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Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Find more of Drew's stuff at KSK or on Twitter. Email the Funbag here. Today, we're covering dead bodies, terrifying ear stories, and more.

Today's funbag got cut a bit short because I had to take my kid to the hospital last night due to a nasty strain of Bulgarian Deathworm Vomitflu. And given the choice between being stuck in a hospital room for 12 hours or being stuck listening to Jenn Sterger speak for 12 hours, I'll take Sterger every time. The child received rehydrating IV's and many popsicles. I was offered NOTHING.


Your letters:


Me and my friend got in an argument over whether a human man has raped a dolphin in his blowhole. He says it's never happened but I just know it has. I'm thinking some poor bastard stuck on a deserted island hit the jackpot when a dead dolphin washed up on the shore. You know he went to town on that shit...


Well, let's do a simple Google search for "Dolphin rape" and see what turns up…

/Googles dolphin rape

Okay, so it doesn't appear that any recorded dolphin rape has taken place that we know of. There are a handful of reasons for this. First off, if you're going to rape a dolphin, you'd best try and rape a DEAD dolphin, because live ones are very hard to wrangle. But you may not even succeed then because the natural position of a blowhole is closed. The dolphin opens it by contracting a muscle (sexy seakegels!), so a dead dolphin would presumably have its headgina sealed off forever. There also no telling how wide or how deep the blowhole is, so Lord knows if your dick will make a proper fit. This site also notes that dolphin skin feels rubbery. So you're only likely to enjoy raping Flipper if you're the sort of person that enjoys dry humping the underside of a Doc Martens boot.


Most important: You may joke about going off and raping all the dolphins you like, but the fact is that it's the DOLPHIN who will end up raping YOU! Take a look!

That's a dolphin trying to rape a SCUBA diver. I'm not even being facetious. He has his dick whipped out and ready to go. It's terrifying. Wikipedia notes that dolphins are experts in frottage, saying, "Some mammals such as primates and dolphins also rub their genitals against the ground or other surfaces to stimulate themselves." And that, "Other species of dolphin are never put in together with bottlenoses because the bottlenose dolphins frequently torment and rape them." HOLY CHRIST! I never knew dolphins were such seedy THUGS. You keep them out of my amateur sports pleez!


I think there are more questions to be spawned from this one. Three of them, actually. First off, what would be the hardest live animal to rape? The easiest is a dog, obviously. NO ONE DENIES THIS. But I think going for more prized game, like lions and bears, would prove virtually impossible without first shooting the animal dead.

Secondly, which animals out there HAVE been raped? Has every animal been raped by humans? Did Teddy Roosevelt cover most of our bases? Or are there a handful of species that have eluded us? I'd be very proud to be a grizzly bear and know that my kind are still on the NOT RAPED list.


And which species have successfully raped US, without the help of pornographers? Has a bear ever raped a man? What about a tiger? Would a tiger ever want to rape us? Why not? Aren't we pretty enough for them?


I was driving home from the gym yesterday, and I noticed a bunch of cop cars, police dogs and yellow tape in a field less than five minutes from my house. I was consciously hoping that they had found a dead body. I checked my iPhone when I got home, and low and behold, they DID find a dead body! Five minutes from my house! Is there anything as exciting as that? I had to resist the urge to drive out there and pretend like I was Gil Grissom, collecting hairs and fibers and making profound statements about the crime. My wife thinks that I am a sick-o. Verdict?


Look, if you can't get up for a dead body near your house, what else is there in life to get excited about? We had a murder in our town a few weeks ago, and while it terrified my wife, I couldn't have been more excited that SHIT WAS FINALLY GOING DOWN in my neck of the woods. Best of all, initial reports (later proven to be false) indicated the killer was still ON THE LOOSE! AT LARGE! ARMED AND RAPETORIOUS! Oh, how I yearned for that killer to show up at my door, so that he could get a taste of my five-iron. Finally, I'd be able to show my lady that I'm more than just a dish bitch. Anyway, a day later they found out the killer was one of the alleged victims, and my chance at the spotlight was gone. With any luck, there'll be a severed head found five blocks away sometime this weekend. Then I can be like Chris up above and throw on a trenchcoat and sunglasses and go all Caruso on the crime scene before being arrested for General Idiocy three seconds later.

When I was in dipshit prep school in 1992, the President (Bush I) came to town to give a speech during the New Hampshire primary season. The town center was mobbed with people trying to get a look at the POTUS, and one of my friends decided to flip up the lapel on his overcoat, put an earpiece in his ear, throw on sunglasses, and walk around looking like a Secret Service agent. After roughly one minute of doing this, a cop approached him.


COP: What are you doing?

FRIEND: Sir, can't you see I'm trying to establish a perimeter here?

COP: Get the fuck out of here, kid.

I guess it's hard to pass as a Secret Service agent when you're wearing terrycloth Charlotte Hornets shorts under your overcoat. That tends to be a dead giveaway.


One last thing about finding dead bodies: I grew up watching Stand By Me, and there was a railroad track near my house that I used to walk along every day. And after I saw that movie, I spent every day praying I'd stumble on Ray Brower's corpse. I would have absolutely poked it with a stick.


Do you ever feel like a badass when roadwork signs tell you to "let em live?" I find myself muttering "I'll let you live this time bastards" as I drive by the workers


I like those signs better than "Give ‘Em A Brake!" Half the time, I see that sign and the only thing I see in the work area is an abandoned Ford Explorer. Fuck you and your brake. Work more efficiently, you DOG. I also strongly dislike the "Slow Down, My Daddy Works Here" sign, which is just so manipulative. They even use the kiddie font, where one letter is spelled backwards, just to be extra syrupy. I'm not dumb. I know a child didn't write that sign. And I know that kid's daddy is probably an alcoholic who beats her every time he comes home from the pool bar. If anything, running over your Daddy would improve your lot in life, kiddo.


Took this just a few miles from UCF.


It's the Jesus fish that makes it.


How often do you delete the bonus tracks for the albums you buy/download?
While I try and keep any songs that were singles/b-sides that they added on to the album (as with a few of Elvis Costello's albums), I always get rid of the outtakes or tracking sessions. I hate listening to a perfect album, only to then be treated to the band listlessly warbling through one of the songs at half-speed.


There are a handful of artists out there who make a point of having listenable b-sides. If you like Oasis, for instance (and I'm fully aware that many of you don't and I understand entirely), that was a band that put out bonus tracks that were often comparable (and many times better) than the tracks on the actual album. Then you figured out where Noel Gallagher lifted the melody from and the song was ruined. But anyway, bands like that tend to be few and far in between. Radiohead, of course, is another one of them. Otherwise, most bonus tracks are live cuts of studio tracks that sound fifty times better as studio tracks. Or they brought in some fuckhead to remix the song and make it three minutes longer for no reason. Or (guhhhhhhh) the acoustic version, which I always despise. "Hey, you know what would make this song better? If we jettison the rhythm section and make it sound more like a Joni Mitchell song!" Assholes.

I hated MTV's "Unplugged." I remember when Clapton did his and everyone spewed jizz all over the acoustic version of "Layla," which SUCKED. Everyone was like, "OMG! The acoustic version is sooooo much better than the original!" And I was like, EAT SHIT AND DIE. I always wanted MTV to do a reverse version of that show, where they took pussy acoustic songs and reworked them on electric guitars to make them into REAL songs. Bruce Springsteen did a special called "Plugged," but it wasn't quite the same.



Hustler of Culture:

So you are on a plane, it crashed, and you end up stranded like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. But you are not alone...Scarlett Johansson was also on that plane and she was the only other survivor. Here is the obvious question - how long until you and Scarlett can start having sex? If you start right away but get rescued soon, you would have to explain it to your wife. So how long do you wait? A week? A month? 6 months? I mean clearly you have to start boning at some point...but assuming you are rescued, you will have to come clean about it.

Is there any time long enough that would be a reasonable amount of time for Mrs. Drew? I'm not sure Mrs. HoC would ever understand...


Now THAT is an impossible question. I have no clue. I can't even begin to answer it because I'll be beaten to death with a rolling pin.

Consider the question the other way: How long until Mrs. decides that I'm dead and has to move on with her life? I say that takes a year at the minimum. It would probably take longer, because I am very rugged and handsome and not easily replaced. So you can't be unfaithful on that island if you know full well that your wife is upholding her vows on the other end. No way. Especially if you love your wife very much (as I do) and would be genuinely devastated at the thought of never seeing her or the rest of my family again. Seriously, I'd be a fucking wreck. How long does it take to get over that profound a loss? Do you ever get over it? Maybe if you go for, say, a full DECADE without being found, you eventually move on with your life and take Scarlett to be your island wife. Maybe rape the occasional dead bottlenose. But by then, you're a withered husk of a human being. And Scarlett's probably forty pounds and down a cup size. It probably wouldn't be as cool as you first envisioned. Plus, Sean Penn has been in there. I bet Sean Penn's penis looks like a taquito that's been on the 7-11 roller for three weeks too many.



Have you ever watched Law & Order and thought "I'd be good at being the guy at the beginning of the show who finds the body"? For some reason I have an overwhelming urge to become an actor solely to be that guy. The people that find the body always have some cool-as-a-cucumber line to say. Not me, I think my version would be more along the lines of:

Me (in fake New York accent, taking trash out): Jimmy you's crazy if you's thinks Jeter is better than my man Munson...I tells ya no one could hit a ball li..HOLY FUCKING HELL A CORPSE!!!!!!!!

And scene.

I want to be the guy on "House" in the beginning of the show who looks like he's sick, only the guy BEHIND him is the one who ends up having a seizure and becoming that week's special lupus victim. You totally thought I was the sick one, but I wasn't! OUTSMURFED AGAIN!



Last summer I was out walking my new puppy around midnight on a Saturday. He had finished doing his business when all of the sudden I felt this bug hit the side of my face. I batted it away, but it immediately did a 180 and flew directly back at me and into my left ear. I did what any human would do in that situation and jerked my head down and tried to swat it away. No dice. I stuck my finger in my ear to try to dig it out, but I soon realized it was already so deep that I couldn't even feel it with my finger. Then I was still ALIVE. I could feel it crawling in my ear canal, and what's worse, it had wings. Once again, I did what any human would do....I started screaming like a guy getting attacked by an alien body-snatcher. I was sure this thing was going to tunnel its way into my brain and take control of my body and make me its little insect slave. OH NOS!

I ran inside to put my dog up and stuck my head under the bath spigot trying to flush it out/drown the bastard. It was so deep it was literally pressed up against my eardrum, beating its little wings as fast as it could right up against my eardrum, causing a pain I cannot put into words, but shall try: If you've ever had one of those friends who was obsessed with bass in their cars in the 90's and had it turned up so loud it hurt your chest, imagine that inside your head, beating 8 times a second. Every time it moved, all I could do to bear it was to close my eyes, grit my teeth and scream with all my might.

Completely freaking out, I ran to my car to drive to the hospital down the street (really should have called an ambulance due to being a complete emotional wreck, but no way in hell I was paying $400 for a ride to a hospital 2 miles away). Once I get back to the ER and the doctors come to see me, they all think I'm some crack head tweaking out of my mind. "Oh, a bug's in your head huh?" After they get their little microscope out and look in there, the doctor realized I'm not full of shit and immediately looked up and signaled for the nurses to run and grab his equipment. They pour this saline solution in my ear to kill it, which causes the most immense pain I've ever felt as I could feel it struggling for its life INSIDE MY HEAD. It's a wild thing feeling a living creature inside your ear, knowing its being killed, fighting for its life, and ultimately succumbing to its inevitable death. Now that it's dead and after about 2 excruciating hours of digging and me violently cursing, they finally pull the fucker out and it's still intact (See attached photo for evidence). I still don't know what type of bug it was, but it mostly resembled a wasp (luckily no stinger). The docs gave me a 2 week prescription for Lortabs for both the physical and mental anguish suffered (I was diagnosed with "severe eardrum trauma"), and after all was said and done, a parade of nurses and docs kept coming in to "check on me", but mostly to hear my story and check out the critter that was lying on the table. Overall, pretty shitty night, but the Lortabs were nice.

(Sorry it's a bit long, but I actually cut out some details involving the cops coming to my place after reports of "violent screaming" going on reported by my neighbors)