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What is the best day of the week to die? Considering lightening the burden on your family for planning your funeral accordingly, and, of course, ensuring the maximum possible number of people attend your funeral services (because you have to be popular even if you're dead!!!). I'm not having any ideas, I'm just thinking about this in case I have the choice at some much later point in my life.

Tuesday. I would wanna die on a Tuesday because Tuesdays are boring as hell and my death would at least give my family a little bit of excitement on an otherwise slow news day. Plus, they could leave work early due to extreme grief and then maybe schedule the funeral for that Friday (is that an okay timeframe, or too quick to turn around my corpse?), so that everyone gets off of work AGAIN. I don't wanna fuck up people's weekends. I really don't. My friends and family should get the maximum number of days off from work and/or school but still have the weekend free to go that cocktail party at the McFaddens' and catch the opening of the new Avengers movie. That's what's really important.

I honestly don't want anyone to make a fuss. A wake? A polished mahogany casket? Some fancy plot in an exclusive cemetery? FUCK THAT. Why would you leave all that legwork for your loved ones? Sounds like a GLORY BOY move to me. I die on Tuesday. You call the med school to come dissect my ass on Wednesday. You meet with the lawyer on Friday and watch my video will (I'm gonna do a kickass video will AND write my own obituary and post it here, just to see how bad the comments will be). You have my memorial at some bar on Friday. And then you go out for tapas on Saturday. That's a good death week. Really economical. If you really care about your loved ones, you'll get them right back being to the selfish pricks they were before you died.


Whenever a college team beats a highly ranked team, their opposing fans will rush the field. They're obviously told beforehand that they're not allowed to be on the field or charges will be pressed and what not. The question, why don't people rush the field after a professional sports team wins?


I can think of a few reasons. First of all, NFL and NBA games probably have better security, which increases your chances of getting a PR-24 pressed down on your throat if you bum rush the playing surface. Secondly, everyone at a pro sports game needs to drive home. I'm not losing precious seconds falling behind on traffic just to have my ass kicked by a rent-a-cop. When you're a college kid, you can storm the court and then walk back to the dorm. That's not an option if you're some dad at an NFL stadium and you gotta haul ass back to the Red G Lot with three kids and wife. Fuck that. I gotta get out of that shithole. Thirdly, there's no student section. All the drunken 20-year-olds are dispersed among the old geezers and families and sullen corporate dickheads. There's not one giant mass of kids sitting there ready to egg each other on.

Finally, the emotional stakes are different. In the pros, the magnitude of any upset is perceived to be less. There are no 1-AA pro teams, except for the Jaguars. It's not THAT big of a deal if they pull off a regular season upset against a division leader. If that's your Super Bowl, then you are one sorryass team, which is why pro sports fans refrain from storming the field or court. That's the mentality. You gotta act like you've been there before, young man!


I often begin my day by watching SportsCenter or Mike & Mike. When Mike & Mike go on the road for live broadcasts, there is always a legitimate crowd sitting there and watching them, and that baffles me. Who shows up at 6:00 AM to Progressive Field to sit in a chair and watch Mike Golic eat donuts during commercial breaks?


I mean, it's the same as people showing up outside the Today show studio, right? There are always a set number of heartland tourists who are willing to get up and wander around outside a live television set, and there always will be. You're up early with nothing to do, so you go do that.

Also, in the sports world, I think there are people who will tailgate for ANY reason. Like if Crazy Ira and the Douche are hosting Sports Yak at the local Buffalo Billiards, there will always be a dozen bros ready to converge on that spot for some cold brewskis and hot bar arguin'. Or they'll gas up the RV and pull up outside the stadium at 5 a.m. on a Wednesday, just because they invested in the oil barrel smoking pit, so why not use it? I got no problem with that. I'm jealous of extreme tailgaters. I have neither the resources nor the energy nor the ROWDY FRIENDS needed to turn any remote episode of Football Night In America into a fucking street fair. I salute any guy who is trying to make his life one long Coors Light ad. It takes real effort.


Ghosts or aliens: If you saw one in the flesh, which would destroy your world-view the most? I'm talking full on brain-exploding psychotic episode. I'm team alien, obviously. If I saw one, I would immediately revert into a caveman.


I think the ghost would fuck with me more because ghosts are inherently terrifying (aliens can be kind and noble and come bearing sweet alien gifts, etc) and because seeing a legitimate ghost would prove to me that there is a definite spiritual plane of existence outside of the physical realm. It would be like seeing God, and I don't mean in the Reggie White way, where you just spew nonsense all day long about God being your buddy. I mean you really do SEE a bearded deity in flowing robes descend from the heavens to talk sex ed with you. That would blow my skull.

I'm not a terribly religious person, which means that I don't believe Jesus rose from the dead, or that there's a heaven, or that there is some spiritual plane which needn't obey the laws of science. I have no faith in that. If a ghost appeared in front of me, that would change everything. It would probably make me a better person. I would stop blogging and say hi to people on the street more, just so that the ghosts wouldn't come and "claim" me.

I hope I see one, frankly. I hope I see a fucking poltergeist or a giant spaceship hovering over Washington because I want something big and important to happen. I want humanity to get the cold hard wake-up slap it so desperately needs, that I need. I'm just sleepwalkin' to the grave.



Don't you think cops should have to treat those they shoot?

They should! Why aren't they trained in basic nursing care? You could shoot a guy, and then immediately whip out a First Aid kit from your fanny pack, hook him up with some fluids, save his life, and then maybe take him to Starbucks to discuss the state of race in America. The other solution would be for cops to NOT shoot people, but come on. That'd be pretty crazy. Why have a gun at all, man? PEW PEW PEW LET'S SAVE SOME LIVES GANG.



What do you think the national reaction to Justin Bieber getting murdered would be?

There'd obviously be a run on tasteless jokes and Beliebers openly threatening suicide on Twitter. "OMG JUSTIN… U WER MY SUN AND MY MOON I HOPE U R SWAGGING ON JESUS BY THE FIRE WHILE U EATIN' FONDUE (many heart emojis)." Apart from that, you'd get a bunch of thinkpieces from people about Bieber never fully realizing his talents (I'd probably do one of those), and then a whole other subset of thinkpieces about what WE do to our celebrities. I would avoid those. I'd rather listen to Bieber's music than read something like that.


There would also be a lot of cool profiles of the murderer. How could you, Usher?


Say you started in New Zealand and flew west. How many different countries could you take a shit in within one 24-hour time period? Assume you have unlimited plane tickets and laxatives.


Maybe two or three? New Zealand is pretty remote. Your options would be to fly to Australia and take a dump there, or try hopscotching among the many island nations located due north: Fiji, Tonga, American Samoa, etc. Expedia has three flights from Auckland to Tonga, two of which stop through Fiji. So you could conceivably shit in Auckland, hop on the plane, shit in Fiji during the layover, head to Tonga, shit there, and then head over to Samoa (stopping through Fiji again, sorry) for one more shit. By then, you've likely run out of available flights through the night elsewhere. Maybe you hitch one last flight to Micronesia and drop ass in Palikir. That's five at the maximum. Very hard if you're flying between islands. Europe would be better. I bet you could leave a dump in six different European countries if you had enough determination and a Eurorail pass.


When a client meeting has leftovers they end up in the office kitchen. Pasta salad, actual salad, sandwiches, wraps, etc. A colleague (female, mid twenties) consistently hits the leftovers early, before there is a chance for everyone in the office to graze (and while there is still enough to go around) and packs up a personal portion in a Tupperware container for lunch the next day. She claims her stake from the counter, puts it in a box, and moves it to the fridge. I think this goes against the rules of free office food.


I agree. No one likes a cheapskate and no one likes a food hog, so imagine having someone in your office who embodies those two qualities. She may as well carve a pentagram into her forehead. I'd give her dirty looks every damn time. Does she take ALL the cookies too? I'd smack that shit right out of her hands. Office leftovers get eaten on the spot, or they get thrown out in front of a group of hungry orphans. Hoarding is not allowed.

By the way, ever buy and eat lunch before realizing there was free food at the office? It kills my soul. I'll eat two lunches just on principle when that happens.


Let's say that starting today, for you to be able to use or consume any condiments or sauce, you had to consume half a cup of said condiment/sauce prior to using it. Which sauces would you consume more or less of now because of this? For me I'd consume less ketchup because I absolutely cannot fucking stand ketchup by itself.


Yeah, ketchup and mustard would run into a lot of problems with that mandate. I'd probably replace ketchup with barbecue sauce instead. I could chug BBQ sauce by the gallon. That's not a problem for me. I'd also probably have to get rid of hot sauce in favor of more Asian condiments like soy sauce and Vietnamese nuoc cham. Whenever I get Chinese takeout and the dumplings come with the little containers of dipping sauce, I GLADLY chug the leftover dipping sauce when I'm done. Right from the container. Onlookers are horrified. I can feel my blood pressure triple. It's worth it.

I'd also start using guacamole only on all Mexican dishes. Chugging down half a cup of sour cream on its own would be really difficult. I couldn't handle it. God, imagine all the mayo lovers in England who would swill straight mayo just to keep going with it. Burn those people.



Suppose that, in a couple months, Paul McCartney reveals that he's 'reuniting The Beatles' for 'one last tour' which will hit stadiums across the world for the rest of the year, culminating with a televised final show around Christmas. The lineup for this iteration of the band would be Paul, Ringo, Sean Lennon and Dhani Harrison. The new members will perform the songs of their fathers and generally imitate them, as well as play their respective instruments in all songs on each night's setlist. They will play the full gamut of Beatles hits, as well as deep cuts, encompassing their entire existence, particularly the era when they weren't touring. Would this be a good thing or a bad thing?


It would be terrible. It would basically be a McCartney solo tour, only with "The Beatles" brand applied to it. It would make a goddamned fortune, but without George and John there, it's not The Beatles. You need John there to walk over to Paul every ten minutes and tell him to stop being such a fucking sap. Otherwise, Paul's insufferable sense of whimsy runs amok and you get a two-hour "Hey Jude" singalong. I'm not paying $200 for that. I would just spend the entire concert whispering to my old lady about how weird Paul's plastic surgery looks. For real, he looks like a 17-year-old girl now. Anyway, people would dump all over this tour.


I have three children - 6, 3, & 1. Every night, they ask for a glass of water. They aren't big enough to reach the sink and get it themselves, so I pretty much always do it.

I always fill up their (sippy) cup completely - Pretty much to the top - and make sure it gets on a low shelf next to the bed. Almost every time I go through this exercise, the same thing goes thru my mind: "There's no reason to skimp. What if some awful calamity happens and their mom and I don't survive the night. It could be days until someone figures out that we're dead... and my kids would have to fend for themselves for a while. Better make sure they at least have this full glass of water in case they can't reach the sink." This is, obviously, completely crazy. Do you ever think this madness? Am I insane?


Probably. Won't the kids just spill that water onto the floor? Honestly, I'd rather have them die of thirst then make a mess on the goddamn floor every night. That's a complete pain in the ass. I have a two-year-old and the two-year-old has the superhuman ability to spill any cup, regardless of whether or not it's covered. If it's a sippy cup with a valve, he'll just turn it over and shake it until the entire couch is peppered with apple juice. It's maddening. I barely fill cups for him anymore. I give him a teaspoon of fluid at a time. If he's spilling, he ain't spilling the whole cup. Fuck that.

It's perfectly normal to constantly worry about your children dying. I know I do. But you have to temper that worry with some logic. If you and your wife suddenly pass away in the middle of the night, the six year old will probably call for help after watching five straight episodes of The Thundermans. Filling up the cups all the way isn't gonna increase their odds of survival any. It's just booby-trapping your own house.


How different are cars going to look when they can drive themselves? Are we going to install huge flat screens, and open up big spaces for road sex?


Due to safety concerns and current road infrastructure, we're probably not gonna radically alter the fundamental shape and layout of a driverless car. This badass self-driving Mercedes is still a car in shape, but a luxury hotel room in other respects. You're still gonna need to wear a seat belt. They won't have you toodling around in a UFO-shaped thing. You'll probably get something more in the style of a tricked-out Sprinter van or a limo: tables, side banquettes, maybe a bed in the back for humping, etc. I'd like a ceiling fan installed in mine. Really get that air circulating.

Whatever they do, they have to improve on Google's current driverless car design. Have you seen this fucking car?


I'm not a car guy—shit, I drive a minivan—but even I wouldn't be caught dead in that. It looks like a vacuum. And what's that thing on top? I'd be less embarrassing wearing a retainer around. Nice dorkmobile you got there, Google. Fucking nerdlingers.


What's the better barometer for a good poop: One wipe or one flush?

One wipe. That means it broke off clean. If it's still a two-flusher after that, well then that just means my mighty turd was too much for the bowl to handle. I'd be proud of that.



My 9 year-old daughter and I were both home sick with the flu last week. So, I introduced her to Top Ramen (I have no idea how long it had been in the cupboard, btw, but I figure that stuff is good for like 15 years, so we're good right?). She LOVED it. Like loved it so much she wants to eat it for every meal, including breakfast. She won't stop talking about it (did I mention she was 9?).

My wife of course is not happy with this development. I say: a) it just proves that ramen is awesome; and 2) we're preparing her for the next 20 years. Just doing my job, right?


Yup. My kid is insane for ramen as well, and my wife disapproves. She always tells me to not empty to whole seasoning packet into the noodles because it contains 500000000mg of sodium, but I do it anyway. You gotta have that sodium. It's what gives you the full top ramen experience.

When I was a kid, my mom would give me ramen, but she would also put stuff in it, like pieces of chicken and sometimes even a few vegetables. Nutritionally speaking, packaged ramen is garbage. But maybe you can use it as a gateway drug to actual food and dazzle your old lady in the process. I put peas in my kid's ramen and she eats it. It's the only way I can get her to eat peas, which is probably counterproductive but whatever. It's a miracle these kids eat at all, so ramen for lunch it is. BEHOLD ALL THE FLAVORS OF THE ORIENT, LITTLE GIRL.


One of our neighbors recently put their house up for sale. We're pretty new to the area, and I've talked to this lady once. Is it weird that I really want to go to an open house?


Of course not. It's your right as a neighbor to barge into that open house, grab some free cookies, and then inspect your neighbor's medicine cabinets for herpes medication. "I KNEW IT." I went to an open house in the neighborhood once and I came right out with it to the realtor. I was like, "I'm the neighbor, and I'm here to snoop," and the shitbag realtor had to just smile and TAKE IT. What were they gonna do, kick me out? Not a chance. MWAHAHAHAHA. I walked around and checked out the hardwood floors and all the fancy kitchen stuff and discovered a new and profound resentment for all the cool shit my neighbor had that I did not. I win.


I have a very rare and assumed to be genetic condition where I'm almost constantly in pain and it only gets worse as the years go by. I don't want to pass this down to future generations, but all the women I've dated have wanted to have kids. Adoption is out of the question because of the next part. There's also the whole being in pain thing that might have me "sleeping with the fishes" in about 20 years. I wouldn't want to start a family and burden them. How soon is too soon to bring this up with a new girlfriend without sounding creepy and how would you bring it up?


I think that's the sort of thing that would just come out naturally somewhere down the line, at some point in the relationship where you feel trusting enough with your new girlfriend to explain your predicament. Usually, if you like someone enough, you get the itch to tell them EVERYTHING. You can't help it. "Girl, I love you so much that I need you to know that I have The Clap." You just want them to know all about you, no matter how terrifying that might be. You give yourself to them.

I've had chronic pain, and sometimes the mere act of talking about it and finding a sympathetic ear is enough to change my outlook and feel better about my prospects. I can only wish the same for you, given what a shit hand you've been dealt. Someone who loves you might change your mind about kids, maybe even give you some hope that you didn't realize it was possible to have before. You have to be willing to try with the time you have left. Other people are often a complete pain in the ass, but they're pretty much your best reason for living when things are going badly. Let them decide if you're too much of a burden. Also, let's all buy Bob a beer if we see him. And a shot of morphine.


What would be the worst instrument or alternative method (like whistling or humming) to fuck up the National Anthem with? I'm going to say violin.


I would listen to a violinist CRUSHSLAY the anthem. It would somber and tasteful. I'm open to any interpretation of the anthem that does not involve some jackass warbler stretching the thing out past the two minute mark. Give me the accordion anthem any day of the week. I have daydream where some big calamity happens and, during the ensuing charity telethon, I am called upon to do the anthem, and I do it on a 12-string and it's way cool and deep. I do not know how to play a 12-string.

Anyway, to answer your question: the kazoo. The kazoo would be terrible for the anthem and people would throw a shitload of beer on you if you attempted it. And you would deserve their scorn. Kazoos are garbage.

Email of the week!


Every year the 8th grade class took a field trip to Washington, DC. We took several cushy chartered buses for the 7 hour drive. My mom had supplied me with a plethora of candy for the ride up. We arrive in DC and the first stop we make is the Air and Space museum. As I'm making my way through the halls I can here snickering behind me. I turn to see a group of girls pointing at my ass. Looking down I discovered a Milk Dud, melted and fused to my shorts DIRECTLY where my butthole would be. My immediate reaction is to grab the melted milk dud and pull it off. As I do, it stretches like silly putty into a long brown string remaining conveniently attached to my shorts. I looked up to find the entire class and several innocent bystanders staring at me completely mortified.

I spent the rest of the day walking through our nation's Capital with a perfectly placed brown stain on the center of my ass. And that is how Shit Duds became my 8th grade nickname. Middle school sucked.


I bet it did, man. I bet it did.

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.


Illustration by Jim Cooke.