Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering playoffs, kiddie cocktails, fake fruit, PowerBall, and more.
What is the preferred setup for napping? In my opinion, there are three solid choices here: 1. fully in bed (those people are fearless lunatics), 2. on top of the bed but not under the covers, and 3. on the couch. Personally, I’m Type 2. Fully-in-bed naps lead to waking up and not knowing what continent you’re on.
I nap in a recliner, because I’m a dad and I have magical Dad Nap Powers that allow me to fall dead asleep in any recliner at any time, under any circumstances, even if a volcano is erupting three feet away from me. My family is so used to me falling asleep in my chair that they consider my resting body part of the furniture itself. I just lay there, with my mouth open, oblivious to the fact that my son is poking my face with a plastic fork. It’s a pretty great setup. Once in a while, my wife covers me with a blanket, and that is the nicest thing any person can do for another person. If you see someone sleeping out there, put a blanket on them. Let them know they are LOVED.
Anyway, if you plan on taking a nap anytime soon, here is how I would rank your potential nap locations:
1. Recliner, blanket on
2. Pool lounge chair. Like, when it’s really hot. You just fall asleep and roast, and then you wake up and go masturbate. That’s a great afternoon.
3. Couch, TV still on
4. Bed, on top of covers (but with a spare blanket OVER you, so you stay warm but still get that on-top-of-the-covers feel; bonus points for a hotel bed!)
5. Bed, under the covers. Obviously, this is the most comfortable napping situation. But as Torin said, it’s TOO comfortable. You’ll wake up after sundown and feel like you gave yourself the flu.
6. Park lawn, on top of a blanket
9. Hammock. Do people actually fall asleep in hammocks? Do you wake up with scoliosis if that happens?
11. Airport floor. I slept on the floor at Boston’s Logan Airport once. Now you know why I hate Boston.
After that meltdown, did the Bengals just “out-Browns” the Browns and take the throne as the “Brownsiest” team in Ohio?
No, that’s not possible. The Browns would have to win a title before the Bengals could truly usurp their THRONE OF MISERY. It’s kind of unfair, when you think about it. That Bengals loss was BRUTAL. Not only did they lose at the last second to their most hated divisional rival, but they HANDED the game to them, and in seven different ways! It was astonishing. I know my team had an awful weekend, but I could yammer on for ages about their HEART and SCRAPPITUDE and all that stupid horseshit. Meanwhile, Pacman Jones is out here truthering unconsciousness.
We should form a new state around Cincinnati (O’Tucky) so that the Bengals’ misery can have a place of its own. It’s not right to make them share with the Browns. They’ll never keep up. Chris Henry died falling out of a goddamn truck, and somehow the Browns STILL have worse luck.
How long do you think you could fake being a Target employee, wearing your choice of red polo/hoodie/sweater/T-shirt and faded khaki chinos? I just looked online, and you can definitely buy a customized nametag for added legitimacy. I think during a busy time, you could walk around and give bullshit answers to customer questions for at least 20 minutes before you get found out.
No way. Stores like that always have at least one or two meddlesome micro-managers who prowl the store at all hours looking for employees who are slacking off/smoking weed/urinating on the floor. I know you can never, ever find a Target employee when you need one (and when you do, they’re already being trailed by an old lady demanding to know where the soap is). But even if you put on your fake uniform and hide out on the bowels of the bedding department, some humorless drone is gonna spot you within three minutes and harsh your buzz. And if you’re REALLY unlucky, he’ll hire you. “You look like the kind of ambitious young go-getter who’s willing to work off the clock and without health insurance! I’M PUTTING YOU IN THE ELECTRONICS SECTION.”
So now that the new Star Wars is the No. 1 movie of all time, can someone please explain why the box office industry is based on money rather than tickets sold?
Because it behooves Hollywood to crown a new box office champion every year or so to artificially drive up consumer interest. Every year, some movie shatters the record for “Biggest Arbor Day opening for a musical action picture,” and that lets the moviegoing public know that movies are still HIP and COOL.
No movie will ever catch Gone With the Wind’s record of 200 million tickets sold, because we don’t live in the 1930s anymore. Back then, there was nothing to do, and movies cost half a penny, and your local Pottersville Showplex had one screen and kept the same movie on it for nine months. If they went by tickets sold (which they ought to), they’d never be able to crow about some new movie’s bullshit accomplishments. Also, turning the box office into a spectator sport helps appeal to fanboy armchair producer types (BILL SIMMONS) who, for some reason, like to pretend they know THE BUSINESS. “Big dropoff for Jurassic World 8 on that second weekend! Don’t like that!”
(By the way, despite all that, I was overjoyed when Star Wars beat out Avatar. Take that, you whiny tree-hugging propaganda movie! SUCK KYLO REN’S BALLS).
In what decade will Gruden’s and Cowher’s names stop being attached to every single open head coach position? It’s getting absurd.
I think it’s kind of over already, no? Fans and talk-radio callers might toss those names out, but the beat writers rarely bother anymore. In fact, guys like Mort usually go out of their way to tell you how uninterested Bill Cowher is in returning to football. HE’S LOVING HIS LIFE IN NORTH CAROLINA AND GOING TO HIS CHILDREN’S BASKETBALL GAMES! Don’t you worry about Bill Cowher, gang! His life is FULL right now. Now, Doug Marrone? Now THERE is a guy who’s out there and available! Who can resist such a man so well-respected in league circles?!
By the way, I think the average fan doesn’t even want Cowher or Gruden to coach their team anymore. Too much time has passed, and too many other Super Bowl-winning retreads like Mike Holmgren and Mike Shanahan have failed. Give me the respected defensive coordinator any day.
I was getting lunch today, and the two 12-year-old girls next to me ordered virgin mojitos. That can’t be a thing, right?
So it’s limeade, right? Take the booze out of a mojito and it’s mint limeade. (You’d have to add a shitload of water to the mix, though, because, unlike a daiquiri, a standard mojito is mostly booze). Good starter cocktail for your child! I don’t think it’s that far removed from any other kiddie cocktail like a Shirley Temple or a virgin piña colada. When you go to a nice restaurant, kids just want special drinks like the adults get. It’s a special occasion! Plus it’s your reward for wearing fat-boy khakis to please your mother. You deserve two cherries for tolerating that. ANOTHER VIRGIN DIRTY MARTINI FOR JUNIOR OVER HERE.
If a suicide bomber got on the field during a Cowboys game and killed Greg Hardy and only Greg Hardy, would that be enough to cause Obama to initiate a large-scale ground war against ISIS?
No. But talk about conflicting emotions!
Why does the NFL count the yards from inside the end zone on kickoff returns and interceptions, but neglect them when someone catches a TD in the end zone? I need those extra one to nine yards my receiver got for fantasy football purposes. Instead of someone catching a one-yard TD pass in the back of the end zone, it could be an eight-yard pass that wins me this week’s game.
Well, they don’t count how many yards you run INTO the end zone at the end of a play. If the returner scores and runs over to dry-hump the goal post (good move!), he doesn’t get 10 extra yards of credit. The reason they count the yardage at the beginning of a kickoff or punt return is because those plays can begin in a negative space, which isn’t possible on an offensive play from scrimmage. Although surely the Detroit Lions have attempted this.
Regardless, I am still dazzled by 100-plus-yard returns in football. It’s like getting a GPA above 4.0. He ran that kickoff back 109 yards! That is the most yards! If only you could field a kickoff from behind the end zone. Why not? We could have a 120-yard return starting from inside the tunnel. I’d be riveted.
Which fruit has the biggest falloff between the fruit itself and the artificial version you find in other foods? For me it’s raspberries. Whenever I buy a carton, I eat it in one sitting, but raspberry filling is fucking gross.
Aw, man, I like raspberry filling. All of the sugar, none of the seeds! I’ll eat any coffee cake stuffed with that garbage. Besides, aren’t artificial strawberry and raspberry and cherry flavorings all the same? It’s red. The taste is red.
Anyway, I’ll go ahead and rank the most pronounced drop-offs from real fruit to artificial:
1. Oranges. Oranges are delicious, especially when they’re easy to peel (never) and seedless (again, never). But I could give half a shit about orange soda, orange Jell-O, orange Starbursts, or any of that shit. All that goes right in to the canned-food-drive box.
2. Pineapple. Real pineapple is so good it barely counts as fruit. It’s way better than the year-old pineapple hard candy at the dermatologist’s office.
3. Lemon. Again, I leave any citrus-flavored Starbursts for the hobos.
4. Banana. I love banana pudding and banana daiquiris, but banana Runts can go to Hell. You banana Runt fanboys scare me.
5. Watermelon. Least-popular tooth-polish flavor at the dentist’s office.
And now for the best!
1. Strawberry. RED.
2. Mango. All of the flavor with none of the stringy bits! Ever get mango stuck in your teeth? Takes a week to get out.
3. Passion fruit.
5. Grape. Artificial grape flavor is so consistent. If I eat Welch’s grape fruit snacks and then wash it down with Welch’s soda, I get the same flavor profile! IT’S A MODERN MIRACLE.
Harder to tie: water balloon or tie?
Water balloons, mainly because I want my water balloon to be as large as possible so that it causes as much damage as possible. That means I always overfill it, which leaves no room at the end to tie with, which results in me wrapping the end around both fingers and trying to stuff it between the fingers to finish the knot, which cuts off the blood supply to my fingertips, which results in amputation, which is followed by the three-cent balloon exploding and soaking my crotch. It’s not a fun process. Leave some room in your water balloons. Don’t get greedy like me.
Here’s a story. Ages ago, we were tossing water balloons out of our dorm window at school onto innocent passersby. Really bad teen behavior. Well, the dorm parent/wrestling coach got wind of this and sat us all down to chew us out for being teenage dickheads. This was not a man you wanted to piss off. So he does a bit of role playing:
“Guys, let’s say someone goes walking by your window, and FAT DREW wants to peg them with a balloon. Don’t fucking let him.”
He really did call me Fat Drew. I earned that.
Say a prominent NFL player had committed a murder, but the evidence to charge him only comes about in the middle of a game. Do they arrest him in the middle of the game, or do they let him finish it?
Well, wait a second. Did the murder JUST happen? Was it a mass shooting? Did police chase a white Bronco to the team facility? Was there a dragnet to search for Greg Hardy (I’m assuming it’s Greg Hardy, because it would TOTALLY be Greg Hardy) that led authorities to the stadium as the game was being played?
As much as I believe that American law enforcement hates inconveniencing rich criminals, I think that guy’s getting arrested. No sheriff wants to risk letting the guy play and then having the press ask why. And, if movies and TV are indication (and they are!), the average hotshot DA is gonna WANT to make a big production out of the arrest. If he can have officers go out onto the field to collar the guy live on national television, he will. WE GOT OUR MAN. DAs love showboating for the cameras like that. They’re the original glory boys.
By the way, that’s only if the murder is fresh. If we’re talking about a cold case, you get to play the season out. So plan your murders carefully, NFL superstars! Don’t make Peter King write another open letter.
If I won the PowerBall and then chose to donate ALL of my winnings to Bernie Sanders’ campaign, would he instantaneously become the frontrunner in the election?
No. The only thing that would do is give the political media a fresh week’s worth of empty, futile prognosticating. IS THE BERNIE BILLION A GAME CHANGER?!
If anything, Bernie would lose votes because everyone (me) would be so pissed about that money going to a political candidate. Spend your billion however you want. Buy a jet. Shit in a gold toilet. Buy a live tiger and dress it up as a butler and have your tiger butler deliver Amazon purchases to your bedside. But don’t give your money to a fucking political candidate. I wanna win the Lottery because I wanna live like a filthy-rich shitbag, and it really bothers when me an ACTUAL filthy-rich person chooses not to do that. Get your priorities in order, Jacob! LESS BERNIE, MORE COKE AND ESCORTS.
Say the team with the ball has a fourth down with six or seven yards to go on their opponent’s 40-yard line—that unfortunate distance where a field goal is difficult and where a punt is likely to get you only 20 yards, because the chances of a touchback are really high. What if, instead of kicking the ball, the punter threw the ball, Hail Mary-style, toward the kick returner? Worst case, if the kick returner catches the ball, there was an interception, and he gets tackled right where he was. Best-case, the kick returner moves out of the way to let the ball bounce (remember, he thought it was kicked) and one of the gunners catches the pass and walks it into the end zone for a touchdown.
With six or seven yards to go, you’re better off just going for it with your offense out on the field. The “fake” you outline would probably work better on fourth and 10 or longer, when going for it is a low-percentage play anyway. But then you would have to hope that your gunner catches the ball, OR the returner fumbles it because he’s so thrown off by the lack of a punting sound (for real, the sound of that kick booming helps the coverage and fielding teams a lot). You also have to hope that no defender notices that the play was a fake. Defenders tend to notice such things, and then relay the news to teammates with crucial code words like FAKE, and OMG FAKE, and IT’S A TRAP!
And what if it fails (which it would)? I’ll tell you what happens if it fails: You are Chuck Pagano. Picture your idiot punter heaving the ball down the field to no one in particular. Why, you’d look ridiculous! And the most important thing in football is to never look ridiculous. You must look strong and cool and invulnerable at all times. Risky plays are strange and weird and could result in people making fun of you! I WON’T ALLOW IT. I’m the sort of the fan who will ignorantly and hypocritically boo a risky play if it fails, because it helps me feel like a big man. DO YOU REALLY WANT TO INCUR MY WRATH?!
I am curious what the required age should be for leaving your child in the car by themselves and for what length of time. I have a 15-month-old who was asleep in his car seat, which led me to believe I could run into the gas station and grab drinks without waking and removing him. After my four-minute round trip, I came back to my car to find a lady standing there just waiting to give me a lecture about leaving children in the car. The temperature was a nice 72 and it was daytime. I understand she has no idea how long I have been gone, but there needs to be some sort of standard for this.
The laws vary by state. Where I live, for instance, you’re can’t leave a child unattended in a car before the age of EIGHT. You could go to jail for a month otherwise. And yet, I’ve risked it! One time, I dashed into a gas station for a bag of pretzels with my sons still in the car and visible from the gas-mart window. I said to them, “I’ll be right back. Don’t let any strangers into the car.” And they didn’t. Good boys.
I risked it all because kiddie seats are THAT horrible. I don’t think lawmakers fully understand what a complete pain in the ass it is to undo a child from a seat, put their shoes back on (my kids always take them off in the car, to my fury), escort them into a goddamn store, refuse to buy them candy, beg them to go back to the car, and then buckle up the fucking car seat all over again. All of sudden, 20 minutes of my life are GONE. Like nothing. Back in my parents’ day, you could leave a child in a car for days. They didn’t even have car seats! NOW WE’RE SOFT. I’m bitter. I shouldn’t have to choose between jail time and safely endangering my child.
Anyway, if you can help it, do NOT leave a child in a car, especially if people are looking.
If you were a cop, would you ever pull someone over in the rain (presuming you aren’t a Seattle cop)?
No. Never. Fuck that. You save your quota for a sunny day. NO ONE DENIES THIS. I wouldn’t even chase a murderer in the rain. I’d go back to the chief and be like, “Yo, Chief, we tried. But he gave us the slip. CLEARLY A PROFESSIONAL. Did his homework, man.”
Every time spring rolls around, my wife turns into a fugitive bank robber. I’ll walk out the door to get groceries, and she’ll be like THE COPS ARE OUT TODAY. YOU WATCH YOUR BACK.
I have a friend who reuses his workout clothes for days without washing them. He claims there’s no point in laundering them, since within minutes of putting them on he’s sweaty and gross anyway.
I understand his logic, but he’s wrong. Trust me: If you go days without washing your workout clothes, people notice. One time, I went to the gym wearing dirty shorts, and after half an hour, I began to smell myself. I smelled like a YMCA power forward. And worse, I knew everyone else could smell me, too. It’s an awful moment. Back in college, I never washed workout clothes, because college guys are repulsive. But you can’t get away with that for very long. The older you get, the more pronounced your BO gets. You could kill your fellow treadmill runners with such antics.
One final note: JOCK ITCH. If you don’t wash your gym clothes, you will get jock itch. You will be scratching your balls one day, hit a moist spot, look down, and then gasp in horror at the sight of the ebola virus eating away at your taint. Don’t risk it. Do your gym laundry.
I was having a discussion with my friend about what constitutes a monster. He claimed that E.T. was a monster, and I contended that, no, he was an alien. What is the main thing that qualifies something as a monster? Must we be unsympathetic to the creature for it to be a monster?
What about Kim Jong-un? Is he not ALSO a monster?
Anyway, I tend to think of monsters as creatures that are UNNATURAL. They’re not human. They’re not animals. They are unnatural beasts: large, feral, and terrifying in appearance (although not always in behavior). Some aliens can be monsters (like in Alien!), and but not all monsters are aliens. Does that make sense? Frankenstein’s monster is sympathetic, but he’s still an abomination, and we must cage him before he drowns our children.
We got TWO emails of the week this week! Lucky you. Here’s the first one:
My grandfather died a few years ago, and among the many things I miss and remember about him, I particularly remember the way his poops smelled, from having frequently gone to the bathroom in his house shortly after he did. They had a certain way of lingering. Anyhoo, sometimes when I poop, it smells like his poop. This makes me inordinately proud. Is that weird?
No. Okay, it’s a little weird. But we all have strange memory quirks. Proust fondly remembered baked goods; you remember an old man’s bowel movements. Not that different!
And now, the second email of the week:
I have two boys, six and three years old. The other night before dinner, my youngest son was taking a shit. He still needs help wiping, so when he’s finished, he asks for help, and my wife or myself will go in and help him finish up. Well, I was right in the middle of cooking, so my wife went in to help him. Less than a minute later, I hear commotion and crying from my son with my wife consoling him.
Turns out he was sitting on the toilet with his feet on the foot stool. My wife was not aware that he was putting all his weight on the foot stool and slid it out from under him. His dick was still tucked inside the toilet when this occurred, and he fell forward, slicing the base of his shaft horizontally. It looked like a small papercut, but when you separated it slightly, it was pretty deep. Nothing that couldn’t be stitched or glued at the ER, but still pretty bad. My oldest son is overhearing my wife and I talking about it but not commenting much. She took the little guy to the ER, and I was going to drive separate with my oldest son shortly after. I was pretty shook up and kind of talking to myself when my oldest son came up to me and said something I never thought I would hear, EVER. He said, “Daddy, I know we’re both worried about my brother’s penis falling off, but I really want to listen to Thriller on the way to the hospital.”
These are the situations you don’t hear about when you’re considering having kids. My youngest is fine and got glued up, but not before his brother Thriller-danced on the way to see him.
I’ll never listen to it the same way again.
Drew Magary writes for Deadspin. He’s also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter@drewmagary and email him at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also order Drew’s book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.
Lead illustration by Tara Jacoby.
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