Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we're covering weapons, QB friends, the Raiders, and more.

Before we get to the Funbag, one quick announcement: DRINKING. I'm gonna be at this meetup in Dallas tomorrow night at the Twilite Lounge. They'll have free beer and basketball tickets and shit if you're interested. It'll be like one of those old-school Deadspin Pants Parties, only you won't have to go to a baseball game for it. EVERYONE WINS.

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Also, this week's Jamboroo is gonna be jock-strap horror stories. So if you've ever had a terrible jock-strap mishap, send it in, fellas.

Now, onto your letters:

Jen:

What is the appropriate amount of slices of pizza to eat in one sitting? Assume your table over-ordered and you can eat as many slices as you want.

So we're talking about slices from a standard large pizza then, right? Sitting in the restaurant? Five slices, I guess. After five slices, I become all too aware of my own piggishness. It doesn't help if you're eating with people who don't share your appetite. My wife could eat two slices of pizza at a restaurant and be satisfied, and I resent her for this, because I want to eat THIRTY fucking slices and not feel like shit about it. Here is how my standard pizza-eating binge goes:

Slice One: I burn my mouth, but eat it in four seconds anyway.

Slice Two: Inhaled.

Slice Three: Sample from a different pie. "What else did we get? The sausage and onion? OOOH LEMME TRY A PIECE."

Slice Four: "Drew, will you slow down?!"

[Intermission/Bathroom Break.]

Slice Five: Inhaled. Make silent promise to myself that this will be the last slice.

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Slice Six: Slice is just sitting there, on the tray. The wife plans to box up the rest of the pizza for lunch. That would be a nice lunch. But you know what would be better? If I ate that fucking thing right now. It's just the right temperature, man. Not too hot. Not cold. You can just stuff it right in. God, I love room-temperature pizza.

Slice Seven: Eaten while wife is in the bathroom and the check is arriving.

Slices Eight and Nine: Folded atop one another and inhaled just as she's making her way back.

Anyway, that's how I usually eat pizza when I'm out. I should be able to eat as much as I like, without judgment. No more pizza shaming.

By the way, these guidelines don't apply to New York pizza joints, like Famous Ray's and shit. The ones with the dinosaur-sized slices. I can do two of those slices and call it a day. That third slice will crush you. And if it's one of those boutique joints that only serves small individual pizzas? All bets are off. I get to eat my pie plus whatever anyone else doesn't eat.

Ben:

What weapon do you think is responsible for the most human deaths in all of history? I was thinking guns or bombs originally, but those have only been around for a small fraction of human existence (coincidentally with the largest human population and probably the most violence), so maybe knives?

Wikipedia has a full listing of worldwide armed conflicts ranked by death toll, and it's a hell of a thing to look at. In World War II alone (No. 1 in the rankings), the high estimate is that 85 million people were killed. The majority of those deaths likely came from gunfire, bombing, starvation, and poisoning (be it indirectly or directly). If you don't count starvation as a "weapon," I guess guns would have been the primary killing tool used. Here is an article stating that more Americans have been killed by guns since 1968 than in all our armed conflicts combined, which means that guns do a healthy side business in killing folk when they aren't being used for formal combat. Not only has the world population exploded within the past century or so, but our methods for killing one another have become much more efficient.

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So even if you grouped knives and swords together into a single blade group (two of the top three conflicts on that list took place prior to the year 1400, which probably means a lot of people were getting their stab on), I don't think they would be able to compete with guns and bombs. Here is how I would rank them (RANKINGS NOT EXTENSIVELY RESEARCHED!):

1. Guns

2. Bombs

3. Blades

4. Blunt objects

5. Human hands

6. Poison

7. BEES

Of course, this list will have to be updated a century from now, once we've perfected death-ray technology. We're really lagging on the death-ray front. I was all jazzed for death rays to be a reality, and yet here we are, in 2014, with no death rays. Kinda bullshit.

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Two other notes from that list: Seven of the top 10 wars listed in those Wiki rankings took place in and around China. So if you're big on wholesale death, China is the place to be.

Secondly, one glance at that list will make you feel like you have lived one charmed-ass life. Many Americans get to grow up and make long-term plans and bitch about inconsequential shit (I actually make a living doing the latter). And yet, there are BILLIONS of people throughout history who never had such luxuries. They just ran out onto a battlefield, got ripped to shreds, and that was the end of them. That feels like some kind of horrible cosmic mistake. Everyone deserves a chance to see how their life story will turn out, and there have been so, so many people who never got that chance. It's impossible to comprehend the numbers. It's like watching a galaxy get destroyed. I probably don't deserve to live.

Bryson:

As a Raiders fan from Oakland, I've been following the news about their potential move to L.A. Should they move, what is the protocol for picking a new team to root for? I know proximity says the Niners, but I hate them.

Can't you just keep rooting for the Raiders? They've already been the L.A. Raiders, so it's not like that would be new territory for you. I bet the Niners moving to Santa Clara is a more devastating move than if the Raiders went back to Southern California. You could put the Raiders in Akron and they'd still have 60,000 Sons of Anarchy extras parked in the stands, threatening to knife you for speaking ill of Mr. Davis. If I had a vote, I would stick the Raiders back in L.A., keep the Chargers where they are, put the Jags or Rams in London, and relocate the Patriots to the center of a volcano. That would be my grand vision for a more cosmopolitan NFL.

Donald:

Why hasn't anyone invented a small insertion device that would cause your farts to not smell at all? Think about it. You could fart in a business meeting, first dates, your great-grandmother's funeral ... and no one would notice.

So, you're talking about an IUD for farts? You gotta be REALLY uptight about your smelly farts to place a permanent rectal suppository inside your body. What if it gets infected, and your rectum swells up, and they have to remove it? And then you're shitting in a bag, and everyone at the movie theater can smell your shitbag? You've just made everything worse. You cannot stop farts. They will always come out of you, and they will always stink, and that is healthy. Just like Eddie Murphy said, people wanna smell farts.

Farts are the smell of life, man. Breathe 'em in.

Justin:

Which starting NFL QB would you most want to just, like, hang with? Just a night out, chilling and shit.

Kyle Orton? Orton. It has to be Orton. I knew someone who knew someone who was roommates with Orton, and he was apparently just as Orton-y as you would hope. You don't get the benefit of being in the presence of greatness, like you would with Peyton Manning. But Peyton Manning is an asshole. I'd much rather get shitfaced with Orton than a robot like Brady or an Affliction stockholder like Big Ben. I don't wanna hang out with some GLORY BOY who's been insanely successful. I want the FAILURES. I wanna sit there with Orton and listen to him be like, "Man, in Chicago, they didn't what the fuck they were doing." That would be a pleasant evening.

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By the way, there's a huge contrast between how I perceive an athlete's accomplishments as a fan, and how I view them in real life. For example … take Orton. Orton isn't a great QB and never will be. That's how I think of him as a fan. But if I ever met Orton in real life, I'd be like HOLY FUCK THAT GUY PLAYED IN THE NFL FOR 10 YEARS. The fact that he played professional football is all the accomplishment I need to be sufficiently awed by someone in person. I saw Tony Romo in person once (saw him; did not actually talk to him), and I was like Holy shit, there's Tony Romo. I wasn't thinking that choking son of a bitch. The mentality changes completely.

This would be my list of bestest QB friends:

1. Orton

2. Romo

3. Johnny Fucking Football

4. Harvard Boy. I'm not scared to match wits with Ryan Fitzpatrick.

5. Cutler. Even if he just sulks the whole time, it would be worth it to go back to my friends and be like, "I hung with Jay Cutler, and he was a DICK."

6. Kaepernick

7. Rivers. I know he's basically Jim Bob Duggar, but I could spend an hour with him bitching together about having children. I bet he's good at that.

8. Luck

9. Stafford

10. Mark Sanchez

Last on the list is Eli. I would rather run a full ultramarathon than spend five minutes trying to have a conversation with Eli.

Scott:

A couple of nights ago, my kids (3, 6, and 8) and I turned off all the lights in our house and got out some plastic lightsabers that light up and make cool noises when you smack stuff. We raced around the house shouting Star Wars stuff and generally acted like we were baddest Jedi's in the universe. It was dark in the house, and all you could see anywhere was the glow of the lightsabers swinging and crashing wildly at each other. As a fellow parent, I think you'll understand when I say that I was way more into this than even the kids were, and my only disappointment was that my kids really suck at sword ighting. I'm pretty sure I could take on the entire Empire myself, and I deserve the chance.

Those plastic lightsabers are badass. I can't even keep them in the house, because the kids will whap me in the dick with them. But one day the kids will be gone from this house, and I will buy a lightsaber for myself, get real stoned, and RULE THE GALAXY. Senior Citizen Me is gonna smoke so much weed. ALL THE WEED.

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Glow sticks also work when you need to kill time with children. They're like little ravers: Hand them a glow stick and they're in ECSTASY. We turn out the lights in the bathroom at bath time and hand them little glow sticks for the tub. They damn near shit the water with excitement. Sure, the sticks are probably chock full of toxic nuclear runoff, and if they ever leaked into the tub my children would develop 60 abdominal tumors, but it's worth it, man. It's worth a happy bath time instead of the usual 10 minutes of screaming and begging for 50 dry towels for eye-wiping.

HALFTIME!

Chris:

If an NHL team played a NBA team in rugby, who would win?

The NHL team. Hockey players do a better job mimicking the rugby physique: short, squat, no teeth, no ears, an almost profound look of blank stupidity when they are asked very simple questions. That body type comes in handy with rugby, a sport that is as close as we'll get to competitive human centipeding. I played rugby for a couple of years, and it's as if some mad scientist is trying to make a Voltron out of human skin.

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Also, if you ask hockey fans, hockey players are IRON GRITMEN who get up every morning and disembowel themselves to toughen up for their second shift against the Flames that evening. Wherease NBA players are prissy little divas who take the night off if they get a hangnail. LACE UP SOME SKATES D-ROSE, AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A REAL MAN LOOKS LIKE.

Reed:

So 99 percent of the time when a QB hands the ball off, he either stands there or gets the hell out of the way. Is there anything stopping a benchwarmer lineman from learning some plays and going in to hand the ball off instead, therefore giving the offense an extra blocker? To add an extra layer of excitement, you'd have to teach the lineman a few passing plays to keep the defense honest.

Even if you've got a few pass plays in the lineman's arsenal, it's not probably not worth tipping the defense off to a likely running play. Besides, once the Fat Guy QB hands off, who is he gonna block? The running back is already past him. It's too late to catch up and block someone else, unless it's a reverse or some other kind of misdirection play, which would tip the defense off further. You also lose the ability to have your QB kick out in the opposite direction and take a few defenders with him on the fake.

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The other problem is the snap. Taking a snap is harder than it looks. There's a reason newbie QBs always fumble the snap. If they can't get the exchange down, then it's probably even more awkward for Tyron Smith to do it. The turnover risk is too high, which sucks, because I would really like Chip Kelly to try this ONCE, maybe in a rout of Washington. That would be the logical time to attempt it.

Tom:

My 12-year-old is going through puberty, and if not masturbating already, will be doing so soon. Browser-history entries such as "pictures of vagina" and "sex" are popping up in our browser histories. He alone for several hours a day after school, and there is no way that I can lock down every browser on every computer in the house. I want him to appropriately explore his body, but don't want him exposed to Granny Fisting and mother-daughter squirting at this age, so that he grows up with a warped view of sexuality.

I thought about getting a subscription to Playboy to reduce his need to explore the perverse depths of the internet, but I also don't want to have to explain that stratagem when Child Protective Services takes my children away after rumors start circulating at school that "my dad gives me porn." What can a well-meaning dad do?

Oh, okay, so 12 is when all my worst nightmares as father will come true? Got it. Four more years of peace and innocence for me, gang!

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Anyway, here's the deal: You're not gonna stop a kid from seeing what they wanna see. I have browser restrictions on all over the house, but eventually my kids will circumnavigate them (probably by using a friend's computer, because all the other kids in the world have shitty, lax parents). If they wanna see Goatse (standard reminder for the three of you living in a cave: DO NOT GOOGLE GOATSE), they will see Goatse. There are only two things you can do about it …

1. Talk to them about what they see. Duh. God, I bet talking to a 12-year-old about lemon parties is just the worst.

2. Trust them to be as grossed out by that shit as you are. I remember when I was a kid, and I saw women pissing in Penthouse and stuff, and I was grossed out by it. I didn't fall down a rabbit hole into Roman orgies and shit. I just knew enough to know that I didn't like urine porn. That holds true to this day, my friends. I avoid gifs of people pissing into each other of my own free will. So you'll just have to hope that you did a good enough job raising your kid for the first 12 years, that he'll be smart enough to avoid cockroach-insertion porn going forward.

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I remember, when I was a kid, I saw a lot of sex stuff in pop culture that actually kinda disturbed me. Like the "Living In Sin" video. Got a little bit racy for me, gang!

I also remember the topless girl in Trading Places sitting up in bed and saying, "I've been waiting for you, Billy Ray." I was not ready to handle that kind of sexy business yet. It freaked me out. I probably went and watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer after seeing those boobs, just to cleanse my psyche. Kids discover shit at their own pace. Sometimes you just have to let them figure it out.

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I got have R-rated DVDs down in the basement. My kid can work the DVD player. She could pop in Animal House anytime she pleases, but she either hasn't thought to do it just yet or she's not interested. I just have to hope that lack of interest in boobs and penises lasts for another five decades.

JJ:

I am getting off the subway, and the guy in front of me is wearing a shirt I own. Mind you, I am not wearing the shirt at the same time, and it's a generic shirt from, like, Banana Republic. But still: Fuck that guy. That's my shirt.

But who wore it best? For real though, you're right: That guy can eat an ass. I feel differently about shoes, though. If I see a stranger wearing my shoes, I have to keep myself from screaming out HEY I HAVE THOSE SHOES! LET'S BE SHOE BUDDIES. We could just go hang together in our Asics: me and ol' Kyle Orton.

Ian:

What if the Olympics held a World's Tallest Man event? Is that stupid or awesome? Yes, I know Guinness lists the WTM, but maybe they're wrong. Maybe they've missed a guy. Or somebody grew and now there's a challenger. Every country grabs their tallest guy, and then during the Opening Ceremony, they bring them out. "Oh, lookit the guy from Estonia!" I'd watch that.

Yeah, but what if the Estonians purposely dope a guy up with HGH and grow him to 10 feet tall? I don't want any Performance Enhancing Tallness marring the Olympic experience.

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Anyway, yes, I would probably watch an Olympic tall-off. Same with a fat-off. Just wheel out the fattest assholes from every country, and then stick a flag in the thousand-pounder. That would be good television. No nail-growing competitions, though. That's repulsive. That's always the worst part of flipping through the Guinness Book of World Records. I don't want my freaks to be THAT freaky.

Scott:

How about this approach to ensure we never have another tie game: OT is comprised of a single possession. No FGs. If the team with the ball scores a touchdown, it wins. Any other result, it loses.

How to determine which team gets the ball? Each coach "bets" a number of yards. Higher number gets possession, starting that number of yards away from the goal line. The team has one drive to score the TD. First downs can be earned as usual if the winning bet is more than 10 yards out. If both coaches bet the same number of yards, home team gets the ball.

I assume you only bet once, correct? And your bid is a sealed bid? If they gotta drag an auctioneer out for this, then it becomes a whole thing.

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Anyway, I think this is fine to implement for the Pro Bowl (which I still think should use fantasy scoring as actual scoring). But as for a real game, I don't want to add any new wrinkle that fucks with coaches. Coaches already have to deal with timeouts and challenges and all kinds of other horrible shit that they can't help but fuck up time and time again. I do not need more games within my football game. The current NFL overtime system is fine by me. If they ever felt compelled to change it, I would want college OT, because it provides the suspense of your bidding system, only it repeats that suspense over and over again. It's an abomination, but I love watching it.

By the way, any time people submit new NFL rule ideas, they're always like, "Think of all the gambling implications!" How many gambling options do you gamblers require? You can already bet on who wins the goddamn coin toss. There is not a dearth of available gambling options to you. I ain't changing shit just so you have a new prop bet to kick around.

Adam:

Is there anything that's more a rip-off these days than school pictures for kids? With the advent of digital cameras and phones, is there really any need to order pics of your kid with an awkward smile and half-popped-up collar just so you can send them out to Grandma and Grandpa every year?

It's a fucking outrage. I hope the school is getting a cut of that action. I hope they aren't dumb enough to just let BIG PHOTO con them into coming to their school so they sucker a bunch of parents into plunking down $15 for one wallet-sized photo. Those pictures should be FREE. I spent all morning begging my kid to wear a sweater for Picture Day. And then I get the contact sheet in the mail, and I feel like a Six Flags customer being offered a picture after coming off the roller coaster.

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By the way, some of the poses they make your kid do for these pictures are ridiculous. They made my 5-year-old rest his chin on his fist for one of the photos. I don't trust these kiddie photogs, man. They creep me out.

Email of the week! It's a GREAT MOMENT IN FART HISTORY:

Jay:

Health class in ninth grade during the final exam, I let loose silent flatulence so horrific that it actually cleared out the side of the room I was sitting on. I remember a girl actually choking on it. It brought the exam to a screeching halt. The teacher told the panicking class to relax, that it was probably just a fart. The choking girl said, "No, it can't be. It has to be something else." A few kids even started checking the huge classroom cabinets on that side of the room for a dead rotting animal, put there as a last day of school prank. I was just blending into the crowd on the now-only occupied side of the room, trying to look shocked and hide my terror (several hot girls were in this class). Mercifully, it eventually dissipated, and I was never once blamed. I often thought about how lucky I had gotten that day, but also kind of wanted the credit for the deed.

Fast-forward to the last day of high school, senior year. Everybody is triumphantly walking out of the school for the last time, and I spot my friend Jon, who had been in the classroom that fateful day. That memory pops back into my mind, so I grab him and ask him if he remembers that smell in health class the day of the the final exam way back when, he gets a confused look and says, "Yeah, but why ...", then he sees my shit-eating grin, and it hits him, much like that wave of stench hit so many others three years ago. His eyes widen. Mouth agape. And I vanish back into the crowd.


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.

Image by Jim Cooke.

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