That’s thunder. Everyone knows that. He also eats and sleeps and has sex. THIS GOD FUCKS, Y’ALL.

Damon:

If the T-1000 could transform itself into anything, why didn’t it just turn into a chair or something, wait for John Connor to sit down, and stab him in the dick?

Because then the movie would be over. This is a problem for a lot of movies, because you want a villain to be cool and imposing and crazy powerful. But then it’s easy to paint yourself into a narrative corner where there’s no actual way to beat that villain. And so you either have to have the villain be really stupid, or you have to throw the hero some kind of life preserver at the last second. That’s why Spielberg’s War of the Worlds ends with, like, bacteria saving people. What a stupid fucking ending. If they had had any balls, they would have just ended the movie with mankind being wiped out entirely. Audiences would have ADORED it.

Tyler:

Why does laughing at work feel so unacceptable?

The obvious answer is that you’re supposed to be working. So if you’re laughing at something, it can’t possibly be one of the 978 legal briefs you have to collate and re-file. Laughing is a dead giveaway that you’re slacking off and looking at weird shit on the internet, like a photo of a snowman with a human penis or something.

On a deeper level, I think people feel left out if you’re laughing about something and they aren’t. You’re over there having a ball. It makes me feel lonely. What’s so damn funny, Tyler? ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH THE CLASS, HMMM? I think it’s a natural human reaction to be stuck somewhere shitty, like at work or at an airport, and get testy because someone else is yukking it up while you’re miserable. Why didn’t anyone send YOU a gif of a dirt biker jumping into a cactus? It’s not fair.

Also, there are times I feel rude about laughing at something on my phone, because it only emphasizes the fact that I am paying attention to people who are not in the immediate vicinity. Instead of choosing to share a laugh with my wife, I’m laughing at some fucking tweet instead. Again, that can make people feel left out. So then I feel bad for laughing and try to laugh 30 percent less. Life is fucking weird.

Ed:

At what age should you stop painting your face and/or dying your hair when attending a sporting event? I say 24 years old is the cutoff.

Should I tell you the Sad Drew story? I’ve told this before but I’m gonna tell it again because I lack imagination. I’m at college and a bunch of guys on the football team, with whom I had already had an uneasy relationship, told me they were going to a hockey game and that they were gonna paint the name of the school on their chests. I volunteered to be the C. So I’m in my dorm room, drawing a C all over my body with a Sharpie because I don’t have any actual body paint. It goes without saying that using a Sharpie to paint your skin is a lousy idea, but I was 20 and a moron back then. So I go through, like, three Sharpies doing this. I show up to the rink, and the boys are there, and I pull of my shirt to reveal the C. Of course, none of them painted their chests. They were just fucking with me. So I spent the next few weeks with a bigass C tattooed on my gut.

If you’re gonna dye your hair or paint your face with a group of people, I don’t think age matters. Who am I to condemn some rowdy 67-year-old Saints fan who shows up to the game made up like a fucking parade float? That lady is having a better time than I am, and I respect it. I don’t have the right to act all superior to some deranged painted fanboy or fangirl when I’m just sitting at home, scratching my balls. I respect the effort. I’m just telling you, if you’re gonna do it, make sure it’s with people you TRUST. Don’t get burned like I did, for I shall never love again.

HALFTIME!

Rick:

Is it just my imagination, or do people taking their kids to school drive MUCH worse than people going to work? For what it’s worth, I’ve been driving my kids to school on the way to work from Kindergarten all the way to high school now. I generally drop them off ten minutes or so early to avoid the mob of parents trying to avoid getting a tardy on their kids’ permanent record. I also drive past several private schools, and their parents all seem to be maniacs too. It’s a nightmare. But when I get to the work parking lots - and I’ve worked several different jobs during these years - people go in and out like clockwork machines. None of the crazy demolition derby antics.

Well, I live in Maryland where everyone drives like a complete shithead, so my data may be a bit skewed because rush hour here is basically The Purge on wheels.

Otherwise, I think you’re right to notice that parents dropping off children drive like sociopaths. I think there are a few reasons for this, none of which can be justified. First off, all these people are in a hurry, even though they rarely NEED to be. If you have a woman about to deliver a baby in a car, I won’t blame you for stepping on it. But these people are usually just hurrying to nowhere because they think they HAVE to be nowhere quickly. Secondly, they’re on their phones while driving. Third, driving is stressful and having kid in the car only exacerbates that stress because they are often screaming, fighting, and/or throwing things. It can throw off your concentration.

Mostly though, these parents are ASSHOLES. They drive like maniacs because they think they’re entitled to do so, and they rampage through the school parking lot because they think their time and their children are more valuable than yours. I’ve been tailgated in preschool parking lots. I also once had a dude in a Porsche step on the gas and pass me as I was pulling into pickup for gymnastics. He passed me like we were on a fucking interstate. I was aghast. You should have seen me when it happened. I huffed and puffed like a true 41-year-old. Did you see that? Why, that man has SOME nerve!

Of course, I also happen to be a selfish driver. Even with the kids in the car, I still believe every yellow light is a direct challenge to my manhood. “Oh, you think I won’t make it? Watch this, motherfuckers!” One time I had to drop off two kids at separate places, then pick up a friend at the Metro, all while I had some shit cooking on the grill back home. I drove so recklessly that my son starting yelling at me to slow down. He said to me, verbatim, “Dad, you’re driving like a psycho right now.” He’s nine. I dunno where he learned that word from. I think it spontaneously came to him as he witnessed me operate a motor vehicle.

So yes, parents are horrible drivers and you should avoid them.

Jeffrey:

Settle this argument between me and my cousin...we grew up on Long Island, and cannot decide which is worse: a jamoke or a jabroni?

I’d rather be a jabroni. To me, a jamoke is just some hopeless loser pud. FUN FACT: the term actually derives from a blend of java and mocha, to connote a person stupider and more useless than a cup of coffee. FASCINATING.

Anyway, I’d much rather be a loudmouthed ninny jabroni who talks the talk but can never back it up, ultimately existing to get owned by more talented, likable people. In fact, I am a jabroni. Right now, as we speak. At any moment, The Rock is gonna crash through my office wall and call me a pathetic jabroni loser and it’s gonna be AWESOME. I can’t wait!

Tim:

So you are just hanging around one afternoon watching the kids when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find yourself face-to-face with THE Donald himself flanked by two towering Secret Service agents. Evidently the Taco Bell lunch wasn’t in agreement with him and he couldn’t wait until the motorcade got back to the WH. So do you let the prick take a mudslide in your bathroom or tell him to get fucking bent?

Fuck him. I make him shit his pants right on my doorstep, I do! Gonna let him shit all over my lawn to own the conservatives.

But anyway, this is the test, isn’t it? I would really like to think that, should I ever come face-to-face with a member of the Trump administration, I would muster up the courage to speak my mind and make them uncomfortable, the way protestors drove Kirstjen Nielsen out of that Mexican restaurant last week. That shit is important. People doing evil shit shouldn’t be able to just waltz through society unscathed. I wanna corner Donnie Junior at a Poison concert and give him a piece of my mind!

The other week I thought I saw John Bolton at my local grocery store. It was a dude with white hair and bad ‘stache just perusing the meat aisle. He was totally alone. And I was like, “I think that’s John Bolton.” But I couldn’t quite confirm it. Like, I definitely would have asked him if he was John Bolton first before lighting into him, because I would have felt like a real bastard screaming WAR CRIMINAL at some random elderly man. Anyway, I did nothing. I grabbed my food and left. I feel like I failed the test. I hope Bolton comes BACK to the store so I can catch him in the act of shopping for brisket and tell him he’s a racist prick.

Frank:

So, are chicken wings really worth it? I’m a (nearly) 42-year-old man and have never had a wing. They’ve never seemed that appetizing or worth the effort. Even when someone orders way too many and then passes them around the table to share, I’ve just never felt the mess to be worth the reward. To be clear, I’m not normally that guy that makes a big deal about not having wings, but am I really missing out?

Fuck yeah, they’re worth it! I’m not gonna name names here, but there are a handful of Deadspin staffers who are openly anti–chicken wing and it’s ENRAGING. The wing meat is fucking GREAT, and the wing’s size means that you get a totally different, and welcome, proportion of skin-to-meat in every bite. EAT IT! Boneless wings are horseshit because the bones provide both more flavor and a better tactile experience. I grab that wing and tear into it. I become ONE with the wing. It’s very primal.

And so what if your hands get dirty? You can always wash them after. Grab a wad of napkins and turn them orange. Some of the best food in the world is messy and sloppy and will stain your hands for DAYS. It’s worth it. Dig in. Get over yourself. You’ll miss out on 80 percent of life if you’re afraid to get messy, or look dumb, or get sweaty. It’s the people who always want to keep their shit clean that you gotta watch out for. If you don’t eat your wings, I will TAKE them from you, and I’ll steal your girl too!

Adam:

There is a guy in our group that owns a MLB hat for every team. I generally enjoy hanging out with him, but it’s extremely annoying to see him because whichever MLB team is winning, that’s the hat he’ll be wearing. The worst of this was last year in the World Series where he wore a Dodgers hat until the Astros won the series. Very next day he’s wearing an Astros hat. It’s maddening, but all of our collective shit talk towards him about it doesn’t seem to faze him. My question to you is how does someone get like this?

I think you get that way from being a generally vacuous, inane person. It’s like people who love every movie they see (and such people really do exist). They’re so stupid and boring that they can’t form any personal tastes from the options laid out for them. That is why you’re gonna have to kill your friend. NO ONE DENIES THIS. The only people allowed to bandwagon every team in existence are famous musicians, like so:

Justin Bieber has probably done cocaine with literally EVERY pro athlete, and so he’s entitled to change his fanhood as often as he changes shoes. But some regular asshole? No. Fuck that. That’s obnoxious. Plant that guy in a trash can and tell him to buy a personality instead of a new hat next time he’s at the mall. BOOM ROASTED AND TOASTED.

Jake:

I’ve been debating about what kind of cheese goes best on a grilled cheese. Which cheeses do you prefer for your grilled cheese sandwich and why?

I actually don’t like plain grilled cheese sandwiches all that much. And the appeal of dipping that shit into some tomato soup is lost on me. I’m not gonna get into semantics here, but when I have a grilled sandwich, I want cheese AND meat in there. And the cheese I usually want is provolone. Oh, provolone. Oh, you wicked temptress. So thin. So salty. So smooth and lovely. Provolone just GETS me, you know? I could eat a two-pound stack of provolone and sit on the toilet for a full week afterward and still be HAPPY, you know?

Also, fuck American cheese. I know it’s good for making queso, but I dunno why you’d put that shit on a burger or a sandwich, when cheddar cheese is right there and has actual flavor to it. Putting American cheese on stuff is like saying, “Hey, what if this sandwich tasted the exact same, but had 300 additional calories?” It doesn’t do anything for anyone.

Clark:

How many immaculate innings did Frank Drebin aka Enrico Palazzo call in The Naked Gun?

Well, they weren’t all immaculate. It’s 4-3 Angels in the middle of the seventh when Drebin has to save the Queen from being assassinated by Reggie Jackson. The Mariners logged four scoreless innings by that point, so I guess you could assume those are immaculate. But why did they score in those OTHER innings then? You gotta give credit to Mariners for keeping it close despite all that home cookin’.

By the way, they don’t tell you if the Angels and Mariners actually finish that game. I’m gonna go ahead and assume that MLB would call any game on the spot if one of their players was brainwashed into murdering the Queen in broad daylight. It goes on the ledger as an Angels win. The Mariners file a formal grievance about the umpiring and MLB does nothing. I watched actual MLB umpiring back in the ‘80s. It wasn’t that much better than what you see in that movie.

Email of the week!

JJ:

Why does “I just called to say I love you” always make me think of “Feliz Navidad”? Am I the only one?

Not anymore!