Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering old timers on roids, shampoo, keys, and more.
Are you gonna be in Austin, Texas, next Monday? Oh well, do I have a treat for you: ME, READING OUT LOUD. It's just like a lecture, only I never look up. Tell me you aren't enthused. You could even bring a date and then watch her storm out of the bookstore 10 minutes later! The reading starts at 7 p.m., and then we'll all head over to Key Bar afterward to drink and act inappropriately.
Now, your letters:
If Hitler never existed, who would be the gold standard for offensiveness? Mentioning Hitler in most any public context causes such a shitstorm. But whose name would make news anchors gasp if not for Hitler? Who would Ted Nugent compare Obama to?
Well, you have your choice of genocidal dictators: Stalin, Pol Pot, Kim Jong Il, Mao, Mussolini, Hussein, Qaddafi, Idi Amin, etc. None of them has the sharp onomatopoeic ZING that Hitler provides, although who knows if that would still be true in a Hitler-less alternate universe. Hitler is the perfect blend of catchy name, unique facial hair, murderous intentions, bizarre political philosophy, and naked racism that trolls all over the world rely on time and time again. Other dictators simply can't measure up. I think you have to go outside of that group to find your wingnut analogy of choice.
At first, I thought that Manson might do the trick. Even though Manson wasn't a politician, he was a leader of a group, so to speak. And he exerted an inexplicable influence over those people, so you can imagine how a stupid person would be like, "I don't agree with Manson's killing policies, but you have to admit the man was charismatic and a great speaker!" But I think Manson has become such a cultural punchline that it's easy to write off any analogy to him as ludicrous.
That's why it has to be bin Laden. I think bin Laden would be your Hitler replacement, because the mere mention of his name still makes people blind with rage. He's your man, until SPACE HITLER comes around. I fear Space Hitler.
My wife and I have had this debate for 13 years now: when you get in the shower do you first squeeze the shampoo into your hand and then rub it into your hair, or do you squeeze the shampoo directly on your head and then lather? Only fucking nutjobs squeeze directly from the bottle to the hair correct? I mean, how do you even know how much is getting blasted on? You have to squeeze to the hand to regulate that shit. So far in our wedded bliss we have posed this question at least thirty times and I'm winning like 28-2. Please justify my dominance.
Your dominance is justified. Only an 8-year-old would squeeze the shampoo directly onto his head. Shampoo isn't cheap, especially WOMEN'S shampoo. Women never buy normal shampoo. They go straight for the $55 bottle of organic jojoba-honey-mayonnaise HAIR REVITALIZER that Sergio at the salon used on them once. To squeeze that directly onto your head in a cavalier manner is fiscally irresponsible.
Plus, if you squeeze the shampoo directly onto your head, there's every danger that it will slide right off you before you have a chance to rub it in. Everyone has had that shower where the shampoo or the body wash slips out of your hand and makes a big jizz splotch on the tile floor. You're never getting that soap back. It's like trying to capture an eel with your bare hands. Impossible. It just swims around and then gets stuck in the drain for eight years. You should squeeze the shampoo into your hand, mash it into your scalp, and then rub vigorously. After that, you MUST give yourself a shampoo mohawk and use the leftover lather to play with your balls. That's all standard human behavior.
My wife is out of town working and she never likes any of the shit I make. So I made and ate all of this roast beef Stromboli. Carved deli roast beef. Some sliced mozzarella and provolone, and then some peppers, mushrooms and onions if that's your thing. Roll it up like a burrito and bake it. I could cook and eat another one right now.
There are few things more gratifying than thinking of your own stoner food recipe and then executing a flawless version of it. If I just, like, put pepperoni on these nachos, then I will have PEPPERONI PIZZA NACHOS.
I also like attempting to replicate any technique I see on a cooking show and then gloating with pride when it turns out well. EVERYONE on Chopped rubs coffee on a steak before grilling it because that's way fancy, so I tried that too one night. Diagnosis: DELICIOUS. Peter King says pair it with a citrusy beer!
Do you think that anyone has ever committed suicide solely because of sports? I'm not talking about some clinically depressed guy who lived in Cleveland and lost all his money and wife, and then LeBron leaving was just the final straw. I think there had to be some everyday guy with a decent life who couldn't stand to see the Bills lose their fourth Super Bowl, and just blew his head off right there. Am I right?
The only way it could happen is if the person in question was A) very drunk, and B) making a remarkably impulsive decision that, if sober, he would almost certainly regret. It's hard to imagine a sober guy with a steady job and a happy family watching the Chiefs trade for Alex Smith and then saying, "Fuck it, I'm out of here." But it IS easy to see that same man getting blind drunk, watching his team choke, and then playfully putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger right before realizing that the gun is actually loaded. Now THAT is a feasible all-sport suicide.
Otherwise, I can't believe someone would kill himself for sports and sports alone*. Too many people like WALLOWING in the loss of their team to off themselves. What's the point of killing yourself over Tony Romo gagging away a playoff spot when you can put down the gun and text your friend "I AM FUCKING DONE WITH ROMO"? No sports fan is gonna miss out on the chance to openly deride his team for letting him down yet again. I know I never do.
(* This answer applies to American sports fans only. Sports fans in other countries are fucking insane and will gladly kill themselves and others because their favorite soccer team scored an own-goal.)
I just got a Kindle, and on one hand I'm reading more books than ever before, on the other hand I have a stack of hardbacks sitting untouched. That's just lazy isn't it?
No. A book is a book, no matter how it's packaged. You should get just as much credit for reading an e-book as some other dipshit who reads a first-edition copy of The Sun Also Rises and then puts it up on a shelf so that everyone knows he read it. There are no studies out there suggesting that dead-tree readers take away more from a book than you do tearing through the thing on an e-reader during a cross-country flight*.
(* NOTE: I did no research to verify this claim.)
I've said this before, but it's worth repeating: Books are, like, way heavy. I read the Harry Potter books to my kid every night and by the fifth page, my wrists are ready to die. And I also have that thing where I try to turn the page but instead I turn two pages so then I lick my thumb to separate them but then I lick too much and now the book is coated in drool. That's all terrible. I'd much rather read that shit on a Kindle. And when my kids are in high school, they better damn well have converted all textbooks to digital by then. If my kid is still lugging around 200 pounds of history tomes, you'll know the greedy executives at BIG TEXTBOOK were behind it all.
Every time I see Cee Lo Green I can't help but wonder, how does he wipe his ass? Not only is he fat, which makes it harder to clean yourself properly, but he also has tiny T-Rex dinosaur arms.
Yeah, but he can bend. It's not like he's immobilized. With a little bit of elbow grease, he can make it back there. The real question is if he has to hang up his 60-foot feathered sequined dashiki on the stall hook before going, or if he just lifts it up. Because it can't be easy to hold that thing up and do your business at the same time. I can't even take a shit with a sport coat on. That's a dangerous game to play.
Every time I've got Facebook or Twitter on my computer at work, I just assume when my coworkers walk by they don't even notice. However whenever I walk past anyone else in the office I need to know exactly what the hell they've got up there. Is it possible to walk past an open computer screen at work and at not at least take a glance?
It depends on what you notice in your peripheral vision. If you see nothing but a white screen and what appears to be a grid, you're not turning your head for a more in-depth look. This is why fake spreadsheets are the go-to facade for anyone looking to hide his online activity. Spreadsheets are legitimately the most boring thing in the world to stare at. Every time I click to open Microsoft Excel, I lose one week of life. But if you see pictures, or if you see a video being played, you're turning your head. What if it's porn? It's porn, isn't it? Oh what I would give to catch someone watching porn! Shit, it isn't porn.
Emails and Word docs are also ripe for peeping. If you pass someone with a COMPOSE box open, you WILL try to sneak a peek to see if he's writing sexy email to a mistress. "YOU ARE MY WHORE." Stuff like that. Or you'll want to know if he's talking about you or a co-worker behind your back. "OMG, this job suuuuuucks and Dave has an ugly face!" You're Dave in this scenario. Sorry, man.
I travel for work so I have a rental car just about every week. Recently, I've hit a streak where I've gotten cars with keys that fold into the "clicker" (see picture below). If you haven't had the pleasure of messing with these keys, I recommend you go out and do so immediately. Every time I pull out the keys, I pretend I'm James Bond, getting ready to hunt and kill my latest adversary, and click the button deploying the key. I've actually scared people on elevators who think I'm pulling a knife. Just as they're ready to panic I think, "That's right...it's not a weapon...its a 2012 Jetta". Totally worth it.
I hope that kind of key has been used in an action movie scene at least once. I'd be thrilled to watch Jason Bourne gouge out a Chechen operative's eye with the key to his Nissan Xterra, or whatever vehicle paid for placement in the next Bourne movie.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to note that the PANIC button on a key fob should really do so much more. When I press it, I would like a team of Navy SEALS to rappel down the sides of the parking garage and shoot any potential rapist on sight.
I have an old car and the key fob has a little light on it so that you can locate the ignition. You know damn well that I pretend that little light is actually a pinpoint laser that can cut glass.
Why does Wilbon insist on referring to Magic Johnson as "Earvin" all the damn time. What the fuck is his problem?
He's the worst, that's his problem. By addressing Magic as "Earvin," he's letting you, the troglodyte viewer at home, know that he has an intimate relationship with Magic. Only fanboys and losers refer to him as Magic, don't you know? Wilbon presides over that show like he's the CEO of it. "That's a nice little opinion you have, Simmons. Now let the people hear from a REAL newsman. Now I know Eldrick Woods JUST A LITTLE BIT ..."
I've heard several claims that BIG CHICKEN is pumping hormones into their birds to make them develop faster, more meat, etc.... and these chemicals are playing a role in the increase in things like cancer, and teenagers developing DD tits at the age of 14. I eat tons of chicken and am too poor to buy the organic stuff. Do I need to worry?
Well, I've been eating store-bought chicken and ground beef all my life, and I have had NO long-term effects from it. My deteriorating spine, occasional mysterious bladder pain, and lingering nipple hair have NOTHING to do with my diet, I assure you.
Anyway, I will remain skeptical of promises from BIG ORGANIC that my chicken was raised on a pristine farm in Upstate New York where it was fed fresh sardines, given its own acre of land to own and operate, and treated to five 10-minute strokings per day. I know damn well that's probably not the case. Half the organic shit I see at the store is that Nature's Promise brand that's made by the same motherfuckers that make all the other private-label shit lining the shelves. Their address is right on their on the back: Landover, Md. Nothing healthy comes from Landover. You can't fool me, BIG ORGANIC. I know you bought off an FDA official to brand your hormone-infused kraken meat with that green ORGANIC label so that suckers like my wife will pay three bucks extra for it.
That's the worst part, when the people around you have fully bought into it. They're always like, Oh my God, this tastes soooooooooo much better. Can't you tell the difference? The answer to that is no, because I coat anything I eat in a gallon of Frank's sauce. We buy the Newman's Own Oreos and my wife is like, "These are so much better than regular Oreos!" NO THEY ARE NOT AND PAUL NEWMAN IS DEAD NOW. They're fucking Oreos. You aren't doing your heart any favors by buying the cookies that have "organic" lard in the center.
(still eats a dozen Newman O's anyway)
So don't feel too bad about eating the regular chicken. Eating 50,000 pounds of chicken a year is probably bad for you no matter what kind of chicken you're eating. And these are hard times, so who can resist a pack of 30 raw chicken thighs for five bucks? THAT'S GOOD EATIN'.
Which Hollywood actor would you plop into the booth to call baseball games? He would have zero preparation or training. I'd watch every game if Jack Nicholson was calling it.
With all apologies to Nicholson, who would be getting a blowjob under the announcing table for 75 percent of any telecast, I think I'd pick Bill Murray. Bill Murray is either playfully drunk or breathtakingly mean. Exactly what I want out of a color man.
Our fantasy draft is coming up. which means I have to pick a new "team logo" for this season. Is it going too far to use my league commissioner's DUI mug shot photo as my team logo? The DUI was well over a decade ago. I think it's f'ing hilarious. But our league commissioner can be kind of a overly sensitive princess sometimes, and does not possess the ability to laugh at himself. So I don't want to be a dick but at the same time... it's probably the best idea ever.
I was arrested for DUI about four years ago (details about that delightful moment of my existence are in the new book), and I think I'm far enough away from it now to have a laugh about it (and admit it publicly without getting, you know, fired). It can be a traumatic experience if you aren't the type who gets arrested on a regular basis ("Those men wanted to have SEX with me!"), but I think laughing about it is a good sign that you've moved on from it.
I assume your friend hasn't been arrested several times since this incident, yes? It's probably a sordid bit of his past that he finds embarrassing and out of character. Ten years is a longass time, but if it still causes him a lot of emotional distress to see the mug shot, you should probably just leave it alone.
Obviously, being a man means having friends SPECIFICALLY so that you can be a complete dick to those same friends. But I think we've all had that moment where we're like, "Oh man, Dave is REALLY upset that I joked about buttfucking his wife! Maybe I should back off a bit." That's what'll happen to you if you use the mug shot. You'll post it, your friend will get pissed, you'll laugh, he'll stay pissed, and then you'll be like, "It's just a joke! STOP BEING SUCH A GASH!" And then he'll be like, "You don't get it, man. My sister was in the car with me and she died." And then you'll be like, "Oh man, that's REALLY funny, bro!" And then he'll be like, "NO IT ISN'T I HATE YOU!" And then you won't speak for the next four years. So that's fun.
If a midget ate out Brittney Griner with both of them standing up would it be referred to as "going down" or "going up" on her?
It's always "going down" no matter what size you are or what position you're in. The "down" means you're going for a lower body part. The only way it would be "going up" is if Brittney Griner's vagina were located on top of her head. That would be a real twist.
I just received the following office wide email (about 300 in my office): "A set of keys, with a little monster with one eye, were left in the 3rd Floor kitchen. They are up at reception :)" How do you think the penis is attached to the set of keys?
Someone in your office is a big Mike Wazowski fan. Or they like cock. Or both! No need for those two likes to be mutually exclusive.
How great/not-great would basketball games be if they converted to "make it, take it?" A pure scorer like LeBron or Kevin Durant would be huge because you could ride the hot-streak. I was watching the Marquette vs Miami game, and Miami was down 14 points with a 1:11 to play. Obviously, Marquette's lead is insurmountable, but would the game be in the bag with a "make it, take it" format? Keep making three-pointers, and all of the sudden, you're back in it. I demand that the D-league serve as the laboratory for this experiment.
I think the potential for big comebacks wouldn't overcome the drawbacks of switching to that format. If any team jumps out to an early 30-0 lead, the game is basically dogshit. Also, the rule would encourage streaky scorers to be even more selfish with the ball. The mentality would be, "Well, if I score, that's like also stealing the ball, which makes attempting this 720-degree turnaround from behind the backboard an unselfish play!" Carmelo would attempt 80 shots per game.
Also, Craggs notes that, under this format, "No one would shoot threes. It'd be short jumpers and lots of boring post play." And he's right. If your odds of making a three are 10 percent less than making a standard field goal, then that would have a drastic impact on the number of total possessions you'd get. Much better to take high-percentage shots over and over. It would suck. Maybe for the All-Star Game. Like I always say, all-star games should be rules laboratories.
I'll have the Assawomem Breast, please.
Make it two!
I hate throwing names into the "he had to be doing steroids" bucket, but is there any way Nolan Ryan's stats are natural? The guy struck out nearly 1,000 more people than the next closest on the list and struck out 200 guys when he was 44.
Yeah, but he sucked the testosterone out of that cow's balls MANUALLY. No pussy-ass syringes for that guy.
Also, as an aside, we need to do away with the whole "Boy, I hate to think of THIS guy as dirty" thing. If you enjoyed watching the guy play and he gave you some thrills, then that's good enough. If he was mainlining whale spinal fluid between innings, it doesn't matter to anyone but him and the whale. And frankly, most people who say they hate adding a name to the 'Roid Suspect pile don't really hate it. They're clearly thrilled that they thought of this guy being dirty before anyone else did. Part of what makes the Steroid Age so much fun is making a guessing game out of it. I adore suspecting people of using steroids. It's endless fun.
Unfortunately, one day Craig Sager will pass on. Do you think that he will be buried in a normal suit or in one of his signature flamboyant get-ups? Isn't it almost disrespectful to the brand that Craig Sager worked so hard to build to commit him to the ground wearing anything that couldn't be described as garish? Do you think Craig Sager and his family have thought about this?
Given that Craig is very nearly dead in this photo, I think that a garish outfit for his wake will be a given. He doesn't need to talk about with his family because wearing awful clothing is just who Craig IS. His violet polka-dotted deathsuit is already understood by all.
Email of the week time.
Me and a buddy were recently playing tennis at the outdoor courts. An older gentlemen (approx 75 years old) drove up, parked his car and proceeded to lace up his shoes and limber up. He then walked on to the court beside us, which had one of those large rebounding walls at one end and starting hitting a ball into it. He only brought one tennis ball, and the old man gingerly hit the ball roughly ten times against the wall. He then walked back to the parking lot, took his tennis shoes off, got in the car and left. What the fuck just happenned? The old man was on the court for three minutes! He did not break a goddamn sweat.
Here is my theory: He told his wife that he was going out to play tennis, but was scheming a rendezvous with some old hag at the old folks home where he probably went balls deep in her. He stopped in at the tennis courts to create his alibi. We were apart of this old man's elaborate sex scheme! Is there any other explanation for this?
He tweaked his knee. But that's the boring answer. "Sex scheme" is much more fun. Maybe he forgot to inject his roids.
Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also order Drew's new book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.