STime for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering wedding plagiarism, slutty costumes, field goals, and more.
Do you trust fat people more or less when it comes to restaurants/meal recommendations? I say more, because as a fat person they are obviously eating a lot and therefore know more. My wife says less, because as a fat person they obviously eat anything and therefore aren't as discerning.
I trust them less. The average obese American—the kind you see at the airport—barely even registers emotion when he fists his own mouth with an Egg McMuffin. Food has no meaning to him. If I come across a skinny food enthusiast, I will trust their recommendation because I assume that they want to get the most out of every meal. They're not just gonna be satisfied with a trip to Moe's Southwest Grill.*
(*This stereotype goes right out the window if the skinny person is vegan. The second I see "THEY HAVE FANTASTIC VEGAN OPTIONS!" in a Yelp review, I close that browser tab shut.)
Please note that my stereotype could be completely wrong (who knew stereotypes could be misguided?) given this map of the most obese states in the country. All of the fattest states are located in the Southeast, because of course they are. But the Southeast also has fantastic food: barbecue, fried chicken, GUMBO GUMBO GUMBO, etc. Much better food than Colorado, which is the skinniest state. The legalization of pot doesn't help them, either. Everything sounds good to a stoner. OH MAN I COULD REALLY GO FOR A BAG OF OVERCOOKED WILD RICE RIGHT NOW.
By the way, there is no good way to tell another person that they have awful taste in food. Even the dumbest person gets horribly offended when you tell them that they lack any kind of culinary refinement. I worked with a dude once who refused to eat Indian food because it looked weird.
ME: Well then, you're an idiot.
IDIOT: No, I'm not.
ME: Yes, you are.
IDIOT: No I'm not! (orders mayonnaise sub from Jerry's and loves it)
Some people can't be reasoned with.
When planning a wedding, what are the rules on copying things that you liked from your friends' weddings? Obviously some things can be plagiarized without guilt, but can one couple have a monopoly on closing a reception with, for example, "Living On a Prayer"?
That's really more of a bridal hangup. No groom really cares if another groom copies his idea of having a chocolate fountain at the reception. It's a chocolate fountain. It's great. May as well go with a proven winner. "Dude, we're totally having a chocolate fountain at our wedding!" "Dude, that's a great idea! We did that too!" "Dude!" "Dude!"
But a lot of brides treat their ceremony as some sort of copyrighted nonfiction art installation. "Steal" another bride's idea of serving mini-cheeseburgers at the close of the reception and she will fucking SEETHE. That bitch. Those were my cheeseburgers. Not an original bone in her body! IT WON'T LAST.
I think it's fine to incorporate ideas from other weddings especially if you tell the people in advance. If they can't take it as flattery, fuck them. Steal their vows while you're at it. "Jenny, I promise I'll always love you even when you do that silly thing with your nose when you eat yogurt LOL!" Homemade vows are the worst.
This whole Pats/Jets thing is so stupid and off-base. This should not be a rule. In fact, it should be sparking conversion for a rule change.
Field goals are automatic these days and a terrible way to end a drive. But add throwing a defender into the air to try to block them and they're the new most exciting play in football. Do you use a spot on your roster for a gymnast? Do we see our first professional female football player? I don't see a downside.
The downside is injury, which is why the rule exists in the first place. But you're right about field goals being far too easy to make now. Citrusy beer aficionado Peter King pointed out yesterday that teams are making 94% of all field goals from inside the 40-yard line. It robs the game of suspense and it discourages coaches from going for it on fourth down because the three points are all but assured. They need to get rid of the PAT and figure out a way to make every field goal attempt more difficult without resorting to dangerous tactics like pushing and/or making the kicker kick the ball off of a live alligator.
Ideally, you'd use the college football hash marks to push attempts wider, but that fucks with all NFL offensive plays. Plus, you never know if a field goal attempt is a field goal attempt until the ball is actually kicked (it can be a fake and therefore a standard offensive play otherwise). Here are some basic alternate ideas:
- Force all field goal attempts to be drop kicks
- Reduce the width of the uprights by 50%. You could even add a top crossbar to the uprights, so that they have to get the ball into a specific boxed area.
- Any kicker on the roster must also be a position player (impossible to enforce, but I like it any time a wide receiver tries to kick, or a DH tries to pitch, or any other athlete tries to do shit out of their specialty)
- Reduce the value of any field goal inside the 40 to two points or one.
- Eliminate field goals entirely
People bitch about the kicking game having too much of an influence on NFL outcomes, but I don't think anyone would really like it if you abolished the kicking game altogether. Bad teams would get shut out way too often and an element of strategy would be removed from the game entirely. Thanks to field goal kicking, I can now tell which coaches are cowards and which aren't! And that matters. I vote for either drop kicks or making the uprights skinnier, which is an easy fix AND also a meaner one. Plus, it would look ridiculous. Imagine trying to kick the ball through a goddamn arrow slot. Anything that can make a kicker's life more difficult—anything that can cause them to make a horrible mistake that causes them to have a permanent mental block—I'm in favor of.
What if one single appliance stopped working around the world? What would cause the most hysteria until we could come up with a fix or a substitution? Your mind naturally jumps to cars or computers but what if every faucet in the world stopped working? Or every toilet? Or deep fryer?
If you count computers as appliances, then they would do the most damage if they were all shut off simultaneously because computers control pretty much everything: commerce, power grids, water supplies, traffic lights, building ventilation, etc. When the toaster stops working for five minutes, you get annoyed. When your internet stops working for five minutes—not even your computer, but just the internet—you fucking lose your mind. I know I do. I always fear that the internet will never come back and that we are in the beginning stages of THE RECKONING.
But let's skip the computer and focus just on basic household appliances. Not fixtures like faucets and toilets, but appliances: toasters, ovens, refrigerators, freezers, blenders (oh no! The daiquiris!), washer/dryers, dishwashers, stoves, and microwaves. I'd choose the refrigerator because I've been through power outages where everything in the fridge spoils and it is AWFUL. It's the worst fucking thing in the world. It's like watching your life savings being melted down. I can live without a stove and survive on cold food. But without a fridge, forget it. Life is awful. During the Great Blackout of 2003, I walked into a Manhattan Gristede's where all the meat and dairy had gone bad. It smelled like war.
My company shares a community bathroom with several other companies on our floor. For the second day in a row (though hardly the first time) as I'm minding my own business while doing my business, the same guy from another company comes in, chooses the stall right next door (5 others are open), sits down, snorts violently and hawks HUGE loogies while sitting down, then proceeds to whistle for his ENTIRE stay in the stall. He doesn't wash his hands. He does this all the time. What could be worse? I WANT MY PEACE.
It's amazing how gross hocking and/or deep coughing sounds when it's not you making those sounds. When I have a cold, I think nothing of snarfing and hocking up loogies all day long. Then I go to a public shitter and hear the hobo next door vomit up every last drop of his internal mucus lining and I want to die. It's fucking repulsive when other people do that. I want to RUN. If I hear that sound in a public bathroom, I really think that someone will come crashing into my stall to spit throat boogers all over me. It's an instant flight trigger.
Saw this at a bar in Tokyo. You're supposed to piss as hard as you can on the little target at the bottom there. On the screen at top is two characters spraying water at each other. Whoever pisses harder drowns the other guy's character and wins. That night was the first time I was upset that I COULDN'T take a piss.
I want this installed in my home, even if that means I have to play against the computer every time. If you put this in an American bar, the line for the bathroom would be six hours long. I would just stand there with my beer and WAIT for the next piss to happen before abandoning my post.
What if 9/11 had happened on 7/11? That company is fucked right? They HAVE to change their name.
Yes, but what about the company's heritage? Do we really want to throw away sixty-seven years of PRIDE AND TRADITION that the 7-Eleven brand now symbolizes? You fucking PC asshole. I'm not buying my Big Gulp from a joint named Bravehearts. That would ruin my connection to the store entirely.
Seriously though, I don't think the store would change their name because I think the average person can compartmentalize 7-Eleven the store away from 7/11 the anniversary of a terrible national tragedy. They're in different mental orbits, and it's remarkable how good the mind is at keeping things like that separate. For example, when I think of the NFL Combine, I never think of the word "Combine" as a homograph with the everyday word "combine". I don't think I noticed the two words were spelled the same until about a year ago, because I am dumb. It's not like they changed the number 911 in the wake of 9/11. You don't automatically think of the WTC collapse any time you dial that number, probably because you're too preoccupied with the fact that your car is on fire.
What's your ranking of slutty halloween costumes? Nothing beats schoolgirl, right?
I'm partial to French maid because of the stockings and the high heels and the ruffley black skirt that reveals jusssst a bit of the woman's... HANG ON A MOMENT
(runs to the bathroom)
So yeah, French maid for me! I don't think they even have maids in France. They just let everything rot and then make a tasteful film about it. Here is how I would rank the naughty Halloween costume/fetish get-ups:
- French maid
- Naughty secretary
- Sailor girl thingy
4,506. Raggedy Anne or Andy
There's nothing more disturbing than a Raggedy Anne costume. "Look at me! I'm a sexy homeless underaged clown."
When someone makes dinner for someone (say a girlfriend is making dinner for her boyfriend), is it completely out of line for said boyfriend to go into the kitchen while the dinner is cooking and add something to the recipe? Boyfriend is not a culinary expert by any stretch of the imagination...
We are currently in a mild dispute because I am making dinner for my boyfriend and he decided to get up and add water to my pot of food that definitely DID NOT need water added, in fact, it ruined the whole meal. Please tell me that I am not in the wrong for being mildly upset.
You're right to give him shit. Kitchen rules are that you get to claim every dish like you're calling for a pop fly. I GOT THE CHICKEN. That shit is yours to do with as you please if you claim it. Any motherfucker that adds rogue seasoning gets a hard spatula to the face. It's insulting because it's basically the other person saying that they don't trust you to adequately prepare a decent meal. The average home cook doesn't take kindly to that. It's also an issue of control. You let someone else cook, and then you go and add your little signature to it so that you have a bit of control over it. What that extra bit of pancetta means is that you want a divorce.
Of course, I violate this edict all the time, mostly because my wife is a TIMID SEASONER. She'll add a dash of salt instead of the five-foot excavated pile of salt that the average dish requires. So I'll always add salt on the sly. Then she'll complain about the dish being too salty and I'll think it's perfect and then she'll throw a fork at me. EVERYONE WINS.
Anyway, unless you ask permission, the rule is to let the cook do their thing, even if they CLEARLY need to add paprika to the sauce and it's just eating you up inside that they don't have the balls to do it. I PREFER BOLD FLAVORS DEAL WITH IT.
How close are we to reprogramming people's DNA and making them Jason Bourne-type soldiers that are just infinitely better than normal people? I think we've got to already have a secret program already making the perfect spartan/Jason Bourne soldier. It's just a matter of time until we get to become superhumans right?
Knowing how the shadowy the operatives in BIG GUBMINT are, it's obvious that they've already created a secret lab at the National Institutes of Health where cloned fetuses are altered to have, like, crazy big biceps. And I'm sure there's a voluntary program in place for high-testing military personnel who are willing to become genetic guinea pigs for the sake of developing our own elite squad of Captain Americas.
But I think we're still a very long way off from genetically engineering a supersoldier that can survive a 60 foot free fall, swim underwater for two hours without breathing, and throw a motorcycle a hundred yards. Not only do they have to invent the drugs that cause these superhuman powers to take effect, but they also have to design a human body that can support all the added musculature/raging testosterone needed.
Two years ago, SI did a "Where are they now?" profile of some the NBA's tallest players ever, like Shawn Bradley and Mark Eaton and all those guys. Those guys have had serious issues with back and foot pain because being that tall throws off the delicate balance of the human frame. We aren't meant to be that tall. So if you were gonna engineer some giant super-SEAL, you would have to re-engineer the entire human body (creating a new specimen, essentially) to "fit" that combination of size and strength. If you change the muscles, you have to change the nerves and the organs and the brain and everything else to match. And then you know what will happen? VAMPIRES. We will accidentally create supervampires. What have you wrought, Treadstone project masters?!
I think that, due to both the difficulties in engineering and the overall moral dilemma, we're still at least 50 years away from creating the first Hulk. I hope I live to see him! HULK SMASH!
I'm the first-time father of an about-to-be-2-year-old and this issue has persisted for some time: I often get/have an erection when interacting with my son. Allow me to assert that there is nothing sexual about this, other than, you know, it's a goddamn boner. It's really an inconvenience more than anything. It's one thing when it's daybreak and I'm sporting the morning wood when he comes to jump on me in bed. Then it's mostly a matter of playing defense and keeping myself under the covers until things unstiffen. But it's so much worse when I get to full mast because he wanted to sit in my lap and read "Little Blue Truck" or something. He doesn't realize anything is amiss, but I then have to contort myself to try to stuff the thing down my pantleg to avoid jabbing him or having him sit right on it, which always makes me feel like a criminal.
Any suggestions to help stop this phenomenon short of becoming a eunuch?
There's nothing you can do about it, unfortunately. DICKS GON BE DICKS. It's a terrible feeling and it makes you feel like a pederast, but you have to comfort yourself with the fact that your anatomy is not always within your control and that you did not WANT that boner. At all. Even if a jury won't believe you. Stupid male hormones.
I remember the first time it happened with me. I was feeding the baby and I got a random boner and I had to move the baby off of me because I couldn't deal with the idea of the baby SITTING on the fucking thing. And I was like Calm down Drew, it's just a boner. It doesn't know what it's doing. OH GOD BUT WHAT IF IT DOES WHAT IF I'M A MONSTER OHHHHHHH GOD. Meanwhile it's 3 am and the baby is barfing up formula all over the place. It's a very stressful spot to be in.
And there's not a whole lot you can do to avoid it. The best you can do is deal with boners in advance. If you always get morning wood, go take care of it before the kids come leaping into the bed (not an easy thing since most kids wake up before their parents). And maybe limit the amount of Japanese cockroach insertion porn you consume. If you consume enough filthy, horrible imagery over the course of a day, it's more likely that your penis will turn into some kind of sociopathic predatory daemon that objectifies every last living thing against your will. As someone who consumed wayyyy too much porn as youngster, I'll say it a million times: Porn RUINS fatherhood, and vice versa.
If you put 2007 Tom Brady on the 2008 Lions, how many games do the Lions win? No answer from 2 to 12 would really shock me, but I think 6 is fair.
I think they win nine games, because a good quarterback pretty much means everything. Look at the 2013 Patriots. Tom Brady isn't even playing that well, and yet you know damn well that if it were Jon Kitna at QB for them, the Patriots would be 2-6 right now. A good QB can compensate for a shitty o-line by getting rid of the ball quickly. He can compensate for shitty wideouts by throwing them passes that are impossible to drop unless your name is Aaron Dobson. He can compensate for shitty play-calling by using good audibles. He can compensate for a shitty defense by keeping the offense out on the field long enough for them to get a rest. He changes the entire outlook of a team on both sides. So even with Matt Millen up in the box shucking corn like a moron, I think Tom Brady would have won some games for the 2008 Lions. If you don't have a QB, you have nothing.
How many places do you think you've left a booger in over the course of your life? Not individual rooms, because that would be impossible to count, but separate buildings? Still gotta be a ton, right? Schools, friends' houses, the walls behind every bed you've ever had, and so on. Outdoor places (parks, playgrounds where you take your kids, etc.) also count, but anything you shot into a tissue does not. You over 500 by now?
Surely. I mean, I've tainted at least 500 school desks alone in my nose-picking career. It's horrifying. I've stuck boogers under tables, beds, chairs, rugs, floor mats... I've wiped them on trees. Ever wipe a booger on a tree but it doesn't quite stick? It just rolls to another part of your finger and you have to swipe it forty times before the transfer is finally complete? I've done that. I've wrapped boogers in leaves and thrown the leaves on the ground. I've left them on trains and planes and on buses. Sometimes, when I have nowhere to put a booger, I will rub it into my skin in hopes that it dissolves completely. That's right: I've used myself as human tissue paper. I am revolting.
Now it's time for the email of the week!
Labor Day weekend my lady and I went to a cabin in the Northwoods with a bunch of family and friends, including ten or so young children. One 11-year-old boy was a pretty clear Asperger's case. He's sweet, but also a gigantic pain in the ass. On Sunday night, I made a fire for the kids to roast marshmallows and the adults to drink around. At one point I ran back to the house to grab a new bottle of booze, and the mom of the autistic kid asked me to try to find him, and tell him come out to the fire if I do. Okay, cool, sure, but then as I'm walking by the TV room (the house was empty otherwise), from outside, I see the kid in there on the couch holding his shorts down and furiously tugging at his dick.
The bottle was on an exterior deck, so I jumped up on it and took two loud steps. He shot up from the couch and over to the glass porch doors, staring out from behind them at me like he thinks I know what he was doing, but isn't completely sure. I didn't mention it, instead telling him to hurry back to the fire before grabbing the bottle and vowing to poke my eyes out first chance I get later that evening.
There's nothing to be done here, right? I just gotta keep that awful image to myself and do my best to move on, safe in the knowledge that jerking off will never be the same for me again?
Drew Magary writes for Deadspin. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter@drewmagary and email him at email@example.com. You can also buy Drew's book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.
Art by Sam Woolley