Andrew:

Would you rather have pubes for teeth or teeth for pubes?

Teeth for pubes. You want pubes in your mouth for the rest of your life? Gumming your food like crazy? That would be torturous. No, give me the patch of molars growing out of my ballsack. You know how many bar bets I could win by eating a Twinkie with my dick? I’d be the richest freakshow in the land.

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Brandon:

With concussions and all, is it not inevitable that professional football players will be replaced by robots? Different types of robots can be created—quarterbacks, receivers, linemen, kickers etc. Coaches could program in plays from the sidelines. Violence could return to the game, because who cares if the Butkus1000 clotheslines the BradyBot on a quarterback sack and takes the robot’s head off?

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Even if robot technology gets to the point where they could realistically simulate humans playing football, we would never embrace the Robot NFL as an alternative to the regular NFL. And I say that as someone who was addicted to playing Cyberball as a teenager. The whole reason I watch football is BECAUSE it’s people, doing things most people can’t or shouldn’t do: jumping high to snag the ball out of the air, getting blowed up real good on a crossing pattern, busting through the hole for a 90-yard touchdown run, etc.

Those are all fun things to watch because they are dangerous feats that tend to exist outside the human condition. A robot doesn’t need the fearlessness a real person requires to perform them. Plus, I get to admire the athletic feats AND pretend that I can do them myself. That’s the point. Take the humanity out of it, and it’s boring as shit. It’s like watching Battlebots, which is fun for a couple of weeks until you realize you’re cheering on some megalomaniacal MIT engineer fuckhead who is WAY too cocky about the fact that he managed to weld a table-saw blade to a Roomba.

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You have to care about the actual participants, even if pro athletes change teams practically on an hourly basis. I want to see my team win, but I also want to see what they do WHEN they win. Imagine watching the Super Bowl and seeing the winning team power down into HIBERNATE mode after a tough win, instead of seeing real humans jumping and smiling and pouring Andre all over each other. It’s not the same. It would be like watching a team composed ENTIRELY of Russell Wilsons win something. Fuck that. You need real people, because real people are interesting, and because they can get hurt.

Josh:

Do 3-year-olds have some sort of innate, biological ability to get directly in your way? No matter which way I’m walking, he somehow is always exactly in my path forcing me to trip, or just blocking me from getting where I need to go. It’s like the most sophisticated AI known to man. Mind you, this is a child who can barely get his pants off by himself.

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Yes. They are superhuman in this way. I have stepped on my own children numerous times because they are little dwarf wizards who can magically teleport instantly to the exact place where I intend to walk. They don’t even have to be in the same room as me. I take a step … BOOM. There’s my kid, bitching because I stepped on his foot somehow. Why are you here? Can’t you see I’m trying to put the sugar away?

My kids will also walk right into me. For no reason. The other day, I was standing on the sidewalk, with plenty of room around me. My kid tripped over my foot and did a face-plant into the concrete. WHUH? HOW? WHY? I wasn’t even moving, man. Can’t you see I have legs attached to my body, kid? I gave him chocolate and Motrin to quiet him down.

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Kids also stand in doorways all the time, for no reason. I have a 3-year-old, and the 3-year-old will open the storm door to the house and stand there, with the door open, for no fucking reason. And I’m like CLOSE THE GODDAMN DOOR. You can’t be inside and outside all at once. You are not God.

And you know what? This will only get worse. I’ve seen teenagers in action. Teenagers have NO problem blocking every conceivable passageway. They have nothing to do and all the time in the world at their disposal, and so they elect to spend that time skateboarding in front of the drugstore entrance. I will kill them all with my bare hands.

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Andrew:

How much money would someone have to offer the U.S government for them to build a statue of Hitler in Washington, D.C? I’m talking someone offering to wipe out the national debt—is there any point where the U.S says yes?

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Congress would never approve it, no matter the price, and no matter if it made perfect fiscal sense. I mean, we SHOULD erect a statue to Hitler if it helps wipe out the debt. That could help create millions of jobs and provide us with enough money to help update the nation’s crumbling infrastructure. I’d make that deal in a second. So there’s a Hitler statue on the White House lawn. Big deal. We could invite kids to deface it on a daily basis. It could be a valuable teaching moment for everyone. You won’t forget about Hitler’s misdeeds if his ugly mug is sitting center stage in the nation’s capital at all times. That’s a win-win. President Obama, I urge you to build the Hitler statue.

George:

I have two kids, which means I have approximately 24 water bottles (but only 19 lids) at my house. It also means that holy hell breaks loose if, by chance, I leave the house without fully loaded water bottles for each child. I never had a water bottle growing up, regularly drank from hoses, and don’t recall ever losing a kid to dehydration. How did we get here, and is there any way to reverse this trend? (And don’t even get me started on BPA-free bullshit.)

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There’s no way to reverse it. It’s the worst. And cleaning them is terrible, because plastic water bottle for kids now have 15 different parts. I thought I was done with baby-bottle washing, but no. No, you simply move onto the next pain-in-the-ass fluid vessel.

My wife is always the last person in the car because, at the last minute, she must assemble the array of water bottles and small bagged snacks and reading materials required any time we travel a distance of more than 300 feet. It’s rage-inducing. I just want to GO. We will find water somewhere. This isn’t California. There is water to be had elsewhere. Sometimes I just want to make like Bear Bryant and let the kids roast in the heat for eight hours without any hydration. It will teach them character, by God. Sometimes I just leave without the bottles and then buy bottled water on the road. And when I bring half a Dasani bottle back home, I get the look of shame, because I have contributed to world pollution. It was worth it. It was worth not waiting in the car for three extra minutes, and I stand by that.

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By the way, if you are a lousy parent like me, you will find that, through the wonders of heat and air conditioning, children never want to go outside anymore. There are three days over the course of the year where the temperature outside is tolerable for my kids. The rest of the time, it’s either too hot or too cold out. I have created climate-sensitive organisms who cannot last more than 10 minutes at any playground that stands in exposed sunlight. I’m not doing a good job. IN MY DAY YOU PLAYED IN THE DIRT WHEN IT WAS 100 OUT AND YOU DIED AND YOU LIKED IT.

Adam:

Can a new father think that his newborn baby is ugly?

Oh, sure. Newborn babies ARE ugly. They’re discolored, and their heads are disfigured from exiting the birth canal (the head miraculously assumes its normal shape a few days after the birth), and they’re covered in dried blood and vernix. They can’t smile or even open their eyes. It takes a few days for the Adorable Gene to kick in. And even then, the baby might still seem like a wild animal someone left on your doorstep. Like I said before, it takes time to get to know a new kid and bond with it, same as with any other person you meet. The Hollywood thing where you pick up the baby and it’s instant love isn’t always accurate. Of course you love the kid, but it takes a while to figure out exactly why you love it. Before that happens, you are mostly bewildered by the goddamn thing. Why is it throwing up all the time? Is this poop a normal color? What is that gurgling sound it’s making? Is it gonna spit acid on us? All perfectly normal reactions.

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Jeff:

What would it take for Jimmy Garoppolo, in the first four games, to permanently replace Tom Brady as starting QB (beyond career-ending injury) a la Brady-Bledsoe? I feel like he could play his dick off in those first four games, and fans still won’t settle for anything less than having Brady under center for the Indy game.

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I don’t think there’s any circumstance where he could unseat Brady, even if he threw for 600 yards and six TDs every game. If that happened, Tommy from Quinzee would call into WEEI every five minutes to demand a trade. WE COULD GET FIVE FIRST ROUNDAHHHHHS FAR BRADY RIGHT NOW DO THE RIGHT THING BAWBBBY KRAFT!

But I still don’t think Janeane Garafolo would start the fifth game. It’s Tom Brady. You can’t bench a healthy Tom Brady. Unless the Pats know he’s lied about even more stuff than deflated footballs! I say we bench him for ETHICS …

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INJURY REPORT:

QUESTIONABLE: QB Tom Brady (ethics)

Email of the week!

Sam:

So, while dropping some dumpage at work a second ago, the guy in the stall next to me, while still sitting down, starting puking onto the floor. My first thought was to look and see if he had turned and was puking in the bowl, but nope! Still saw his feet in the “I am currently a pooping person” position. Then, he puked again. Then, as I flushed, another guy who was at a urinal said, “Can I help you out with anything?” Shitbarf Guy said, “No, no.” Am I a huge dick for not showing concern, and for immediately just thinking, “I’ve got to tell my brother I was in contact with a Shitbarf Guy, because that shit is like seeing a unicorn”?

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I think it’s okay to be horrified by a man openly barfing on the bathroom floor. That guy asking the Shitbarfer if he needed assistance went above and beyond the call of duty there. That’s a solid fellow. More than I would have done.


Drew Magary writes for Deadspin. He’s also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at drew@deadspin.com. You can also order Drew’s book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.

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Image by Jim Cooke.

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