The Case For The NFL Adopting Fantasy Scoring For Real

Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we're covering reelection sex, nipple sizes, lizards, and more.

Your letters:

BT:

Do you think we'll ever see fantasy scoring replace traditional scoring for the actual games?

No. Stupid Ginger Hammer will never let that happen. But imagine if that became a reality at some point. I mean... JESUS. Holy fucking Jesus. That would be the most insane viewing experience in television. So much of the gameday TV experience is geared toward fantasy owners. Why not go all the way with it?

Part of me wishes they could resurrect the XFL just to experiment with the idea. The swing in emotions from moment to moment would just about kill me. I wonder if it would change the fundamental way NFL games are played. At first, I thought it might make defenses more prone to take risks in order to jack up sack and interception totals, but that would come at the expense of giving up huge chunks of yardage and ultimately be self-defeating. I almost think the game would remain well-balanced, only AWESOMER. Any team down by one at the end of a game could take the lead merely by having one dude run for 10 yards or have a wideout catch a 10-yard pass. God, that would be tense. I'd shit my pants watching that. Everything about that sounds exciting. So long as there wasn't fractional scoring. Seriously, fuck fractional scoring.

The best thing about it is that it would make Phil Simms angry. They should score the Pro Bowl this way. I'd watch it. I'd turn it off 10 minutes later, but at least I'd try to watch.

I bet if the NFL went to fantasy scoring, then fantasy scoring would somehow change just for the sake of being annoying. That one point a running back gets from 10 yards would now be worth 10 points in adjusted fantasy scoring, or something.

Andrew:

Do you think Marv Albert's broadcast partners ever tease him about his sexual assault trial? I bet Rich Gannon is all over that shit.

No way. I bet no colleague has dared broached the subject with Marv in over a decade. Marv has the good fortune to work in the sports world, where people happily dance around glaring issues like sexual deviance, mental illness, and general asshattery all the time. No one ever brings up Lou Holtz's mental limitations in front of Lou Holtz. That sort of thing gets repressed in the sports industry on a regular basis. So I bet Gannon is more than happy to ignore the issue while spewing out football cliches all day long. WHEN I LOOK AT A TEAM LIKE THE JACKSONVILLE JAGUARS...

I'm sure Marv has heard from drunken fans in hotel lobbies over the years about it. I bet he summons up his best stinkface whenever that happens. Poor Marv could cure AIDS and the first thing people will still remember about him is that he eats hookers. I wonder if he's ever fallen off the hooker-biting wagon over the years. It can't be easy to suppress the urge for that long, to go through life every day knowing you won't be able to sink your teeth into the supple flesh of an unsuspecting escort... OH HOW GOOD IT MUST TASTE. It's enough to drive poor Marv to the brink of madness.

Jake:

Which sex would be better? Reelection sex or first time winning the Presidency sex? I'd actually take reelection sex in an upset here. During first time Presidency sex, you're probably all amped up on adrenaline that you probably blow your load in like .8 seconds. But reelection sex? You've probably had to come to the gripping realization that this will be the last night in the next four years where everything is going your way. I bet you walk into that room ready to SLAY that first lady pussy.

I disagree. After four years of his being worked to death and shit on by millions of people, I bet the President's libido is completely shot. Being President is like having your prostate spiritually removed. It can't possibly compare to breaking your Presidential election hymen. There's no giddy euphoria like the first time around, only the palpable sense of relief at the fact that the entire country didn't decide, en masse, that you suck at your job. I'm surprised the President didn't keel over dead immediately after the results came in.

Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at drew@deadspin.com.

As a matter of fact, I'm shocked that Presidents don't die in office ALL THE TIME. If I were President, I would either die of a heart attack or shoot myself in the face. How many failed budget negotiations do you have to go through before you're just like, "You know what? Fuck this. (guzzles poison)." Oh, how I yearn for the days of William Henry Harrison, where a man could just up and keel over after barely working a month on the job. Tell me that wouldn't make for a more exciting day on Twitter.

Pablo:

Let's say Chuck Pagano doesn't coach at all this year but otherwise beats cancer. What if they go 0-16 next season? Do they fire him? What if they proceed to win 5-7 games for a few years in a row? Does Irsay have to wait 3 years no matter what?

I think he would get to stay after the 0-16 season. But the next season, all bets are off. Every year serves as a reminder that suffering through a losing season is enough to drive everyone out of their minds: fans, owners, general managers... everyone. That's why there's no way in hell Romeo Crennel will get a second chance to coach the Chiefs next season. A bad season is long and painful enough to make you throw out your long-term plan (sensible to do in the case of Crennel) and act hastily. That means, even though Pagano's story was heartwarming this season, a fully healthy Pagano would be spared no quarter two years later. If he went 0-16 twice in a row, people would show up at the stadium holding up CHUCK WEAK signs. Losing brings out the worst in everyone.

Dave:

I don't know why, but lately I've had a disproportionate number of close calls with people who are cutting across parking lots instead of using the lanes. Last weekend, I was leaving the grocery store and I nearly got sideswiped by some fat idiot who was blasting through the parking lot at an angle. Presumably his time is too precious to take the extra 20 seconds to (a) not drive 25 mph in a half-full parking lot, (b) actually look out for other people who might be using the normal lanes and (c) not get indignant and flip me off when he almost hits me. It'd be one thing if this were an empty parking lot, or one with confusing lanes at all sorts of angles. But this was a busy grocery store, midday on a Sunday. And he got indignant with me. I figure he should be giving me the right of way, or I should have full permission to punch him in the throat.

Agreed. Any time I cut through the empty space of a parking lot to turn around, I try to drive really slow so that I don't run into someone else. Because here in Maryland, people treat parking lots and garages like it's an opportunity to re-enact a game of Ironman Ivan Stewart's Super Off Road. People come careening around corners at 45mph, and they always turn so tightly that no opposite car could possibly find room to maneuver around them. Go to a Maryland parking garage sometime and you'll find 900 cars all standing still because everyone found a way to block everyone else. Idiots.

It's probably a dick move to cut through empty spaces regardless. One time, I was pulling into a spot at the store, but there was another car that was entering the spot through the spot behind it to cut through, and that made me shit my pants with fright. I did not expect to see a car materialize there.

By the way, if I ever come across a parking lot that has one-way lanes because the cars are parked at an angle, I will inevitably fuck up and find myself going down a lane the wrong way. And once I've discovered my error and encounter a yellow arrow on the asphalt pointing right at me, I react as if I've been bitten by a box jellyfish. ZOMG I'M NOT GOING THE RIGHT WAY! LIVES ARE IN DANGER! WHY WASN'T THIS MORE CLEARLY MARKED?!

Matt:

How would you drink your urine? The way it comes out? Or chill it first?

I would freeze it and enjoy it as a popsicle.

Seriously though, I suspect that ice cold is the way to go. Lord knows you'll drink any beer if it's cold enough. Ice cold piss would at least numb your taste buds long enough to trick you into thinking you're drinking Gatorade. Then reality would set it in and the retching would begin. Drinking it warm would only remind you that it's urine, and that it was just extracted from a penis. That's no good.

I wonder if any big name chefs have ever experimented with their own piss and seminal fluid. I guarantee you that Wylie Dufresne guy pranked a friend with a skeet foam appetizer. I would if I had the equipment.

Nick:

Would you rather hook up with a gorgeous girl with saucer-sized nipples, or the same girl with no nipples at all?

No nipples at all. Some people have nipples that are tough to distinguish from plain old skin anyway, so it wouldn't be that much of a culture shock. A saucer can be up to seven inches in diameter. That's a disturbingly large nipple, perhaps wider than the breast itself. You wouldn't want to come across something like that. It would haunt your daydreams.

Eric:

I have been dating my girlfriend for a long time now. Occasionally I'll get horny and send her a sext. Nothing extreme, just talking about her naked or wanting to have sex. The response I typically get is "haha" or the dreaded smiley face. She continues to tell me that she likes it, but I have yet to get any real response. Is there anything I can do to get her more involved? I have a dream that some day I will finally receive a booty pic. But I have little hope. Is this a lost cause?

Probably. The smiley face is a real insult to your virility. Women need to know that it's never a wise idea to joke around with a horny man. HE MEANS BUSINESS. Sending him an emoticon will cause him to strangle a puppy with his immense boner. This is not a laughing matter.

Anyway, if you've been dating your lady for a while, there's no harm in just straight asking her. It's a remarkably unsexy thing to do. It's always best for these things to happen naturally in the heat of the moment. But if you REALLY need to see a picture of her rack on your phone, you probably need to just ask. At least if she says no, you'll have closure. Then you can dump her.

HALFTIME!

Ken:

Why are some yellow lights longer than others? Is it the government trying to screw with our cars?

Chances are, if you encounter a longer-lasting yellow light, it's because your local government deliberately elongated yellow light times to reduce red light infractions. Apparently, having a yellow light last for a second and a half makes an intersection safer than if it's just half a second. I don't know why this is. I'm the sort of person that views every yellow light as a challenge to my manhood. The yellow light is my cue to hurry the fuck up so I don't get stranded at the red light with all the other assholes. A longer yellow light just helps my cause. I can spot a yellow light from 2,000 yards away and gun that shit to 80 if need be. FOR THE CHILDREN.

Ever gun it for a yellow light, but the guy in front of you is too much of a gutless baby to do likewise? I will spend the entire red light yelling horrible shit at that driver. "I hope your father wasn't alive to see you pull that chickenshit move. What a fucking disgrace you are."

Matt:

I work in a radiation therapy clinic and we found this little bastard in our manager's office. He was real, and pissed off. Snakes don't belong in offices, ever. I promptly hid in the kitchen while another man (more manly than I) removed it. What if our radiation gave it super snake powers? I'm not chancing it. Look at its demon snake eyes. Snakes are the worst.

The Case For The NFL Adopting Fantasy Scoring For Real

"I hate snakes, Jacques! I HATE 'EM!"

I wonder what would happen if you tried to step on a snake to kill it. I mean, that's no bug. That a real animal. And if you step too far from its head, it will curl around and bite your ankle clean off. I have to think some rash fellow tried stomping on a rattler to death only to have the tables turned on him.

By the way, we talk about bats and bugs and other terrifying things here at the Funbag a lot. For some reason, I don't find snakes anywhere near as terrifying. I think it's because I saw footage of Slash keeping one as a pet when I was a kid. Any time I see a snake, all I think is WHOA, A SNAKE. FUCKING AWESOME.*

(*NOTE: Non-poisonous snakes only. If there were a cobra in my house, I would shit out my eyes.)

Charles:

My wife and I are in our late 20s. She's in full blown baby crazy mode. I try to argue from the financially unprepared stance and she argues from the "wants a baby before she's 30" stance. Is there any way to handle this easily?

Just keep holding out until she replaces her birth control with sugar pills and gets knocked up on the sly. That's how every couple does it. You will never be financially prepared for kids because they cost a zillion dollars. Each. All you can do is hold your wife off until she rapes you to harvest your precious sperm cells. Totally normal way of going about things. In general, you will always end up doing whatever your wife wants, be it having kids or moving somewhere or replacing some old appliance that you know damn well still works perfectly fine SO WHY DO YOU NEED A KENMORE FRIDGE SO BADLY, MISSY?! Anyway, the wife usually gets all those things. It's just a matter of how long you'd like to prolong the agony. I always like to give myself a two-year stalling period.

Andy:

If you were given the power to eradicate a single communicable disease off the face of the Earth, what do you go with? I know, if you're going with being unselfish, you pick H.I.V. or the flu, but I gotta go with the common cold. Everyone has had a cold, so you have instant fame and gratification. Also, FUCK colds.

Please note that Andy said "communicable disease," which takes cancer off the board because cancer isn't contagious. At least, it isn't yet. Soon, Big Chemotherapy will figure out a way to make it so. Anyway, the common cold is terrible, but it doesn't kill anyone. A million people die every year from malaria. Same with hepatitis. The flu kills a few hundred thousand by comparison, which is more than AIDS but less than the other two.

So it's a debate between picking a disease like malaria, which almost exclusively kills people in third world nations, or the flu, which kills less people but is far more widespread here in America and, of course, threatens to kill us all once it mutates into Sheep Flu, which we all know will happen very soon because the flu is a dickhead. If you don't pick malaria, Rick Reilly and Bono will tear you apart for being racist. But by curing the flu and enhancing global productivity as a result, we could probably buy more malaria nets and kill two birds with one stone. So fuck it. I'm going with the flu. Please let me know if you suffer from rectal warts and strongly object.

Rick:

On my road trip last week I got road head from my wife while my 2-month old was asleep in the back seat. I feel kinda creepy. Thoughts?

Depends on what kind of car you drive. If it's an El Camino, you've both probably been to prison.

Seriously though, I can't imagine the tension and conflicted feelings of such a moment. I think I'd drive into a bridge support on purpose.

Jake:

I work in downtown Chicago. The attached picture is of a tiny lizard that was found this morning by a girl in my office. Our president picked it up by the tail and it is now trapped in a small, plastic cup at the receptionist's desk.

Everyone seems to think this is just a cute little lizard, but how the fuck did this tiny lizard not only makes it way to the city of Chicago, but survive the recent cold temperatures and then get into our office? Am I wrong to think that this thing needs to be killed immediately? I have lived in Chicago my entire life, outside of my college years. Never, ever have I come across a lizard. I'm assuming that it will have grown 15 times in size over the weekend (it is about an inch and a half long at present), escape capture, and terrorize our office with some kind of third world plague that will kill us all by Friday of next week.

The Case For The NFL Adopting Fantasy Scoring For Real

Awwwww, so cute! WHO'S A GOOD LIZARD? IS IT YOU?!

Anyway, fear not. There are certain types of lizards that call Illinois home. What your boss appears to have picked up is something called a southern two-lined salamander. (Note: Salamanders are not really lizards.) Totally harmless, unless lizards freak you out. You could even chug them with beer! Mmmmmmm...

Again, for reasons that elude me, lizards don't weird me out anywhere near as much as bugs do. If I saw a little lizard like this in my house, I would be like, "Oh cool! A lizard! Quick, everyone! Grab a shoebox and adorn it with rocks and ferns so that it might replicate the peaceful brook from whence he came!" Then I would drive him out to the country and set him free. If I saw a spider cricket? DEATH FUCKING KILL IT HATE YOU DIE WHERE ARE ITS KIDS BECAUSE I WILL KILL THEM TOO.

P:

This debate has my office split down the middle: if you get into a fight with a black bear, would you rather have a baseball bat or a spear? My half of the office says spear because, I mean shit, you could at least cut that fucker a bit before getting eaten. The stupid half of my office says baseball bat because if you ping it a few times in the head it'll run off.

I think I actually agree with the Bat Faction. You can't swing a spear. You have to plunge it, and you have to hit the exact right spot on the bear to stop it dead in its tracks, if that's at all possible. The chances of you landing the kill shot seem awfully remote, especially while you're evacuating your bowels. At least with a bat, you can maybe land a blow to the head and then go running. That would work, right? No? Shit.

Kevin:

I went to take a poop today and, shortly after settling in, realized I had forgotten my phone at my desk. Holy bananas. I immediately panicked and started looking around the stall for some way to entertain myself. For some reason, I checked in the toilet paper dispenser (unsurprisingly, the search yielded nothing).

I almost aborted mission to go retrieve my phone, but I was too far in and couldn't retreat. I ended up examining every single item in my wallet, over and over. Is there any other way to pass the time? I'm too young to know what office poops were like pre-cell phone, so I could really use some guidance for future encounters with the isolation-poop.

Don't panic. You're going to be okay. The thing you need to remember is to remain calm. Otherwise, the poop will remain firmly lodged halfway out of you anus and you'll be trapped in that stall forever. You'll never see your loved ones or your phone again. So relax. Let your pelvic floor muscles go slack. Take deep breaths. Although you cannot access Twitter, you can IMAGINE what Twitter looks like had you had your phone with you. Visualize all the tweets you missed, such as "HOLY SHIT. Look at this fucking guy wearing a hat." Stuff like that. After a while, the poop will be finished and your time in Internet purgatory will be over. Now you know what it's like to be held prisoner.

Email of the week!

Greg:

I went to a Lutheran elementary school, and I once found what I thought to be some classic spy material in the binding of a book. I was 9 or 10 years old, so I don't remember the book precisely, it might have been The Hobbit, but the binding on the edge was frayed. I was picking at it in class once day, and I felt something plastic within the fibers.

When I picked at it further, I revealed and subsequently removed a six-inch strip of black and white 8mm (or something like that) microfilm. I was so excited. I thought for sure it was going to be a clue that would lead me on a worldwide chase for treasure and fortune. I tucked it into the binding of another one of my library books, thinking that if Nazis showed up to find the microfilm, they'd find my copy of the Hobbit woefully empty.

I got home that day and showed it to my older brother. He helped me rig up a makeshift light box with a desk lamp and some parchment paper, and we took a magnifying glass to the image. I was so excited to find the first clue on my whirlwind adventure. My brother took the first look, and he was stunned. I thought it had to be directions to a treasure.

It was old porn. As near was we could tell, two dozen frames or so from some old stag film. Just a curvy lady with black hair, smiling at the camera, nipples as small as the head of a pin. So, pretty cool, but no golden idol with ruby eyes and diamond teeth, and not of much value to a 9 year-old. I let my brother have her. He might still. Maybe she's tucked into the binding of one of his daughter's books.

Old porn microfiche ain't a bad consolation prize.

Illustration by Jim Cooke. Photo by Mike Liu/Shutterstock.