Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we're covering death, search firms, athlete porn, and more.
If you had to guess, what percentage of cops smoke weed? Even if there are a ton of "cool" or "normal" police that smoke (or live in Colorado or California), most cops are old-school hard-asses that prefer to drink shitty beer, right? My guess is 15 percent, and I think I'm being generous.
I think that 15 percent is a high estimate (no pun intended; I mean it), because I assume most cops are routinely tested for drug use. At the very least, they probably get a tox screen before the commish hands them a badge and gun. You can't have some stoned cop sitting there in his squad car being like God, these fucking donuts are UNREAL. Hey man, look at my gun. It's like … it's pulsing. Such a cool gun. Did you hear something? We should probably shoot at it. That sort of misbehavior will get you immediately promoted to desk sergeant and shielded from all public scrutiny, young man!
The average stoner isn't gonna be a cop. Stoners hate cops. You wanna meet someone with a false sense of repression? Talk to a stoner who has been busted by the cops. THIS FUCKING COUNTRY, MANNNNNN. SOMETHING'S GOTTA CHANGE. Maybe there's one guy out there who wants to be the KEWL KOP who smokes weed and is nice to black people, but that's about it. Every other cop became a cop specifically so that they could get drunk at Irish pubs and then stumble home to an angry wife and curse her out for not understanding WHAT THIS JOB DOES TO A MAN. That job was made for alcoholics.
It's too bad, because I think more cops should smoke weed. Instead of arming them with guns, just arm them with big Js and some kick-ass dancehall beats, and all conflicts would be resolved within seconds.
I liked Stuart Scott. Just wanted to get it out of the way. That said, isn't there something unseemly about the way the media mourns its own? The worst example in recent memory is when Tim Russert died, and NBC covered it like he was a head of state. (Maybe more so—there's no way they devoted as much attention to it as they did the death of Gerald Ford.) NBC even nationally televised Russert's funeral, which is incredibly rare.
My guess is there are fewer than 10 athletes who would receive the media coverage that Scott has (Jordan, Ali, Jeter, LeBron, Brady, Manning). I mean, if Manny Pacquiao and Chris Berman died on the same day, who would receive more obituaries? If Pete Sampras dies of cancer today, they may talk about it on SportsCenter for three minutes while showing some highlights, but that's it. Am I off base? Is it evidence of the high regard the media feels for itself and believes it deserves in our society?
I think, in the case of Stu Scott, the on-air mourning was more comprehensive because a) on a personal level, everyone who knew Stuart Scott really liked him (I watched SportsCenter on Sunday morning, and even Berman was fighting back tears), and b) the circumstances of his death are so tragic and horrible. I mean, the guy was only 49, and he had a family. It's a fucking nightmare I wouldn't wish on anyone, and it could happen to any of us at any time, which is scary as shit. So on that level, I can understand why ESPN gave his passing so much coverage. It was the same way with Tim Russert, a widely liked fellow who died before many of his colleagues and friends and fans were ready for it. (Russert died of a sudden heart attack in 2008.) Hannah Storm and Scott Van Pelt and everyone else at ESPN knew and adored the person whose death they were covering. They couldn't help but be more emotional about it.
But yeah, when a media figure dies, that shit gets amplified because all the other media people want to be mourned in the same way when THEY die. This happens like clockwork on Twitter when any old newspaper crank kicks the bucket. You get three hours of very solemn tributes and links to old work before everyone goes back to screaming at one another. I don't trust ESPN to handle anything tastefully, given their penchant for #branding everything to death, including death itself. Scott was a good company man who was rarely critical of any coaches or players or owners, and helped the network seamlessly transition into the chummy corporate polygamist that it is today. I hope ESPN doesn't repay him by turning his passing into an annual ESPYs promo.
Of all the things that dads-to-be fear, what's least worthy of that fear? I would go with diaper-changing. The first few weeks, I went through a ludicrous amount of wipes and considered wearing gloves. As soon as I got used to it, though, I could change a diaper and go right back to a bag of chips without realizing I hadn't washed my hands.
I'd like to say diaper-changing, but once in a while you get the dreaded up-the-back shit that explodes out of a baby's diaper. When that happens, all your worst fears are realized, and then some. Just the other day, my 2-year-old woke up from a nap and said he had to go to the bathroom. So I went and took off his diaper without realizing that he had already taken a shit in it. The poop fell to the ground and streaked across his leg and got little flecks of poo on the bath mat and, as always, I reacted as if a nuclear bomb had hit the house. OH MY FUCKING GOD THERE IS POOP ON THE LOOSE. A pee-pee diaper is no big deal, but a comprehensive shit accident is every bit as bad as people say it is. You should fear them. They should haunt your dreams.
There are few things mythic about the warnings given to future dads. You will lose sleep. You will get poop on you. You will get vomit on you. You will become acutely aware of how much money you do not have to support the child's future needs. The only one that's kinda bullshit is the idea that your wife will ignore you forever in favor of the child. That kinda happens, except a) I don't mind being left alone anyway, and B) trust me, when there is laundry that has not yet been folded, you WILL be noticed. There's nowhere to hide, my friend.
Now that the Niners have sold out to Silicon Valley (two hours by public transit away from San Fran), couldn't the Raiders make a serious bid to become the football team of not just Oakland, but also San Francisco? Here's how:
1. Replace the Coliseum with a building that doesn't flood with human shit every other week.
2. Rename the team the "Bay Raiders."
That'll never happen, because the entire Oakland fan base would divest itself of the team if they made an effort to be the official team of San Francisco as well. The only selling point of being from Oakland is being able to say you're not some highfalutin pussy from San Francisco. OAKLAND IS SO MUCH REALER GRRRRRR. Besides, if I live in San Fran and I've been a Niners fan my whole life, I'm not gonna switch to the Raiders just because they made a deliberate re-branding effort. You can't buy my love like that, Mark Davis.
But hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they could change their name now and realize the fruits of that re-branding effort decades from now. Look at the Patriots. They claimed six states in their nickname and now have them all locked down. Those fans are fucking sheep.
I'm looking at the news of NFL teams firing their GM's and coaches, and the stories say that the Jets and Falcons have hired search firms to find their next candidates. I kind of get it with college teams, but why the hell would a NFL team need to hire a search firm to identify candidates, especially for head-coach jobs? It's always the same four or five guys that interview everywhere. That seems like a surefire way to wind up with Greg Schiano. Don't these guys watch ESPN?
I think it's a CYA move; a way for team CEOs to be like, "Look! I did my due diligence by hiring Bloork & Flooper!" These guys can delude themselves into thinking that hiring Doug Marrone was a good move if they have some asshole at a search firm telling them what a great idea it was. Also, I assume that a search firm deals with the tedious logistics of a hiring: scheduling interviews, booking travel, conducting background checks, researching proper contract terms, etc. That's pretty much the only value I can see a firm having (and I bet they charge the Falcons $35,429,823,475 for the privilege). I can't imagine this exchange:
FIRM: What about Adam Gase, the Broncos offensive coordinator?
ARTHUR BLANK: Oh, my! I'd never heard of that young fellow until just now! Good work, Flooper!
By the way, back in the day, I once got a job thanks to a headhunter when I moved from New York to D.C. And after that, I assumed that using a headhunter was a quick and easy way to find new employment, and that is VERY NOT TRUE. The headhunters I used later on would just suggest listings that had already been on Monster.com for eight months, or they would ask me if I was interesting in working in a Latvian coal mine. ("Technically, it's an internship.") Saying you've secured a headhunter is basically a euphemistic way of telling people you're still super unemployed. "Yes, I think ol' Flooper has many irons in the fire for me!" The world of professional hiring is a strange and desperate place.
So I'm talking to a girl on an online dating site, (one of the free ones, maybe that explains this), and I ask her what she's doing. She says she's watching her nephew and son. Having a 4-year-old of my own, I ask her what age her kid is. She replies, "My son is 4 days old." Is this way too early to be on a dating website after birthing a child? I mean, she had to have made that profile on the way out of the hospital.
Well, I assume she made the profile before entering the hospital, no? Anyway, if you're a single mom, and you've just had a kid and come home with it, you're probably gonna need to cut loose every once in a while. The baby sleeps a lot, and you're stuck inside, so there's not much to do. Plus, you just had a kid alone (presumably!) and would probably like to have someone to share parenthood with. I get why you might lurk on Tinder for a few minutes here and there. I think I checked Twitter four minutes after all my kids were born. "Hey, nice baby. OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS TYPO IN THE CABLE GUIDE LOL!"
Why can the refs just say the freaking name of the team who committed the penalty when there is a penalty? They almost bend over backwards to avoid saying it. "Receiving team" ... "offense" ... "intercepting team" ... how about just "Denver"? Seems like that would be easier for them.
They'll say the town name once in a while, but I rarely hear them use a proper team nickname like Cowboys. ("No flag on the Cowboys! YEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWW!!!") I assume this is for the illusion of objectivity. If the Lions got penalized more often in a game (likely!) and the ref said "Lions" over and over, some fan would be like, "Hey! He sure is saying LIONS a lot!" and then piss and moan and construct elaborate truther theories involving Dean Blandino exchanging calls for hired pussy. But if you take the names out of it—along with all the baggage those names entail—then you strip away the humanity from it and it sounds more robotic, and therefore FAIRER. It's the same reason they don't penalize players by name. That way, you're not like, "Boy, that ref really hates Ndamukong Suh!" even if that happens to be true.
Would a college athlete getting paid for pornography make them ineligible to compete? If the player was famous enough (my vote is Winston), an argument could definitely be made that his status as a college athlete is what enabled him to get the job, much like getting paid to be in a commercial.
According to our Tim Burke, it would NOT make him ineligible to compete, so long as he shot the porno out of season. It gets a bit dicey because the rules have the following conditions …
A) The student-athlete may not receive any remuneration for the value or utility that the student-athlete may have for the employer because of the publicity, reputation, fame, or personal following he or she has obtained because of athletics ability;
B) The student-athlete is to be compensated only for work actually performed; and
C) The student-athlete is to be compensated at a rate commensurate with the going rate in the locality for similar services.
In other words, if Vivid offered Jameis a million bucks so that they could market JAMEIS GETS OFF to the general public, that would not be a rate commensurate with the standard going rate these days for porn (a bag of molly and a ride home), and he would therefore be in violation of NCAA bylaws. I find this abhorrent, by the way. It's your right as an American to leverage your fame for shit you don't deserve. I'm disgusted by the NCAA.
Anyway, if Jameis ditched the million-dollar offer and got paid scale, then his porno would be within the rules and he could continue playing and committing invisible fumbles to his heart's desire. Not that the Downtown Athletic Club would be pleased with his antics. That's no way to represent the Heisman Trust, young man!
In the future, we will all be porn stars. Everyone will have a nude selfie and/or a fuck video floating around on the internet. Some brave athlete out there may as well be the first one to do it. After that, the floodgates will be open. The NFL will learn to accept a porn-star quarterback.
My best friend is a classic-rock nerd, and so a few years ago, we took a road trip to Cleveland to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The museum was just over a mile from our hotel, so we decided to walk there. Before we left, my friend lit up a cigarette. On three separate occasions during our barely 20-minute walk, some rando on the sidewalk stopped us and asked my friend if he could bum a smoke. My buddy, being the nice guy that he is, relented every time. (None of the three gentlemen appeared to be homeless.) This led us to declare Cleveland as the "Bum a Smoke Capital of America." Are we close? Or should another city wear that crown?
I have to think that New York beats Cleveland, because it has more smokers and is far more densely packed. You can walk a mile in the average American Rust Belt city without seeing another living soul walking around (this happened when I walked through Milwaukee once). Meanwhile, you take five steps down West Broadway and a dozen people will attempt to trample you and ask for a smoke in the process. I think a lot of guys bum smokes in a misguided attempt to make friends and/or hit on women. "Hey, she smokes! And I smoke, too! If I bum a smoke off of her, we might fuck!" There's gotta be a better way to break the ice with people.
By the way, any city in Europe or China beats any American city for bumming cigarettes. Go to London, and EVERYONE smokes. It's like the '80s and '90s never happened. They're bumming fags all over the place, and they all have dirt under their nails that would horrify you.
My son routinely finishes his food and demands some of mine or my wife's. This all came to a boiling point yesterday while dining at home. My wife made a wonderful barbecue-chicken crockpot meal. Knowing our son, she made it with four chicken breasts, one for her and him, and two for me. After eating his allotted portion (along with a helping of broccoli, and a dozen or so grapes), he wanted more. I, being a great father, let him break into my second piece several times until we were at an even 50-50 split on what was supposed to be my second piece of chicken, and yet, he still wanted more. I made him fill up on Cheerios while I quickly ate the rest. Drew, tell me this is a phase, and I'm not doomed to a future of having to fight off my firstborn for all second helpings.
P.S. Our pediatrician was also the pediatrician for a current starting offensive linemen at a Big 10 school. He told us that he once asked the kid what he ate for breakfast that day. Here was the answer: a 12-egg omelet, a dozen pancakes, a package of sausage, and an entire gallon of milk. Holy shit!
First of all, screw you for having a kid that eats. My oldest kid is a good eater, but the other two are a disaster and don't touch a goddamn thing. They'll even do that power move where they ask for something and then say they DIDN'T ask for it once they've been served. It's rage-inducing.
But perhaps I'm lucky. Perhaps one day, everything will turn, and these boys will start eating every last thing they see. That's what I did as a teenager: I looted the fridge and pantry on an hourly basis. The second groceries arrived, they were gone. Gallons of milk lasted a day at most. One time, when I asked my mom to go get more, she snapped and was like I'M NOT BUYING YOU ANY MORE GODDAMN MILK.
That's probably my future. These kids are already getting fucking huge. One day, they'll finally start eating, and their arms and legs will grow until they're busting out of the windows, and they'll take up the WHOLE couch when they watch TV, leaving me without any food or any place to sit. It's not like you stop being a big eater once you start. What if they grow to 12 feet tall? BETTER PUT THEM ON CRAIGLIST.
Our good friend lives in Sydney and recently became a target of international ire for taking a selfie at the Martin Place hostage crisis (photo attached) and creating the hashtag # hostagesituationselfie, which trended on Twitter for the following day. He was shamed by the Daily Mail and (seriously) Cosmopolitan, among other wide-circulation outlets. Twitterers labeled him #scum, #disgraceful, and the second-worst person of 2014.
He claims that the photo was anti-selfie satire and reiterates that he took it before the terrorist and two hostages were killed. But he has a well-earned reputation for being the most vile and sociopathic member of our friend group, so we're not sure if we're buying it. Do you believe the satire angle? And do you think what he did was as bad as the Twitterverse thinks it is?
Nothing you do on Twitter is ever as bad as the Twitterverse thinks it is. There are four million ways to publicly fuck up online, and you can't expect every person to perfectly walk the line at all times, especially when so many otherwise normal people out there suck at the internet.
That said, please don't take a selfie during a fucking hostage crisis. You can shadily angle for just as many retweets by taking pictures of the crisis itself and acting like Johnny Street Reporter. "There are ambulances all over. CRAZINESS." That'll get you the attention you crave while also making you look concerned and thoughtful. Nice job, you!
Even though I'm fine with taking the occasional selfie, plenty of people think a selfie is somehow a harbinger of the death of humanity. By this point, you should know that any selfie you take during a mass murder or at a funeral is gonna get you in trouble, even if you're an otherwise decent guy. And never use the fucking satire defense if you DO end up catching hell for it. "You guys totally don't get my edgy brand of humor!" No. No, that just means you are either lying or that you suck at comedy. Don't try to weasel out of your faux pas by pretending this was all an elaborate art project.
What do you think would happen if one team made a bunch of trades and ended up getting the last 20 or so picks in the NFL draft? Would they still have to do the whole "wait for five minutes between picks and then walk to the podium" thing each time, or could they just hand the commissioner a shopping list of players?
No, they would take the full time with every pick, because teams suck like that. Every GM wants to use the full 10 minutes so that he can tell people, "We got some very good offers at the last moment, but liked our position" after drafting Jim Druckenmiller. They want to make sure that the give Dan Snyder enough time to call in and offer 50 more first rounders, which, to be fair, is a realistic scenario.
Email of the week!
I've always assumed that if I ever fought off a knife-wielding attacker, I could use the story (plus any hypothetical badass scar) for at least a solid decade to get laid all the time. I mean, we all assume that, right? As it turns out, I got stabbed this summer, and it was a complete disappointment.
In short: My roommate had a psychotic break and decided that, among other things, I was giving him cancer and that I had left him "in the Womb of Time" (I feel like he would've capitalized it), and he was pretty pissed about it. He pulls out a kitchen knife, I grab his arm, we fight, he stabs me in the other arm, I throw him into a bookcase and haul ass out of there. He flees the scene in my car and ends up in jail a week later. I get five stitches and my arm turns out fine.
Now, sure, up to this point it all sounds pretty cinematic (I mean, his ramblings could've been True Detective dialogue), but at this point people always ask, "What happened to him?" and the story becomes a big downer. He's almost certainly going to prison and will get questionable psych treatment if any, despite the incident not really being his fault (what with the hallucinations and all). Even the scar is pretty underwhelming.
Obviously, the shitty reality of the aftermath tends to overwhelm the "Hey, I fought off a crazed, knife-wielding attacker with my bare hands!" part. In fact, when I tell people (women) about it, most of them end up focusing their sympathy on him instead of me, and I can't blame them. So, my question to you is: How awful am I for feeling ripped off by this?
You're fine. If getting stabbed were cool, more people would get themselves stabbed, and that wouldn't be good. The system works.
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.
Image by Sam Woolley.
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