I'm Peter King and, as usual, you're not

What do you mean - peter is a man of the people . His father was an iron worker you know.

 

I did not know Boom was a contributor to KSK.

 

"The Normans" = Freddie Mitchell and cardboard cutout of Ms. Favre

 

Look up "blowhard" in the dictionary, and I'll bet you find a very nice line drawing of Mr. King's head.

 

So what would PK's first column from prison look like?

 

And the response to this will have me checking this thread all day.

 

The best tossed salad on the West Coast? Folsom Prison.

 

They're giving them away FREEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHH?? They must be good if they're FREEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!"

 

Is Peter Larry King's brother?

 

I was scheduled for a shower rape on Thursday in Leavenworth, Kan. If you've had one, or if you've had any intestinal procedure, you know that the day before such an internal snaking you've got to be, well, cleaned out. One problem for me: On Wednesday, I was covering the Michael Vick workout in the Yard. My visit to the shower was due to begin at 1 p.m. My C.O. escort was due to leave C-Block three hours later, and I was scheduled to get back to my cell by 8. In other words, I was not going to have the home-lockup advantage for a good portion of the internal preparation.

Pretty tricky. I've been raped twice before in the shower -- you should have these things fairly regularly after turning 40, and I'm 48 -- and know that once you begin your prep work, it's about a six-hour process. So I figure, OK, I'll start on the plane home, then finish at home. When I advised a friend, Rich Fitter, of my plan, he shook his head and invoked an old Cosmo Kramer line. "Wet ... and wild,'' he said.

I took the first of the preparatory medication (and believe me, that's putting it very nicely) just before the three-plus-minute walk to the Yard. I was in fine shape until maybe 40 seconds from landing when the guard captain came over the intercom and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we've been told by the guard tower that someone has gone over the wall. We're putting you into a holding cell.''

I heard nothing else. All I could think was: My worst nightmare is coming true. It would get worse 10 minutes later, as a man I know only as "Big Bubba" started looking my way. After a few minutes he sidled over to me -- he was definitely a sidler -- and said, "Buckle up big boy, it's going to be a bumpy ride."
AAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!

Take deep breaths. Long, deep breaths. Bumping around for 45 minutes. An eternity. Hold on. Just hold on. You raised two kids not to be ax murderers, you can survive this. I'm going to have to get up and brawl with this guy in a minute, and he's probably got a shank...

Seven or eight minutes later, like the God of Incarceration knew what was happening inside me at that moment, the guard captain came in and said, "We've found our escapee. You can go back to your cells.''
Day of my wedding. Births of my children. Red Sox win the World Series. Getting out of that holding cell.
Once out of the cell, I was as dignified as was humanly possible. I brisk-walked to the men's room, and the rest is history.

One shower postscript: The rapist and his lookout were both big Sopranos guys. And my last memory before drifting off into never-neverland was those two guys talking about how unrealistic some of the prison scenes in the second episode were. Seems the family would never be allowed to witness the gruesome sight of one man taking another man's sausage in the anus, and there was insufficient attention paid to cleanliness in what should have been a perfectly antiseptic room. And my doctor, John Farkas, pointed out that the size of Tony's butthole was consistent with an exit wound, not an entry wound.
See what you learn reading this column?

 

King interviewed by PR Week, admits the non-football stuff in MMQB is "quirky crap." Also admits he spent all of six months at AP before landing the Bengals beat.

http://www.prweekus.com/Interview-Peter-King/article/110549/