FKS’ Greatest Hits (Updated)

This is FKS. My name’s Drew. I have a child that eats, cries, sleeps, and shits, in no particular order. I don't update FKS anymore. I post twice a week or so over at NFL site Kissing Suzy Kolber. If you don't like football, I suggest you go anyway for your daily dick joke fix.

Below are some of my favorite bits from FKS. It’s hard work creating a site that appeals to angry drunks and closeted perverts, but I’d like to think that I was more than up to the task. If you're new here, I recommend you check out the older posts. There are no throwaway dipshit posts here at FKS. Except for maybe one. Or two. Whatever. Check them all out if you're interested in wasting your precious time:

Five things that will scare the shit out of your kids

My brush with Playboy Channel infamy

The legendary (in my mind only) Father’s Day post

Why I fucking hate cats

My historic five days alone with the Girl (Days 1-4 are on the side when you click)

I teach you how to kill bugs like a certified Badass

The Drexl Spivey tribute. Sit down, boy, and grab yo’self an egg roll.

All the stuff that makes me a kickass husband

My experience with biofeedback therapy

Hooray, alcohol!

Catch up on how to properly brag like an asshole parent

One formidable night with the Girl as a newborn

The Chosen One emerges

And, of course, the post that started it all.

An impessive output, to say the least. Whoopi Goldberg would give both her testicles for material this good. I had a blast writing these. Hope you like them. Some of these posts may get erased in the future for reposting over at the Phat Phree. I'm sure you'll live.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and/or comment here. That was the best part of this whole thing.

My Child Will Have Bad Taste In Music

Kurt Cobain killed rock and roll. He was a master songwriter and his band kicked a lot of fucking ass, but he still killed rock and roll. You see, Kurt Cobain made it okay for rock stars to be insecure, and to get in touch with their inner feelings. Which is a good thing, as long as the people doing that sort of thing are as talented as Kurt Cobain. And they aren’t. They so fucking aren’t, I want to mainline formaldehyde right into my system. Take a look at these dipshits:


This is the “rock” band Good Charlotte. These guys are fucking terrible. Simply looking at them makes you a lamer person. Tilted cap? Check. Spiked hair? Check. Lip ring? Check. Completely inane finger tattoos? Check. An alto for a lead singer? Check. Take a good look, parents of the world, because your kids will one day end up listening to the shitheaded output of this band, or some other Douche Rock band like it. That whole Israel/Lebanon scrape is mere appetizer to this battle.

If you want to teach your children about how to properly rock, you must ingrain in them the DFF Principle, which states that rock ‘n’ roll can only be considered truly rocking if it’s about the following three things:

-Drinking
-Fighting
-Fornicating

That’s the list. I make absolutely no exceptions to this, unless the song happens to be about ancient dragons, three-headed Satanic dogs, or some other crazy ass fantasy shit. Cocaine and other drugs can also be substituted for drinking, so long as you’re glorifying their use. But if you’re singing about your girlfriend who dumped you, you’re just James Taylor with a wallet chain. If you’re singing about world peace, you’re fucking Bono and you’ve stopped trying to make interesting music. You are not rocking.

The very term “rock and roll” was originally just another name for screwing. It’s inherently not rocking to get away from that. If you want to be a real ass rock star, you better be getting fucked up, fucking someone, or fucking someone up. I read about the band AFI the other day. Two of the members of that group are vegans. The lead singer of the Killers is Mormon. This is bullshit. I won’t stand for it. I’m a married man living with two females, and I demand rock stars that I can live vicariously through. Badass motherfuckers like Josh Homme, and James Hetfield (80’s James Hetfield, not the shell of a man you see today), and Slash. Would Slash write a song about how much he missed his dead mother? Hell no.

That’s what rock stars are supposed to be: selfish pricks with no regard for anything except their own vices. You know who does that now? Hip hop stars. All the cool shit about rock moved over to hip hop ten years ago, and rock has done nothing about it. Jay-Z is a badass motherfucker. I bet he could kill the dipshit from New Found Glory with his bare hands, or have an underling do it for him. That’s why hip hop rules the charts now. Oh, girls may say they love a sensitive guy, but what they really want to do is hang out at Big Boi’s house, get sloshed on Kool-Aid and vodka, smoke high-potency weed, dance on the stripper pole in the bedroom, get dogged by a crew member, and then get shown the door at 4AM. You won’t be seeing Coldplay treating women so poorly, and that’s why Coldplay sucks. We need rock stars that are willing to degrade themselves and everyone else around them.

That’s what I want my child to aspire to. Not this whiny ass “Wah! I was abused!” crap. If you had a rotten childhood and want to turn to music for salvation, you need to put up a completely false front of arrogance and compensate for your sadness by banging oceans of groupies and snorting untold amounts of cocaine. That’s being sweet. Anything less is being James Blunt. Screw you, you limey bastard. I want Lemmy from Motorhead to drive his Harley right over your underused penis.

And none of this indie rock shit, either. Oh, the Shins changed your life? Well then, your life needs more grain alcohol. I do not abide by Death Cab for Cutie, or Modest Mouse, or any other weakly-named record store clerk wet dream band. Those bands have shitty names. Real rock bands are named Thunderballs, or Love Pump, or Pussy Patrol. Death Cab for Cutie? That’s fucking refrigerator poetry.

The real problem is that there’s nothing on the horizon to suggest a turnaround. We’ve created a culture of mass douchebaggery, and this crap music is the end result of it. And to think, I’m going to be called lame by my daughter for liking AC/DC. Are you fucking kidding me? This world is bullshit.

So kiss my ass, Kurt Cobain. I hope Courtney Love manages to find you again in the afterlife.