FunbagTime for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? [Email the Funbag](   

It's my anniversary today, and when you've been married eight years and have small children, you are free to do away with all the bells and whistles an anniversary is supposed to entail.

ME: Happy anniversary.

WIFE: Happy anniversary.

ME: Do you wanna go out?

WIFE: We should save money.

ME: Do you want a gift?

WIFE: Nah. We should save money.

ME: Are you going to the store? Will you get me a card and flowers to give to you?


WIFE: Eh, sure.

So, so romantic. Your letters:

Fitness Friend:

I really hate my girlfriend's alma mater with a passion. She went to a pretty generic Big Ten school that hasn't won a national championship in anything relevant EVER (They fudged the voting numbers to include one football championship, but it's bullshit). Note "relevant" because wrestling, although manly, is not relevant whatsoever.


Way to hide your disdain for Iowa there, kid. That took a whole three seconds to figure out.

Recently, she wanted to purchase me a shirt from said school. I love her, but is it wrong that I want nothing to do w/ her shitty school and refuse to wear it?

It should be noted that the student body consists of a bunch of douche bags that enjoy icing each other, double fisting coors light and Miley Cyrus fans.


"The student body consists of a bunch of douche bags that enjoy icing each other, double fisting coors light." So basically, it's the student body of EVERY school that has ever existed, ever. This question is incomplete because it fails to include which school YOU went to, because there's every chance in the world that you went to a school just as lame and annoying as Iowa. You probably went to a school that's even worse.

Anyway, you're under no obligation to wear a shirt from your wife's alma mater, nor should she expect you to wear it. I've never worn anything from my wife's alma mater. Why would I? I didn't go there. That would be weird. It would make me feel like I was pretending I actually went there, which I didn't do.


But you have to be diplomatic about such things. If you just say, "I hate your school and I'm not wearing your stupid shirt," you are an asshole and she will kick you (rightfully) in the asshole. I would be playful about it and tell her you'll only wear it if she wears an IOWA SUCKS t-shirt, or if she'll wear this tasteful nurse's outfit to the bedroom. Get some mileage out of it. And get over yourself. It's Iowa. No one fucking cares.

I had a family member who went to an all girl's school, and one year she gave me a sweatshirt from that all girl's school. No man could possibly wear a sweatshirt from an all girl's school. So I never did. I'm quite sure she noticed it sitting in the bowels of my closet for years and years, left to rot like a corpse. But really, there's no other option with that kind of shirt.



Explain the Redneck Rape scene from Deliverance for me. Are they gay, and if so, why Ned Beatty when you've got Jon Voight's ass RIGHT THERE? If they're not gay (which is my husband's take), then why the butt sex? Is it an "any port in the storm" thing? No toothless, inbred women you can rape so you gots to rape the fat city boy?


Well, obviously the rednecks are gay on a certain level, the way prison rapists would be gay without thinking of themselves that way. Clearly, they're raping Ned Beatty to teach the fat city boy a lesson. Total power move. They're not turned on by Ned Beatty, they're turned on by their dominance over Ned Beatty (and who wouldn't find that alluring?). That's why that scene, while good for jokes, haunts anyone who sees it. The idea that there are people out there who get off on inflicting cruelty and humiliation is not a comforting one. But it's quite real, which is why seeing it played out is so disturbing. As for why they chose Beatty over a young and strapping Jon Voight, I assume that they considered Beatty easier to wrestle down, and more cushion for the pushin'. I know that's why I'd pick him.


I once got a blowjob – to completion – while on a cross country flight. Can I declare membership in the Mile High Club, or does it require penetration? For the record, I say no. I think the appropriate answer if asked is: "No, but I did get a blowjob once on a flight."


I agree. Penetration is required for MHC status. But in many ways, getting a blowjob is more impressive. The bathrooms are very small, and the risk of turbulence could prove devastating to both you AND your partner. You could get your dick bitten off. She could have her throat punctured. Lots of unpleasant variables. This is why I always eschew blowjobs on midair flights in favor if, you guessed it, raping Ned Beatty.


The guys who go into stalls, lock the door and piss are such pussies. What's the deal? Hiding your micropenis?


I've done it before, and I don't apologize for it. If I go to some goddamn rest stop, and there's a row of urinals there, and the only available one is stuck between some homeless dude who has made that urinal his house for the night and some 19-year-old steakdick yelling to his BRAH right next to him and there's an open stall to piss in, I'm taking the stall. If that makes me a dipshit, so be it. Pissing is supposed to be a relaxing, enjoyable experience. I have no problem taking that stall and enjoying 60 seconds of peace and quiet, with a metal partition separating me from some 500-lb. bus driver blowing diarrhea into the can.

Pork Chop:

I have been married for eight years now, and I've got two kids (1 & 5). The frequency of sex is pretty standard I think (3 times a week).


Pretty standard?! What are you, fucking Superman?

Rare are the moments when I am home alone. However, any time I am alone, I have to jerk it. My wife takes the kids to see a friend: jerk it. I get home from work 15 minutes before my wife and kids get home: jerk it. Kids are napping and wife is in the shower: jerk it. Sometimes I'll find myself not even horny but, shit, I got 30 minutes alone, I better take advantage of it, right? I'm not the only guy who makes the most of his alone time.


No, you are not. I too am at the age where jerking must be worked into the schedule wherever it can be allowed. Sometimes, the wife and kids will be away doing something and I'll be at home and suddenly my brain will be like, "Oh shit! You haven't jerked it yet! GO! GO! GET CRANKING, MISTER!" Then I run and jerk it and then go back to whatever it was I was doing. I'm like a whore with myself. I treat myself so coldly and clinically. I'm in and I'm out. I never bother to romance myself anymore. I USED TO CARE, DAMMIT. I used to spend more than two minutes on this sort of thing. But time is money, people.

Ever treat masturbation as a chore? You get a boner and you just sigh and say to yourself, "Ugh, really? FINE." I can get like that. I really shouldn't take boners for granted. I bet there comes a time when they aren't so easy to come by.



An activity that is sneaky nerve racking: watching a movie you've seen/love with someone who hasn't seen it. You crave their acknowledgment of its awesomeness, or rather of your awesomeness for recommending it/having amazing taste in things. You tell them it's so good and get them to watch it, but then all you do the whole time is watch them for their reactions to your favorite parts. If they don't laugh when you laugh you get so angry at them or you accuse them of not paying attention.


I agree completely. Worst of all, it makes you rethink your own enjoyment of the movie. Maybe it wasn't really that good. Maybe YOU have shitty taste. Could that possibly be? No, no it cannot be. FUCK that person for not acknowledging the greatness of your favorite film.

This kind of thing is really terrifying when you're in high school and college. That's the age when your tastes are something that define you. Liking a certain band or movie is really, really, REALLY fucking important to you at that age. So when someone dislikes it, that means they're rejecting YOU as a person, because liking that movie is part of who you are, because you're young and extremely uninteresting otherwise.


My favorite movie when I was in college was Fresh, starring Samuel L. Jackson (score by Stewart Copeland!). I loved the movie and demanded all the other guys on the football team watch it. And, because I was young and retarded, I overhyped it by telling them it was the greatest movie ever and their minds would be blown. And what happened? They turned it off after thirty minutes and called me a fag. DEVASTATING.

It's even worse with comedies because you want so, so badly for the other person to laugh. And when they don't, you can't even begin to comprehend it. How could you not find that funny? What are you, a fucking asshole?



"The way Lunesta works is unknown."

What the fuck?


It was given to the pharmaceutical company by Jesus, you see. Or a Russian chemist with possible mafiya ties. So very mysterious. Turns out it's made of whiskey!


What would a player have to do to make a Hall of Fame after just one season? For argument's sake say they left the league in circumstances that had no effect on the vote - so wasn't killed by crazed fan or left to fight a war.

Baseball for example: would breaking DiMaggio's hit record in your rookie and only season be enough to make the Hall of Fame?


No. No way. Even if the player in question doubled that streak, he's still not getting into the Hall of Fame after playing just one season and then being forced to retire after being in a bizarre gardening accident.

Think about who votes for the Hall of Fame: Writers. What do those writers enjoy more than anything on Earth? DENYING players entrance to the Hall of Fame. I guarantee you Lupica jerks off to that prospect every night. They'll use any excuse to keep a player out, especially if that player never took them out for a free meal. So saying "he only played one season" is an easy way out for them, even if the player in question broke DiMaggio's streak, hit 90 home runs, broke Hack Wilson's RBI record (a record I'm kind of annoyed no one broke during the steroid thing), won a World Series, pitched and broke Bob Gibson's ERA record simultaneously, and had an eight foot cock. Lupica would still say no.



My friend is in Norway right now (he's originally from there), and he sent me a message asking me if I've ever done Glade and if it's worth doing. I had no idea what the fuck Glade was. It sounded like a drug in some Sci-Fi movie or something. Anyway, a two second Google Search showed me that it's putting a towel over the mouth thingy of a bottle of air freshener, squeezing the button, and inhaling. WHAT THE FUCK? I wrote him back saying only do natural shit, like weed and mushrooms.


I assume you can get high off the propellant in a can of Glade, the same way you can off whippets or whatever. Sounds like something Norse people would do. You suck down a can of Glade, and then Loki, god of mischief, arrives and takes you across the rainbow bridge to Asgard, where hot blondes and pickled fish await you.

I went to a dinner party once where the host husband was working a can of whipped cream for dessert. At one point, he openly started sniffing the can propellant to get high. My wife and others were totally scandalized by this. The ride home:

WIFE: Did you see what he did?

ME: Yes.

WIFE: Wasn't that horrible?

ME: Oh, yes. Absolutely.

Meanwhile, my brain is thinking, "I should really, really try that." So I'm making dessert one night for the kids, and I notice the can is finished but the gas is still hissing out when I press down. So I stick the spout up my nose and press it down, hoping I'd get way high. Anyway, I didn't. And my wife caught me, gave me a look of unbridled disgust, and now stares at me when I use the whipped cream to make sure I'm not doing it again. You do these things when you get married.


/all but certain I was doing it wrong


Asian milf? Asian milf


Or is it MIRF?


In a previous Funbag you mentioned making someone pay if your children died. Have you ever gone into detail on how you would torture said person? My buddy and I (both with kids) talked about this extensively before while drinking heavily. It was started off by him asking me what I would do if an adult abused one of my kids. Cutting off eye lids, fiberglass rod down the person dick, pulling off fingernails…really really sick shit, but very satisfying knowing how horrible this person would suffer. After the talk we both sat there and just stared at the wall in a drunken depression because we just planned out an entire torture at the expense of our child.


Oh, don't be depressed. Using your child to daydream about murdering people is one of the true joys of parenting. It's a reaffirming way of knowing you have a fatherly instinct. That's the way I see it.

I live in a neighborhood with no sidewalks, which means my kids ride bikes and walk down the side of the street. This means any number of cars can come zooming by. Not only do I spend entire walks with my children imagining some punk teenage fuckhead running them over, but I always advance to the next part of the daydream which involves me running over to that person's car, my child dead on the ground, and choking the driver to death in a fit of unholy rage. I am no longer a person in that moment. I AM RED DEATH. I put my fist through that fuckface's window, grab his throat, and squeeze until his head damn near pops off. No one can stop me in my frenzied state. I cannot see or hear anything other than KILL. Then I go to prison and my wife visits and even though she's mad I'm in jail she's turned on by me defending our child and then we have hot conjugal visit lovin'. It's perfectly NATURAL AND NORMAL AND NOT AT ALL ODD to think this way. Right?




Would you rather date a girl who wears too much make-up, or none at all? I'd go with the latter for the following reasons: If a girl wears too much make-up, even if she's hot, people make fun of her. Dating a girl who doesn't wear any make-up allows people to say things like "she could be hotter if she tried". I'd like to date a girl who I know could always be hotter if she tried.


"You wear too much eye makeup. My sister wears too much. People think she's a whore."

Never gets old.

The obvious answer is no makeup, because a girl who doesn't feel the need for makeup probably has good skin and more self-confidence, and those are two nice qualities to have in a lady friend. But if you're shopping for a HOOKER or a stripper, I'd always go with the one wearing too much makeup. I think an abundance of makeup is always a sure sign of promiscuity, and promiscuous women are WAY HOT. Ever see a woman who's just kind of okay looking, but wears tons of makeup and gets really dressed up anywhere she goes? There's always women like that at any office you go to, and your first thought when you see them is always, "Wow. I bet she totally puts out." NICE.



Is there anything more annoying in this world than leaf blowers? It's like some terrible inventors got together and said, "Hey, I know! Let's take a lawnmower motor, remove any semblance of a muffler, strap it on somebody's back, and make it as inefficient as possible!" How have there been no advancements in leaf blower technology in the last 25 years? They're loud and annoying as fuck (especially when the guy goes back and forth between idling and full blast), they smell horrible, and they don't work half as well as a big broom.

Of course, provided you have the right earplugs, they're probably pretty fun to use.


Oh, they're fun to use all right. I have the shittiest leaf blower known to mankind. It's ELECTRIC. You have to plug it in, which is so lame I can't even comprehend it. And it's weak as shit. I could move the leaves around just as effectively simply by blowing on them myself. But there is one saving grace to using it: I feel like I'm holding a goddamn alien bazooka when I use it. Every leaf is an oncoming alien spider crab, and I sweep my mighty blower across the landscape, devastating them with a mere flick of my wrist. I am Tranzor Z's Atomic Hurricane.

Then the buzz from that wears off after three minutes and the leaves have moved a foot. The rest of the cleanup is agonizing. But I'll be goddamned if I'm gonna pay some asshole service a hundred bucks to clean that shit up.


Raking is no better. You spend all this time making a nice little pile, and then a simple wind gust can RUIN YOUR SHIT. And I don't own a tarp, so most of the time I spend raking involves me trying to manually move the pile from the middle of the lawn over to the curb. By the end, I'm just kicking the shit out of that pile with the rake. I beat it like a problem child. Then my back goes out and I fall down.

Killer of Whales:

I have a chronic liver disease that was shockingly not caused by my drinking. They put me on this drug called Rifampin, an antibiotic meant for TB patients that also apparently helps relieve itching in liver patients (one of the more annoying symptoms). Anyway, it has one major side effect - it turned my piss bright orange. Not like tinted or anything, but straight up the color of an orange. Totally, totally awesome. Being the disgusting human being that I am, I called in my fiance to look at my newly colored urine, while proudly standing to the side, dick still out, of course.

That got us talking about urine color, and how cool it would be to be able to take a supplement to change the color of your urine. Orange is far superior to yellow. I think I'd go with green, though. My fiance wanted purple.


I'm surprised the NFL hasn't created a supplement that would allow you to piss your team's official colors. If you were a Skins fan, you could take the burgundy supplement and then cross the streams with your friend who's extremely dehydrated. BOOM. Burgundy and gold. Delightful.

Orange would be a fun color for your piss because it would look so drinkable. Look! I pissed Tang! Pink, too. But I think the ace color would be electric blue. It would look cool and refreshing. Even minty. And if you were pissing at a stadium trough, you'd turn some heads.


First Plays Haze:

Imagine if sperm were actually like 3 inches long. And instead of like millions of sperm in every load, there were only like 50. So imagine what it would look like after you blew your load? All these big sperm squirming around splish-splashin' in your man fluid. I honestly think the porn industry would be a lot different if this were true.


I think no one would have sex if that were the case. It would be terrifying to see giant, living creatures shooting out of man's penis. They would look like parasitic worms. No woman would ever let that inside her body. I think most women in general are disgusted by seminal fluid, and rightfully so. It's bizarre shit.

Too many men would also be tempted to keep their sperm as pets if this were the case. Imagine jacking it and then seeing 50 little tadpoles shoot into the toilet. Are you just gonna flush the poor fuckers down? That's your own flesh and blood right there. No, you'd feel compelled to scoop them out, put them in a tank, fed them egg yolks, and watch them grow into mutant frog babies. Then you would train your mutant frog babies to bite and carry sidearms and then the WORLD WOULD FUCKING DIE.


So it's best to keep sperm at their current size. Although I'm always still looking to see if they're swimming around when I jerk off into the toilet. I know I can't see them, but I'd like to think I can.


Would you rather fuck Peter King or George Wendt and why? I think I would go for Senor King because I bet he's a screamer.


The correct answer is Ned Beatty.


I recently returned from Spain for my honeymoon, and one of the activities we did was go to a bullfight. My wife was horrified, however I (along with the rest of the crowd) loved it. One thing I noticed was that there were no stupid protesters, everyone was down for watching 6 different bulls get destroyed.

Can you imagine the backlash here if they ever tried to bring that stateside? I think the President of PETA's head would explode......which would be fine by me.


I would absolutely go to a bullfight and it's on my life to-do list along with shooting heroin on my deathbed and eating raw whale.

My kid has a book called "Ferdinand," which is a classic children's story about a bull who liked to sit around all day smelling flowers. Well, one day, a bee stings Ferdinand and Ferdinand starts bucking like crazy, just as a bunch of bullfighting scouts are hanging out at the farm. So they think he's some badass motherfucker and they take him to the bullfighting ring. But then Ferdinand doesn't want to fight. He just sits in the ring and smells the flowers and shit.


So the story ends with Ferdinand going back to the countryside and just hanging out. But I think you and I both know better. I think Ferdinand would have been lanced through the fucking eyes on the spot for not fighting, and I always wonder when I should tell my kid that the end of that story is crap. No one's gonna let a bull smell flowers all day. That's gay. Sorry, bull. FIGHT OR DIE, BITCH.