Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering sweaters, crucifixion, eggs, roaches in coffee, and more.
We are now deep inside the noggy bowels of the Christmas Shopping Season. And while I can’t offer you any special Black Friday or Cyber Monday or Taco Tuesday savings on The Hike, I can tell you that it makes the perfect gift for anyone who refuses to tell you what they want for Christmas and therefore deserves a thoughtless, utterly inexplicable gift as a result. Make sure to include the gift receipt when you wrap it.
Now… time for your letters:
What’s the worst/most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten off a child’s plate? Mine’s probably crackers that looked good, but it turned out my kid gnawed on them and they’re pretty soggy.
It’s definitely food that the child spat back out. I am the mirror image of a mommy bird feeding a child her own regurgitate. On a handful of occasions, I’ve seen something on my kid’s plate that I really want to eat. And then they give it a test chew for half-a-second before taking it back out. This kills me. How could you not eat that chicken tender? That chicken tender was MEANT to be eaten. If it could talk, it would say BWAWK! BWAWK BWAWK BWAWK PLEASE EAT ME BWAWK! I can’t stand the waste, not when there are children starving in India. So sometimes I eat the thing, germs and saliva be damned. I have my reasons. Some other gross things I have eaten off my child’s plate:
- Anything dipped in soy sauce. When a child uses soy sauce, they always use too much, and it gets all over. So I have eaten nuggets drenched in soy sauce, and pasta in soy sauce, and other things that really don’t need 50,000mg of added sodium.
- Unfinished candy. When children bite into any confection, they leave a trail of chocolate slobber five feet long. No matter. Into my mouth it goes.
- Cereal milk. It’s the best part!
- Baby food. Have you ever had baby food? It’s not bad! The mashed green beans are revolting, but the little jars of fruit puree are kinda good. I’ll finish those as a treat for myself. Good vitamins for daddy!
- Old fruit. I want my kids to eat their fruit, which means that when they take a single bite of an apple or pear, I will SAVE that piece of fruit and remind them periodically to finish it, even as the flesh goes brown and mushy. And then, at some point, I give up and finish the damn thing myself.
- Untouched lunchbox items. I spent all morning making that ham and cheese sandwich for my kid. Eight hours later, it comes back to the house not only untouched, but unwrapped. It’s like someone sent me the lamest time capsule ever. By 4 p.m., that ham is warmer than my own armpit. Do I eat it? SOMETIMES. Again, I hate waste. This makes me a responsible person and not a monster.
My college offers ballroom dance classes. Would it be an affront to my MANLINESS if I were to take them? Should I lie to my friends and say I’m going to beard and gun club every Wednesday?
You should take them if you want to. Your average man avoids 90 percent of worthwhile activities simply out of fear of embarrassment. But it’s always worth trying something once. While your BROS laugh at you for stepping lively, all the women will ooh and ahh at your moves on the dance floor, and your willingness to take chances. You’ll be swimming in hot tail in no time. And the local pastor will brand you as a rebel and an outlaw because you like fight-dancing alone in barns late at night! SO DREAMY.
I took ballroom dancing lessons once before I got married. My wife got some coupon for free lessons at Arthur Murray (that’s how they get you!), so we went there and some Eastern European dude showed me how to lead, taking me by the hand and inducing all sorts of standard, early 2000s sitcom gay panic within me. We did one lesson and I never went back. If I had to do it over again, I would have gotten over my own homophobia and tried my best. Everyone has been to that one wedding where the bride and groom CLEARLY took dance lessons, and can execute the whole twirl-and-dip routine seamlessly. That always gets a good response. OOOOH THEY MUST BE ARGENTINIAN WITH THOSE MOVES! Dancing is fun, and you don’t even have to be all that great at it to enjoy it.
I was watching a documentary about the Romans the other day, specifically in relation to Jesus’ crucifixion. It’s obviously no secret that the cross was an instrument of torture and death, being used for years before and after Jesus’ death for some really screwed up things. But now millions of people look to the cross as a symbol of hope and redemption, which makes me wonder, what if Jesus was killed in a different way? If he was hanged would people bow down to a rope? If he was beheaded would there be swords or axes on buildings all over Europe? If they did that thing where they pulled him apart using horses running in different directions would the symbol of Christianity be an angry horse or something? I guess it’s good he wasn’t beaten to death with a bunch of dildos or something embarrassing like that.
I don’t think any other primitive torture device would have become as iconic as the cross, because the cross represents both the suffering Christ endured, and the grace with which he endured that suffering… all for the sake of mankind. Not to go all GREGGGGGG on you, but that’s an important part of the story.
Plus the cross is unique in that it’s not a weapon. It’s relatively benign in shape, which is a really good thing if you happen to have children and they ask you why there’s a cross on top of every church and you don’t REALLY want to get into it because you were just making a Wendy’s run and weren’t prepared to give them a theology sermon. “Well honey, it’s the symbol of Jesus. Now did you want a four-piece kid’s meal, or a six-piece?”
If Christ had been beheaded, that would have changed everything. Beheading takes a second, unless you have a dud executioner who forgot to sharpen his blade. “Crucifixion takes hours! It’s a slow, ‘orrible death!” Then you’d have a sword on top of every church, which would look metal as hell but would kind of defeat the whole “peace and love” message. The cross turned out to be a perfect symbol of hope and redemption in the world of Christianity. THANKS, ROMANS!
Since Alex Trebek is the host of Jeopardy!, isn’t he, by default, a nerd?
No. Alex Trebek is rich as balls and lives in Hollywood and even has enough spare cash to buy his kid a duplex bachelor pad in Harlem. He’s not a fucking nerd. Nerd culture has so completely dominated the pop landscape over the past couple of decades that people forget what a real nerd is. You are not a nerd just because you like superheroes, or Game of Thrones, or some other shit that everyone else likes. A real nerd is a social outcast who is cast out for legitimate reasons: bad breath, boogers, a shocking level of imperiousness with regard to stupid shit like Star Trek, etc. The kid from Bad Santa? That’s a real fucking nerd. Or the Blizzcon kid!
Now THAT is a nerd. A guy who hosts a nationally syndicated game show that earns billions and owns his own walk-in wine cellar is not.
Some buddies of mine for years have raved to me about how Qdoba has the best utensils in the fast-casual Mexican restaurant industry. I disagree. In my opinion Chipotle has the best plastic throw-away utensils I’ve ever seen. What do you think? Del Taco, Taco Bell and Moe’s could also be added to the list, but none top Chipotle in my opinion.
The best takeout utensils are the ones that are sturdy enough to perform as well as metal utensils, so that means I approve of any place that gives you either A) The thick black plastic forks and knives or B) The thick brown forks and knives that are made from 100% recycled coffee grounds and Birkenstock soles.
You know what the worst place is for takeout utensils? ANY BAGEL SHOP. I swear. Go to a bagel shop right now and ask for a fork and a knife. The fork will snap after two bites of egg salad, and the knives are a fucking joke. Trying to spread cream cheese with a bagel store knife is agony. It’s like someone gave you a pencil to help paddle a canoe. Bagel stores need to step their game up.
What is the correct order to remove individual eggs from a 12-count carton over time? I prefer to take eggs from exact opposite ends of the carton, my thinking being that it keeps the carton relatively well-balanced. My wife starts on the short end and takes them out side-by-side until they are all gone. Obviously these styles are not compatible and we need a ruling. I acknowledge some kind of monster could take them out along one side first then start back up the other side or do it in some completely random order as well.
I take out the big eggs first, which makes me a horrible person. If I’m making eggs, I want a big egg, because that’s more egg for me. If I’m baking, I want small eggs, because then I get to save the big eggs for my big egg omelets. I know this is psychotic, but that’s how my brain works. I want the biggest food for me, because I am selfish and horrible. That means I’m picking eggs out of the carton in a completely haphazard fashion. I’ll leave gaps in each row and won’t rearrange the remaining eggs to make things tidy.
In my head, I justify this as keeping the entire carton somewhat balanced, instead of heavy on one side or in the middle. There’s nothing worse than grabbing an egg carton and judging the egg placement all wrong. You can really throw your back out if you aren’t ready for all of them to be sitting at one goddamn end. So I like a bit of chaos in there. CHAOS IS FAIR.
Man, why am I still awake?
God, it’s awful, isn’t it? Everyone else is asleep and you aren’t, and the more you try to sleep, the more awake you become. Then you try peeing and it doesn’t help. Then you try beating off and that doesn’t help either. Then you resolve not to look at the clock but then you DO, which just makes thing worse because either A) Too much time has passed, or B) Barely any time has passed at all! Apart from drugging yourself, I have only two suggestions to help with your insomnia:
- Give up. Just let your mind work out what it needs to work out and try your best not to fight it. Whenever I’m alone, my worries end up in an echo chamber, where they just build on each other nonstop. Why did I speed through that yellow light today? What if the light had turned red? What if I had hit somebody and killed them? Then I’d be in jail. Then some veteran cop would play Good Cop/Bad Cop with me and get me to spill before I even had a chance to call a lawyer. Then I’d go to jail and get a crippling toilet meth addiction. And then my wife would leave me. And then I’d finally get out but things would never be the same. I eat too much. Sometimes I have to work all THAT out, and then my brain finally lets go.
- Think of random crap. I try to picture goat unicorns flying over clouds shaped like butts, and other weird stuff like that. It’s my feeble attempt to get my brain to transition into dream stuff.
Or you could be like Barry and picture a murderer waiting to kill you. That doesn’t work so well for me.