So it looks like Drew is taking his annual weeklong vacation to Arby’s (“Arby’s: Where Shitting Our Product Out Is Somehow Worse Than Putting It In!”), which means I HAVE THE POWER. To answer questions. Questions that may or may not have caused my wife to frown in disgust when I read her the original emails.
Anyways, before we get to the Funbag, first I want to point out that Why Your Website Sucks is quickly approaching, so if you have any hate for Deadspin (or Gawker, or Jalopnik, or whatever) that you’re looking to get off your chest, toss me an email and I’ll throw them in at the end. Usually I just print the angry ones people send to Drew, but this year we’re doing it RIGHT. Kind of like the complete opposite of the NFL.
Speaking of which, what the fuck is wrong with NFL players these days? Back in my time, we had sex boats and illegitimate children, not gross bodily injury through anal firework popping, or whatever it is the kids are doing these days. I swear, if you can’t trust a 22-year-old newly made millionaire pumped full of testosterone and horse pills to make the right decision, who can you trust?
Now, the Funbag!
Mike:
What would cause the biggest protest and backlash against the United States government if they were to ban the following?
* Porn
* Alcohol
* Practice of religion
* NFL
* Pop (or soda or Coke or whatever they call it)
* Cigarettes
* All social media
Or, would something else be No. 1 on your list?
Mike, I am 100 percent positive that the biggest protest, in terms of people involved, would be if the government banned porn. I mean, sure, the religious nuts are probably going to be individually louder if religion gets the axe, because they’ve had centuries of practice, but for sheer quantity, you can’t beat the average American male when it comes to making every life decision based around if it will get your nut off or not. Hell, look at what happened during Prohibition. People were furious, and that was for something that isn’t even guaranteed to spray man-juice all over the guest bathroom as you furtively stare at your one-handed iPhone.
If the government banned porn, I give the country three days—four, tops—before the nukes go up. What the hell else is Supreme President Trump gonna do with his time: actually legislate?
Jordan:
Say you had a time machine. Would you send yourself back in time to make love to the 19-year-old version of your wife? Or would you send your wife back in time to make love to the 19-year-old version of yourself? I thank you for your consideration.
I would probably pick the latter. My 19-year-old self’s world would have been rocked. He deserved that.
I actually talked this over with my wife, and we both agreed that her current version would be far better suited to go back for everyone involved. She gets the benefit of my young adult libido (aging sucks, everybody: Avoid it if you can) and her sexual maturity as an adult—something that women traditionally come to later than men (thanks, biology).
I think what would make this scenario even better is if it were some sort of Terminator-esque Judgment Day situation, where she had to successfully convince young me to get laid (probably not hard to do!) in order to prevent porn from being banned in the future, resulting in the destruction of the human race. SOMEONE CALL THE PORN COMPANIES AND GET THIS THING FILMED.
Blake:
Imagine some exceedingly average NFL team (let’s say the Dolphins, or better yet, the Vikings) acquires a wizard kicker who will make 100 percent of his field goal attempts from anywhere on the field, on any down. With the exception of turnovers, every Vikings drive ends in at least three points. How good is this team? I’ve gone back and forth on this, but I think they lose a couple games at most.
Funny you should ask me that question, Blake. The consensus seems to be, and I agree, that having a kicker with that ability would instantly make you the favorite to win every single one of your games, and you should give up Herschel Walker AND the kitchen sink to get him, for the following reasons:
1) You don’t have to worry about an offense. All you need are linemen who can line up and block for a field goal attempt (not a particularly difficult task, especially if you don’t have to run a 13-play series before doing so). Think of all the money you’ll be able to spend on the defensive side of the ball! You could have ALL the domestic-abuser defensive players on one team! The Ravens weep with envy!
2) Your defense has a much easier job (granted, you’ll need a lot of defenders, though, given how much time they’ll be out there). The highest average points per drive in 2014 was 2.88, from the Packers, with the league average hovering around 2.1. Even if you’re playing against the best team in the league at converting drives into points, you’re still netting .12 points each possession. As John Madden so eloquently put it, “If you end the game with more points than the other team, you’re gonna win,” and as long as your defense doesn’t have a collective heart attack from being on the field for 50 minutes out of a 60-minute game, then you’re gonna win. Because math.
3) The collective sports media would erupt in a fountain of hatebile towards this team who dares kick a field goal every drive. “BUH GAWD THIS IS FOOTBAW, NOT COMMUNIST KICKBALL.” Colin Cowherd would undoubtedly say something horrifically racist towards Puerto Ricans, Stephen A and Skip’s turgid takeboners would deorbit the ISS, and Doyel would straight out have a morality aneurysm. It would be a sight for the ages. I WANT THIS TO HAPPEN.
Jon Ryan (not the Seattle punter) (I think):
I know you’re a fellow nerd like me, so what corollaries to Magic: The Gathering color combinations would you make to sports figures? Example: Pete Rose would be mono-black because he will harm his teams chances at winning to gain advantages for himself. Thoughts?
Well, Jon, first off, congrats on your American Ninja Warrior attempt. That rolling log looked pretty tough, but you made a good go of it. As far as M:TG combos for sports figures, I think there’s a couple that spring immediately to mind. Kobe would for sure be a mix of black/red: He doesn’t give a shit about sacrificing his teammates if he thinks it will get him closer to winning, and all he wants to do is throw baskets into people’s faces. Pure Rakdos if I’ve ever seen it.
Next up, I envision Tom Brady as a white weenie deck: The Patriots have been all about buffing up receivers you don’t think can harm you (Welker, Amendola, Edelman) until they drop in the angel (that’s Tom) as the finisher, and you can’t quite escape the nagging suspicion that they’re cheating with the amount of +1/+1 counters they have out on the field.
Finally, I see LeBron James as a traditional mono-blue counter/control deck: absurdly frustrating to play against, and should win every game every time due to the tools at his disposal (oh, you wanted that free agent? Sorry, that doesn’t resolve), but so satisfying to watch lose.
Honorable mention goes to the entirety of Premier League Soccer as dual land ramp Legacy decks, because none of those sheiks give a shit about money.
James:
For the sake of argument, let’s say God came down and forced you to choose one natural disaster that would occur within the confines of a stadium for every given NFL game in a season. What natural disaster do you choose? Lava? A blizzard? Something else? Let’s also say that the disaster is incorporated into the rulebook officially, so it’s just part of the game.
I would go with a plague of locusts. Imagine trying to throw a deep streak through a buzzing cloud of insects, each of which are the size of a small Pomeranian. It’d be like that Randy Johnson seagull pitch times a million. Fantastic. Not to mention the amount of drinking you’d have to do to actually make it through the entire game in the stands as a fan. You’d probably die of alcohol poisoning before the bugs got you.
Although, I must confess, that’s actually the main reason I picked it. The thought of florid, sweating, racial-epithet-screaming fans being devoured by the insatiable hunger of sweet, sweet justice. I would pay large amounts of money to watch that game. From home, obviously.
Plus, watching Goodell trying to discipline a plague of locusts for excessive celebration would just be the best.
Ben
Mr. Kluwe: Do you think anyone keeps a regulation-sized football exclusively as a sex toy? If so, who are they most likely fantasizing about while “scoring a touchdown”???
What the fuck, Ben.
(Probably Gronk. To both.)
Tim:
Being that you spent quite a bit of your time in Minnesota, I’d like to pose a question we are all dying to know the answer to: How trashy was the bar scene down at MSU (Minnesota State University) during the Vikings training camp? LET’S HEAR IT.
When I was with the Vikings, I didn’t really go out during training camp (mainly because I was tired, but also because I’d rather sit in my room and play video games than drink something I know I’ll regret at practice the next day), but I did hear plenty of stories from the guys who partook of the lovely Mankato festivities. From what they said, it definitely wasn’t hard to find someone to sleep with, though they tended to regret it more than the drinking the next day.
Fun fact! Mankato was the STD capitol of Minnesota during our time there, and the reason I know this is that our head trainer would bring it up during the orientation at the start of training camp each year so everyone knew what was in store for your man-dongle if you weren’t smart. Judging by some of the people I played with, I’d wager good money that there are some Mankato herpes strains that got an express ticket out of town when camp broke.
John:
Last week’s Funbag involved Cait Jenner sex tapes, dudes texting one another their actual farts, “the perfect office fuck spot,” and at least five questions that were obviously written while extremely high. My only question is, why the hell did you agree to do this?
Are you kidding me? This is the beating heart of the internet laid bare—the social zeitgeist of Western Civilization’s decline—and I get front row seats? The better question is, why wouldn’t you want to read these horrible, horrible emails? Doing this reaffirms my faith in humanity.
Dan:
What are your thoughts on being a stay-at-home dad? My mom stopped working after I was born (I have two older sisters) and stayed at home full-time to run the house. Having grown up in that environment, I appreciate how important it is to have a stay-at-home parent and how much of a luxury it is to families that can make it work.
I’ve talked with my friends and family at various points about this, and as much as I joke, I am very intrigued by the idea. I’m a 28-year-old attorney with a good job, and while I’m not married yet, I’m certainly in the market. I really like to cook and keep my place very clean; I wouldn’t call myself OCD, but I definitely keep it tidier than most. I think I could run a household pretty well if given the opportunity and if it was financially possible. I’d really only consider it if we were financially comfortable on one salary and we had some kids.
The only arguments people repeatedly come up with are varying levels of, “Wouldn’t that be emasculating?” or “What would you do with yourself?” I’m not too worried about my image to others, and I think the free time to go play some golf or video games at random times throughout the day outweighs those perceived cons. Sure, it’d suck when the kids are young and I’m running the daycare, but once the nuggets are off to school, I start reaping the rewards of increased free time.
Am I way off base, or should I take my talents to the house and try to be a stay-at-home dad?
Being a stay-at-home dad is both incredibly rewarding and LITERALLY WORSE THAN HITLER. Yeah, you get to raise the kids, teach them cool things, and mold them into hopefully not the next Jeffrey Dahmer, which is awesome. When they thank you in their valedictorian speech, you’ll be like, “Heck yeah, that was something I helped make happen! Awesome!” You might also discover talents you didn’t know you had. Like cooking! I never thought I’d enjoy cooking, but now I really do. And having the odd free hour here and there to play video games or write is pretty cool, too.
HOWEVER. There will come a point (and not just once!) where you will want to strangle your children, and it will take every ounce of willpower in your body not to do so. Maybe it’s because they’re fighting over who sits in what car seat again (THEY’RE BOTH EXACTLY THE FUCKING SAME ARGHHHH), or maybe they mysteriously “forgot” they were supposed to clean up the living room (again), or maybe they absolutely cannot be bothered to move faster than glacial drift when you have less than five minutes to get them to their swim lesson that’s 15 minutes away, but that point will come, and you will question why this entire universe was created for what seems to be the sole purpose of making your life a Sisyphean hell. Because that’s when you realize that this is what you’re going to be doing for the next 16 or so years, and BOY does that knowledge hit like a sledgehammer.
HOWEVER, you will then realize that’s why you have a bottle of vodka tucked away in the liquor cabinet at home, and all you have to do is make it through the next hour and half of tooth-grinding traffic on the 405 without going full Falling Down Michael Douglas, and then you can make yourself a nice White Russian and shove the children off on their mother when she finally gets back from work.
There’s ups and downs, I guess is what I’m trying to say. Give it a shot! Then take one!
HALFTIME!
Andrew:
Chris, I gotta get your HOT TAKES on this for the Funbag. What if NFL sidelines had a buffet of sponsored food and beverages? Wouldn’t it be the pinnacle of the American spirit if, during those long reviews, they could cut to the sidelines to see what the O linemen are snacking on? You’d have a decadent spread of Crunchwrap Supremes, Whoppers, buckets of chicken, Papa John HIMSELF dishing out slices of pie, a gigantic Mountain Dew fountain at the end there ... imagine the sponsorship tie-ins! Now, I know the American public doesn’t like to think that their WORLD CLASS athletes run on such garbage, but come on, some of those guys absolutely run on that garbage. Besides, I’m sure the new revenue stream would far outweigh any outcry, right? Wouldn’t it be great to see that little towel pinned to Tom Brady’s belt covered in wing sauce?
Andrew, I hate to break it to you, but they already have that in the NFL, only it’s called “the pregame meal” and also “the snack the night before.” Seriously, in the hotel, they would have a full-on buffet of pizza, pasta, hot dogs, hamburgers, salad, sandwich stuff, Gatorades, sodas, and a legit ice cream bar with most toppings you could think of, along with cookies, brownies, and assorted cheesecakes. AP, the night before a game, would eat an entire takeout tray (the cardboard ones with the flip-down lid) of ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream, garnished with five to eight cookies, and then go run for 80 billion yards the next day like he hadn’t just eaten enough sugar to kill an entire extended family of diabetics. It’s seriously Idiocracy up in there, and it is FABULOUS.
There’s no way they’d put something like that on the sideline, because someone would legit rupture their stomach during the game, and besides, no one would feel the need to eat it. We do our gorging in private. That’s just polite gluttony.
Richard:
Where does Vladimir Putin have Robert Kraft’s Super Bowl ring? Do you think anyone would notice if he wore it during a routine, unimportant press conference? I bet the average Russian wouldn’t spot a Super Bowl ring.
My wife says, “Probably around his dick.”
Dave:
So I pulled my groin playing old-man softball a few weeks ago. Nothing too serious, but it hurt pretty bad, especially when I would try to stand up from my desk chair. I have an office, and to get to the bathroom I have to walk through two rows of cubes (meaning four total). The second day after the injury, it hurt pretty bad, so I took the generic Icy Hot to the bathroom and applied around the affected area. I took a dump and played some games on my phone while it dried. I finished up and washed my hands, when all of a sudden I got a horrible pain right on the end of my dick: The little guy decided to switch sides at some point and rubbed right into the Icy Hot. Some of the people in the cubical area saw my face. Everyone heard the profanity.
I would have to imagine there are some good Icy Hot stories in the NFL: Got any?
So Icy Hot is actually one of the go-to pranks in the NFL locker room (as well as the college locker room and, I would imagine, anywhere Icy Hot is available on an as-needed basis). The most common usage is to smear a big ol’ dollop in the end of someone’s shoes, right where the toes are, and then wait for the unsuspecting victim to put their shoes on and go out to practice/lifting/whatever. Having been on the receiving end of this, I can promise you, it is a singularly unpleasant burning sensation that makes it feel like your foot is on fire, and you can’t just duck out to change your shoes and socks, because you’re supposed to be at practice/lifting/whatever. You can also put it on someone’s shower towel, but that’s pretty dickish. Generally, that’s not so much “hazing” as it is “I hate you and want you to be eaten by ants.”
If you really want to piss someone off (and don’t care that they might murder you and your family in justified retaliation), you put Icy Hot in their jockstrap/compression shorts. Be warned, though, that I am in no way responsible for the repercussions that WILL befall you should you choose that route.
Scott:
Last year at this time, I moved into an apartment with a recently divorced friend (yeah we’re both are in our thirties: WHAT OF IT?!?!), and it was the first time that either of us had to use coin-operated laundry machines in ages. My friend/roommate would get livid whenever someone used all three machines at once, as he believed it was rude to use all of the machines at the same time because other people rely on them. Meanwhile, I routinely used all three machines at once because laundry sucks, and I wanted to do as much laundry as possible in as little time as possible. Am I wrong?
You’re not wrong, you’re just an asshole, Walter. Ahem.
Actually, it depends on the timing. If you’re taking up all three machines during peak hours (7-10 a.m., 5-9 p.m.), then yeah, you’re kind of a douche. A lot of people work during the day, and those are the only free hours they have to do their own laundry, so don’t be surprised if you come back to your laundry one day and there’s a steaming loaf in the middle of your freshly dried pile of whites.
That being said, if you want to take all three machines at like five in the morning or 11 at night, go nuts. Most people will be asleep at that point, so you can knock out your cleaning needs without fear of inconveniencing someone else. Unless, of course, your local apartment serial killer washes his/her clothes at that time. Then you might have a problem.
Dan:
How many Olympic events could Batman win? Also, how long could he punt a football? I mean, traditionally he’s said to be an Olympic-level athlete and an expert in everything, but would his “jack of all trades but master of none” routine bite him in the ass in such specialized cases?
Easy one first: Batman couldn’t punt for shit. Not if he’s in the Batsuit. That thing has no give for the flexibility required for punting, and if he’s not in the Batsuit, then he’s just some billionaire dickhead futzing around on the field. Hey! Batman would be a perfect NFL owner!
As far as the Olympics goes, if Batman gets to use his tool belt, then yeah, he wins every event. That’s kind of his shtick. However, if he has to go it relying solely on his obsessive training and nothing else, I think he might take a martial arts even and maaaaaaybe the decathalon, but that’s it. Everything in the Olympics is entirely about specialization. Heck, look at the training schedules for these athletes. They’re spending four years working on a very specific set of motions, and even then, that only gets them the chance to compete. There’s no way Batman outruns Usain Bolt, or deadlifts more than those Romanian musclefreaks, or outswims Michael Phelps. Just isn’t going to happen.
I could see Batman poisoning everyone else with a debilitating yet non-lethal substance, though. Especially if it was to set up a showdown with the Joker in the gold medal ice-skating round.
James:
I fart with impunity on airplanes. The dull roar of the jet completely drowns out the sound, and at any given point, there are approximately nine people within smelling distance who will look equally—if not more—culpable for the putrid stench I’m passing. Everyone does this, right?
Yes. The airplane is one of the last bastions of guiltless farting. At this point, it’s considered to be as much a part of the flight as $50 bag-checks and TSA gropings.
David:
Punters and kickers are maybe the most common positions that your average drunk fan thinks he could play. I won’t ask you to rehash why they’re wrong. But I am curious if there are any positions, in any sport, that you look at when drunk and think, “Yeah, I could probably do that.” For instance, you have a good leg and seem to be in decent shape; does Drunk Chris Kluwe think he could totally play professional soccer? Or are you too lame (read: reasonable and/or sober) to engage in such flights of fancy?
David (and holy shit, how sad is it when the most exciting name so far has been “Blake,” get some better names, people), I could totally make it as a professional soccer player. I was a pretty good goalie growing up, and there is absolutely NO WAY that any of those skills have left me after 18 years of not using them. In fact, I’m in the process of finding a local adult league where I can DOMINATE these poor saps with my Tim Howard-esque goalkeeping abilities.
In my mind, I’m out on the field at a rec league one night, 12 people cheering us on, lights shining down through the slightly damp air, an unstoppable force at goalie, and in the stands is a Premier League manager on vacation. He sees my performance and is so beside himself, he offers me 30 million europounds and Kate Upton (solely as a nanny while I’m away) to come play in the Bundesliga, where, obviously, I lead our team to an undefeated season and whatever trophy it is they play for over there. Then I win the World Cup for America and retire a national hero.
What will ACTUALLY end up happening is that I’ll tear my ACL/hamstring/groin/all three the first time I try to dive to stop a shot.
Steven:
Hey Chris. I am tired of Drew’s shitty halftime music. How about you show the world (well Deadspin) that they need some motherfucking METAL and put my band To the Pain’s single “Seven” as the halftime song? Thanks for filling in for Drew. I already feel like you did a better job.
I love shameless self promotion! Speaking of which, I’m in a band, too!
Kevin:
I was going to ask Drew this, on the belief he would go out and try it and report back, but hey, maybe you will too! What is the ultimate fruit to punt? Putting no actual empirical research into this, I would say a grapefruit. A grapefruit is a great shape and size to cut through the air, connect with your foot, and be less susceptible to things like drag. Its also soft enough that its not going to hurt, but I figure strong enough that it won’t disintegrate on contact. An apple could hurt, and chances are it breaks. Melons of any type are going to hurt, and berries are way too small. It has to be grapefruit, right?
Any fruit I punt is going to explode. I actually did a promo thing with the Vikings one year, for a food bank, in which they wanted me to punt a stale loaf of bread in full uniform (helmet, jersey, cleats, everything). Naturally, I told them what was going to happen, and they said that was fine. Cue punting motion, the bag of bread vaporizes, except for a solitary piece that comes floating sadly down. It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and I’m pretty sure they got it all on video. Then they had to pick all the crumbs out of the turf of our indoor practice field.
Now, if it’s your everyday person, I’d say one of those personal watermelons is probably going to be your best bet. It’s solid enough to where it probably won’t break apart, but not so heavy as to cause you knee damage when you contact it with your foot.
Will:
The other day, my friend taught me that if you order Chipotle through the app, no matter what time you put the arrival time at, they will have it ready within five to eight minutes. So to see it for myself, we went to Chipotle, and instead of waiting in the 500-person line, he ordered on the app once we arrived in the parking lot. After ordering it, we went straight inside, went to the cashier, and said we had ordered online. Immediately you can see our two burritos being made and holding up everyone else in line. We were in and out within five minutes. Does this make us (or rather my friend) douchebags, or geniuses for taking advantage of a flawed system?
You’re a monster. A goddamn monster. I hope someone puts Icy Hot in your jockstrap.
Email of the week!
Trevor:
The other day while at work, I needed to use the restroom. For some reason, our office does not have its own facilities; we share the first-floor lobby john with two other companies. I made the trek through the lobby, and was directly behind a guy who just got off the elevator. We had the same destination.
Now, I SWEAR this man saw me as he got off the elevator, and this is an important fact: He didn’t.
To get to the throne, we have to go through two push doors and the lavatory bathroom door. This fellow opened all three, and I was able to walk through each without making much noise and minimal contact with the doors that were already mostly open in the man’s wake.
SCENE: There are two urinals next to each other separated by a partition on the south wall and two closed stalls on the east wall of this water closet.
The gentleman walked up to one urinal and I the other. As soon as I came into his peripheral view, the poor bastard looked to his left and upon seeing me standing there made the most horrific grunting / “hnnggggg!” sound I have ever heard. This guy jumped so high I almost saw his watch.
After laughing about it for a tad too long, we stood there in silence for what felt like eternity until he blurted out, “FUCK. NOW I CAN’T PEE!” and stormed out of the bathroom. I rightfully lost it.
I have no question. Uh, how’s retirement?
Retirement’s great. Watch out for bathroom ninjas, everyone!
Chris Kluwe punted for the Vikings for eight years, holds almost every one of their punting records, and managed to piss off just about everyone in the organization when he left/was forced out. He has a book of short stories and essays titled Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies and is the coauthor of the sci-fi book Prime. You can find him on Twitter @ChrisWarcraft.
Illustration by Sam Woolley.
Adequate Man is Deadspin’s new self-improvement blog, dedicated to making you just good enough at everything. Suggestions for future topics are welcome below.