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LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Find more of his stuff at his Twitter feed.

I have but one goal for this Thanksgiving, and that is to spend the day saying as few words as humanly possible. Talking is the enemy of a good Thanksgiving. With so many goddamn relatives around, anything you say is a potential hydrogen bomb of familial conflict.

YOU: Hey, everyone! I brought a pie!

YOUR SISTER: Well, I brought one, too. I thought it was my turn to bring pie this year.


YOU: What difference does it make?

YOUR SISTER: It means you weren't LISTENING to me. You just go and do whatever you want.

YOU: Yeah, well fuck you, you runny cunt.


YOU: (parries at sister with carving knife)

You see how things can devolve so quickly in such an emotionally charged environment. I'm going to a house that contains fourteen relatives this evening, and that's not even that big of a Thanksgiving. My job will be to lurk in the background, like a drifting molester, happy to blend in with the wallpaper, a source of conflict for NO MAN, WOMAN, OR CHILD. I promise to make this Thanksgiving a masterpiece of antisocializing. I have the following weapons at my disposal:

The house I'm going to has no television in the family area, where everyone sits before and after dinner. To watch TV, you have to go into the basement, where no one else is. FUCKING SWEET. I'll walk in, say a few pleasantries, kiss a few cheeks, throw a couple babies in the air. Then I'll grab an open bag of chips and run downstairs. An hour later, someone will be like, "Hey, where the fuck is Drew?" I'll tell you where. IN HEAVEN, THAT'S WHERE. There's nothing better than having a game to sneak off to during any family encounter. It always takes people a million years to notice. You can smuggle all manner of food down there, even an entire dinner plate. Also, you get to have that fun exchange where your old lady comes down and begs you to come up and talk to people. And you're like, "Okay, I'll be up in five minutes." And they you stay downstairs for another hour. MAGIC.


Ah, the bathroom. Sweet, sweet sanctuary. Fact: I have been known, during family events, to go to the bathroom even when I don't have shit, piss, or masturbate. I just go there to hang out. It's like landing on home plate. No one can hand you a baby to feed, or a dish to wash. You are bulletproof once inside the bathroom. Then you go back out to the chaos outside and people will give you that look, that look that lets you know THEY know you were just overstaying your turn in the shitter. Then someone else runs to the john for a moment of solace.

I'm onto you, smokers. I get it, now. I see why it's worth risking the cancer, and the impotence, and the rotten teeth, and the clothes you have to Febreze 70 times a day. Because taking a smoke break outside is like a bonus trip to the shitter. No one's gonna bother you while you're outside smoking a cigarette in the freezing drizzle. And no lady is gonna come hand you a kid while you're emitting lethal secondhand smoke. It's an ingenious plan, smokers. It really is. YOU RESPONSIBILITY-DODGING SHITBAGS.


I'm sorry. I'd talk to you people, or help mom with plating dessert. But I'm just too fucking LOADED, you see.

My sciatica flared up last week, and is only now subsiding. (Quick note: Sciatica is caused by a ruptured disk in your back pressing against a nerve and causing shooting pain down your leg. You do not want it.) Anyway, I went to the doctor and got a prescription for Vicodin (WHEE!), muscle relaxants (SCORE!), steroids (DREW STRONG!), and physical therapy (whatever). I have to take all these meds, or else I'm in unrelenting agony all day long. So I'd like to talk to my relatives, exceppppttt I seem2beslurrrrrrinmywerddddss lemme jus lay downnn and (drools all over pants).


So there you have it, people. Those are the tools you have at your disposal to avoid actual contact with your loved ones this year. Use them at will. You could even fake a stomachache after dessert. That works, too.

Also, this week's Jamboroo is dedicated to my wife's cousin, who nearly died this spring in an accident. He made it through, and I'll be seeing him tonight. I'm thankful you're still around, my man. Drinks on me.



The Games
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

Five Throwgasms

Steelers at Ravens: I mentioned earlier that I was going to a house with 14 relatives tonight. NONE of these people like football. At all. In fact, no one in my wife's family or my own family likes football besides me. I'm the only football fan among us, and that bothers me to no end. I'm the one asshole sneaking away to watch the game. I'm the selfish one. Goddamn pinkos, the lot of them. The only exception to this is my father-in-law, who is an anomaly in that he likes to watch football, but could give two shits about the context surrounding the game. It literally does not matter to him if he's watching a UFL game or the Super Bowl. It's all the same shit to him. He says he just likes to watch the hitting. The circumstances, players, and personalities mean nothing to him. He just likes seeing the action when he sees it. I don't know whether to admire him, or to shake the shit out of him.


I think it's probably better to have a partner-in-crime to sneak away to watch games with during the day. Then again, people are more likely to notice you're missing, so I'm not really sure.

Patriots at Saints: Holy shit, this game is AWESOME. And it's gonna be completely ruined by Jaws and Gruden. THIS GUY DREW BREES. HE'S JUST A FLAT-OUT COMPETITOR WHO WANTS TO WIN. I hate it when analyst says that. "He just wants to win." Well, no fucking shit. Even the guys half-assing it out there want to win the goddamn game.


If there's any team I'd like to see win the Super Bowl other than my own, it's the Saints. But man alive, they sure turn the ball over and let other teams score a lot. That can't be a good omen. AND THAT'S MY HARDCORE FOOTBALL ANALYSIS.

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

Four Throwgasms

Colts at Texans: My wife's family is from Germany (none affiliated with Rolf), so a lot of times my wife's German aunt will send over a bunch of German toys for the kids to play with. One of these toys is a plush sun that plays a German lullaby. We keep it in the ten-month-old's crib. Anyway, the lullaby this toy plays has the EXACT same fucking melody as "The Gambler". No lie. You pull the string, and suddenly it's playing "The Gambler". So now, every night, I'm pulling the string on this thing and singing to my kid, "You gotta know when to hold ‘em… WHEN TO HOLD ‘EM!" My son will be shot dead dealing blackjack on a riverboat in twenty-five years.


One other thing about having foreign relatives. If you have relatives who do not speak English, and you don't speak their native language either, you will ALWAYS, by law, be the only one around to pick up the phone whenever they call for your wife, or the person in the house that DOES speak their native tongue. The German aunt calls my house once a month, and I'm always the only person around to pick up. What then ensues is a conversation of aggressive retardation, where I over pronounce words very loudly in English so that they might resemble something she recognizes. SHE'S NOT HOME, YES? I also make hand gestures, WHILE ON THE PHONE. As if she can see them. I am a fucking moron.

Giants at Broncos: Oh, thank God the Broncos suck again. That was a close one.

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

Three Throwgasms

Packers at Lions: This is a much better game than the Cowboys-Raiders shitfest happening later on. Both Aaron Kampman and Al Harris are done for the year for the Packers. MORE MATT STAFFORD HEROICS ARE IN STORE!


Panthers at Jets: Gallo noted this first. Say hello to the Inside the BCS Twitter feed, designed to give you college football fans all the BCS propaganda you can handle! Important things like "bracket creep" are discussed.

When Plus-1 was discussed in '08, one big hurdle was the inevitable bracket creep. 4 teams, maybe. Then 8? 16? 32?


Oh, no! A 32-team playoff tournament in college football? A month-long orgy of meaningful college games that could redefine my existence and challenge the dominance of the NFL? HORRORS! Yes, I'd sure hate to see that happen. What a tragedy. Much better to have a drama-free year in which the title game of Texas-SEC champ was already set in stone ages ago. The BCS can choke on AIDS.

Bears at Vikings: I saw the "Rock With You" video on TV the other day. It's a great song. But I noticed that, in the video, Michael Jackson is dancing just like a white person. It's uncanny, really.


Cardinals at Titans: Man, did Luke Wilson get fat.

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

Two Throwgasms

Bucs at Falcons: From the mysterious and gifted flubby (and KOGOD) comes the Twitter feed of porn star Bree Olsen, (NSFW) which will turn you on and sadden you in equal measure.

Any men in fort Wayne wanna get me drunk and take advantage of me? That sounds so hot right now.

I only have been getting fucked an average of once a day these days. WTF is up with that?! I need it at least three!

I had some guys over here playing wolrd of warfare 2 on x box 360. Turns me on to see guys play video games. I love it!


As flubby notes, "Jesus Christ, what do you call the diametric opposite of trolling? I love it when guys don't change their underwear for days on end. Skid marks are the best!"

Dolphins at Bills: Need an early xmas gift? How about Bobby Jones' Ultimate Gospel collection? Featuring "He's An On-Time God." That's right! God isn't on CPT anymore!


Redskins at Eagles: A friend of mine just got engaged. For you bachelors out there, there is nothing more terrifying than the time in between the moment you buy an engagement ring, and the moment you propose. Not because you're getting nervous about marriage. But because you're walking around with a bauble in your pocket worth thousands of dollars. You want to get rid of that shit as fast as you can, to give it to your woman so she assumes all responsibility for it. That whole time YOU have the ring, you freak the fuck out over losing it. That's why I never suggest you plan on bringing an engagement ring to some tropical locale, or try hiding it in a soufflé, or some retarded thing like that. Just get rid of the fucker ASAP.

Chiefs at Chargers

Jaguars at 49ers

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

One Throwgasm

Raiders at Cowboys: I don't understand why the Raiders were included in the Thanksgiving game schedule. It's fucking stupid. The NFL already knows that people are sick of seeing Detroit and Dallas every year at this time. And they knew before the season, damn well, that their only hope for a good day game would be to pair a good team with Dallas, because Detroit is always bad. So why did they have the Raiders come to Dallas? Why not San Diego? Why are you subjecting me to this inevitable 13-10 shitwreck, Goodell? YOU CUNTHAIR.


I think they do this shit on purpose, so that you'll be grateful for the NFL Network game later on (which half the country won't be able to fucking watch, mind you). Assholes.

Browns at Bengals: I'll never get over Hank Poteat, who has been in the league for ten years, believing pass interference is allowable so long as the QB is outside of the pocket.


Also, Eric Mangini is the biggest gash in all of football. His little bitching about the Lions was his worst display of dipshittery yet. It got the KSK gang and I wondering what examples of cheating he'll use next to distract people from his team's horrid play. After all, the Browns can't merely SUCK. No, no. Someone had to CHEAT to outwit dickless over there.

Ufford: "It's no fair the way the other team had more talented players and a better coach."


Flubby: "We had the Bengals beat until that devious Mr. Fuji threw salt in our eyes."

Tunison: "You say it's unlikely the Ravens have developed some kind of debilitating nerve toxin, but do you know for sure? THE LEAGUE TURNS A BLIND EYE TO CHEATING!"


Seahawks at Rams: Kyle Boller is nailing Carrie Prejean, which goes to show that it doesn't matter how bad you are at playing QB, just being a QB in the NFL is enough to ensure you a higher class of tail than most any man on Earth. Stoney Case nailed Ali Landry. Heather Kozar made fingercuffs with Cade McNown and Tim Couch. In fact, Gisele and Hilary Rhoda aside, you're almost better off being a terrible NFL QB if you want to land hot ass. Starting QB's are too busy to nab good pussy. But if you're Matt Leinart, you have all day to talent scout.

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"Ace of Spades," by Motorhead. This helpful video above points out that the cover of Motohead's cover for the Sacrifice album includes a demon with a vagina for a mouth and a penis for a tongue.


Waiting around for dinner? Go now and immediately read this profile of Lemmy from last month's issue of Rolling Stone (excerpted in the link, otherwise you have to read the actual issue. HOW DARE SOMEONE CHARGE ME FOR CONTENT). In it, you will discover several important facts about Lemmy, such as:

-He still drinks a bottle of Jack a day

-According to Ozzy Osbourne, when Lemmy toured, "[Lemmy] had a plaid bag with three books an a notepad. No change of clothes. His fucking rider was seven bottles of bourbon, eight bottles of vodka, two bottles of orange juice, and that's fucking it!" You know you're a legendary drinker when even Ozzy Osbourne is in awe of your excess. The man needs only liquor to survive.


-He keeps an extensive collection of Nazi war artifacts in his apartment, including Eva Braun's comb. And somehow, this fact makes him even more of a BADASS. Anyone else who keeps Nazi uniforms in their apartment is a fucking Nazi scumbag. But when Lemmy does it? RAWK.

Lemmy rules.

Embarassing Album I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

"Euphoria," by Def Leppard. This was my favorite band back in 1987, before I discovered Metallica. I owned every Def Leppard album. I bought their Historia video compilation. I had their posters all over my wall. And whenever I doodled in class, I wrote everything in the Def Leppard font. I saw them at the Met Center in Bloomington, Minnesota (In the round, IN YOUR FACE!). And whenever they reached #1 on Dial MTV, I would go to school the next day and BRAG to people in my 5th grade class that didn't like Def Leppard that they were #1 the night before. How I went through that period without sucking a dick is beyond me.


Anyway, I still enjoy Def Leppard's music all these years later. I even bought their late period albums, including this one, which was released in 1999, far past their time of relevance. And I still listen to some of the shit on this album. ‘CAUSE YOU'RE LIVING ON A PAPER SUNNNNNN…

I know they never admitted it, but I bet that rig they set up for the one-armed drummer totally didn't work. They just stuck a drum machine under the stage and let Rick Allen tard away on his special, noiseless kit all he pleased.


Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Saw your neighbors break out the ball gags, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Tony Romo and the entire Dallas offense. You all suck, and when that final stretch of Giants/Chargers/Saints/Eagles arrives, and you choke like the choking assholes you are, America will once again dance on your fucking graves. Dicks. PICK A BACK AND STAY WITH HIM, GARRETT.


Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of the Steelers was incorrect, making me 8-3 on the year. Keep in mind, this is a year in which there are an uncommon amount of horrid teams. An 8-3 record is fucking pathetic. I hate suicide pools. Anyway, that puts the Steelers, Jets, Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? Cincinnati, and sibling rivalry. My kid took a drumstick the other day and smacked the baby with it. HARD. Just drummed the shit out of his head. So I grab the kid, and tried to do my best impression of an angry parent.


Her: I like princesses.

How do you reason with these fucking monsters? They evade the issues more easily than your average politician.


Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

"This week, I like the Raiders getting 13.5 points against Dallas on the road. I hung out with Lemmy once back in ‘82. He was playing a festival in Dusseldorf and I was there to see Skrewdriver. Bought a Hitler mustache hair from him for 40 marks. Good guy."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-5.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was J. Ramirez. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was P. Kuszynski. Hey Kuszynski, come claim your prize, you stupid Polack!


Great Moments In Poop History
I know many of you, including Leitch, skip the weekly poop story. Well, I implore not to miss this week's entrant. It's from our very own AJ Daulerio, and it is titled, "The Last Pickle In The Jar". It is your editor's Thanksgiving gift to you. Enjoy.

AJ: So, my friend Dorfman got married last April. We have a long history of playing horrible practical jokes on each other. He was very paranoid about what I had planned for his wedding night since we were staying in the same hotel. This was a wedding attended by the likes of Leitch, Aileen, Jim Cooke, etc.


Me: Dorfman? Kent Dorfman?

AJ: Matt Dorfman.

Me: Great name.

AJ: So one time at Spring Break when I was in college, you know, I played this joke on one of the other guys who was staying in our crappy Bahamaian hotel. He was a real bitch about his Do Not Disturb sign and would be a real asshole to the help. So I took the little hotel glass and scooped out my own turd from the toilet, ran up to his room, banged on the door, left the glass outside of it and ran away. He throws open the door, kicks the glass over, so now there's a big turd sitting in the middle of the hallway on our floor. SO. I tell Cooke about this and decided I want to do the same thing to Dorfman on his wedding night. I'm describing the glass full of poop and how it just floats in there with its flecks of poop and everything and Cooke says, "It's just like the last pickle in the jar." Brilliant, I thought. It shall be named that forever and ever. SO. I'm staying in Aileen's room. As you can probably tell, Aileen does not enjoy these types of hijinx.


Me: I don't even know why she knows you, honestly.

AJ: In order to pull it off I have to sneak up to the room while she's down at the bar to try to pull it off. I go into the bathroom, drop the deuce, grab the glass and go in to try to scoop.
Granted, I wasn't as drunk as I was in college the first time I did this, so I kind of tried to do a swooshing motion with the glass in order to get the poop in the glass. This only resulted in causing a little wave in the toilet — enough to force the turd up over the rim and go scooting across the bathroom floor.


Me: "The slippery eel"

AJ: Indeed. So now I have this wet turd on Aileen's bathroom floor and I have no idea when she's coming up. I frantically pick it up with some gobs of toilet paper and throw it back in the bowl. Knock on the door. It's Cooke. He comes in, the smell hits him, and he's like "What the fuck happened?!" As I explain to him the situation and the turd scooting across the floor, he proceeds to vomit in the hotel sink. So now we're both frantically trying to get the puke out of the sink and the lingering turd smell out of the room before Aileen comes back up. Knowing her, she'd probably call the police on us and never speak to us again. We succeed. However, that night, I reveal to Dorfman what my plan was and tell him the whole ordeal. He thinks it's the greatest thing in the world and proceeds to tell the whole wedding party about what happened. The next day at breakfast, Aileen won't even speak to me again because she heard about the whole thing. And that's the Last Pickle In The Jar.


Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Tom Cable*
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
Dick Jauron – FIRED!
Lovie Smith
Wade Phillips


Ugh. These stirring turnarounds by the Titans and other miserable teams has reduced our firing pool significantly. Come on, bad teams. Suck MORE.

Thanksgiving Snack Of The Week

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

French's Fried Onions. Every year, we make the white trash green bean casserole, and I eat half the can of onions before they've even gone into the mix. Especially the big, chunky ones that have been fused together in the frying process. This annoyed the Mrs. So I suggested, this year, that she buy TWO cans of the things. One for the casserole. The other for my snacking enjoyment. "How about you just keep your fat ass away from the one can I buy?" she said. Pfft. That's hardly a feasible option, woman.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week


Sportz! Reader DT writes in:

This is not a recommendation but rather a warning. Take heed.

High school. Texas. Mid-90s. There was this family-owned, Middle Eastern grocery that would sell us beer after-hours, in an alley behind the store. Very classy. And they charged us practically double since we were very clearly teenagers and not of legal drinking age. Because of that, WHAT we drank was completely at their discretion. There was a lot of Thunderbird and Mad Dog 20/20 ("Oooh! I hope it's Banana Red this week!") and the Beast and shit like that, but eventually they decided that even that stuff was too good for us, so they would just bring us whatever warm piss they couldn't sell. And that was how Sportz beer was introduced into my life. It was so bad you couldn't even bong it. For years it ruined beer for me altogether. Anything that makes you long wistfully for Mad Dog is pure evil.


Oh man, does that beer look horrible. I MUST HAVE IT.

Robert Evans' MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

Illustration for article titled LAST PICKLE IN THE JAR! Your Thanksgiving Jamboroo

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is Brett Favre of the Vikings. The old man! The gunslinger! You know, I too knew a gunslinger in my day. JOHN FORD! The one and only. Stagecoach? You bet! How Green Was My Valley? Very green, indeed. Ol' Ford loved taking his guns around with him anywhere he went on the set. Said it helped him keep the crew on their toes. One time, I saw Ford pull a gun on his DP. And he told that poor sucker, ‘Son, you don't get me a proper sunset, I'll shoot this gun right into your stupid little skull.' And I'll be damned if that DP didn't use all the shades and filters at his disposal to make a rainy evening look like the Grand Canyon at dusk! It's amazing what a director can do with a gun in his hands. I miss those days. Crazy? YOU BET! Glorious? Goddamn right."


Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Star Trek. Here, in one corner, we have Spock. Coldly analytical. Devoid of feelings. Dismissive of emotional factors and relying only on sound math and logic. In the other corner, we have Kirk. Impulsive. RECKLESS. Goes with his gut. Don't you see what's really going on here? Spock is Ken Tremendous: a SABREMETRICIAN OF INTERPLANETARY WARFARE. And Kirk is Buzz Bissinger, and the Romulans really piss the shit out of him. And Bones is Murray Chass.


Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"My parents won't let me use scissors!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Nina Senicar. (NSFWCC) She's foreign.
-For the gals: Pro surfer Kelly Slater. Pfft. What's he got that I don't besides a toned body, tremendous athletic ability, and a natural kinship with the sea?


Enjoy the games, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving. Drive safely.

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