Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering bullets, empty sporting contests, majors, diarrhea, and more.
Do we give Mike Tyson a break because he was so entertaining to watch? I’ve been thinking about this lately with all the attention Floyd’s criminal record has gotten before the fight. Tyson had just as much history abusing women (including famous women like Robin Givens, and there’s that story of AJ Ayer protecting Naomi Campbell from him), as well as a rape conviction, plus he bit a guy’s ear off in the ring. And of course, all of this was well known, and nobody ever argued he was a model citizen, but there also seemed to be a good deal of sympathy for him because he came from a rough background, and because he didn’t seem too bright (although that’s the same case with Mayweather).
I think the reason that Tyson has achieved a kind of bizarre hipster icon status is because a) he actually served time for his assault (despite refusing to admit guilt), and b) he clearly hates himself. He’s spoke openly about his own self-loathing on many occasions, enough to make him a pitiful figure to many people. He’s even turned that self-loathing into art, which is such a New York thing to do.
It could all be a long con. After all, Tyson has been arrested as recently as 2009 (for punching a photographer in the head). And I have a hard time shaking the presser where he openly threatened a female reporter. It was fucking menacing as hell:
Accepting Mike Tyson as a sensitive good guy now assumes that he has been able to magically contain this darker side of himself, which … I’m not exactly confident that’s the case. He’s done an awful lot of evil shit in his time, and he’s probably taken notice that being publicly introspective (to a point—like I said, he’s never admitted raping Desiree Washington and is rarely taken to task anymore for it) about his misdeeds makes him seem more sympathetic, perhaps more sympathetic than he deserves. That makes him different from Floyd, who is an unrepentant asshole about pretty much everything.
Tyson has become America’s charity case. Everyone knows he had a terrible upbringing. Everyone knows that Cus D’Amato’s death made him sad. Everyone knows he was a drug addict. And there are a lot of people who would still like to save him, either because they have fond memories of him fighting, or because he still has a natural charisma that makes it easy for him to win people over. In that way, maybe he’s worse than Mayweather. Maybe he’s nothing more than a manipulative fraud who had the good sense to align himself with tastemakers.
I’m a student at UConn, and I have no idea what to do. I’ve been STRONGLY ADVISED to not be a journalism major, because I won’t get a job, and if I did get a job, I would make about five cents an hour, and I’ll eventually end up sleeping on the street outside the home of my high school crush. And then I’ll die. Or something. I’m not really sure what I’m even trying to ask you. “What do you recommend I do?? Where do I start??” is close to what I’m trying to ask. Just give me something.
Don’t fall into the trap of BIG MAJOR. There’s nothing worse than some 18-year-old running around like a stuck pig being like YOU GUYS! I DON’T KNOW WHAT MY MAJOR IS GONNA BE! Of course you don’t know. You’re 18. Eighteen-year-olds can’t even tap a keg without making it look like the frat room’s basement fire extinguisher went off.
I remember when I was a freshman and yammering about major selection strictly as a conversation point. It’s the college equivalent of asking about the weather. And of course everyone wants to impress everyone else with their major selection, either through its presumed workload (“I’m a TRIPLE major, actually”) or its eclectic nature (“I actually created my OWN major: 17th-century gender issues in pottery”) or its potential future earnings (“Econ majors average a $215,000 salary right out of school with at least eight summer homes in Zurich, guys”).
Lost in all that is the fact that your choice of major has no real impact on anything you’ll ever do. If you’re a stupid person and you major in econ, you’re still gonna be a stupid person. And if you’re a resourceful genius who happens to major in something like fart alchemy (this is what I majored in), you’ll be fine. It makes no sense to worry about future employment at 18, because a) That’s four years from now, and you should focus on drinking, and b) your first job will be fucking terrible anyway. College is for making you smart in the way you would like to be smart. So focus on the Getting Smart part for now, and THEN worry about the fact that you may have to eat out of dumpsters for sustenance once you get out. Smart, capable people usually do fine in life, no matter whether or not they took Symbology 405: The History of the Ankh in college. It doesn’t really matter all that much.
(For real though, don’t be a journo major. You don’t wanna hang out with the fucking school paper nerds for four years. They’re the worst.)
Say you’re on Death Row. They’re strapping you down and prepping you for your impending demise. However, you get a case of crippling diarrhea. Bad last meal. You plead for them to let you go shit and die with a shred of dignity. Do they unstrap you to let you go, or do they send you on your way to the dark abyss covered in your own excrement?
But what if you’re faking it? You could be pulling the diarrhea card so that you can be escorted to the shitter, and then you ask the guard, “Hey Jimbo, mind if I do this alone?” and then Jimbo lets you because he finally decided to have a heart for once, and then you go in the bathroom, slip through a loose window flap just above the sink, hop into a getaway car that Ol’ Burl has parked outside the joint, and then you ride off. COMPLETELY PLAUSIBLE, if my history of watching bathroom escape jobs in movies is any indication. I’m not letting you out of my sight!
Anyway, I assume this sort of thing is left strictly to the discretion of your jailer, who might let you drop one last anchor before strapping you down, injecting you with Clorox because the state budget for humane injection drugs has run out, watching you shit your pants ANYWAY, and then leaving you on the table to slowly choke on your own vomit for three hours before you finally succumb. The most humane way of going, really.
But I wouldn’t get my hopes up about that final bathroom trip. The death penalty is used by only our meanest states (Texas, Virginia, Texas). Those aren’t states that coddle hard-boiled criminals like yourself. If you didn’t wanna shit yourself at the lethal injection table, you should have thought about that before you shot them Duke boys!
Is the #DadBod craze a real thing? Seems like a ploy by McDonald’s to regain lost market share. I’m skeptical
No, it’s not a craze. It’s fucking stupid. Walking around with a little bit of a gut is not some new, remarkable trend in male health. That’s pretty much how most men have always looked. It’s like saying “men with two ears” is the new hot thing. DadBod is just Bod. That’s what every fratboy who funnels 20 beers a weekend is BOUND to look like.
By the way, I don’t really believe girls who are like, “I prefer a guy who’s got a little bit of a gut!” Well, no shit. That’s all you have to choose from. You either get the pudgy frat boy, or you get roid-addled rape monster:
Very few guys have a body type that’s perfectly in between those two choices, and the guys who do are DICKS. Total dicks. If every guy were perfectly jacked, I don’t think girls would complain all that much. “Jayden isn’t fat enough!”
What would have to happen for the NFL to schedule a zero-attendance game like the Orioles?
I think it would have to be some kind of violent or highly racist mass incident that DIRECTLY involves fans. When the O’s—in conjunction with MLB and local law enforcement, by the way—decided to play a game in an empty stadium, everyone I knew was like, “That’s fucking stupid.” And it was. Despite being an amusing historic novelty, it turned out to be stupid and completely unnecessary. So the NFL is unlikely to do anything like that because GRRRRR WE’RE THE NFL WE’RE SO TOUGH GRRRRR, and because the O’s have already proven that it was a lousy idea.
Again, the only way it could happen in football would be an incident similar to European soccer leagues, where fans are kept out of the stadium due to racism and/or hooliganism. If 50,000 violent Skinheads all somehow bought tickets for a game and were waiting outside the Bills stadium (for accuracy’s sake, I will assume they’re Bills fans) with brass knuckles and barbed 2x4s, and the NFL had no time to switch venues, then maybe you’d get an empty stadium. But even then, I’m skeptical. The Bills tailgate lot basically looks like Mad Max: Fury Road these days, and they still let everyone in.
Now that we’ve all got smart phones, how common do you think it is for people to just look at some pictures of naked people while at work? I’ve done this a few times when bored at work.
Well, you still need cover. I assume people do it in the shitter and whatnot. But in an open bullpen? That would take a lot of gall. You’re not THAT shielded with a phone tucked close to your body. The threat of getting caught is still way too high, and few guys are willing to risk getting the CREEP label thrown down on them.
I remember I was talking with a friend who got a new phone, and the friend had promised himself that he wouldn’t look at porn with it, because of malware and viruses and all that shit. A lot of guys make that promise to themselves with new gadgets. In general, it takes them roughly a day and a half to break that covenant. OH LET JUST SNEAK IN ONE BUTT SHOT.
There will come a day when kids are so poorly raised and porn becomes so ever-present that there will just be porn everywhere. Everyone will do porn. Everyone will stare at porn in public. Guys on the subway will openly jack off to porn on the Oculus Rift. It’s just gonna get pornier and pornier until everyone lets it slide and we’re all walking around ass naked with an iPhone jacked into our bionic genitals. I only hope I’m dead when it finally happens.
I grew up in L.A. in the ‘90s, so when it came time to like a football team, I did like a lot of kids and cheered for the Cowboys. After all, I didn’t have my own local team. My whole family is back in L.A. So when I visit—for solidarity, and to feel like a local when I’m in town,—should I adopt whatever team goes to L.A. as my #1b? I don’t like the Raiders or the Chargers, but for the sake of hometown pride, I could cheer for Phillip Rivers.
I would just let it happen naturally. I live in the D.C. area, and I fucking hate the ‘Skins and Caps, but over time I’ve grown fond of the Wizards and Nats, even though they weren’t the teams I rooted for as a kid. I don’t mind having them as backup rooting interests, but it’s not like I did it deliberately. You gravitate. The fandom just comes naturally. When you force it, you just end up feeling like a fucking poser anyway.
So if the Rams or Raiders or Chargers move (and honestly, it seems like all three will do it and completely bone the NFL in the process), you don’t have to decide right away. Just chill and see if you gravitate. As a Cowboys fan, you’ll probably gravitate toward whichever team happens to be doing well at the moment, you fucking frontrunning asshole.
What foods increase in enjoyment the further you get into a serving? My immediate list in no particular order would include:
* Beef Jerky
* Pringles (tilting the can up and having the crumbs slide down is better than any one Pringle)
* Blizzard/Frosty/et al with the “fixins” gravitated toward the bottom
* Cereal (final pieces coated in all that sugar)
Also, I eat a lot of really unhealthy food.
Isn’t pizza No. 1 on that list? The second or third slice of pizza is peak pizza eating, because it’s cooled down a bit, and you’ve had time to rub butter all over your hard palate burns from the first slice. And then you get to the lukewarm fourth and fifth slices, and you can REALLY start packing it in. One day, I will choke to death eating too much pizza, and it’ll be a perfectly fine death. I have no problem with that death at all. I will die doing what I loved.
Second place is a blizzard or milkshake, followed by Doritos, nachos, tacos, and any kind of Asian noodle dish. At some ramen places now, you can ask for “kae-dama,” where they dump extra noodles into your bowl if you have some broth left over. The moment they plunk those extra noodles into your soup is arguably the high point of the human condition.
When I was a kid watching TV, if someone got hit on the head and lost their memory, the only way to get it back was to hit them on the head again. If you knew FOR SURE that this worked, at some point in your life you would smash your best friend in the head with a shovel to try it out, right?
Sure would! I would also do it to myself as a way of skipping through unpleasant experiences. Like sitting through a root canal. I sit in the chair, I ask the doc to bash me in the head with a rubber mallet, I get my root canal, and then I get the mallet a second time to “wake up.” Easiest root canal ever. I would use that for PTA meetings, church, enduring an episode of The Thundermans with my child, and on any long plane ride or road trip. Optimized, I could easily wipe out 40 percent of my life experience, and that would be good!
Dodging eyewitness testimony would also be a cinch.
PROSECUTOR: “Mr. Magary, did you see Fat Vinny shoot that man?”
ME: [***MALLET***]: “Huh? What? Where I am? I think I just shit myself.”
I’m not sure if anyone has floated this idea yet, but what if, for any pro sports league, a team has only a salary cap for free agents, and not for players they draft?
You can’t do that, because it would destroy free agency. I know the NBA already has a setup where you get more money sticking with your original team, but if that disparity were widened to the point where it was far more financially punitive to move between teams, no one would ever leave teams. It would paralyze player movement and force players to stick with teams they hate strictly for the money, which you don’t want.
In the NFL, free agency is already terrible thanks to the franchise tag. With the exception of that one time Drew Brees came on the market, there’s rarely a game-changing free agent signing in football (certainly not like in the NBA). So I wouldn’t want any system that shrinks that pool even further, to the point where you’re lucky if you get a long snapper on the open market. I want big free-agent signings that give me a false sense of hope about my team, only to have everything go to shit once the season starts, and I end up resenting that player for the rest of his natural-born life. That’s way better.
As a parent of a girl, do you find the concept of daddy-daughter dances to be strange? I don’t mean strange in an incest way, but inappropriate, like taking your Mom to prom. I keep seeing these things on Facebook. If you don’t know, basically it’s a dance for dad’s and daughters between 8-11. I have two boys, and apparently it there is not gender-opposite version.
Yeah, that sounds fucking terrible. Any dad who tries to play up the whole “Daddy’s little girl” angle is just asking for the girl to start snorting meth and working in porn. Scumbags and hustlers and professional guitarists look specifically for daddy’s little girls, so that they can corrupt them. I learned all of this from ‘80s music videos. I’ll just treat my kid like a kid, thank you very much. No daddy-daughter dances. No buying you a pony. No freakish need to over-protect the child, like in that one Tony Danza movie. That’s all asking for trouble.
I used to really enjoy driving, but now it’s become a horrible burden that I hate, even though my commute is less than 10 minutes and I have plenty of good podcasts to enjoy. Is this only going to get worse, or is there something I can do to just chill out?
Nope. You’re screwed. You’re older and less patient and everyone annoys you, so it only makes sense that any kind of travel would put you in a progressively shittier mood. Driving and flying are situations where you are surrounded by hundreds of strangers, if not more. What are the odds that you, as a middle-aged crank, are gonna like any of those people? Zero. You will want them all killed. In total, I only like about three people in this world. That includes my family. I do not wish to have contact with the remaining 5,999,999,996 people. They can fall into a chasm.
So at the end of Ghostbusters, 55 Central Park West (Dana’s apartment building, alias Spook Central) is basically trashed. If they managed to fix it back up—or even if they tore it down and built a totally new building designed by an architect who doesn’t worship Zuul —is anybody moving into it?
Hell yes. That’s prime Manhattan real estate. People don’t even live in Manhattan anymore. Those apartments are snatched up by Chinese oligarchs and used for storing illegal slush-fund money and human wage slaves. No one actually RESIDES in those places. It like having a POD, if the POD you rented cost $35 million. So let Zuul haunt the joint all she likes. You can’t haunt money. Money ain’t scared.
Shouldn’t ole’ horseface Peyton Manning be getting a lot more shit for not voluntarily halving his salary next season to allow the Broncos to load up on free-agent talent?
No. As a rule, you should never shit on an athlete for daring to actually keep his money. I know Brady gets a new round of “ultimate teammate” blowjobs every time he restructures his deal, but no one should EXPECT someone like Peyton to give back some of his $25 million as some kind of grand altruistic teammate gesture. Why should he? He fucking runs that team. He probably doesn’t get paid enough, given that he calls the plays, coordinates offseason workout sessions, and collects team urine samples. He’s earned his money, and it’s not like the Broncos are gonna win a Super Bowl with him anyway. His arm is a limp rag. May as well limp out of the game $25 million richer.
So today my buddy was outside walking his dog when a man suddenly tapped him on the shoulder. and proceeds to ask him if his dog is for sale. Obviously my friend says no and goes about his day. My first thought when hearing this story was how much money does some random person have to offer you for your dog in order for you to sell it and not be an asshole, but a reasonable person? What’s the price point when you tell your friends you sold your loyal pup to some random dude where they aren’t even mad because it was just so much money? I’m starting at $500,000.
That is such weird thing for a stranger to ask someone. He clearly wanted to make the dog into a coat, right? Only a dog-coat fetishist would do that.
Anyway, for half a million bucks, I’d sell my dog and throw one of the kids in with it. Especially if I haven’t had the dog for long. If I just got the dog, and it’s yipping and pissing all over the place, I’ll gladly turn it over to Randall “Tex” Cobb. We can always get a new dog. I know that dog people are batshit crazy about dogs and wouldn’t trade them for all the tea in China, but for a half a million dollars, I can get a BETTER dog, one that does tricks and can fetch Bugles for me and doesn’t shed hair. I’d forget about Old Yeller within three days of bringing in the Labracockapoo.
Seriously though, if we’ve had the dog forever—I do not currently own a dog, because I have three kids, and the youngest one does enough dog-like things to make owning an actual dog redundant—and some guy is offering to buy it, and my kids are pulling on my leg being like, “Don’t sell Sparky!”, I’m probably keeping the dog for anything less than $250,000. Above that price, make him into an omelet for all I care. It’s important to teach the children that loved ones are replaceable, and everything has its price.
(NOTE: Personally speaking, I grew up moving around, and we only had a dog one time. We had to send the dog back because it was a biter, and we never replaced it. This is why I am now a heartless bastard.)
How many people in human history have been killed by bullets not fired out of a gun? My first instinct was to guess something very low, like under 100. It’d have to be in almost comedic circumstances, like a box of bullets at a bullet factory falling on someone, or someone standing on a cliff getting bullets thrown at them.
Oh, I think it’s more than 100. You can fire a bullet simply by immobilizing it and then banging on the end (like, you know, the way a gun does it). Observe!
I’m sure there have been times in history when people had ammo but not guns to fire it, and a tank was bearing down on their village, and they had to fire the bullets any way they could. Or a bunch of moron kids (like the ones above) messed around with hammering bullets and paid the ultimate price. There have been a lot of people and a lot of deaths on this planet. If you can think of a stupid way to die, rest assured it has happened to MANY people.
It would also make for the perfect crime. Imagine it: Police find the slug, but no gun. Where did the gun go? TURNS OUT THERE WAS NO GUN. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I’m gonna murder someone just like that one day. New life goal.
Email of the week!
You know when you’re watching a video and you hover your mouse over the pause/play button, and the mouse goes from triangle-shaped to a hand with the index finger pointing straight out? Well, whenever that happens, I can’t resist finger-banging the shit out of the pause button. A lot of times the finger fits perfectly in the space between the two bars, and I just go to town on that fucker. Am I the only one who does this?
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.
Photos by Getty and AP.
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