric of football, you guys. HE’S A HALL OF FAME VOTER!

Brace yourself. It gets even worse:


That’s right, Peter lists the “classiest” people he’s dealt with in the NFL over his career. What? No, Cam Newton? By classy, of course, he means people who are nice and readily accommodating to him. The rest are the turd people who live turd lives in Dillweedville.

18. I’ve covered a lot of fun games, but for some reasons I’ll remember the game New England won to set the record for consecutive NFL wins (19) in 2004, because that story contained my favorite SI line. (The list of good lines is a very short one, believe me.) I’d written previously about Belichick having the biggest football library in the world—which he has since given to the U.S. Naval Academy library. In a quiet moment in the locker room after New England beat Miami to earn the record, I got Belichick about as celebratory as you’ll hear him. And I wrote, “ ‘It’s great to be in the history books,’ said the man who has read them all.”

Oh, the exquisite fart quaffing for such a fine example of overwritten starfucking. And Peter is proud of that! This he considers one of his life’s great accomplishments.

19. Best interview: Brett Favre edges Peyton Manning, Richard Sherman, John Randle and Jimmy Johnson.


The memory of each man is startling, Favre and Manning especially.

I bet there’s a room in Peter King’s apartment solely filled with his etchings of Favre and Pey-Pey peen.

I’ll never forget what Favre told me about his post-football life. This was in 2000. I asked him where he’d be and what he’d do in retirement. “I’ll be down in Hattiesburg (Miss.). You’ll never find me. You know the ‘Where are they now?’ segments on ‘Inside the NFL?’ They’ll do one on me, but they’ll have to get Robert Stack, like on ‘Unsolved Mysteries.’ I’ll disappear.” Well, he’s in Hattiesburg. I can never get him on the phone anymore. He’s disappeared, except to coach the offense for the local high school football team.

And except when he shows on TV every few months, like he did during Super Bowl week. Other than that, totally vanished.

21. Smartest professional decision I made in these 25 years: listening to the first editor of the magazine’s website, in 1997, when Steve Robinson asked me to empty out my notebook on Monday morning with whatever I wasn’t writing for the magazine that week. That’s how “Monday Morning Quarterback” was birthed.

It’s tempting to resent and send hate mail to Steve Robinson, but his was not a bad idea, per se. It’s that Peter interpreted that as permission to write about whatever random bullshit popped into his read and use his column as a proxy for email to his friends and colleagues.

23. The job’s tougher now. Lots of layers of PR people and team officials and milquetoast player quotes. But I’m still having as much fun as the day I walked down the plane steps and there was the Man in Black. You’ve just got to try to figure out a way to get to the story.

Or you just totally manufacture them out of nothing. You know, whatever works that week.

24. So the world changes now. I am editor-in-chief of The MMQB, this site you’re reading now, and I spend eight or 10 days a year on the road talking to advertisers now, trying to tell them how we can deliver the goods others can’t. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. I have to think of video now, and social media, and I have to think about several other writers and what they should be doing and writing.

You have more responsibility because you have a more prestigious position and you make more money. Do you honestly expect you to take pity on you? There is no one in this world who should feel bad for Peter King.

25. I often think how fortunate I am professionally, to be doing something I like so much for so long. That’s what I would leave you with in this contemplative mood I’m in this weekend. When it’s time for me to go—and I hope that’s not for a while—I will be the luckiest man in the business that day, because it lasted so long.

His farewell piece is going to be just dreadful. I hope I’ve moved on or died or gone to jail before that comes to pass. Anything to keep me from having to read it. This is but a foretaste. The actual thing is gonna be, like, 80 pages.


Malcolm Glazer’s quiet legacy.

“He didn’t talk to me.”

Glazer, who died Wednesday at 85, was a stealth owner if there ever was one.

“Look, I just told you he didn’t talk to me.”

No owner in NFL history has hired as many African-American coaches. That should be the significance of Glazer’s run in NFL history—he was colorblind at a time when many teams, and owners, in the league were not.

“Yes, it is notable,’’ Dungy said over the weekend. “He hired me when there was still trepidation by some people. And he may not have made the final decision on Lovie but he set the tone in the organization and he put the mindset in his sons to look at people impartially. He and I had many conversations about relationships and how you treat others. That was very important to him.”

The rare instance when PK brings in The Dunge that actually works well. Let’s see how quickly Peter can torpedo it.

The Glazers have hired five coaches. Dungy turned the franchise from sad-sack losers to annual contenders. Gruden finished the job. Raheem Morris largely failed, lasting three years. Greg Schiano didn’t have a long-enough chance (two years), but he failed too.

Haha, yes, have to inject that little bit of commentary about how you think Greg Schiano got hosed even though he was terrible. HE DIDN’T GET TO FAIL FOR LONG ENOUGH!

The league should hold him up as an example of hiring the best guy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

He hired the best guy, except the two who clearly failed and the one who was just piggybacking on the success of his predecessor.

Graduation Day.

I have a custom for those new to the column of taking chunks of graduation speeches from around the country and either inspiring you or boring you to tears with them. Here are parts of a few that caught my eye this spring:



Are you shitting me? I just had to slog through your 25 most cherished memories in the history of nuggetdom and now I have to chase it down with 3,000 words of filler? PK is going for the killshot on me this week.

Sorry, if you want to see what Philip Rivers said at Catholic University (surprise – stuff about Christ!) and what GOOD GUY Alex Smith told students at his alma mater, be my guest. Though I should note that he does refer to Utah as “the U”, assuring a Miami grad will be stabbing him sometime in the near future.

Quotes of the Week

“I call Twitter the microphone for morons.”

—Denver GM John Elway, at a NFL event, the career development symposium, Saturday at Penn’s Wharton School of Business in Philadelphia.


Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me

Roger Goodell takes a trip every year to Silicon Valley to meet and talk to innovators in the technology, TV, social media and academic set. On one of his first such trips, he met with Steve Jobs, the Apple scion, who had one word of advice for Goodell: “Wifi.”

When you hear owners and club presidents and league officials say they’re intent on enabling all fans able to use their smart phones inside all NFL stadiums, you can trace that advice to Jobs.

Indeed. When you hear about how NFL owners are talking about but not actually improving the gameday experience, you can trace that back to an obvious suggestion Steve Jobs gave to Roger Goodell when the commissioner was on a tour of Apple.

One of my favorite press releases of the year came in the email box the other day—the one announcing the awarding of grants by Peyton Manning’s PeyBack Foundation.

Leaving aside the borderline creepy statement that a press release from Peyton Manning’s charity is one of Peter’s favorite things of the year, I love that Peyton’s foundation is called PeyBack. We should call Manning pick-sixes that.

Mr. Starwood Preferred Member Travel Note of the Week

I have heard of flight delays and I have heard of emergency landings, but what happened on a US Airways flight from Los Angeles to Philadelphia last Wednesday sets an American aviation record for incredulity.

Which is… any amount of incredulity? Are planes capable of being incredulous? Must be one of those new fancy Virgin features.

Lucky for all of us, Chris Law, a 30-year-old NFL Network producer—he handles Rich Eisen’s podcast and produces programming about fantasy football, the draft and the Scouting Combine—was in row 10 of the plane and was an eyewitness, and nasal witness, to airline history.

And to Truffles the dog, who couldn’t quite control her bowels on the coast-to-coast flight.

“I fly US Airways all the time,’’ Law said over the weekend from Virginia, where he was attending a bachelor party. “I have status with them. I didn’t get an upgrade to first-class on this trip, but I did get a good seat in row 10, the emergency exit row.


Before we board, I see this lady with a full-grown dog. I have never seen a full-size dog on a plane in coach. This dog had a service tag on it, and the lady looked healthy, fine. But whatever. I get on the plane, everyone boards, the lady and her dog go in back.

“A strange thing happens while we’re waiting to take off. They spilled 1,000 gallons of fuel on the tarmac. They had to add fuel to the plane. But they didn’t fill the tank all the way because of all this gas spilling. We’re on the L.A. tarmac for two-and-half hours while they take care of that. While we wait, this lady is walking her dog up and down the aisle.

“So we take off, and an hour or so into the flight, I have to go to bathroom. I walk to the back of the plane, and there’s a flight attendant with a drink cart; she can’t move it because there’s a blanket covering something on the floor with white powder in the middle of the aisle. I asked what happened. She says, ‘The dog went to the bathroom. We dropped some sanitation powder on it.’ I go back and sit down, mention it to a couple people. ‘That dog went to the bathroom back there!’ A lady near me laughs about it.

“So I’ve got a lot of room in this exit row. And then, maybe an hour later, I notice seven or eight passengers start moving aggressively down the aisle. I’m wondering what’s going on. Strange. The flight attendant comes up. She says, ‘The dog defacated again—for the third time.’ She goes, ‘People are getting sick back there. I think we’re going to emergency-land in KC.’ Up where we were, in row 10, very faintly we start to smell it. After a half hour I could really start to smell it. And the flight attendant says, ‘We’re landing in Kansas City. Hazmat’s got to come on board.”

“The pilot comes on. He says, ‘We have to emergency land. There is an issue in the back of the plane. We have to land the plane.’ ‘’

[Fellow passenger Steve McCall, contacted by “Inside Edition,” reported exclusively that Truffles had, and I quote, “fully fledged dog diarrhea.”]

Now back to Chris Law: “So we land. We stay on the plane. Hazmat is actually five guys in orange vests. They work on the problem for maybe 35 minutes. But by the time we’re ready to take off, so many people already know they’ll miss their connections or aren’t going to make it to their destination on time. A lot of people just don’t continue on the flight.

“This dog was like some kind of full-size poodle mixture. Biggest dog I have ever seen in coach. During the flight, when I went back there, the dog had a seat to itself. It was the woman on the aisle, the dog in the middle, and some poor guy in the window seat. I wonder how that guy felt when all that was going on. The lady seemed nice. She was asking people all around her, ‘Please give me your name and address. I will send you a Starbucks card for your trouble. I am so sorry.’

“In exchange for being trapped seeing and smelling my dog’s shit on a plane, I’m going to pay for to get coffee shits.”

“But when we were in Kansas City, she and the dog got off. It was clear this dog was ‘serving’ no purpose. The woman was walking fine. The dog had its own seat. So when she got off, it was like a walk of shame. Her and the dog walked off. People were clapping when she got off the plane, maybe 10 or 15 people clapping. Some people were pretty pissed off. Two people missed their cruise to Greece. People missed their connections. A lady sitting near me was getting honored by a charity that she runs in Hartford that night, and had to make a speech there, but she never made it.

It’s a triumph of human kindness that this woman wasn’t beaten to death.

“I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere that day, so all I could do was laugh about it. I want to say also the crew was really nice, and professional. But what a day.”

I will never, ever, ever complain about anything related to travel for the rest of my life.


At least until next week.

Fuck you.

Ten Things I Think I Think

1. I think the most meaningless, dumb story of this offseason is the constant, unending, logic-defying debate over who is the Jets’ starting quarterback, and that anything done before the battle is joined once training camp is a tangible factor in who will win the job—Geno Smith or Michael Vick. To recap all that matters: Smith is the incumbent. Smith gets the first snap in training camp. Vick was brought in to compete with Smith, whose minus-9 TD-to-pick differential and 66.5 rating was the worst for any starter last year. Smith and Vick will compete for the job. If Smith is better or it’s a tie or it is a close competition in camp, Smith starts. If Vick is markedly better or Smith flops in camp, Vick starts. Period. End of invented story.

Hey, that’s actually – dare I say – a solid point. I only had to wade through 8,000 words of excruciating filler to get to it.

3. I think there’s an incredible story out there, waiting to be written about Josh Freeman. It could be called: “How to ruin your football career in just 18 months.”

Two barely disguised gripes about how Greg Schiano didn’t get a fair shake! Man, this column has everything (capable of making me want to kill myself).

8. I think if Will Hill can blame second-hand smoke for his positive drug test—the league suspended him six games for the positive test last week — I can blame second-hand pizza for my weight. And if Tom Coughlin takes him back in October, I will be surprised.

PK surely double fists pizza slices, so technically that’s true.

10. I think these are my non-football thoughts of the week:

d. I don’t know exactly how this is possible, but when I looked at the baseball standings Saturday night, Houston had a better record than Tampa Bay, by half a game.

/starts to write out an explanation of the rules of baseball to Peter King but it just turns into a suicide note

e. Johnny Manziel throwing out the first pitching at Red Sox-Cleveland game Wednesday. Will Ortiz do the finger-rub cash sign?

More importantly, will anyone else give a shit?

h. Coffeenerdness: So I’m weak, and I just had a five-latte week. Just don’t tell the nutritionist.

At first I thought being Peter King’s nutritionist would be nearly as infuriating a job as having to sort through and make sense of his writing, but then I figured, he’s just going to openly flout your suggestions and not lose any weight. And he won’t fire you, because just having a nutritionist is his way of showing that he’s making an effort to lose weight. So basically you make your money and don’t have to worry whether what you’re doing is actually working. It’s very much like what Peter does in his job.

i. Beernerdness: Thanks to The MMQB’s Robert Klemko, I got to try the new Maryland beer, Flying Dog Dead Rise Old Bay Summer Ale (now that’s a handful). Thought I’d taste some of the Old Bay seasoning, but there was none of that, just a crisp and new ale with a near-IPA taste to me. I liked it.

I’ve had that beer. You can definitely taste the Old Bay in it. PK’s palate must have been destroyed ages ago by thousands upon thousands of Starbucks lardaccinos. The Old Bay taste isn’t overpowering because that would be gross, but it’s certainly evident. Also find it odd that his nutritionist is bothered by his coffee drinking but has no evident objection to beer. Especially when Peter once said he thought he could lose weight by switching from drinking stouts to Peroni.

The Adieu Haiku

Freeman, cut again.
How were so many so wrong?
Two words: work ethic.

Two more words: eat shit
Check with your nutritionist
Beats your diet now

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