Sports News Without Fear, Favor or Compromise
Sports News Without Fear, Favor or Compromise

The Great Jameis Winston Whitewashing

Illustration for article titled The Great Jameis Winston Whitewashing
FunbagTime for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag.

Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering egg whites, sex, cats that do dishes, and more.


I took my family on a short road trip for spring break, and on the way home, my 2-year-old asked me to pull over so he could go take a crap. So I did. I pulled into the gas station, and then my wife brought the kid to the bathroom, and he announced that he was bluffing. He did NOT have to take a shit. So he got back in the car, and we drove for another 30 minutes, and then he announced, for a second time, that he had to go poop.

“You’re not lying this time, are you?” I asked him. “If you’re lying, I’ll never stop for you to poop again.”

But he said he had really had to go, so I pull over, and it’s the same thing. He was either lying or he got stage fright in the McDonald’s can. So my wife puts him back in the car, and we get stuck in traffic on the Beltway just as we’re getting home.

I think you know where this is going. Once again, the boy screamed out that he had to poop. I told him he could hold it until we got home. Then he started clutching at his tummy and crying out to pull over.

“I don’t think he’s lying this time,” my wife said. But I swear to you, we were just a mile from home at that point. And the Beltway is one of those horrible roads that offers very little in the way of ideal places to pull over. Home was the only logical destination for him to go void his bowels. So I told him he had to hold on jussssst a minute longer. Begged him, really.

On the exit ramp, he suddenly stopped crying. And I knew why. I could hear him exhaling forcefully. Kids don’t hide that sort of thing. We pulled into the driveway (not before hitting every light on the way there), and my wife rushed the boy into the house and into the bathroom. Green shit was CAKED on his legs. It was everywhere. Some of it fell out of his pants (how?) and landed on the front stoop. It was terrifying. Anyway, that’s parenting in a nutshell for you. You take every precaution possible, and you still end up with green shit all over the place.


Now, your letters:


I don’t know if this is a good question, because I doubt there’s any kind of satisfying answer to it. But why do no NFL teams seem to care that Jameis Winston maybe raped a girl? The mock drafts all have him going at no. 1 or 2 (most say no. 1). How the fuck?! Especially in light of the year the NFL has just had (and Goodell’s publicity push for an end to violence towards women), would it be that crazy to suggest that NFL teams won’t want to risk spending their first-round pick on someone who many people believe has a capacity for actual evil? Even if he never raped anyone, he has shown he’s a liability, at best, with the crab-legs thing and the "fuck her right in the pussy" thing.

How are Bucky Brooks and Daniel Jeremiah not even hedging their bets at this stage? I’m sure last year they talked ad fucking nauseum about Johnny Manziel’s partying and how that would affect his draft stock. HOW DOES RAPE NOT??? Why aren’t they even mentioning it?


I think you’re wildly overgeneralizing to say teams don’t care. Of course they care. You’d care if you were the GM who decided to risk his job by investing the no. 1 pick in a seafood thief and alleged rapist. But the Bucs desperately need a QB (or else everyone gets fired anyway), so they’re probably best off drafting Winston and then throwing out a bunch of some bullshit spiel to Peter King about how they had private eyes talk to over 75 people about Winston in studying him for the draft. That strikes me as an obvious ass-covering move so they can draft Winston, and then, if he fucks up, they can be like, “Don’t blame us! We talked to 75 whole people about him!” They just want to make sure he doesn’t commit any FUTURE rapes. And if he does, they want to make sure that they can blame Winston and Winston alone for it.

But it is strange that, in the public scouting process, Winston’s past has been reduced to a handful of convenient euphemisms like “immaturity” and shit like that. Look at Lovie Smith gush about Winston, even though he can’t possibly know him all that well:

“To me, I think he’s told us an awful lot with how he’s handled it,” Smith said. “It’s not like he’s getting ready to go into the NFL and scrutiny is coming his way. He’s gone through it a couple years now, and he’s answered the bell. That’s what you have to do. You have to have tunnel vision and do your job. Looking from the outside, that’s what he’s been able to do.”


I mean, that’s a hell of a way to twist a rape allegation into a positive. LOOK AT HIM SHAKE OFF DEFENDERS AND CIRCUIT COURT JUDGES WITH SUCH EASE! The fact that Winston was never formally charged with rape, and the fact that the NFL and their broadcast partners probably have a great many lawyers who would prefer that the word RAPE not be thrown around when addressing Winston, is all Smith needs to sell you on the IDEA of drafting him … to concoct a narrative of an ambitious young man looking to redeem himself as a way of cleverly masking the fact that the Bucs have an urgent, raw football need to fill, and they have little choice but to fill it with a guy who might be the scum of the fucking Earth.

That’s why Winston’s rape allegations haven’t necessarily affected his draft stock the way Johnny Manziel’s drinking did. It’s because NFL teams think that Winston is simply a better player. If neither player had baggage going into the draft, Winston would be taken before Manziel every time. That’s the reason the Browns are ready to give up on Manziel already. It’s not the boozing. It’s the fact that they don’t think the little fucker can play. The NFL can chirp all they like about domestic violence and doing the right thing, but the bottom line is that the majority of their employees must win in order to keep their jobs, and that means they must place a bloodless premium on talent than the NFL would rather not acknowledge as still existing. They constantly want to sell you on character or on potential character instead. If Jameis is gonna go no. 1 no matter what, the NFL has no choice but to hold their noses and make it look like they didn’t willingly crown a psychopath prince of the draft.


You know what’s funny about all this? Winston was AWFUL last season, and I’m not talking about just his "Yakety Sax" play in the Rose Bowl. He threw 18 picks last season against horrible, piddly-shit ACC teams. But scouts, for some reason, seem to be far more impressed by the fact that Winston staged a number of winning comebacks that were necessitated almost exclusively because of his own boneheaded mistakes. If you look the part, and you’ve got the arm, and you have that subjective mix of football IQ and magical QB unicorn leadership skills, scouts will happily overlook all those turnovers. And the rape stuff. It’s quite something.

(By the way, SUPERFUCK Jaws and Mike Mayock for their little “Mariota’s on top of my board now!” spiel this week. Jaws is an empty-headed attention whore who will say basically anything. And the only reason certain football fans enjoy Mayock is because they haven’t learned to be sick of him yet.)



Are BIG EGG and BIG NUTRITION teaming up to push the egg white agenda? You have to have roughly double the egg whites to get the same amount of food, thus causing an increase in egg consumption. I’m suspicious of the whole thing.


But the yolk has all the cholesterol! If you simply throw out the yolk, and then add bacon, ham, and cheese to your omelet, it can’t hurt you at all! That’s science.

I used to be huge on egg whites. True story: In college, I would go to the dining hall, toast a bagel, grab a couple of hard-boiled eggs, remove the yolks, and then mush the whites onto the bagel and eat a sad egg-white bagel sandwich that way. I thought this was a healthy lunch, conveniently ignoring the whole “eating a whole bagel” part of the enterprise. Sometimes I ate two in one sitting. Do not do this.


The truth is that egg whites are one of those foods you eat so that you can eat more food. I hate small portions, so if I eat a 12-pound egg-white omelet, I feel like I just got away with something. But in general, this is untrue. You need portion control in your life, which means you should just splurge and eat the goddamn yolk anyway. The yolk is the best part. All golden and runny and seeping into the toast nooks … I could a 50-egg omelet. I swear. There are never enough eggs in the omelet for me. Why are eggs so small? I need eggs to be triple their current size. I don’t like cracking so many of them. I am not a crackpot.


If tomorrow, you could appoint any current non-politician in America as the POTUS for the next eight years, who do you think would do the best job? Give me your top 3, and provide reasons why. It has to be a public figure—don’t get all sappy and say your dad, or your awesome 2nd-grade teacher. Also, assume that anyone who you appointed would drop whatever else it was they were doing and accept their next eight years living in the White House.


Well, look, it’s not like politicians are somehow uniquely skilled anyway. Pretty much anyone can be a politician if some shadowy party operative hands them a bag of cash and is like, “Bill Kristol says you have nice teeth.” That’s truly all you need to become a prominent politician in America at the present moment. They should probably make you take a test or something.

That said, if I had to vote for one random famous person to be dropped into the Oval Office for the next eight years, I’m picking Elon Musk. I need a VISIONARY, man. I want Musk to divert all defense spending into building a giant water slide from New York to L.A. Every other issue facing the country would be solved if such a water slide existed. Don’t tell me it can’t be done. I won’t hear it.


I know it’s lame to pick a captain of industry for that job, but I don’t want a fucking actor. I don’t want some comedian like Jon Stewart or Louis CK who would hate the job instantly. A good president needs to believe his own horseshit, and Musk and/or Tim Cook would more than fulfill that requirement.

Third choice would be Belichick, because he’d fire everyone and then fuck every Congressman’s wife. And he’d have SO many secrets. Finally, America would have a Putin of its own. SUCK IT, RUSSIA.



Me and my girlfriend have debated this for a while, and we are both dead set in believing the other is 100 percent wrong: What’s the better time of year for sex, summer or winter? She says that summer is better because the heat makes it feel that much more steamy, summer bodies are great, and you can get fully nude without having to keep any layers on because of the cold. I say fuck that.


September is the most common birth month in the United States, which means that we Americans seem to prefer fucking in the winter, if only because there’s nothing else to do. Personally, I prefer summer. I don’t want to worry about having to cover up all the sexy business with a comforter because everyone in the bed is colder than shit in January. I want everything out in the open. I want to be hot and sweaty and horny and dying to rip off my sexy striped polo shirt just for YOU, baby. I want the covers off and the lights on and I want to see EVERYTHING. I need good material for when I’m alone. Summer is sexier. TELL THEM, Y&T!



Would you rather have a dog that folds laundry, or a cat that does dishes?

The dog, I guess. My preference for dogs over cats is greater than my hatred for doing dishes over folding laundry, so there you have it. Doing dishes blows, but folding laundry is also horrible. It’s 8:30 p.m., and the kids are finally asleep ,and I’m just about ready to settle into the recliner when I see that fucking laundry basket filled to the brim over in the corner, and it never ceases to make my blood boil. Fuck that laundry. I should only have to fold MY clothes. My clothes are big and sparse and easy to fold. My laundry is awesome. My wife should thank me for never wearing more than one pair of pants in a week.



Let’s say all members of the Beatles and N.W.A are magically revived and/or returned to their artistic primes. The Beatles then have to go into the studio and record an album of N.W.A’s best hits, and vice versa. Which album ends up sounding better?


The Beatles one, because the Beatles would just take the NWA lyrics and arrange some entirely new Beatles song around them, and it would probably be very pretty. As much as I like NWA, I don’t wanna hear them butcher “Blackbird.” None of those guys could sing. When Diddy ripped off “Every Breath You Take” just so he could milk Biggie’s death one more time, I wanted him to fall into a canyon.

Also, I bet John Lennon would REALLY relish pretending to be an inner-city black man. He’d be way too enthusiastic about it.



How many albums a year could the top pop stars put out? Beyoncé could have the top 20 songwriters writing at all times, and the top producers and editors working year-round like Christmas elves. The masses never tire of pop music, so why not put out an album a month?


Because that’s too much product! Even the nuttiest white-girl Beyoncé fans would get sick of her if she put out 120 songs a year. You can’t keep up with that kind of catalog. Those songs can’t all be great. Even if they were, you’d still grade them on a curve and have certain “hits” in your mind that would make your permanent rotation, with everything else falling by the wayside. That’s easy to do now. Back in day, when I had to listen to tapes, I usually listened to all the songs on the album because I was too lazy to fast forward. I heard “Back Off Bitch” by GNR far more times than anyone should have to endure. Not their best work. I don’t have to do that anymore. Technology has made me a supremely lazy music fan.

It’s just not possible to absorb that much music from one artist, no matter how hard you try. Ever have your favorite artist put out a double album? It’s a complete pain in the ass. I need you to go away for a while so that I can grow to love you again. Whenever an artist says that they had 60 tracks to choose from or whatever for a single album, I can promise you that you NEVER want to hear the 50 tracks they threw away. Half of those tracks are just the guy freestyling on the bongos while high on acid.



So I’m getting married in a month, and my fiancé and I are closing on a house next week. Instead of some over-the-top bachelor party, I am asking that my friends just help me move. My friends feel that this is selfish, and I’m taking advantage of them. We’re moving from a 1,000-square-foot apartment into a three-bedroom house. It’s not like we have a ton of stuff. The plan was that I rent the truck, and we move everything Saturday morning, and then grill steaks and get drunk Saturday night in the new house. I think that this is way better than asking everyone to kick in hundreds of dollars to go golfing for a weekend or whatever; it’s my bachelor party, and I should be able to do what I want, right?


But that’s not a party. You’re asking for free manual labor instead. That doesn’t count as a celebration, you monster. If I threw a party, and everyone came, and then I was like, “Hey guys, this is a LAUNDRY FOLDING party! Now fold my laundry and I’ll get takeout!” all my friends would have me killed. You can’t do that. If you want to ask your friends to help you move, that’s fine. But you can’t apply that to your party credit. Do the move yourself, and then have the bachelor-party cookout afterward, without putting any work obligations on your friends.


This actually happened close to six years ago, but it remains a contentious issue amongst our group of friends. Five of us were on a road trip from Montreal to Boston, rotating drivers evenly as one does on longish road trips. As we got close to Boston, the friend driving the last leg got pulled over for speeding. Since we were in college at the time, the $200+ ticket was nothing to sneeze at. (Who are we kidding? It’s still a lot of damn money.)

The issue was — does the ticket get split amongst the group, or paid solely by the driver? The four of us who drove first say no, since we drove our portion without incident. The friend who got slapped with the bill argues that since the last leg was the toughest, and we were trying to get to our destination by a certain time, and nobody complained about his speed until the blue and whites started flashing, that we should split the ticket. Who is right?


The last leg was the toughest? Why? Were there dragons lining the highway? Your friend was driving, and thus he’s responsible for his own driving behavior, even if he had shit luck. He pays the ticket. If another friend riding in the car wants to pitch in, fine. But that guy shouldn’t EXPECT it. These kids today never want to take responsibility SMDH!

I went to a basketball game last week, and I had an Uber take me home, only the Uber guy got a parking ticket outside the arena while he was waiting for me. And I felt bad that he got the ticket, so when the ride ended, I gave him $20 in cash extra. And that, of course, made me feel all generous and kind. YES AMERICA, I helped pay a full one-tenth of that poor bastard’s ticket while exploiting regulation loopholes that force working-class people to act as private chauffeurs to uppity white dipshits with smartphones. MEDAL OF HONOR FOR ME, PLEEEEEEEZ.


But screw your friend.


Where would the most opportune time/place for aliens to land to get the biggest initial audience, but not get shot out of the sky? The White House lawn would be a great spot, but they would have several fighter jets shooting at them before they land; a random field would have no one around. I feel the best bet is a major sporting event that doesn’t have dedicated aerial security. What do you think?


All major sporting events have (in theory) patrolled airspace. I would just vote for the Sheep Meadow in Central Park, dead center of Manhattan. News crews could get there quickly. Crowds would form. Roasted-nut vendors would make a KILLING. And New Yorkers would instantly try to take ownership of the First Contact experience. “You guys don’t get these aliens. IT’S A NEW YORK THING.”

Actually, now that I think about it, let’s choose any large park space in any other city. Because Central Park is a complete fucking pain in the ass. It’s hot and overcrowded, and there’s horseshit everywhere. If aliens landed there, four million people would converge on the spot, and then I wouldn’t be able to get a good view, and the subways would be jammed, and I would just say FUCK IT and then go home and watch the aliens on TV instead.



How does Robocop poop? He has that weird baby food he has to eat to keep his organic parts alive, so he must have to release it somehow.


Actually, if you look at the original uniform design, the posterior covering is soft and potentially removable. It’s not welded metal. Robocop could, in theory, remove a posterior assflap to do his business, even if no standard toilet could possibly bear the weight of a three-ton cyborg sitting down to shit in it. My guess is that instead of straight defecation, Robocop has an internal waste-management system that processes his urine and stool, and then either a) recycles it for some other practical use (poop gun), or b) can be discreetly disposed of, like through a leg dispenser. That’s what I would do if I were designing the perfect 21st-century scumbag-killing machine. RoboCop has no time for poop.


What happened if it came out that President Obama had a Twitter account under a different name and was trolling conservatives and his critics completely anonymously? I’m not saying one of his staffers was doing this—this was how Barry O passed the time while on the shitter. Would there be calls for impeachment/resignation? How long would the media blow that up for? What would his Twitter handle be? Would he put a picture and bio, or just keep the egg there like a weirdo?


There are calls for Obama’s impeachment and resignation on a daily basis right now, so I assume a @Luther account would only amplify those daily complaints. “More like Marco Boob-io, AMIRITE?!” That tweet would probably help fill up a news cycle or two before everyone stopped giving a shit. I don’t think he’d actually resign, though. After all, plenty of politicians out there already use Twitter for trolling purposes. And we live in age where you can survive pretty much any scandal so long as you’re willing to sit there and ride it out. You let 200 million people take a dump on your face for a week, nod politely, and then everything is back to normal.

I do think he’d have a picture and bio for his troll account, tho. The Obama machine knows too much about the internet to let that slide.


Email of the week!

Ape Chemist:

Suppose during the first round of the NFL draft, the camera cuts to a player talking on his cell phone and smiling and celebrating with his family and friends. This all takes place while the team is on the clock, so Goodell has yet to announce the pick. While celebrating, the player—like Lamarr Houston or Bill Gramatica—tears his ACL.

Assume the team hasn’t officially announced the pick. Does the NFL let the team withdraw the pick? I remember when the Vikings had to pass on a pick because they didn’t get their card in on time, so I could absolutely see some team arguing the pick wasn’t official until the card is turned in and read.

I hope this happens to some team like the Cowboys, and Jerry sends someone onstage to tackle Goodell before he reaches the podium.


I might be wrong, but I think once you turn the card in, the pick is final. No backsies, even if it hasn’t been formally announced. If you haven’t turned the card in but GLORY BOY decided to tear his knee up anyway, then fuck him. Switch it and draft Todd Gurley instead. But once the Ginger Hammer has that card, you cannot bend his IRON WILL.

Drew Magary writes for Deadspin. He’s also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at You can also order Drew’s book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.


Photo by AP.

The Concourse is Deadspin's home for culture/food/whatever coverage. Follow us on Twitter.