Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Find more of Drew's stuff at KSK or on Twitter. Preorder Drew's new book, The Postmortal, right here. Email the Funbag here. Today, we're covering Randy Savage, aliens, partying, plane crashes, and more.
I was driving to a Metro stop yesterday when I saw a car up ahead that was about to merge into traffic from bus stop lane. And sometimes, you can tell well in advance that the driver about to merge into traffic is a fucking idiot who won't bother looking to see if another car is there. You get that sixth sense, where it's like, "This person is gonna try and fucking kill us." And then they do! Secretly, I look forward to encountering these kinds of motorists on the road, because I know I'm in for a cathartic bout of horn-blowing very, very soon. And so it came to pass. The woman swerved into my lane, I swerved over to the left lane, which was gratefully unoccupied, and then I leaned on my horn for five minutes and flipped the bitch off. Fun for all!
My first child is due the day after Thanksgiving. When do I get dad strength?
Not for a while. You have to spend a good amount of time carrying the child, and assembling shit for the child, and installing car seats, and loading the trunk with shit, and setting up Pack-N-Plays, and carrying bag after bag after fucking bag at the airport before you've built up the requisite muscle groups for Dad strength. And even then, I'm still not sure when it officially kicks in. I'd like to think I've finally gotten my Daddy Strength belt, but that's not going to be made official until one of my children is trapped under a pickup truck and I have to lift that truck to save them from choking to death on exhaust. I plan on running my oldest over sometime next year to get a proper reading.
One of the nice things about being a Dad is when you get to flex your Dad strength in front of your kid and you can see that they're in AWE of your abilities. One time, my kid was about to throw a wet washcloth out of the tub, and I instinctively blocked the throw (DENIED!) then grabbed her and lifted her out of the tub. And she knew right at that second that I WAS NOT TO BE FUCKING TRIFLED WITH. And then the kid tries to retaliate and starts slapping your leg and shit and you just laugh in their face. MWAHAHAHAHA! YOU THINK THAT HURTS ME? I AM BULLETPROOF.
Dad strength is best shown off in a local pool, where you can pick your kid up and throw them all over the place at will, so that other kids can see your ability to make little children fly. I wish there were a race of giants out there that could do similar things for me. I'd love to be picked up and thrown 50 yards in a pool. That would be incredible fun.
They should offer workout DVDs for single men to help them get Dad strength if they'd like to have it. You'd get a weighted baby doll you'd have to carry around, that squirms and flails ALL THE TIME. Really helps work the core. And you'd have to get under various appliances and furniture and go nuts with a screwdriver. You'd eventually get Dad strength, and I'd have the satisfaction of knowing you were dumb enough to voluntarily suffer through all the menial bullshit I have to do.
What if the Rapture actually happened TOMORROW? Who would feel like the bigger asshole, Harold Camping or the rest of us?
Definitely Camping. If you're gonna go out on a limb and call your shot, you have to nail it on the button. If Ruth had called his shot and then hit a home run four at-bats later, would you have given his fat ass ANY credit? Hell no.
Is there anything more obnoxious than college students talking about their big party day? "Oh Georgetown Day is amazing, you don't know what its like." "Oh yeah Fountain Day is incredible, there's nothing like it."
YOU MEAN YOU GET UP AT 7AM, START DRINKING WITH YOUR FRIENDS, THEN STUMBLE AROUND CAMPUS AND GO TO A BUNCH OF BIGGER PARTIES? YEAH EVERY COLLEGE HAS THAT. SHUT UP.
Very true. Everyone wants to believe that their good time was the BEST good time that anyone ever had. It's like when Erik Ainge told reporters his partying made Charlie Sheen's look like Miss Daisy or something. (NOTE: Addicts always do this. They always express regret about all the drugging and whoring, but they always retain a certain measure of pride in their partying record. I GOT WAY MORE HIGH THAN THAT ASSHOLE DID!) It's a stupid statement to make. You can't objectively measure the legendaryness of your partying. And all drinking and drugging and whoring is pretty much the same if you're someone who does it a lot. But no, everyone wants to think they partied like rock stars and no one else could have partied as hard. And that's because you'd hate to think there was a good time that you missed out on. So you compensate through denial. No, there's no way ANYONE had as much fun getting wasted as I did. NO ONE DOES VEGAS LIKE ME AND MY BUDDIES HOUSE AND BLUEBOY!
Who is the Coon Man? And what could he be doing three blocks from the Florida Capitol building at ten in the morning?
(In fairness the court house is only one block away, so there might not be much of a mystery.)
If you want coons, you gotta go to the source.
I've always sorta wanted to be in a plane that slid off the runway. Not, like, off a National runway into the snakehead-ridden depths of the Potomac - more like off a Dulles runway into a muddy field. Just so I could do the inflatable slide, get free flights/drinks for years, and douche it up on The Today Show the next morning like WELL, MATT, IN TIMES OF CRISIS YOU HAVE TO KEEP YOUR WITS ABOUT YOU.
Yeah, the slide is a huge tease. It's the first thing you look at when you open up the safety card in your seat pocket, and it looks like a blast. I remember watching Die Hard 2 and being jealous of Bonnie Bedelia because she got a free ride down at the end after Bruce Willis torched Mr. Evans' getaway plane. Amusement parks should buy old planes and have a slide ride that launches from the emergency exit.
I have a friend who is a huge homer for the Central Florida Golden Knights football team. He is convinced that they will win a national championship in our lifetime and has confidently espoused this opinion to myself and our friends on numerous occasions. We finally told him to either back up his talk with some cash or shut it the hell up, and so the following futures bet was concocted: If UCF wins a national championship in our lifetime, we (me and 6 other guys) will each pay our friend $5000, or a healthy $35K in total. In every year of our lives that UCF fails to bring home the glory, our friend pays each of us $50, so $350/year, assuming no one meets an untimely demise.
Our friend remains confident that he will be vindicated, and it already making plans to purchase a billboard that he will maintain until his assumed winnings runs out, calling us all stupid assholes. We're equally confident that this is as safe an investment as you will find, a virtual perpetuity, and have considered securitizing it and selling shares on Wall Street.
The bet was made last fall to start next season, so the payouts haven't started yet, however, all this conference realignment and the possibility of UCF joining the Big East, as if that will make a difference, as gotten this conversation heated up again. Who do you think got the better deal?
Are you shitting me? You just got a guaranteed payout of $50 a year for the rest of your miserable life. I wish I had a friend this breathtakingly stupid. Who the hell is a homer for UCF? FACT: 67% of all UCF students can't even name their school. You go to UCF when you have seven kids and you need a quickie degree to get certified as an electrician. No one there actually CARES about that school. That's just foolish.
They are certain schools that will NEVER win a national title in college football. Ever. Like Duke. Duke will never win a national title in football. Neither will Baylor. Nor will Maryland. (UPDATE: Except that they already did. Well, that won't happen again, I tell you!) Nor will Northwestern. The national title in college football is basically a shared rotation between a dozen or so schools, with Auburn sneaking in a title every half-decade when it doesn't get caught buying coke and hookers for its players. Outside of that circle, you can go ahead and cue Vince McMahon's theme music. Your friend is a moron.
One of my good friends and I are each getting married this summer, which means bachelor parties. Now, for these bachelor parties we are camping and renting a cabin for a weekend of, hopefully, debauchery. Probably not strippers, but drinking, smoking and being jackasses for the most part. Now the question is, do we invite our Dads to these eve…
Anyone who brings a dad to a bachelor party should have their scrotum stapled.
Imagine this: the team jet carrying either the Canucks or the Sharks, when making a trip to the East Coast for a game during the Stanley Cup Finals, crashes. It's a fiery massacre. All of the players, coaches, whoever travels with them, are dead. What happens?
I'd imagine they cancel the Stanley Cup. But what if the Bruins were up 3 games to 1? As terrible as it was, would they, in some way, feel a little cheated? Would they be awarded the Cup? Would there be a parade in Boston?
Expand the question to any major sport, any team, at any point in the season? Imagine the Yankees' plane crashed at one point? What does the league do? Expansion draft? So many questions...
The only real life example of this happening is the 1970 Marshall University plane crash, which killed 37 members of the football team. But that crash happened after Marshall played its final game of the season against East Carolina, so the school had a full offseason to rebuild the team with jayvee players and what not. If it were to happen to one team in the current Stanley Cup playoffs, I don't think the NHL would cancel the Finals. With a heavy heart, I think they'd advance the opposing team to play Tampa or Boston, and it would be very sad and no one would really want to play it. But sponsors are locked in, dammit. IT'S RETAIL.
And I think that would happen in virtually any other sport: baseball, football, basketball. The opposing team would get a default win, not unlike a tennis player advancing in the US Open after an opponent retires with an injury, and they'd keep on playing. And some asshole on TV would tell you how unimportant this game was in the grand scheme of things, completely ignoring that you put $1,000 against the default winner because you figured guilt would ravage them into losing.
If it happened during the regular season to a team, there's no way they'd hold an expansion draft for that franchise until maybe after the season. The organization would be forced to cobble together a bunch of free agents and drag through the rest of the year that way. But there'd be a patch on their unis, so you know it wasn't like, forgotten or anything. After the season, I think the Dead Yankees would be forced to build their team from scratch, with no expansion draft to aid them. Why? Because fuck them, that's why. Also, other owners are still tightfisted dicks who aren't gonna just give shit to another team. Maybe you shoulda checked your de-icing fluid before takeoff, Joe Girardi!
Drew (not me):
The Sunday night they announced Bin Laden was dead, I was flipping through the channels and saw that the president was going to deliver a "major announcement" in half an hour. That was it, no bin Laden rumors yet or anything. I started to think about what would be so urgent that the president had to make a nationally televised speech at 10:30 on a Sunday night. What couldn't wait less than 12 hours until Monday morning, when news happens. My first thought was president is sick and has to resign, but that could wait until Monday morning. Then I thought, Aliens, fucking finally. For a good ten minutes half of my brain seriously thought we had finally made contact with aliens. So, I was actually a little disappointed when I found out it was bin Laden. Not that I wasn't happy, but how awesome would it have been if Obama walked out to the East room with Captain Bleep-blorp walking side by side, it would have been the tits.
Let's set aside the fact that all Drew had to do was check online to know the reason for the announcement and concentrate on the issue at hand: If the president told you he was making a major announcement on a Sunday night, what would you hope he was announcing? Obviously, I wouldn't want him to say anything bad, like THERE'S A FUCKING ASTEROID HEADED RIGHT FOR US! Or, THERE'S A FUCKING NUCLEAR WEAPON HEADED RIGHT FOR US! Or, FUCKING GODZILLA IS HEADED RIGHT FOR US! You get the idea. I think aliens is way up on the list, as is the advent of cold fusion. "Oh hey, we invented cold fusion. Every global problem caused by energy problems is now over. FACE." And then there's the flying hoverboard and/or the flying car. The flying car/hoverboard always ranks high in desirable future wet dream scenarios. But yeah, I'll take bin Laden dying. How often does a president give an announcement that isn't tragic or horribly dull? What's that? You're bombing Libya? BOR-ING.
I was down at Southpoint mall in Durham, NC this past weekend, and when I spotted the mall directory I knew I had to pass an image along. Behold and feast your eyes upon the Mall Directory Dong.
There should be a giant lake to the right of it.
My grandmother passed away about 3 months ago. She used to live in a little apartment and apparently it has been rented out to a new tenant. Well, I come to find out that last week that tenant handed her keys in to the landlord and abruptly left. Her reason, you ask? She cannot sleep at night because she keeps seeing a ghostly figure of an old woman walking around and an altar full of flowers (My grandmother had a big statue of the Virgin Mary and it was always surrounded by flowers).
My reaction was "My fucking grandmother is haunting a house!! How fucking cool is that?" So, naturally my brother, my cousin, and I came to the conclusion that we have to sleep there one night. What would you do?
I would NOT stay in the apartment if it's haunted. While that is the ghost of someone you know, it's still a ghost, which means it's still fucking terrifying. Think about it. Think about if the ghost of your grandma came into your room right now. A moaning specter that looked exactly like your dead nana. Would you be excited to see her? Or would you hide under a blanket and yell KILL IT WITH FIRE! I would do the latter. A ghost is a ghost is a ghost, man. I have stayed in my grandparents' homes after they've died, and every time I have I've worried at night that their ghost will come walking through the walls and I will doodoo my underwear right there in the bed. Because you never know what Ghost Grandma's intentions are gonna be. She might eat your face. I'd never openly welcome a ghost right away. I'd always be skeptical. Ghosts and aliens… they are nature's WILD CARDS.
Maybe you can help settle a dispute my brother and I have been having. We have a stepsister, who is not our blood relative at all, and she has the biggest fucking tits ever. Well every time we leave my dad's house I always comment to my brother how badly I want to suck on those bombs and he always says that I'm disgusting. But I don't understand what's so disgusting. She's not a blood relative at all. So what the fuck is the big deal?
I keep having this recurring fantasy that I drive to the house to visit my dad and I get down and knock on the door. My stepsister, wearing a little tube top, opens the door and tells me that my dad and stepmom are out of town. I say "Oh, ok" and proceed to turn towards my car but then she stops me, pulls down her top, and says "But can you stay a while and suck on these bad boys?" It's fucking great!
Anyway, what do you think? My brother is a big fucking pussy right? We're not fucking related asshole!
Oh and PS, I'm the same guy that had the dreams about fucking his mom. Yes, I know, I'm fucking demented.
It depends. How long have you known the stepsister? Has she been your stepsister since you were both three years old, and have you lived in the same house that whole time? That practically makes her a real sister, and so your attraction to her is a little bit more questionable. But if you were just standing around one day when you were eighteen and your dad was like, "Oh hey, here's your new stepsister," and she's drop dead gorgeous, then I say you have free rein to want to motorboat her. Remember, in Clueless, Paul Rudd ends up nailing Alicia Silverstone, who is both her stepsister AND still a high school student. And no one objected! At all! If Amy Heckerling is okay with it, then so am I.
Speaking of Clueless, did you know Stacey Dash has already been divorced three times. Three fucking times! She must be a fucking wild animal. No one can tame her but me!
What food product are you most upset about being discontinued? Mine was the rodeo cheeseburger from Burger King for a few years but then they brought her back and she is as glorious as ever. But now I am left not hating the food companies because I cant think of a food that they have discontinued that I loved.
We've talked about PB Max here before, haven't we? Because PB Max was as important to me as my family, if not more so. Why would you discontinue that, foodmakers of America? Have you no soul? They discontinued PB Max and Cheetos Paws, and my world really hasn't been the same since. And I still can't get Cap'n Crunch All Berries on a regular basis, which is just WRONG. But perhaps this will make up for things…
Now fat kids everywhere can run an IV drip of Oreo filling. Mmmm. Sugar coma.
But is it really the same as the filling? BECAUSE MY TONGUE WILL KNOW.
Now time for our email of the week. It comes from reader Adam, who was Randy Savage's second cousin. He offers this tribute:
When I was a kid, Randy's Mother (aka Macho Mom) would always make sure that Randy would put aside tickets for when the WWF or WCW would come to Chicago. During a show in 1992 or 1993, me and my brother were actually granted the opportunity to go backstage. For the 6-year-old me, this was the most awesomest thing possible.
I don't remember what happened during the show, but I do have a vague memory of what happened when I was able to go backstage. I'm not sure of what my expectations were of going backstage, but at that point in my life I was sure of 3 things: Wrestling was 100% real, there were Good Guys who were super heroes, and there were Bad Guys that were super villains.
We were met backstage by some WWF people who were leading us into the locker room area, and we were brought to Randy to say hello. There were a bunch of other wrestlers around, which was really cool but there was one problem: the good guys were hanging out and being cordial to the bad guys! Seeing good guys like Brett Hart sharing laughs with bad guys like Jake "The Snake" Roberts was almost traumatic to see; like seeing your Dad french kiss your aunt. It simply wasn't supposed to happen.
I was sad, scared and confused. I gathered up the courage to ask why the Good Guys were friends with the Bad Guys. Randy said, "We're not. We're just tricking them. You'll see."
After this, a WWF rep was showing us some other areas of the backstage. I don't remember what we saw, but I know when we circled back to the area where Randy was, all of the wrestlers I had seen before were back in character. Bad guys were yelling at Good Guys about how they were going to kick their butt and Good Guys were holding each other back from attacking the bad guys.
This. Was. Awesome. It IS real! Of course it is!
Randy didn't know me too well, but he cared enough about a young fan and professional wrestling to keep the illusion and innocence alive.
While, as I said earlier, I cannot claim that we were particularly close, I do send my condolences to those in our family who were. He made a lot of people happy.
When I was a kid, I used to beg my folks to let me order WWF pay-per-views, but they always refused because they thought it was too expensive. So I had to watch all my Wrestlemanias on rented VHS tapes, months after the event happened. There was a whole SPECIAL INTEREST shelf at the local Bigelow Video, and the wrestling tapes were intermingled with the exercise tapes and Jesus tapes (porn was in the way back). And I'd scan the shelf for weeks after every WrestleMania, hoping to see the new one had finally arrived on VHS. Because they never told you when it would be released. It would just appear there one day. And whenever that happened, it felt like a little holiday for me. The tape would come in this big puffy white plastic case, as if the plastic were trying to recreate Styrofoam, and when you opened the case, the tape was wedged inside and took a solid hour to pry out. Those tapes were how I saw Macho Man and Ricky Steamboat go at it in WrestleMania III, and Macho Man winning the WWF title at WrestleMania IV. I loved watching those tapes when I was a kid, and that's the reason I'll never forget the Macho Man. RIP, my tassled brother. DIG IT-UH!!!!