Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re talking about cheese, tacos, shitty drivers, LeBron, Jesus farting, and more.
Name all the GOATs.
Basketball (Men): Jordan/LeBron (please don’t make me choose)
Basketball (Women): Tamika Catchings
Soccer: Ronaldo [ducks]
Pop: Michael Jackson
Country: Who gives a shit
Hip Hop: Not Eminem
Book: Moby Dick
Chef: MY MOM
Lawyer: Thurgood Marshall
Fast Food: Popeye’s
Candy: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
War: World War II
Movie: Citizen Kane (even though my vote would be for Casablanca)
Board game: Scrabble
Cereal: Cinnamon Toast Crunch
Ice Cream Flavor: Mint chocolate chip
Car: The 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder
There. I think that’s the list. I’m sure no one will have any problem with any of my selections.
Now, to up the stakes a little bit, here’s another question: Who or what is GOAT of the GOATs?! I was thinking about this in terms of sports the other day because you could easily argue that many sports GOATS are active right this second: LeBron, Brady, Serena, Federer, and Ronaldo (or Messi, depending on your mileage). I was trying to think of the GOAT among those GOATs, and I think LeBron is the answer. But if you expand it to all of history and attempt to determine the Greatest GOAT Of All Time, I think the answer is obvious: it’s napping. Naps are the GOAT GOATs. Thank you for agreeing with me.
I’ve been fortunate to enjoy some wonderful tacos but I’m not sure tacos can really improve from where they are today. Have we achieved peak taco? In other words, have I already enjoyed the best taco of my life?
No. I won’t let you believe that. There is so little in this world to have faith in, but I want you to have faith in tacos. I bet people back in the ‘80s were like, “Boy, these Old El Paso tacos I’m eating are AMAZING! No way they could make tacos better than this!” And then you know what happened? THEY DID. I distinctly remember the first time I went to the Kogi taco truck in LA. And I was like, “Korean tacos? Sounds wacky!” Then I took one bite and was like, “I will go to fucking war for this taco.” Never, ever underestimate the potential of the taco. It’s basically mankind’s only saving grace at this point.
I know it seems like we’ve expanded the taco menu into infinity and stuffed with every possible foodstuff, but I promise you that there is an enterprising chef out there—who is stoned off his NUTS—scheming up a whole new way to infiltrate the taco space. “Pizza? Now that’s what I call a taco!”
There is an infinite diversity to food just as there is to language, humor, art, music, literature, and other pillars of human existence. That’s what makes those things essential and, maybe this is going too far, but it’s kind of the reason to have faith in the future. Everything is shitty now, but I still have a tiny shred of hope that mankind will prove as creative and inventive with the bare essentials—tacos, let’s say—to make the future worthwhile. You might think you don’t want a spaghetti taco, but maybe the RIGHT spaghetti taco has yet to come along. And when it does, it’ll provide a needed respite from living under our new alien overlords.
By the way, if you cook at home, make yourself breakfast tacos regularly. I know self-care is a billion dollar industry right now, but you don’t need seminars or meditation to be good to yourself. Just make some eggs and meat and cheese and then wrap it all up in a fluffy tortilla. It’s very easy, and it will make you happy. I make breakfast tacos for lunch during the workday and it keeps me very chill.
[reads a mildly displeasing article from The Ringer]
DID YOU FUCKING SEE THIS SHIT?! I WILL TEAR DOWN EVERY STOPLIGHT IN THIS TOWN I’M SO PISSED. Bill Simmons put himself in his damn HBO NBA Finals recap WTF?!
If LeBron James just decides this summer that he absolutely needs more Ringzzz, and chose to join the Warriors on a min contract, would the league’s Top Brass have to step in and do something? Or would they just step back, wash their hands and say enjoy watching a team with possibly 3 of the 5 top players in the NBA get bored steamrolling everyone else?
I think they’d let it go. I know David Stern nixed Chris Paul to the Lakers a few years ago, but I don’t think Adam Silver is that imperious. Also, the NBA has always struggled with being too top-heavy. It’s the classic dilemma where sports fans bitch about dynasties, and then bitch about a lack of greatness when those dynasties go away. So I think the NBA would roll with it and let the Warriors become a traveling circus the same way the ‘96 Bulls were. It’s not optimal, but the Warriors are gonna win another title next season anyway, and the NBA has more or less perfected the subtle art of getting its fans to care about the players regardless of team result. Like, basketbloggers absolutely lose their shit over Giannis Antetokounmpo. That kind of regular season fanboying is still gonna happen even if LeBron joins the Warriors and makes everything a foregone conclusion.
By the way, I don’t think LeBron will actually do this. I think he would prefer to still be his own man, only playing for a better owner and with a less shitty supporting cast. That is my armchair psychology of LeBron and I see no flaws in it. I’m just excited for him to take out a classy full-page ad in the Plain Dealer, saying goodbye to Cleveland and noting that “This will always be home for me,” before he fucks off to L.A and never ever comes back.
If you did an 80's movie body switch with your dad, how long would you go before you beat off?
That’s disgusting. Shame on you. Twenty minutes.
How many apps does Donald Trump have on his phone? Is it just the standard phone apps and Twitter or are there more apps that he uses? I think most of the other apps he has are weird third-party versions off apps all phones have, like a weird ad-supported notes app, or like how my Grandpa has a flashlight app even though that’s something phones just do. My girlfriend thinks he has the Fox News app, but I don’t think it’s ever occurred to him one exists.
I’m gonna confess that I definitely downloaded a flashlight app before realizing my phone already had one. That was a real moment.
Anyway, Trump has underlings do all his phone crap for him, so they probably pre-loaded his phone with apps that they assume he likes. That means he has Grubhub, Seamless, 57 stock apps to make him look like a big shot (Even though STOCKS already exists on his phone), every last golf app that rates courses and gives updated course conditions, Breitbart, Infowars Live (which maybe Apple shouldn’t carry?), Trump’s own campaign app, and the SI Swimsuit app. Also, I think he has Candy Crush. Everyone else deleted that game four years ago, but I bet Trump still thinks he can beat it.
Did Jesus ever fart? If he did, does that mean God also farts?
I believe Jesus was a human man, and so yes, he farted. No shame in that. What is a fart made of? Hot gas. What does hot gas do when it comes out of your butt? It rises up into the clouds. What’s in the clouds? You guessed it: HEAVEN. That makes farting divine. It also means that heaven smells like farts ALL THE TIME. That’s science.
As for God himself, please note that He is a celestial being. Celestial beings don’t have to abide by the standard physiological processes that earth-bound humans deploy to continue living. God doesn’t have to fart, pee, poop, sneeze, bleed, eat, procreate, drink, sleep, or exercise. HOWEVER, I believe that He DOES do some of those things out of pure delight. He definitely farts, as noted here:
That’s thunder. Everyone knows that. He also eats and sleeps and has sex. THIS GOD FUCKS, Y’ALL.
If the T-1000 could transform itself into anything, why didn’t it just turn into a chair or something, wait for John Connor to sit down, and stab him in the dick?
Because then the movie would be over. This is a problem for a lot of movies, because you want a villain to be cool and imposing and crazy powerful. But then it’s easy to paint yourself into a narrative corner where there’s no actual way to beat that villain. And so you either have to have the villain be really stupid, or you have to throw the hero some kind of life preserver at the last second. That’s why Spielberg’s War of the Worlds ends with, like, bacteria saving people. What a stupid fucking ending. If they had had any balls, they would have just ended the movie with mankind being wiped out entirely. Audiences would have ADORED it.
Why does laughing at work feel so unacceptable?
The obvious answer is that you’re supposed to be working. So if you’re laughing at something, it can’t possibly be one of the 978 legal briefs you have to collate and re-file. Laughing is a dead giveaway that you’re slacking off and looking at weird shit on the internet, like a photo of a snowman with a human penis or something.
On a deeper level, I think people feel left out if you’re laughing about something and they aren’t. You’re over there having a ball. It makes me feel lonely. What’s so damn funny, Tyler? ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH THE CLASS, HMMM? I think it’s a natural human reaction to be stuck somewhere shitty, like at work or at an airport, and get testy because someone else is yukking it up while you’re miserable. Why didn’t anyone send YOU a gif of a dirt biker jumping into a cactus? It’s not fair.
Also, there are times I feel rude about laughing at something on my phone, because it only emphasizes the fact that I am paying attention to people who are not in the immediate vicinity. Instead of choosing to share a laugh with my wife, I’m laughing at some fucking tweet instead. Again, that can make people feel left out. So then I feel bad for laughing and try to laugh 30 percent less. Life is fucking weird.
At what age should you stop painting your face and/or dying your hair when attending a sporting event? I say 24 years old is the cutoff.
Should I tell you the Sad Drew story? I’ve told this before but I’m gonna tell it again because I lack imagination. I’m at college and a bunch of guys on the football team, with whom I had already had an uneasy relationship, told me they were going to a hockey game and that they were gonna paint the name of the school on their chests. I volunteered to be the C. So I’m in my dorm room, drawing a C all over my body with a Sharpie because I don’t have any actual body paint. It goes without saying that using a Sharpie to paint your skin is a lousy idea, but I was 20 and a moron back then. So I go through, like, three Sharpies doing this. I show up to the rink, and the boys are there, and I pull of my shirt to reveal the C. Of course, none of them painted their chests. They were just fucking with me. So I spent the next few weeks with a bigass C tattooed on my gut.
If you’re gonna dye your hair or paint your face with a group of people, I don’t think age matters. Who am I to condemn some rowdy 67-year-old Saints fan who shows up to the game made up like a fucking parade float? That lady is having a better time than I am, and I respect it. I don’t have the right to act all superior to some deranged painted fanboy or fangirl when I’m just sitting at home, scratching my balls. I respect the effort. I’m just telling you, if you’re gonna do it, make sure it’s with people you TRUST. Don’t get burned like I did, for I shall never love again.
Is it just my imagination, or do people taking their kids to school drive MUCH worse than people going to work? For what it’s worth, I’ve been driving my kids to school on the way to work from Kindergarten all the way to high school now. I generally drop them off ten minutes or so early to avoid the mob of parents trying to avoid getting a tardy on their kids’ permanent record. I also drive past several private schools, and their parents all seem to be maniacs too. It’s a nightmare. But when I get to the work parking lots - and I’ve worked several different jobs during these years - people go in and out like clockwork machines. None of the crazy demolition derby antics.
Well, I live in Maryland where everyone drives like a complete shithead, so my data may be a bit skewed because rush hour here is basically The Purge on wheels.
Otherwise, I think you’re right to notice that parents dropping off children drive like sociopaths. I think there are a few reasons for this, none of which can be justified. First off, all these people are in a hurry, even though they rarely NEED to be. If you have a woman about to deliver a baby in a car, I won’t blame you for stepping on it. But these people are usually just hurrying to nowhere because they think they HAVE to be nowhere quickly. Secondly, they’re on their phones while driving. Third, driving is stressful and having kid in the car only exacerbates that stress because they are often screaming, fighting, and/or throwing things. It can throw off your concentration.
Mostly though, these parents are ASSHOLES. They drive like maniacs because they think they’re entitled to do so, and they rampage through the school parking lot because they think their time and their children are more valuable than yours. I’ve been tailgated in preschool parking lots. I also once had a dude in a Porsche step on the gas and pass me as I was pulling into pickup for gymnastics. He passed me like we were on a fucking interstate. I was aghast. You should have seen me when it happened. I huffed and puffed like a true 41-year-old. Did you see that? Why, that man has SOME nerve!
Of course, I also happen to be a selfish driver. Even with the kids in the car, I still believe every yellow light is a direct challenge to my manhood. “Oh, you think I won’t make it? Watch this, motherfuckers!” One time I had to drop off two kids at separate places, then pick up a friend at the Metro, all while I had some shit cooking on the grill back home. I drove so recklessly that my son starting yelling at me to slow down. He said to me, verbatim, “Dad, you’re driving like a psycho right now.” He’s nine. I dunno where he learned that word from. I think it spontaneously came to him as he witnessed me operate a motor vehicle.
So yes, parents are horrible drivers and you should avoid them.
Settle this argument between me and my cousin...we grew up on Long Island, and cannot decide which is worse: a jamoke or a jabroni?
I’d rather be a jabroni. To me, a jamoke is just some hopeless loser pud. FUN FACT: the term actually derives from a blend of java and mocha, to connote a person stupider and more useless than a cup of coffee. FASCINATING.
Anyway, I’d much rather be a loudmouthed ninny jabroni who talks the talk but can never back it up, ultimately existing to get owned by more talented, likable people. In fact, I am a jabroni. Right now, as we speak. At any moment, The Rock is gonna crash through my office wall and call me a pathetic jabroni loser and it’s gonna be AWESOME. I can’t wait!
So you are just hanging around one afternoon watching the kids when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find yourself face-to-face with THE Donald himself flanked by two towering Secret Service agents. Evidently the Taco Bell lunch wasn’t in agreement with him and he couldn’t wait until the motorcade got back to the WH. So do you let the prick take a mudslide in your bathroom or tell him to get fucking bent?
Fuck him. I make him shit his pants right on my doorstep, I do! Gonna let him shit all over my lawn to own the conservatives.
But anyway, this is the test, isn’t it? I would really like to think that, should I ever come face-to-face with a member of the Trump administration, I would muster up the courage to speak my mind and make them uncomfortable, the way protestors drove Kirstjen Nielsen out of that Mexican restaurant last week. That shit is important. People doing evil shit shouldn’t be able to just waltz through society unscathed. I wanna corner Donnie Junior at a Poison concert and give him a piece of my mind!
The other week I thought I saw John Bolton at my local grocery store. It was a dude with white hair and bad ‘stache just perusing the meat aisle. He was totally alone. And I was like, “I think that’s John Bolton.” But I couldn’t quite confirm it. Like, I definitely would have asked him if he was John Bolton first before lighting into him, because I would have felt like a real bastard screaming WAR CRIMINAL at some random elderly man. Anyway, I did nothing. I grabbed my food and left. I feel like I failed the test. I hope Bolton comes BACK to the store so I can catch him in the act of shopping for brisket and tell him he’s a racist prick.
So, are chicken wings really worth it? I’m a (nearly) 42-year-old man and have never had a wing. They’ve never seemed that appetizing or worth the effort. Even when someone orders way too many and then passes them around the table to share, I’ve just never felt the mess to be worth the reward. To be clear, I’m not normally that guy that makes a big deal about not having wings, but am I really missing out?
Fuck yeah, they’re worth it! I’m not gonna name names here, but there are a handful of Deadspin staffers who are openly anti–chicken wing and it’s ENRAGING. The wing meat is fucking GREAT, and the wing’s size means that you get a totally different, and welcome, proportion of skin-to-meat in every bite. EAT IT! Boneless wings are horseshit because the bones provide both more flavor and a better tactile experience. I grab that wing and tear into it. I become ONE with the wing. It’s very primal.
And so what if your hands get dirty? You can always wash them after. Grab a wad of napkins and turn them orange. Some of the best food in the world is messy and sloppy and will stain your hands for DAYS. It’s worth it. Dig in. Get over yourself. You’ll miss out on 80 percent of life if you’re afraid to get messy, or look dumb, or get sweaty. It’s the people who always want to keep their shit clean that you gotta watch out for. If you don’t eat your wings, I will TAKE them from you, and I’ll steal your girl too!
There is a guy in our group that owns a MLB hat for every team. I generally enjoy hanging out with him, but it’s extremely annoying to see him because whichever MLB team is winning, that’s the hat he’ll be wearing. The worst of this was last year in the World Series where he wore a Dodgers hat until the Astros won the series. Very next day he’s wearing an Astros hat. It’s maddening, but all of our collective shit talk towards him about it doesn’t seem to faze him. My question to you is how does someone get like this?
I think you get that way from being a generally vacuous, inane person. It’s like people who love every movie they see (and such people really do exist). They’re so stupid and boring that they can’t form any personal tastes from the options laid out for them. That is why you’re gonna have to kill your friend. NO ONE DENIES THIS. The only people allowed to bandwagon every team in existence are famous musicians, like so:
Justin Bieber has probably done cocaine with literally EVERY pro athlete, and so he’s entitled to change his fanhood as often as he changes shoes. But some regular asshole? No. Fuck that. That’s obnoxious. Plant that guy in a trash can and tell him to buy a personality instead of a new hat next time he’s at the mall. BOOM ROASTED AND TOASTED.
I’ve been debating about what kind of cheese goes best on a grilled cheese. Which cheeses do you prefer for your grilled cheese sandwich and why?
I actually don’t like plain grilled cheese sandwiches all that much. And the appeal of dipping that shit into some tomato soup is lost on me. I’m not gonna get into semantics here, but when I have a grilled sandwich, I want cheese AND meat in there. And the cheese I usually want is provolone. Oh, provolone. Oh, you wicked temptress. So thin. So salty. So smooth and lovely. Provolone just GETS me, you know? I could eat a two-pound stack of provolone and sit on the toilet for a full week afterward and still be HAPPY, you know?
Also, fuck American cheese. I know it’s good for making queso, but I dunno why you’d put that shit on a burger or a sandwich, when cheddar cheese is right there and has actual flavor to it. Putting American cheese on stuff is like saying, “Hey, what if this sandwich tasted the exact same, but had 300 additional calories?” It doesn’t do anything for anyone.
How many immaculate innings did Frank Drebin aka Enrico Palazzo call in The Naked Gun?
Well, they weren’t all immaculate. It’s 4-3 Angels in the middle of the seventh when Drebin has to save the Queen from being assassinated by Reggie Jackson. The Mariners logged four scoreless innings by that point, so I guess you could assume those are immaculate. But why did they score in those OTHER innings then? You gotta give credit to Mariners for keeping it close despite all that home cookin’.
By the way, they don’t tell you if the Angels and Mariners actually finish that game. I’m gonna go ahead and assume that MLB would call any game on the spot if one of their players was brainwashed into murdering the Queen in broad daylight. It goes on the ledger as an Angels win. The Mariners file a formal grievance about the umpiring and MLB does nothing. I watched actual MLB umpiring back in the ‘80s. It wasn’t that much better than what you see in that movie.
Email of the week!
Why does “I just called to say I love you” always make me think of “Feliz Navidad”? Am I the only one?