Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering beer pong, nose-blowing, superpowers, and more.

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Your letters:

Troy:

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If John Cena had the best training available over the next four years on hot-topic political subjects, how well could he do in presidential debates? I’ve got to think he’d have a Trump-like chance at winning the presidency. Nobody can work the mic like him, and I think if he had the right preparation, he could make other candidates look silly at the podium. And he’d KILL it with the male college demographic eligible to vote for the first time. Am I crazy?

You are not crazy. John Cena could be president. We’ve already had one professional wrestler (and legitimately crazy person) run an entire state, and that was with virtually no political training of any sort. And there’s a reason that we’ve elected actors to higher office. ACTORS! The most inane people on fucking Earth. Fred Thompson won a Senate seat simply because he played a politician on TV so many times that people assumed he was a real one! We’ve elected actors to be president, and on more than one occasion!

Because what is a president but an actor, a figurehead? Your job is 90 percent presentation. You have policy wonks and handlers to analyze the nitty-gritty of actual government operation and then offer recommendations. A president’s job is to SELL those recommendations, and make fancy speeches, and pretend to enjoy the Chancellor of Malta’s company at state dinners.

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When you vote for a president, you’re really voting for whatever shadowy apparatus is propping that fucker up, and the better the candidate is at hiding that apparatus, the better he or she polls. So, in theory, anyone good with a mic could excel with enough support behind him or her. Now that the news media has amplified the election cycle to the point where news coverage is the primary driver of campaign promotion, mic skills are the dominant factor in electability. If you can’t talk, you’re done.

John Cena could pull it off. Load him up with the names of foreign leaders and some cool stats, and he could easily win people over. Like me! Do you know how gullible I am? If I watch any presidential debate, there are moments when I will forget everything bad about any candidate because they said something I agree with. So, like, if Donald Trump says, “We gotta have wider parking spaces, folks. Believe me, when I am president, you’re gonna be able to park an aircraft carrier in any space,” I’m temporarily sold. It takes nothing to turn me. Cena could have moments of clarity like that.

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In fact, he should run now. This election already has a heel. It needs a face for balance. Trump has shown us the way all elections will be conducted in the future: nothing but trash-talking and sick burns for months on end. This isn’t an anomaly. We’re gonna have even CRAZIER candidates moving forward, so I think Cena should jump in now. He could run a third party campaign funded by GNC and BIG VITAMIN and go to fucking work on everyone. I will support him and his jort welfare programs.

Gerald:

Which athlete would make the best beer pong partner? Take into account their sport, their party lifestyle, their college lifestyle, etc. Rob Gronkowski has to be No. 1 right?

HA! Sucker. While you pick Gronk because he’s such a party animal, I’m taking Steph Curry and wiping the floor with your sorry ass. I don’t need the bro-iest partner. I need a good shooter so that I can ride his coattails, stay on the table, and lord over the room like a complete asshole. You know how good it feels to luck into a dominant beer pong pairing? I feel like a member of the Justice League when things are running hot. YOU CANNOT STOP DREW AND STEPH. WE ARE ELITE. We will dominate until everyone has cleared out of the room because we’re so insufferable together, and that’s fun!

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My second choice, by the way, would be Kobe. I know he’s broken down and shitty, but Kobe is the sort of fellow who hates to lose anything, and so he would apply his psychotic competitive zeal to the game and nail shot after shot. And if you ever took a lead against our team, he would stab you in the face. Good partner.

Matt:

Within the last few weeks, I came across this article detailing this woman’s ability to detect details via her eyesight from a distance of a mile or more (while the average person can only do this at a distance of 20 feet or so). So, basically, superhuman sight. Which got me thinking a couple weeks later: Do we think any athlete might be gifted with something that approaches this?

Whoa, I had no idea about this lady. Why hasn’t the U.S. military forcibly seized her and made her a bomb scout? That’s what would happen in a Gene Hackman movie.

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Anyway, here’s another interesting thing: According to this website, a great MANY athletes have superior vision. On average, fewer of them require corrective lenses than the rest of the population, and their vision only improves from there, because the sport itself acts as an intensive workout for the eyes and brain. This makes sense given the intense levels of concentration needed to hit a baseball or time a crossing pattern. And yet … I am bitter. As if these assholes don’t have enough going for them—money, speed, good looks, big muscles, hot women fawning over them, etc.—they also get blessed with HDTV vision. What a fucking load. Why can’t God distribute talent evenly? If you’re attractive, God should force you to run the 40-yard dash in 6.0. I demand talent welfare reform.

By the way, I already knew about people who had superhuman memory skills, like Marilu Henner from Taxi (it’s true!). But here is a dirty little secret of superpowers: They are no longer superpowers if people actually have them. If the superpower becomes real, then it kinda ruins it. If you show me some guy in Oregon who literally has the power of invisibility, I’ll shit my pants for two seconds before accepting it as a completely real and therefore ordinary quirk of human genetics. “Oh. It’s the invisible guy AGAIN. Borrrrrring! Let’s see you fly, buddy. Then we’ll chat.”

Jeff:

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Have you noticed that Donald Trump is an old, white version of Kanye West? They both have an affinity for getting up onstage, speaking loudly about incoherent thoughts, constantly repeating themselves, and interrupting others.

Yeah, but Kanye West is a musician, and musicians are allowed to be crazy assholes, because ultimately, all you give a shit about is the album. In general, you should never listen to any musician say anything. Bono is an idiot. Mick Jagger is an idiot. Lars Ulrich is an insane shitbag. Kanye’s no different from them. Talking is the worst thing these people do. But you can just grab the album and tune the rest of it out if you want.

But Trump isn’t an artist. He doesn’t same the same limp excuse. He’s a crazy asshole running for office AND trying to sell people on legitimate business ventures. That kind of crazy only works in the creative field. It doesn’t work if I’m renting an apartment from you. I need you to be SANE if I’m signing a two-year lease on that shit. That’s a real investment compared to me spending a dollar at Redbox on a Tom Sizemore movie. You can be as crazy as you want at that price.

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(By the way, I have a new theory about Trump. You know how people joke about him being a liberal plant? What if he’s the opposite?! What if Republicans paid him to act all crazy and be the villain so that the real, eventual candidate with terrifying ideas looks sane and normal by comparison? Think about it! I AM NOT CUCKOO.)

Dave:

Me and my roommate share a textbook for class, and it went missing the other day. He was convinced that I lost it, but I defended myself and made up a story about me putting it on his desk and him losing it. He even went as far as to have private conversations with my other roommates about me losing it. Today I found the book in the bottom of my dirty laundry basket. Should I be the bigger man and tell him that I found it and that I lost it in the first place? Or do I wait until he goes to class and hide it somewhere in his room and hope that he thinks that he really lost it?

The latter. Frame him and then take your secret to the grave. That’ll teach him for losing faith in you. The fucker.

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By the way, this sort of occurrence happens regularly in my household. I will lose something without even realizing I’ve lost it. Then my wife will confront me about losing it, and I will turn into a shrieking 4-year-old. NUH UH! I DIDN’T DO IT! I’M NOT SOME IDIOT BABY, YOU KNOW. And then she will uncover incontrovertible proof that I lost it, and I will REMAIN in denial. I’m just that immature. “It’s not my fault I lost it, because you shouldn’t have trusted me to keep it! That’s on YOU!” This is why my children react with the righteous fury of an innocent man in jail if I accuse them of eating the last of the string cheese. They learned from the worst.

Jon:

How do you blow your nose in the shower? I choose to clear the passage by placing a finger on one nostril and blowing the other one out, aka the snot rocket. My girlfriend blows her nose into her hand and then washes it off with the shower stream. I am usually careful to make sure my rockets make their way down the drain as opposed to being forgotten and crusting up the bathroom tile. What’s the proper shower nose-blowing protocol?

I usually blow into my hand for two reasons: 1) I can get a closer look at what was plugging up my sinuses and react with appropriate horror, and 2) it prevents a snot rocket from landing directly in my pubes. I don’t trust my snot rocket aim enough to avoid my pubes. I’ve blown stray snot rockets that have ended up on my shirt, pants, feet, and chin. It’s a really lousy moment. And the stakes are higher if I’m naked. What if the loogy goes directly up my ass somehow? Or what if I miss the drain, and it’s one of those really sticky loogies, and I have to push it down the drain with my foot because it has the adhesive qualities of a spiderweb? I can’t risk it. I blow into the hand and let the water rush down.

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Aaron:

I am typically an Aldi shopper, because I’m cheap, and it’s good. Though, there are a few items you absolutely have to buy the name-brand version: Cheez-Its, Oreos and Beef Jerky instantly come to mind. What things do you have to buy brand-name?

I used to be brand-loyal to Oreos, and then my wife started buying the organic version instead (BOOOOOOOOOO), and I stomped and pouted and then quickly realized that I am a whore for any sandwich cookie. I still prefer Oreos, but I’m not kicking the Newman’s Own ones out of bed. Anyway, that’s a rare exception, because my brain has been trained to remain steadfastly loyal to MANY industrialized food products, including…

Coke. This is the most obvious one, because not even Coke can fuck around with changing the taste of Coke.

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Doritos. Oh, you brought Trader Jose’s Blue Corn “Not ’Cho Cheese” Corn Chips to the party? Go. Fuck. Yourself. There is only one chemically enhanced orange-cheese-flavored powder for me, and it belongs to Frito-Lay.

Cheerios. There are actually some generic cereals I like better than the original (the store-brand honey nut chex has even more sugary honey varnish on it), but generic Cheerios are usually the size of life preservers and just as flavorless. Ditto Lucky Charms. If you bring Stop N Shop Blarney Rainbows home, they’re going in the trash.

Eggo waffles. Don’t buy the store waffles. I promise you it’s not worth saving 80 cents. The store waffles are garbage.

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Napkins. In general, any generic foil or paper product will be noticeably weaker than its brand counterpart. I could wipe up an oil spill with a fancy-pants Vanity Fair napkin. A store-bought napkin is just toilet paper with a flower design on it.

HALFTIME!

Matheus:

Is it good for the NFL to have a player as bad as Nick Foles included in the list of having seven TD passes in a single game? It’s hard to put him in company with Drew Brees, George Blanda, Peyton Manning, etc. but nonetheless he did tie the record ... what do you think about bad players having the day of their lives and breaking/tying a sports single-game record? I find it funny and curious (imagine Trent Richardson scoring six TDs!), but my friend thinks the league should erase it from the records, and put some sort of a minimum-quality level for a record to count.

Well, that sort of thing is bound to happen with any kind of record that’s contained to a short time frame, like a single-game record or a playoff record. And yeah, it cheapens those records when someone like Jerome Harrison runs for 286 yards in a single game and then falls off the face of the Earth (not that I’m bitter from drafting him the next season … PEYTON HILLIS YOU CAN DIE IN A FIRE). But you shouldn’t put much credence into those records to begin with. Nick Foles’s presence on the single-game passing-TD list just means any QB can have a decent game, especially in the NFL’s pass-happy era. Too often, analysts are like, “Boy, that record puts him in some ELITE COMPANY!” when in fact they just witnessed the complete invalidation of a historical milestone.

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That said, you can’t just strike anomalous records from the history book because you don’t like people. You’d have to convene some sort of grand council to decide who deserves list status and who doesn’t, and then that process would become corrupt and horrible, and Peter King would vote to keep Foles’s record because Foles ate a pasta lunch with him once.

Bryan:

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A friend admitted to me that he doesn’t really like taking naps, because in his words, he feels like it’s a waste of his life. I am now obligated to end this friendship, aren’t I?

Well, wait, was he SMUG about not napping? If he doesn’t wanna nap, that’s fine by me so long as he doesn’t lecture other people about it, especially since studies show that napping is good for you and helps you be MORE productive. So if he’s bragging about his aversion to napping, you should slap him on the dick.

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By the way, now that I have three kids, I have Supreme Dad Nap Powers. All I gotta do is sit in a recliner and BOOM. I’m out. A bomb could go off and it wouldn’t matter. I become a piece of living furniture. The wife is crazy jealous of my napping skillz. WATCH ME DROOL ALL OVER MYSELF GURL YOU KNOW U LIKE IT. Then I wake up refreshed and productive and in desperate need of a bathroom.

Tyler:

Salaried employees are basically working Leap Day for free. We work an extra day, paycheck stays the same. Shouldn’t Leap Day be a national holiday?

He’s right! SON OF A BITCH! I’m pissed.

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Austin:

Uniforms in sports should take a lesson from military uniform decorations. What if Tim Duncan rocked five stars on his shoulders, Tom Brady smugly showed up with four trophies printed on his tramp stamp region, and LeBron had his chest filled with award ribbons (not actual ribbons)? You can’t tell me that wouldn’t look awesome. This potentially hugely benefits fans. Not only could we quantify greatness (we can’t; this would exacerbate the debate/problem), but we could quantify our fandom. Every stop on Kobe’s farewell tour has approximately 10,000 douchebag Laker fans in their 24 jerseys. We could immediately tell that those guys were assholes (if it wasn’t already obvious) if we saw that the jersey already had five stars on it.

I’m perfectly fine with this, mostly because I like all current uniform flair. I like the little stickers that college football players get for extra hustle (the QB always has 100 of them on his helmet before the first game has even been played … fucking teacher’s pet), and I like the captain’s C on hockey jerseys. “Oh, look, he’s the captain! I bet he gets lots of girls!” So you could have uniform flair for titles won, MVP awards, batting championships, everything. You could even have special awards handed out for Exceptional Valor In The Field Of Play. Like you get a Purple Mitt on your jersey if you stop a line drive with your nuts. You earned it! And Odell Beckham could have a patch for The Catch.

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Of course, teams would never go along with this, because players and coaches are pathologically averse to any kind of long-term celebration for personal achievement. “Well now, a lot of teams like to put pins on their jerseys. But the St. Louis Cardinals like to do thing a little bit different ….” Just like that, the idea is ruined. You can’t have any swag on your person, because God forbid you bask in the glory for a little bit. Again, I am pissed.

Steve:

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My girlfriend thinks it’s weird that I dry off after I shower with beach towels. We’re moving in together soon, and she refuses to let me continue the usage of my beach towels. I think this is ridiculous. Regular bath towels are so small and thin; beach towels are far more absorbent and have a much larger surface area. She’s wrong, right?

She is! A towel is just a towel. Why should you, good sir, have to relegate one towel to the beach just because someone called it a “beach towel,” and because it has a cute dolphin pattern on it? I’m sick of all this towel discrimination. As a large person, I can tell you that using a beach towel is AWESOME. It dries you off quickly and keeps your warm at the same time, much better than your standard bullshit bathroom towel. I catch eight different strains of the flu using a standard, limp bathroom towel. But those towels are CLASSIER, so that’s what we use.

The nefarious goons at BIG TOWEL have tricked consumers into believing that there is an established hierarchy of towel sizes, and that different towel sets must be purchased for individual occasions. It’s bullshit! All you need is a big towel and a small towel! But then you get married, and suddenly there are hand towels and guest towels and dish towels and all these other bullshit towel subsets. Well, I’ve had enough. I’m blowing up the system. I’m gonna use the dish towel to dry my hands, and the beach towel to dry off after I shower. I may even use the beach towel to dry off AFTER I’ve taken it to the beach! We’re gonna make towels great again, folks.

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Matt:

When someone passes you a bag of chips from the bottom, they’re offering you a handful. Meanwhile, if the pass is from the top, you get possession of the bag, right? Right?

Correct. Either way, though, I’m grabbing the top. I am the captain of the chip bag now.

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Bradley:

You ended your podcast with a question about eating in France, and you answered, “yada-yada-yada … but if he seems genuinely concerned for your welfare, you better heed Pierre’s warning.” Pierre being a made-up name for a French dude, obviously. I’m wondering, what name do you think French folk use when generally describing Americans? John? Brian?

Those names are too normal. It would have to be a stereotypical redneck name like Bubba or Billy Joe. In order to properly stereotype an entire nation, you must look to its absolute worst citizens. For us, that’s some dude named Cletus who drives a truck with the Rebel Flag painted on the tailgate and an AR15 resting in the passenger seat. That’s our global joke representative.

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Brian:

I was at the grocery store picking up bananas last week, and as I normally do, I picked a bunch of five moderately green bananas for my purchase. Over the past week, I have eaten one slightly underripe banana, two perfectly ripe bananas, and one overripe banana, and had to throw one away because it was too brown. This always happens. Is it a dick move to tear one banana away from each bunch so I can buy one yellow, one medium green, one green, and two dark green bananas so I can stagger my consumption with their ripeness? I am a 26-year-old single man, so banana consumption is one a day max. Please help.

I wouldn’t buy individual bananas at the store, because they’re too vulnerable. If you put a lone banana in a shopping bag, it’s gonna get bruised and dinged by the other merchandise. You need to buy bananas in bunches, because the bunch acts as a protective huddle for each individual banana. The more bananas in a bunch, the more protected each individual banana is. That’s teamwork. The whole is more than the sum of its parts.

I know this is annoying, because bananas are perfectly ripe for exactly seven seconds before turning into brown pus. HOWEVER, there are tricks to slowing down the ripening process. This website suggests separating the bananas AFTER you’ve purchased them and then wrapping the top of each banana in Saran wrap, which I am far too lazy to ever do. I’d rather just make banana bread instead.

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Kris:

I was watching a documentary on WWII recently, and three different historians pronounced ‘Goebbels’ three different ways. Since I assume you’re ALWAYS name-dropping prominent Nazis, how do you pronounce it, and how did you come to that pronunciation?

I say GIBBLES, like Gibbles and Bits. The reason people pronounce it many different ways is because the name Goebbels includes a specific kind of vowel pronunciation that occurs in German, but is hard to duplicate in English, as evidenced here. According to Wiki, the correct pronunciation is “[ˈɡœbəls]”. Good luck trying to master that “oe” thing in there. Fix your weird vowels, Germany. No one wants to deal with that.

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Email of the week!

Rex:

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There’s a really good, non-Starbucks coffee shop I recently found near my office. I like iced coffee, and this place charges $2.50 for a 16-ounce cup. Not “cheap,” but reasonable.

The other day, I went there and ordered a cup, and the dude working behind the counter went and filled up my cup. I gave him three bucks, expecting 50 cents change. Instead, the guy, who may or may not have been stoned, said, “OK, thanks man.” Since this was the first day after the Presidents’ Day holiday, I thought that they had raised their price, and I just didn’t see that on the menu.

So, I went to put some cream in my coffee at the bar that was about six feet away, and as I looked over my shoulder, I noticed the dude putting my cash in the register ... and throwing my 50 cents into the tip jar. I wanted to say something, but then thought I would end up looking like the jerk in the situation. Should I have said, “What the fuck, hippie?” taken two quarters out of that tip jar, and then never gone back again?

Yes.


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 pre-order Drew’s second novel, The Hike, through here.

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Lead image by Sam Woolley.

Adequate Man is Deadspin’s self-improvement blog, dedicated to making you just good enough at everything. Suggestions for future topics are welcome below.


Contact the author at drew@deadspin.com.