Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we're covering tied-up testicles, drapists, time travel and more.
My wedding is coming up soon, and our registry items are flying off the shelves (cool to look at!). Being a young couple in the midst of establishing ourselves in our chosen careers, cash is obviously the most desirable gift by far. After that, I'm pretty happy with practical stuff like new dishes (not china, which would sit in a cabinet, unused, forever) or some functional luggage for our honeymoon.
But I have started to relish the opportunity to get filled with hate and rage whenever we get a bad gift. "What's this, co-worker I didn't want to come but who I felt morally obliged to invite? A $30 ice bucket from you and your needle-dick boyfriend? Go suck some chlamydia you worthless hag!"
There's a flipside to that, which is being the guest at any wedding and making horrible assumptions about the couple based strictly on the contents of their registry. Ever go to a registry and find that you can afford NOTHING on it? Not even the fucking napkin rings? That's the worst feeling in the world, when the entry point for any wedding gift feels light years out of your tax bracket. I love to look through registries and get sticker shock. Do these people really expect me to buy all this shit? Who the fuck do these people think they are? What makes Rob think he and his fiancee merit a $5,000 Baccarat decanter? I saw that guy shit his pants once. HE IS NOT A CLASSIER PERSON THAN I AM.
I also like deeming certain things inappropriate for a registry. You registered for a fucking printer? THAT'S OUT OF BOUNDS.
Every wedding registry should include a series of one-off items that are under $50 for the cheapskates of the world. I hate the idea of getting someone a single place setting for their wedding. I paid $80 and all you got was a fork, a spoon, and a knife. You just made me pay $80 to feel like a dick. PUT A HAND MIXER ON THAT SHIT. I don't want to get you something that eight other people are going to get you. And I really don't want to get it for you if your grandpa is gonna step up and order the other seven place settings and make me look bad. I want to buy one standalone item that's useful and affordable and makes you feel like you owe me your life any time you use it. "You knew who got us this peeler? Drew. What a guy." I want my gift to have a WOW factor, because all I really care about is me and not you.
One other big trend now is when couple register for their honeymoon. Instead of buying a traditional wedding gift, you can chip in to their honeymoon fund, which sounds like a practical idea. But then you feel weird giving someone the gift of one-tenth of a plane ticket. It's not a tangible gift, and it's not a gift you can take full credit for. And since you're only paying a tenth of it, you feel like your gift is barely a drop in the bucket. Again, I'd rather get the fondue pot.
(By the way, I'm as guilty as anyone in participating in all of Big Wedding's scams. My wife and I registered for all the same kind of shit that everyone else does. My friends all scrambled to buy the lone cheese grater on the registry. There's nothing worse than being beaten to the one affordable registry gift.)
That second debate got pretty testy, and at certain points I pictured a standard bar disagreement where at some point, Romney brings it up a notch by jamming a finger in Obama's face, which eventually leads to a manager-umpire style standoff with some "come at me bro" body language. This inevitably leads to fisticuffs and rolling around on the ground while everyone pulls out their cellphones and starts yelling "World Staaaarrr!"
Now my question is not about who will win, since this fight will be broken up immediately. Since both parties have Secret Service protection, what would be their reactions? If someone were to attack the president, the Secret Service would rough them up pretty good. But if Romney were to attack the president, would they just break it up, or would there be some shenanigans after the bell? Would Obama's detail manhandle Romney and piss off Romney's detail? Is there lingering jealousy with the Romney Secret Service guys because they don't have the prestige of protecting a sitting president?
I don't think either Secret Service detail would thug up the joint. Remember, these are Secret Service guys: They have hookers that they need to bang later. The far more interesting question is: What would happen if the two men really did trade blows during a debate? I'm pretty sure the Internet would self-combust right then and there. The scramble to blame one candidate for starting it would make you want to jump off a mountain. Then each side would construct a whole series of talking points about how the fight actually helped its guy. "Obama finally showed some balls!" "Romney isn't just some Mormon pussy!" Somehow, the momentousness of two presidential candidates actually fighting would be re-processed by the pundit class into the standard brand of political dogshit. That's why fighting isn't enough. One candidate needs to MURDER the other. Then I think we'd be onto something.
Isn't the RedZone proving how worthless color guys are during NFL games? Everytime they show a play, you hear a deep breath from the color guy and the beginning of some inane thought, then the RedZone graphic wipes the screen and sound to another game. It is heavenly. I love that RedZone screenwipe. It is like a superhero that saves your brain from the stupid.
I also like it when Siciliano (or Scott Hanson, depending on your cable provider) immediately cuts away from an extra point, a punt, a booth review, or a flagged play. There's something amazing about the fact that the NFL can have a product like Red Zone Channel—which is founded on the principle that 85 percent of what you see during an NFL telecast is worthless—and get away with it.
Kurt Cobain would be... well, sad, probably.
THEY WERE ASKING TO BE DRAPED!
What US state do you think has the highest adultery rate? I'm referring to residents of the state, and not those who visit Las Vegas.
Even if you believe the majority of infidelity going on in Vegas is perpetrated by out-of-state residents, it probably still won't shock you to learn that Nevada is in the top 10 when it comes to divorce. If you work as a stripper, a professional poker player, or a mobbed-up pit boss, there is a very good chance that your marriage is not a sustainable one. Here are the top five states by divorce rate:
Somehow, Florida is NOT in the top 10, which has to be the most shocking news in American history. I figured Florida was a shoo-in for "state where people are most likely to hire someone to kill their spouses," but it appears there are a handful of states that are even more desperate and craven. Anyway, divorce rates and infidelity rates may not exactly go hand in hand. I'm sure there are plenty of couples in, say, the District of Columbia, in which the husband goes out every night bathing in hooker trim while the wife slaps on a forced smile and hosts one shitty fundraiser after another at their Georgetown townhouse. But, in general, you're probably gonna find a decent amount of overlap. Because if you're married and you're living in Arkansas, why NOT cheat?
If your best friend since childhood somehow signed with your favorite team's rival, and was going to play a significant role on the team, would you switch allegiances? I believe I'd drop my hometown team in a second, and latch onto the new team so I can bask in their reflected glory.
You root for your original team, always. But if your rival team wins, well, hey, you're happy for your friend. It's a win-win. There's no point in going all-in for your friend's team because that association is fleeting. What if he gets traded? What if his QB coach rapes him? What if all the GLORY BOY money and fame turns your friend into a dick? Best to just stick with your old team and tell your friend before the game: "Jeez Dave, I'm just so CONFLICTED. This is such a bittersweet moment for me. So sweet and bitter ... bitter and sweet ..."
Then when your friend walks out of sight, you can turn on the TV and yell at the defense to plant his sorry ass into the ground. That's what real friends do.
You have one session with a viewing-only time machine to the past. No interaction, no risk of altering history or getting hurt. Would you choose to watch an event in human history or an epic dinosaur battle? I have observed a 100% gender correlation with answers to this question.
FUCKING DINOSAURS YEAH SMASH THAT BRONTOSAURUS GOOD, GOD I HOPE I REMEMBERED TO BRING MY CAMERA. What human event is gonna compete with that? Da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa? BORING. The Holocaust? GAHHHHHHHH. The night Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie first banged the shit out of each other? CLOSE BUT IT STILL AIN'T DINOSAURS.
The only thing that comes close to watching dinosaurs fight would be the resurrection of Christ. I think we'd all like to be there to verify whether or not Christ actually rose from the dead, or if he was just some MEGABUCKS ME FIRSTER who was performing a sordid magic trick. I'm onto you, Jesus. Don't think you've fooled everyone.
That's assuming Jesus was real, mind you. Like I've said before, don't be surprised if you go all the way back to 33 A.D., and everyone in Judea says to you, "Jesus? Who the fuck is that? Are you talking about Bob? Bob has a beard like you described."
Say you're transported sixty years into the future, but for only 24 hours. What would expect to see (from watching/reading decades worth of sci-fi material), and what do you suppose would absolutely shock you to see? Would you try to discover how you die and see what your kids have been up to, or search for more important things like what teams have been kicking ass?
Acquiring important gambling and/or stock information is, of course, the single most important item on your to-do list. RICH! I WANT TO KNOW THE FASTEST WAY TO RICHES BECAUSE ALL RICH PEOPLE ARE HAPPY.
Seriously though, your first order of business would be to see if you're still alive, because A.) you never know; and B.) your future self would have the best chance of believing your story. After that, you'd want to find someone who knew who you were and believed your story, so that he or she could help you locate your loved ones and debrief you on what's going on around the world. Assuming you managed to track down your son/grandson/closest relative of your best Reddit friend, here are some basic questions you would probably ask if you were blasted into that near futurescape.
1. Am I dead? I am, aren't I? Fuck. Are my children OK? No? They got eaten? DOUBLE FUCK.
2. Did anyone nuke anyone else? I have a sneaking suspicion that 60 years from now will look a great deal like the present. There will be astonishing leaps in technology, but those changes won't be enough to prevent the usual string of world-changing tragedies: natural disasters, wars, mass pandemics, etc. You could probably get used to this future quickly, unless someone had hit the button and there had been a nuclear holocaust while you were away. Then everything would be fucked. You'd probably know it the second you stepped out of the wormhole.
3. What have been the major events of your lifetime? I know it's the future and that human beings in the future now have no long-term memory function, but is there a Wiki you can show me?
4. When I go back in time, is there anything I should prevent? Did Hitler II show up in 2045? You need to tell me if I need to kill Hitler II.
5. Who were our presidents for the past 60 years? Was a there a woman president? An Asian president? A gay president? Were any of those presidents shot? With lasers?
6. How do I use these Virtual Fucking goggles? I need to start Virtual Fucking people right away. Don't keep your technological miracle away from me.
7. Are we at war with Eurasia? Have we always been at war with Eurasia?
8. Are things better? Please tell me they're better. Don't tell me I've come this far only to find out that the descent of mankind has begun in earnest. I can't handle that. I know it was inevitable, but to see it firsthand would be too much for me to bear (gun in mouth).
Imagine a new rule is implemented at the beginning of the NFL season: instead of each team getting 3 timeouts per half and 2 challenges per game, a team gets 96 timeouts and 32 challenges for the entire year to use however they see fit. In what week would Andy Reid run out of both, Week 9?
Probably. And those first eight games would be pure agony to sit through. Imagine watching the Eagles burn 20 timeouts to avoid 20 delay of game penalties, all in the course of a single afternoon. People would start shooting things.
Imagine if you could trade timeouts with the opposing coach during a game. For example, you could take possession of another timeout from the other team in exchange for, I dunno, an extra 20 yards of field position. (Whips out best Bill Simmons face) WOULD ANYONE BE AGAINST THIS?! Now this is a stupid idea that will never be adopted, but I would like to see it implemented specifically because fans would bitch no matter what coaches did. Anything that helps make coaches look bad, I'm all for. Dumping on head coaches is a blast.
I have a streaker question for you. What would happen if someone who ran onto the field climbed the goal post like this kid...
How would they get him down? Security would not be able to do anything to purposely knock the person down because he could get seriously injured and that wouldn't be a good thing for the fans to see. I think the guy could stay up there for a really long time and be a massive disruption to the game. HOW WOULD THEY GET THE GUY DOWN???
First of all, watch that clip. The guy walked across the crossbar, tightrope-style. That's really impressive. Anyway, to get the guy down, I would call in the fire department to bring out the trampoline (love that fire trampoline). Then I would ask both teams' kickers to set up tees at the 10-yard line, and I would also ask the teams' QBs to be ready. And then I'd give the streaker 10 seconds to take his naked ass down from the goalpost. And if he didn't, I'd order the kickers and quarterbacks to fire at will. One solid 20-yard kick or throw to the face and he'd drop like a bag of sugar. Remember: Once you've busted out onto the field, everyone in the stadium has a legal right to inflict immense physical harm upon you. That's in the Constitution and shit. So even if the streaker fell and missed the trampoline and broke his neck, no one would give a crap.
Is it ok to harass underperforming players on my fantasy team via Twitter?
It's OK to gently razz them for shitting the bed. Like, "Hey Stafford, way to go, YOU FAT SHIT." That's fine. Just remember that, at any time, the player you're mouthing off to might actually respond, even though you TOTALLY didn't want him to respond. You just wanted him to read your insult and then take it in and have nothing to say in return because he's a heartless pussy and you're awesome. But then he might reply and you'll feel like a real prick. Which is fun!
Just avoid dead-relative taunts and homophobic slurs. If you're a Lions fan, this will be difficult for you.
I got this as a free sample. I can't decide if this is a terrible packaging idea, or just a little awesome. And yes, it's the exact same size.
"This rubber was invented by a teacher!"
Airborne doesn't work, by the way. But I always loved that they tried to sell it as something a teacher came up with. "Oh, a teacher? Well then, how could it fail? They all know biochemistry!" I remember I bought Airborne once, and I convinced myself it was working. I put the tablet in the water and drank it and I was like, "Oh yeah! I can feel the bubbles working on my cold!" It's worthless.
I was ordering pizza today for my family. My dad wanted to get a small (8") for me and split a medium (12") with my mom. I said we should just get one large (16") and each choose a half. He thought this wouldn't be enough pizza. I then busted out a pencil, paper, and math skills and showed him that while a small was 1/2 the diameter of a large for 1/2 the price and a medium 3/4 the diameter for 3/4 the price, a medium and a small would only get us 81% of the edible pizza area of a large (because area scales quadratically with diameter) for 25% more money.
We ended up getting one large pizza. My $200,000 education just saved my family $5 and got us an extra 38 square inches of pizza. Totally worth it. I also feel like I really stuck it to Big Pizza
SHOW YOUR WORK!
By the way, I can't be the only person who keeps a slice count on my pizza intake, just for posterity. "Oh man, I had six slices. SO FUCKING FULL, GANG. Don't touch me or else I'll cut a rotten fart."
A wizard makes it that you are now only allowed to communicate to other people through the comment sections of websites. Because he is a dick, he only lets you choose between Fox News, YouTube, HuffPo, and Perez Hilton.
Your life is the same, but no Twitter, Facebook, text, email, or face to face conversation. Where do you choose to communicate?
YouTube is out, because the YouTube comment section is hell on Earth. I'd like to think the YouTube comment section is masterminded by just one brilliant troll, who has devised the perfect algorithm to match racist invective with incoherent fan worship. "OMGGGG THIS SONGZAMAZING BLACKS R MURDERERS. =====> <3"
I would probably choose HuffPo, and then immediately regret not taking Fox News. At least Fox News comments are shorter.
Email of the week time.
Jake Quick was in eighth grade when I was in sixth grade and was one of the coolest kids in my middle school. He started on the basketball team, seemed to already have reached full maturity at age 13, had a girlfriend who definitely had already reached full maturity, etc. (Jake Quick is not his real name, but rest assured his actual name is just as cool). But right around the end of sixth grade, this amazing rumor started spreading about Jake.
The story went that one night Jake woke up with a screaming pain shooting through his groin. The slightest movement would result in immense pain. So Jake's parents took him to the hospital, where the doctors informed Jake that his testes had, more or less, tied themselves in a knot while he was sleeping. So every time Jake moved, the knot would be tightened. The doctors then had to cut open Jake's sack, untie his balls, and then stitch his sack back up. Jake was then discharged with instructions to always sleep in briefs, so as to avoid jostling what might result in an unholy genital square-knot.
I never knew what to make of the rumor. Some of the older kids I knew swore it was true, others said it was BS. I ended up going to a different high school then all the kids I went to middle school with, so I never saw Jake after middle school. Some of the kids I went to high school with knew the story as well, but were also skeptical. As I grew older, the story seemed more and more unlikely and eventually I pretty much forgot about it. That is until one night when I was in college and ended up hanging out with Jake Quick.
I had become friends with a guy I knew had gone to high school with Jake and I figured they were friends, but it never came up. Then one night, Jake came to visit my buddy and we all met up at a bar. The story immediately popped in to my head. Of course, despite being older, somewhat self-confident, and now a good 4 inches taller than Jake, the specter of who Jake was at age 14 still intimidated me. So I was not going to bring up a rumor I figured had followed him around for years. If it's false, I look like a dick. If it's true, he might still be pissed to have to talk about it.
Jake ended up being a really good guy; we got along well, talked about the fact we had briefly gone to school together, we drank a lot of beer, I introduced him to a bunch of my girl friends who ended up hanging with us for most of the night, a generally good time. Then at some point in the evening the discussion turned to balls, or underwear, or something close to that discussion topic. And then one of the girls mentioned that her ex-boyfriend only slept completely nude, at which point, and I will always remember this moment, Jake said, "Well I always sleep in tighty-whiteys" ....and then turned to me and said, "You know that story?"
I almost fell off my chair. I blurted out, "You mean that shit is true?!!!" And then the cat was out of the bag and everyone at the table that was not in the know wanted to know what I was talking about. And so I got to sit and watch Jake Quick recount the story of the night his balls tied themselves in a knot. My 20 year-old self was high-fiving the shit out of my 12 year-old self. Amazing.
/takes off boxers immediately