Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering pool poop, RG3, rain avoidance, and more.

Your letters:

JW:

With all the hubbub around the Confederate flag and whether it is a simple symbol of Southern Pride or a hateful reminder of the past, I was trying to think of a new symbol for them. Something everyone could take pride in and which would be free from controversy.

My first thoughts were mostly food related: Coca-Cola, Kentucky Fried Chicken and sweet tea. Sweet tea might be the best because it’s more broadly associated with the south while Coke and KFC are more state-centric. Then it occurred to me that the most obvious answer was SEC Football.

Yeah. The SEC flag might work. You can’t spell SECEDE without SEC! People down there treat SEC football as a separate entity from the rest of college football. It’s like someone saying they only follow the AFC North. SEC fanboys are weirdos.

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The problem with the SEC flag is that it’s boring as hell. The colors are boring. The logo is just a dumb circle thingy. If we’re gonna replace a flag as aesthetically pleasing as the confederate flag (It’s got an X in it! KEWL!), we need something just as iconic… something that tells Southerners that they’re still REBELS even though they’ll do pretty much whatever the CEO of Chick-Fil-A tells them to do.

And I know just the image: Burt Reynolds dressed up as Smokey (CORRECTION: The Bandit) from Smokey & The Bandit.

It’s got everything a Southern icon requires: a hat, a mustache, a car. DOWN HERE WE LIKE OUR LIFE SLOW AND OUR CARS FAST Y’ALL. The peace sign is a bit of downer. We can probably replace that with a gun. There you go. Hang it in front of the Capitol. WE CAN ALL TAKE PRIDE IN THE BANDIT.

Connor:

So I think it’s been officially established that the Redskins want to see RG3 murdered on the field. It’s not all the Redskins’ fault that RG3 stinks, but they’ve definitely been nudging him off the cliff. My question to you is: what if the Redskins ended up with Andrew Luck instead of RG3? By and large everyone considers Luck a top 5 QB already. Would he be at the same spot if the Redskins had gotten him instead or would they have ruined him?

Before I answer this, I wanna revisit what happened last Thursday night with RG3, because I will never NOT be entertained by watching the Skins fail miserably. It is well-established that Jay Gruden can’t stand RG3 and doesn’t really want to play him. But RG3 shares a wedge salad with Dan Snyder at Clyde’s at least once every two weeks, so Snyder wants him to start. What Danny wants, Danny gets.

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Gruden is a complete fucking boob, but he was put in an impossible position. On Thursday night, his o-line was shitty and depleted, but RG3 still doesn’t know the offense at all, so I assume Gruden kept playing him because A) Griffin needed all the practice he could get and B) He didn’t REALLY give a shit if RG3 got hurt.

I’m not saying he got RG3 hurt on purpose (one anonymous coach hinted as such). I’m just saying that when your QB is an owner’s pet who can’t play and gets injured all the time, it’s neither surprising nor alarming when he finally gets his brains turned into cream of wheat. When RG3 gets hit, he stays down long enough for trees to grow out of him. This was not some crushing blow to Gruden. It was gonna happen sooner or later, because RG3 is damaged goods, and because these are the Skins and they can’t have nice things. I think Gruden would love to never talk to RG3 again or answer any more questions about him. He’s sick to death of him.

So, with all that as preamble, the answer is that Skins would have TOTALLY ruined Andrew Luck. I know the Colts aren’t the best-run team in the universe right now (more on that when I get to previewing them), but they don’t have a culture that actively warps people’s brains and turns them into drooling idiots. Walking into Ashburn and putting on a Skins jersey would have either A) Corrupted Andrew Luck or B) Gotten him hurt. I promise you that’s what would have happened. One second, Andrew Luck is a can’t-miss prospect and a genuinely thoughtful, interesting young man. The next, he’s a bloviating imbecile begging people to go to Redskinsfacts.com to “get the real story.” And then the team would hire a coach whose offense is centered about the QB throwing with his nose. The Skins isolate you, brainwash you, and then kill you. There is nothing else quite like them.

There are numerous instances in sports history of gifted athletes coming in and rescuing woebegone, poorly-owned teams. The Clippers are respectable now, and managed to force their owner out in the process. Everything is cyclical, and sometimes even the shittiest franchise can be redeemed by a special player. That was the feeling in Washington during RG3’s rookie year: that someone had finally come along who could shove all of the team’s stupidity into the basement for a while. But this franchise is different. It’s special. Nothing will ever stop them from doing the exact wrong thing. It’s hypnotic. I now follow them with uncommon zeal. It’s like watching some kind of grand, horrible experiment. Andrew Luck wouldn’t stand a chance here. Never count on your team to find salvation, especially in DC.

Clint:

Why is the NFL logo now piss-colored?

I can answer that! It’s in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Super Bowl, which is why the 50-yard-line is now visibly dehydrated. Between the global economic collapse and football’s ongoing PR crisis, I can think of no better time for the NFL to swaddle itself in gold. GOLDDDDDDDD!!!! YEE HAWWWWWW!!!! (*shoots guns in the air*)

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Anyway, that golden 50-yard line will look fine on turf fields all season long. But at FedEx and Heinz Field, it will look like urinated graffiti… like fifty drunk teenagers from a rival town all conspired to drink a gallon of Deer Park and write 50 in the mud.

They should have made some kind of special rule change around that golden 50. Like, if you score a touchdown from behind it, the numerals light up and you get two bonus points. It’s Football: Anniversary Edition!

Tyler:

Obviously the best college football team couldn’t beat the worst NFL team, but could they beat the scrubs playing in the fourth quarter of a preseason game? The NFL guys have the advantage of better access to HGH, so I have to think they still take it.

Yeah, they’d still beat the piss out of a great college team. All the scrubs playing at the end of the preseason are all rookie free agents and second-year guys anyway. They’d probably be even MORE excited to kick Ohio State’s ass because they’re fresh out of college now and in danger of getting cut, and right on the verge of going back to mom and dad’s house with their tail between their legs because they couldn’t cut it in the pros. Meanwhile, their old college buddies are still living it up on lunch stipends and Tinder sex. I’d be bitter as hell. I’d aim right for Cardale’s knees.

Danny:

Which current NFL head coach would you most want to be your boss if you worked in a very stereotypical, 9-to-5 “Office Space” kind of workplace? Who would be the least desirable?

The answer to any question like this is Rex Ryan. Which coach would you want to have a beer with? Rex Ryan. Which coach would you want to be your dad? Rex Ryan. Which coach would you want to marry? Rex Ryan. It’s always Rex Ryan. Boss Rex would throw killer happy hours, let you off for holidays, and keep the break room constantly stocked with Doritos. Bill O’Brien isn’t doing any of those things.

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Head coaches are bosses already. The media attach mythical status to head coaches, but the reality is that they are a lot closer to 9-to-5 bosses than they’re made out to be. I am certain that many players do their best to avoid the head coach as much as possible, to escape any additional scrutiny. And they probably wait until he’s taking a shit to flee the training complex.

And think of the meetings! So many boring meeting with your football boss, pretending to listen when all you want to do is go out and have sex with people. Football players have all of your office angst, and then some.

Ryan:

Do you think it’s possible to avoid rain for an entire year? To set some ground rules, you have unlimited money for gas, lodging, and food. You have access to GPS, weather maps etc. You can park your car anywhere there is not a covering. If your car gets rained on (snow counts too), you lose.

Just move to California and wait. Soon, you’ll go decades without any water of any kind!

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For real though, the answer is YES. Say hello to gorgeous Arica, Chile, the driest city on Earth. Arica gets an average of less than one inch of rain per year, which means you could probably luck into 365 straight days with no rain of any sort. You can truly say your life is pretty plain there. You could also try your luck in some of the more remote dry spots on the globe (certain parts of Antartica get no rain at all), but you would die in the process of enjoying that eternal drought. Best to try South America first.

If you’re aiming to stay dry here in ‘MERICA, you’re probably shit out of luck. Even if you lived in Death Valley and kept track of the radar every waking second, some storms systems are too big and too large to avoid. You could hustle to the airport and take the next plane to Yuma to beat the rain, but tarmac delays and general airline nincompoopery would conspire against you. Even though our crops are dying and our lawns have grown dirt brown, BIG RAIN still has its wet grip on the United States. Lousy rain. If only we could bomb the rain.

Brian:

I got a neapolitan ice cream sandwich that goes chocolate, strawberry, vanilla. Which order do I eat it in?

The vanilla is always in the middle, right? So you can’t eat that first, unless you’re some kind of monster. I prefer to save the best for last, so I would eat the chocolate part first (no offense to chocolate), and then the vanilla, and then the sweet, creamy strawberry part. I usually only get vanilla ice cream sandwiches, so if I’m eating a Neapolitan one, I’m really making a big deal of that strawberry section. That’s a trip to Flavortown I don’t make nearly enough.

Kevin:

How do you become the dj/announcer at a strip club? Like is there a tryout or interview process or do you submit your resume or something?

Are you a cocaine dealer? No? Better luck next time.

Skylar:

You have to assume that everyone privileged enough to tour the White House meets Bo the dog at some point, right? How many people do you think Bo has met in his time in living there? Over 50,000? More? Less? Do you think there is a dog, living or dead, who has met more people than Bo? Maybe Lassie, right?

No, there were MANY Lassies, and all of them were probably Hollywood GLORY DOGS who refused to come out of the makeup room to do a meet-and-greet with local Make-A-Wish kids. Bo is a Portuguese Water Dog, which is a breed that is apparently friendly to strangers. But maybe the Obamas keep him sequestered to one section of the White House so that he doesn’t go sniffing Angela Merkel’s pubic hair or anything like that.

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Anyway, I think Bo loses out to Clinton’s old dog, Buddy. I bet Buddy met more well-wishers and dignitaries than Bo ever has. The Clintons are shmoozers. They would USE a dog to curry favor with diplomats and evil volcano lords. Bill Clinton would gladly auction off a night in the doghouse with Buddy to eager lobbyists. Buddy has probably slept with half of Europe.

HALFTIME!

Chris:

Hypothetical situation: An NFL team goes undefeated, wins the Super Bowl. After doing so, it leaks that they ritually sacrificed an animal in the locker room before every game to ensure their victory (preferably the opponent’s mascot, subbing in some livestock when the opponent’s mascot isn’t an animal - Packers, Patriots, Cowboys, etc). I’m not saying this is Chip Kelly’s real plan, but I’m also not denying it. What goes down?

Oh, God. I assume this is technically legal slaughter? If not, the first step would be outright prosecution. You saw what happened with that dentist who killed the lion, right? People want that guy DEAD. We’re talking about calls for the franchise to be dismantled in the wake of illegally poached tigers and lions and eagles.

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Other than that, you can expect the Full Goodell treatment: a formal report, a formal report of that formal report, an investigation into who cooperated fully with that report, a general air of forgetfulness regarding the original offense, and then a mass suspension/record fine/scrubbing of all draft picks that, against all odds, makes the lion killers seem sympathetic after everything is said and done. There would be a fall guy, too, as mandated by Cris Carter. Because Roger Goodell would not only want to know about the animal killing, but WHO ORDERED THE ANIMAL KILLING. In Roger Goodell’s universe, there is always one convenient bad actor for everything.

Nick:

Let’s say somehow Donald Trump actually becomes President. How long does he actually end up staying in office before he gets bored and sells the United States of America to a foreign company or a venture capital group?

Oh, I don’t think he’d sell it. I do think he’d attempt to re-name the country The America, From Donald Trump, and make all the stars in the American flag gold.

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I said this in the podcast the other week, but there is nothing more irritating than when political pundits, who are every bit as stupid as the voters they look down upon, scream and shout about X candidate having no shot to win. They are actively trying to distort the process by telling voters that X guy isn’t a REAL candidate, and that pisses people off! If I like a guy, I don’t want some asshole telling me which is guy is a lost cause and which one isn’t when I, as a voter, am the one who is supposedly in control of how this all goes down. I honestly think half the people who say they’d vote for Trump are saying it specifically because they’ve been told he won’t win, and Americans fucking hate being told what to do.

Of course Trump can win. Fucking Jesse Ventura won an election in this country. Every other candidate running against Trump is just as dumb and fraudulent and evil. They’re ALL clowns. He just happens to be louder than the rest of them. He’s making a mockery of a process that has been BEGGING to be made a mockery of. What real difference does it make if someone picks him over some other random, corrupt asshole? But keep on telling me he won’t win. I’ll fucking vote for Stalin just to spite the media, I will!

I don’t mean to make this seem like I support Trump for President, because he’s clearly a shitbag and a carnival barker. People tend to conform to the rigidity of that office, but Trump would still find a way to say a bunch of stupid shit and draw us into war with eighteen different countries simultaneously. Other than that, he would do nothing. He would probably go golfing 50 weeks a year and let the country do whatever it does. NOT THE WORST WAY TO GOVERN.

Scott:

Do you think Simmons reads Grantland, still?

Maybe it hurts him too much to check on the site’s weekly “WHO IS THE BEST CRUISE CHARACTER?!” bracket. Maybe he goes to click on the bookmark, but then is held back by an overwhelming sense of sadness. HATE THIS DAY, YOU GUYS.

David:

I’m 26, been working for 5 years, and do a good enough job (promoted, work for a good company, etc.). I also have no idea what I’m doing. Is this normal?

Sure is! In the white collar work world, no one actually tells you what you’re supposed to do because that takes time and effort. Much better to leave you in the dark, and then get pissed at you for not figuring out what you were supposed to do on your own. YOU LACK INITIATIVE.

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By the way, if you ever get a desk job, you will be encouraged to think of your own ideas for making Goober Inc. a more powerful global company. So you will do that. You’ll think of something, and then proudly bring it to your boss, and your boss will say, “Yeah no, we can’t do that. And we thought of that already.” And then you will never think of another idea ever again.

Michael:

You know you’re getting up to get a second (or third, fourth..) slice of pizza, why do you only put one on your plate at a time?

I don’t! I grab two or three in an effort to stake my claim to those pieces in advance. That is my initial ground assault on the pie.

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The only time I don’t do this is at birthday parties for kids. As a parent, I have to appear concerned about making sure there is enough pizza for everyone, even though A) Fuck everyone else; I am hungry and B) Half the little fuckers will waste slices by taking a single bite and then throwing them out. Assholes. So I dutifully take one slice on my shitty little paper plate and ponder my next move.

One more thing: Standard round plates are poorly designed for pizza support. The ends always hang off the sides. Why not, as an alternative, create a line of PIZZA PLATES that are in the shape of a large quarter- or half-moon, like so? Now I have the right proportions. The crust can go along the edge. The pointy ends converge at the bottom. BOOM. Perfect pizza plate. Otherwise, my plate should be the size of the pizza itself.

Dane:

Why is it so hard to put a tent back in the bag? Do the folks at Big Tent realize the difficulty associated with taking down a tent?

It’s like any Aerobed or kiddie tent that comes perfectly packed into a convenient carry-all bag. You buy it, and you take it out of the bag without thinking about how to put it back in because you want your tent NOW, and then you unfurl it without noting the miraculous folding job needed to re-package it, and then you’re fucked. Its mysteries are forever unknown after that lost moment.

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By the way: my kingdom for a beach umbrella that can be packed up in a convenient manner. Beach umbrellas were designed by people who hate humanity. God I fucking hate carrying them. I’d rather burn.

Dylan:

Yesterday I was having a pretty standard college guy summer boredom jerk session when I seriously misjudged my explosiveness and it somehow shot straight into the air and into my eye. Is everything going to be ok?

#Humblebrag. You’re fine. Wipe it off before your eye seals shut.

I swear you could bond dentures with that stuff. Ever get a drop on your leg without realizing it? It’s like you went swimming in glue. It’s the worst. So much lost leg hair. Semen should come with some kind of warning label about severe adhesiveness. I plan my cleaning even before it comes out. “Okay, there’s the tissue. I better get hold of that before it goes dribbling down my fingers. AIM UP!”

Brian:

Do you think the Spanish-speaking people who listen to Andres Cantor call soccer games love his call of games and think he’s the Latin Vin Scully, or treat him like the Spanish Chris Berman?

I’d have to defer to the commenters on this one. My guess is that Cantor is probably just a regular-old announcer to Spanish-speaking fans. In general, international soccer announcers are ALL pretty fucking fired up to watch themselves some soccer, so I dunno if Cantor is all that unique among his peers. But I am coming from a place of MONUMENTAL ignorance here. Everything I know about soccer play-by-play comes from this obligatory clip:

JD:

Which state has the most QVC or HSN shoppers? My guess would be Florida.

Nailed it. Texas has to be a close second. I bet there are so many Mary Kay parties in the Dallas suburbs.

Zvulun:

Whats the protocol on leaving your trash in a movie theater when you leave? My friend and I were arguing about this after I left my trash in a theater. He calls me a douchebag for doing this while I maintain that this is a form of job creation.

This is leftover habit from the 1980s when you could just leave all your shit all over the theater floor like you were living in a barn. Movie theaters seem to be the only place left in America where people gladly leave half a pound of popcorn on the floor because the bucket was overfilled and because you gotta reach down to find the most buttery kernel.

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I try my best now to take my garbage out of the theater with me when the movie is over. It seems like the right thing to do. But I draw the line at picking stray popcorn and candy off the floor. A wrapper? Fine. But not loose popcorn. That floor is a haven for disease and filth. Let Pimply Joe sweep it up.

Email of the week!

Mike:

Last weekend my wife and I were invited to use a friend’s weekend house with a pool while he was out of town. While I was swimming with my three-year-old daughter, I smelled something funky. I checked her swimmy diaper and discovered that, in fact, she had shit in the pool. What’s worse is that by the time I noticed it, the whole thing had dissolved and dispersed into the pool. All that was left in the diaper was brown water. I have no idea whether it was a shart or a monster load. Obviously, we jumped out of the water and showered Silkwood-style. However, I did not do anything to clean the pool - the poop had completely dissolved, and the water had a good amount of chlorine in it, so... I just left it. While thanking my friend for the use of his house on Sunday night over the phone, I... neglected to tell him that anything had happened. I know that I will burn in hell for this.

My question is: do I need to tell him now so that he can disinfect his pool or something, or did the chlorine and the filter do the job already? I can’t sleep at night now because of this. What do I do?

You have to tell the friend. You have to. That’s a legitimate health hazard. They could DIE! Chances are your friend is just as lazy as you are and won’t bother to drain the pool anyway. But you have to give him the choice. You can’t just give his whole family Legionnaire’s Disease, man.


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 order Drew’s book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.

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