Dabo Continues To *Maybe Be The Biggest Slimeball In CFB

Dabo Swinney’s metoric rise from happy-go-lucky back slapper to championship juggernaut has been nothing short of astonishing. But you know what they say about great power. 

Dabo’s SEC counterpart, Nick Saban is well known for dodging controversies by keeping his pressers strictly football related. Swinney however, has on more than one occasion let his mouth make the headlines. It appears that he’s more likely to lean into controversy than circumvent it. The two things people try not to talk about, religion and politics, seem to be his favorite subjects. Not to mention he threatened to leave football if the players were ever compensated (which he didn’t, coward). 

The latest theory surrounding Dabo’s sneaky scumbag approach involves backup quarterback, Taisun Phommachanh. 

 

I have my biases as an Alabama alum, I’ll admit that. Of course, what I’m about to say next is all conjecture and not facts. However…

Dabo has been adamantly against the NCAA Transfer Portal. Like any coach, he doesn’t enjoy when his recruits leave his team. Unlike every other coach, he refuses to obtain potential players from the portal to further make his point. 

As a former 4 Star recruit, Taisun Phommachanh was a perfect candidate to enter the portal. With the emergence of DJ Uiagalelei, it seemed that Taisun wouldn’t get many reps under center. When he tore his achilles, Dabo found himself scrambling for a backup quarterback. Without the portal to turn to, Clemson was relying on two walk-ons should their star quarterback go down. 

It was rumored that Taisun was considering entering the portal. Penn State boards certainly considered the possibility. To go from “out for the season” to “ready for opener” seems remarkable, no? Dabo himself called him a miracle. Was it though Dabo? Was it? Or is it possible that Dabo purposely played up the injury of a 21 year old to scare other programs from taking a shot at him in the transfer portal? Without potential suitors lurking, Dabo retains his backup quartback without hypocritically abandoning his morals on the portal. 

It’s just a theory. A theory that makes a little too much sense, but a theory nevertheless. However, if it turns out to be true, that’s another sin under The Church Of Dabo. 

There’s Only One Way To Fix The Mets

Let me be Frank, I don’t want the Mets to be fixed. As  a Yankee fan, my mouth waters when I see their inevitable annual downfall. Mets fans are the most fun to be friends with, besides maybe Jets fans. Luckily for us, they’re normally one in the same. From the fanbase that brought you 5 Aces, Conforto is going to run New York, “wait til Yo is healthy”, and Harvey Days, we are now in the Steve Cohen will buy everyone era. Mets fans fail to recognize the most obvious fact, the Mets are always going to Met. HOWEVER, there is a solution. 

There is only one cure for the New York Mets. And no, giving Javy Baez 200 million dollars isn’t the answer. Bad news is you have to entice someone out of retirement. Good news, you only need one man:

 

Theo Epstein, the bane of my existence. What is the one bat signal that Theo can’t refuse? A good ol’ fashioned curse. If Mets fans were smart, they’d stop focusing so much on the Yankees and start spreading the narrative that the team is cursed. Get Theo’s juices flowing. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, Epstein was the youngest ever MLB GM at the ripe age of 28. Most notably, he is credited with ending baseball’s two most notorious curses: The Curse Of The Bambino- the Red Sox 86 year World Seires drought, and The Curse Of The Billy Goat- the Cubs 108 year drought. 

Now you might be thinking, the Mets aren’t THAT cursed, they won a title a mere 35 years ago. A sad justification, but I see your point. However you cannot deny the Mets have had many cursey like moments. Including but not limited to, the Royals singling them to death in 2015, Bernie Madeoff, Kenny Rogers walking in the winning run for the 1999 NLCS, Bobby Bonilla, Luis Castillo dropping that fly ball vs. the Yankees, poor David Wright, Syndergaard contracting hand, foot, and mouth disease, and my personal favorite, being up seven games on September 12th 2007 only to lose their last twelve of seventeen to miss the postseason. 

How relieving would that be to blame all your misfortune on the Baseball Gods? Edwin Diaz, deGrom’s injuries, Lindor’s struggles, not our fault, we’re cursed. Two birds, it’s a peace of mind and laying groundwork for your messiah. 

Of course though, since it is the Mets it probably won’t happen. Mets fans are drowning in misery at the moment but Sandy Alderson will make one signing in the off-season and they’ll immediately forget who they are. The fans will continue leading the league in spring parades. Mets will start fast in 2022 but die faster. But hey, look at the bright side, at least you guys got your cool black jerseys back. 

New Jersey Gambling Through The Years

For years New Jersey was synonymous with gambling. Between Atlantic City being Vegas’ only real counterpart and Tony Soprano breaking kneecaps on your TV screens, New Jersey came across as a bunch of degenerates. It couldn’t have looked great from the outside looking in. But whatever your assumed notion of NJ gambling was, it was much worse. 

People from New Jersey started gambling pretty much around the time of the country’s inception. The lottery system in New Jersey actually helped fund the military for the American Revolution and French-Indian War. Monmouth Racetrack in Oceanport has been running ponies since the 1830s, about 34 years before Nevada was even a state. 

But you can’t mention New Jersey gambling without Atlantic City. It’s a piece of shit, but it’s our piece of shit. It wasn’t always that way though. If you’ve seen Boardwalk Empire, you know what I’m talking about. Politician and racketeer Knucky Johnson, who the HBO series is based on, took AC into a Golden Age during the Prohibition. While shaking hands with the likes of Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and Meyers Lansky, Knucky was able to build Atlantic City from the ground up on the back of booze and gambling. It got the nickname “The World’s Playground” and over a century later the city still abides by Knucky’s blueprint. This past June, Atlantic City casinos set the record for single month gambling revenue with over $345 million in winnings. 

But gambling in New Jersey was never mutually exclusive with Atlantic City and racetracks. Although there is a dark underbelly, a lot of it was out in the open. Your bookie was normally one of your bartenders. I used to walk into our local breakfast joint with my dad as a kid and the old men smoking cigars in the back would ask me to help them pick their NFL Pools that were splayed out over Sunday’s newspaper. Or like my uncle screaming at the TV at family BBQs during the Little League WS telling me he has “too much action” on this game. Or how my parents used to work a mandatory two nights a month in our Catholic School cafeteria for Bingo Night; they would come home reeking of cigarettes. It was so ingratiated with our every day life, that I never knew anything was wrong with it.  

Of course, things could go wrong with gambling. Literally today, no lie, I caught my my friend’s mom about six miles from her house at a convenient store going to town on scratch-offs in her car. She had to pass maybe twenty closer stores to get to this one. But she runs less a risk of one of her family members catching her over here. With any vice that’s a lot of fun, it’s best done in moderation. Growing up in New Jersey, your parents had plenty of examples to point to so you don’t end up as this person or that person.  Unfortunately, most of us have a trial by fire moment that forces us to bet smarter. 

I remember mine. I used to meet with a guy in the back of a Wawa parking lot for weekly deposits or withdraws. When I was a freshman in college, so 18 or 19, I went on a heater. I got too cocky and was spending my winnings like a mad man. Couple weeks later I went down and went down big. I was a barback at the time and couldn’t cover my debt. I’d never been late or short on a payment but I wasn’t ecstatic about finding out what happens when you are. I was panicking, I could only cover about half of what I owed. I remember looking up sperm bank appointements on the sideline of McMahon Park during our summer basketball league game. I wouldn’t have been paid in time for my jizz to work in my favor. I did the only thing a grown man could do, I ran to my daddy. I thought he was going to kill me. I walked into his room real serious-like and admitted everything, pleading and apologizing harder than I ever had. I winced and waited for a blowup or a smack or something. He looked me dead in my eye and said, “Is someone going to show up to our house and how much do you need.” He gave me $1100, $100 more than I needed. Then we sat down for about an hour and had a conversation about biting off more than you can chew, and what would have happened if goons showed up with only my mother home. His concern and disappointment that day made me a smarter gambler. I also took ally first hiatus after that. 

But everyone in this area has some sort of varitation of that story. Not all of them came out as unscathed as I was. It’s part of the fabric. You think New Jersey eclipsed Nevada last year in sports gambling with $6B on accident? We were baptized in this shit. 

So I’m very happy to welcome the next chapter of New Jersey gambling, Barstool Sportsbook. We’ve been waiting for you. 

Gamble responsibly, if you have a gambling problem please call 1-800-GAMBLER.

The Truth Of McDonald’s Ice Cream Machines Revealed

You’ve having an internal struggle on whether or not you really want to stop at McDonald’s drive-thru for ice cream late at night. You know you shouldn’t but it’s been awhile. Finally you give up. It feels dirty, but you’re too committed to turn back now. You let out a sigh and order a McFlurry with M&Ms, “Ice cream machines not working.” 

We’ve all wanted to choke a McDonald’s employee through the window when we’ve heard that. You still get all the shame of ordering with none of the benefits. Plus we all know it’s a crock of shit but you can’t exactly respond “No it’s not.” It’s a waste of shame.

Now, thanks to a company called Kytch, we have concrete proof that Big Ron’s has been lying to us. Kytch designed software to remotely run diagnostics and fix McDonald’s machines without having to be on site. Good news, right? Wrong, McDonald’s refuses to use Kytch’s devices. 

Meet our antogonist of this tale, Taylor Company. I don’t know what sort of dirt Taylor has on Ronnie, but they’ve monopolized the ice cream machines. The company sells McDonald’s the machines for a cool 18k and has convinced them that they cannot be fixed without a Taylor-certified technician. Unless there’s a million of these technicians, they won’t have enough employees to cover our needs. 

Another interesting tidbit in McDonald’s favor is that the machines need to be cleaned every two weeks. In order to properly clean the machine you have to completely break it down, clean it, then reassemble the entire thing. Apparently we have a bunch of MacGyvers manning our drive-thrus. I’ll be honest, if I had arches on my hat and a bunch of twerps rolled in at 1:00am ordering four different shakes and I knew I had to break down and reassemble just to serve them? I’d tell them to fuck right off too. So instead they just say it’s broken. 

So where do we go from here? Apparently Taylor and McDonald’s tried stealing a Kytch device in order to reverse engineer their technology. In late July, a California judge issued a restraining order in favor of Kytch and demanded that any technology and software stolen by McDonald’s or Taylor Company be returned. 

So it would seem Kytch has them by the balls. It appears they’re in the midst of a “let’s make a deal” showdown. With any luck, this will all be settled just in time for Shamrock Shake season. 

https://www.allrecipes.com/syndication/mcdonalds-ice-cream-machines-company-restraining-order/

The Bauer Vs Tatis Rivalry Just Got A Whole Lot More Interesting

If you’re unaware of the Trevor Bauer sexual assault allegations either you’re not a sports fan or really don’t give a shit about baseball. There’s been a lot to unpack in this FRO hearing that might determine the outcome of Bauer’s future in baseball. 

Sexual assault is obviously an uncomfortable subject to speak on. Society demands you to believe the accused is innocent until proven otherwise. Morality pushes you to believe the victim who claims to have just gone through one of humanity’s most heinous crimes. Law and morales muddy your thoughts. It’s important to point out that what you believe to be correct and what’s correct in the eyes of the law can often be two different things. 

For example, I think Trevor Bauer’s a piece of shit. I do not like him. Do I think he needs to go to extremes to get his rocks off? Of course, watch him pitch one time. But the question becomes, did he reasonably understand that his actions were off limits? Luckily, that’s not my burden to decide. But I will breakdown the first two days of Bauer’s FRO hearing and other evidence for you to formulate your own opinions. 

First some terminology, since it’s come to my attention that not everyone’s familiar with procedural jargon. To some, these terms may be obvious, but it’s not exactly definitions you learn in grade school.

TRO (Temporary Restraining Order)- granted by a Judge to keep the accused from having any contact with the alleged victim until they can have an FRO hearing. 

FRO (Final Restraining Order)- The hearing that’s currently happening. In the state of California if the FRO is granted it’s held for a minimum of five years. This is not a criminal procedure. But if the accused violates the terms set by the Judge of a granted FRO they could find themselves in jail. 

Criminal Investigation- As I alluded to above, the investigation of a crime is still ongoing. If the accused is hit with an FRO, that does not confirm that a crime was committed. Yet, an FRO can be referred to in a future criminal case. 

Civil Lawsuit- When you sue the shit out of someone for money. Hello OJ Simpson.

Because the victim in this case is alleging sexual assault, I will only refer to her as Jane Doe or Ms. Doe. 

For anyone living under a rock, Jane Doe has accused the 2020 Cy Young winner, Trevor Bauer, of sexual assault and domestic violence. The allegations include knocking her unconscious, strangulation, and performing anal sex with her without her consent. 

Two days before the FRO hearing the NY Post released an article on Trevor Bauer’s sexual proclivities. One piece of evidence admitted to the article was a Snapchat message obatained by the Post that read the following: 

“Like the only reason I’d consider seeing you again is to choke you unconscious punch you in the face shove my fist up your ass skull fuck you and kick you out naked. And obviously I’d never do something like that to anyone. So can’t even enjoy the one thing I sometimes enjoyed with you.”

If these are confirmed, Bauer’s a freak man. Also serves as a reminder that your Snap messages aren’t as gone as you thought they were. 

On the first day of the hearing, Jane Doe took the stand and in graphic detail explained how Trevor Bauer choked her unconscious with her own hair. She said that she was unable to breathe, speak, or move after the incident. Ms. Doe claims that Bauer treated her “like a rag doll”, taking a closed fist to her jaw, vagina, and buttocks. She told the court that she was in pain and afraid of Trevor Bauer.

Ms. Holley, Bauer’s attorney, began by requesting the restraining order be dropped on the grounds of the violent acts only taking place during sex which they believe to have been consensual. The request was denied. 

The defense’s opening statements pointed to messages sent by Jane Doe implying a desire to be choked and another sent to a friend that stated she “already had her hooks in” when referring to Bauer. 

Jane Doe’s opening statements took the court down her personal journey towards sobriety and her insecurities in wanting to please Bauer. She said she had felt embarrassed and that everything happened so fast that she was unable to tell Bauer to stop. She concluded by telling the court that she had felt like she was treated like “I wasn’t a human being.” 

Day Two had witnesses questioned along with a cross examination on the alleged victim. There’s a lot to go through here and I’ll try my best to keep it as brief as possible, it might get a little bullet-y. 

Jane Doe says that Bauer was manipulative in making her feel safe but also that this was her fault. She says she didn’t leave his house the night of the attack because it was late and she lived two hours away. She claims most of the night was spent focusing on not vomiting. Doe stated that after the incident when she texted Bauer “I’ve never been more turned on in my life”, she was being dishonest in order to tell Bauer what he wanted to hear. 

The court was shown pictures of the injuries sustained that night but the defense claims they’ve been edited. The picture showed two black eyes. In a personal text sent to her friend in reference to her appearance she said “It was just during sex. Like it was consensual.” Jane Doe explained that what started as a consensual act went too far and turned into something she felt she didn’t consent to. She said that her initial downplaying of the situation stemmed from a fear of the publicity she knew the case would cause. She was afraid of being painted “as the slut”. 

Her and Bauer exchanged texts from the hospital. The accused sent a message reading “wish I could hold you right now and play with your hair.” Ms. Doe explained that she was confused if he cared or not and that things felt rehearsed with him. She said that she told Bauer she was fine as a tactic to get him to stop contacting her. 

Jane Doe did report the incident to the police but labeled the department as “corrupt fuckers.” She felt that the female detective that conducted the interview was degrading and “slut-shaming”. 

More texts between Bauer and Ms. Doe were presented to the court. Bauer stated that he was sorry and inquired on how he could assist the alleged victim. Ms. Doe responded telling Bauer, “the best thing you could do to help me is to never do this to anyone else ever again.”

A call to Bauer was conducted in front of police presence in order to try and have him acknowledge what he had done to the victim. Throughout the call, whenever the subject of him striking Ms. Doe arose, he allegedly diverted the attention to her. During the call Bauer insisted he had only punched her buttocks. 

It was revealed that Bauer provided the messages between him and his accuser. Jane Doe admitted to deleting his messages because she “couldn’t bare to see his name on her phone.” Bauer’s attorney pointed out that she still shared memes of Bauer with her friends afterwards though. 

During the cross examination Bauer’s attorney asked for clarification on the “having her hooks in” remark. Jane Doe claims that it was sarcasm. Bauer’s defense then went on to confirm that Jane Doe had former relations with other baseball players. Both Fernando Tatis Jr. and Mike Clevinger of the San Diego Padres. It was revealed that Jane Doe had been fired from her job for her relationship with Tatis. 

The court was shown a post of Tatis mocking Bauer by covering one eye and Jane Doe using “dollar sign emojis” in reference to the post. 

Upon further questioning, Jane Doe admitted to previously being choked before, but not to the point of losing consciousness. She also confirmed that she was the first one to mention “rough” between her and Bauer. When Bauer responded by saying he likes it more rough than her, she did not reply. 

Bauer’s attorney stated that he stopped sticking his fingers down Jane Doe’s throat when she objected. Ms Holley then asked the alleged victim, “You were capable of telling Trevor something that you didn’t want to happen?” When she replied yes, the attorney claimed that Bauer also stopped with anal sex when he was asked to stop. 

The SART nurse took the stand and confirmed that she witnessed visible bruising to the eyes and lips as well as signs of injury to “the external genitalia and buttocks”. The nurse also stated that Jane Doe had told her that Bauer had choked her with her own hair. 

A forensic nurse stated that the “raccoon eyes” appearance is consistent with strangulation.  The forensic nurse also stated that she did not recall any bruising around the victim’s throat. She expressed that Jane Doe had told her that Bauer posed no threat of future harm. There was also no mention of anal sex in the statement that Ms. Doe had given her. The forensic nurse agreed that the injuries sustained could have been from strangulation or physical blows. She concluded by saying the photos of the injuries are accurate and were not edited. 

Jane Doe was once again questioned by Ms. Holley, Bauer’s attorney. She read a message to the victim where Doe says that Bauer should leave his pink socks on when cuddling, but come off “when it’s time to choke me out.” When asked why this message was left out of her restraining order statement, Ms. Doe said “I didn’t ask to be punched all over my body  to the point where I had to be hospitalized.” 

Ms. Doe was once again questioned on her previous relationships with other ball players. Texts were read between her and a friend. After Tatis hit a home run off of Bauer she messaged a friend saying “I knew I was gonna get in his head….Tatis better in bed, and the field, he is roasting Bauer.”

Either way this plays out, I’ll still think Bauer is a piece of shit. SOMETHING happened that night. I’ll leave it up to you to draw your own conclusions. But remember, just because an FRO is granted doesn’t necessarily mean a crime occurred. And vice versa. If the FRO is denied, doesn’t mean that a crime didn’t occur. The MLB and police are still conducting their own investigations. There’s still a lot to unpack and this incident is far from over. But one thing remains clear, this thing had way more layers to it than anyone saw coming. 

Ocean City Maryland aka Northeast Carolina

When people from New Jersey or Pennsylvania want to go to Myrtle Beach or OBX but don’t want to drive as far, we go to Ocean City Maryland. It’s a lot cheaper and it still packs a bit of that Jersey Shore scummy punch if you know where to look. It has the sand dunes with hay like grass, swampy boat life, and surrounding small town life of the Carolinas without making you feel like you’ve really left the Northeast. 

If you’re looking to scratch that Pogue itch that Outerbanks left you with, OCMD is your fix. I spent a four days in this beach town this past weekend for a bachelor party. It’s been about 60 hours since my last drink and I’m still trying to shake off the rest of my hangover. 

The Devil works hard, but Seacrets works harder. This crown jewel bar boasts as bar/restaurant/nightclub. It’s massive, for any Jersey folks it’s about 4x the size of Bar A. During the morning and afternoon they have bar tables and floating devices set up for you to drink in the bay. The water was packed with beautiful women who couldn’t wait to tell me that they didn’t want to have sex with me. In my defense, I didn’t look great in a bathing suit and my shirt on next to University Of Virginia’s former soccer team and a couple MLS players I was with. At night the outside is lit up Christmas light style to give it that real authentic beach town vibe. The inside nightclub has the next best band you never heard of. If you’re looking for more of a chill vibe than a bump & grind scene, just keep walking. There’s about five more stages outside with live bands all playing different genres. The Orange Crush seems to be the drink of choice, but set a limit. Or you’ll end up like me vomiting into my hat trying to avoid a $150 Uber service fee.
Seacrets was the best bar, no doubt. But the one that made me feel most like I was in an episode of Outerbanks was Macky’s. It has a sandy tiki setup out back and an inside lined with fish netting walls with wood painted signs and old license plates. It had good music, a good crowd, and good drinks. But it’s all fun and games until a boatful of John B’s pull up. First of all, how does anyone compete with the dudes who show up to the bar in a boat. They all look like 15 year lifeguard veterans. They wear frayed jean shorts, old bait & tackle t shirts, dirty converses, and bandanas around their necks. Somehow all of them can still pull off wearing PacSun hats. These dudes walked in and had pick of the litter. They drove off drunk on their boat at 2:00 am with a bunch of girls they didn’t walk in with. They could have said they were going treasure hunting and everybody in the bar would have believed them. 
I feel like I’m not doing great job selling OCMD, but I really did enjoy it. It was a perfect spot for a long weekend golf trip or bachelor party with the fellas. You might have to shack up in an old run down bungalow with nothing but bunk beds and pull out couches, but that’s part of the charm. There’s good looking bars, better looking people, and more drinks than you can handle. Or at least, than I could handle. 

Meet The Hero Dispatcher From The Ella French Call

This past weekend a young mother and police officer, Ella French, was fatally shot while conducting a routine traffic stop for expired license plates. Both Officer French and her partner were shot but were able to return fire through their injuries and injured one of the suspects. Two brothers have since been apprehended and charged with the shooting. 

In the midst of a traumatic event, time slows down. Seconds feel like minutes, your peripheral vision is non existent, and fine motor skills are a thing of the past. Your brain gets staticky. Luckily for Chicago PD, that wasn’t the case for Keith Thorton Jr. 

Keith was the dispatcher on duty when Ella French and her partner were shot. His quick thinking and command of the airwaves are being praised for potentially saving lives that day. If you can stomach the transmission, you can listen to it here. 

Dispatcher Thorton was cool under pressure. Keeping the air clear while getting officers to the scene, setting up a perimeter, dispatching ambulances, creating a clear route to the trauma center, and getting a helicopter to the area. We’ll never know how many lives he potentially saved that day. But there is no doubting his professionalism prevented the tragedy from spreading. Even though French’s partner is still in critical, it’s because of Keith Thorton that they even have a fighting chance. 

Dispatchers are often overlooked. They’re heard and not seen. But these men and women have some of the toughest jobs in the world. They’re charged with creating a safe space in a dangerous environment without even being able to see what’s going on. They’re so knowledgeable in not only law enforcement, but EMS, Fire, and other emergency services as well. Under high pressure situations, they have to be able to do 20 things at once. I can hardly answer the correct group if I have two chats going at once. 

While Keith is rightfully getting the praise he deserves, he humbly deflected the attention from himself saying, “Get out of your car, stop midway through your jog or walk, and make a purposeful effort to show my brothers and sister in blue YOUR LOVE for them.” 

Rest In Peace Ella French, and God Bless Keith Thorton Jr. 

If you wish to show support you can donate here:

http://cpdmemorial.org/

https://store.barstoolsports.com/products/chicago-police-tee?variant=39491953655905&utm_source=barstoolsports&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=blog&utm_term=14658_0_3377818&utm_campaign=barstoolsports_referral_blog_14658_0_3377818

The YES App Yankee “Pick N Play” Is Dumb

If you’re a fan that is regularly forced to watch Yankee games on the fly, you might find yourself with the YES App on your phone. It kind of sucks. It signs me out constantly for no reason at all and it gets a bit jumpy. To improve your Yankee experience, our gracious ruling family has awarded us an impossible game for us to never win. 

In perfect 2021 Yankee fashion, the organization is making things very difficult for the fans while remaining extremely cheap. If you can guess one player to hit a single, one player to hit a double, one player to hit a triple, one player to hit a home run, the amount of strikeouts the starting pitcher will throw, how many hits the Yankees will record, and how many runs they will score all in the same game, then you will be the proud recipient of a whopping 25k. 

It looks like this: 

M

I know, I know, I picked Judge to get a triple. I panicked, first pitch was like three minutes away. 

If you’re able to guess all those^^ correctly, you should accept nothing less than a million dollars and a call from Professor X. It might actually be harder than the perfect March Madness bracket and Warren Buffet offers up a cool billion for one of those. 

First you have to have a game that has a single, double, triple, and home run. Doesn’t happen every day. Hell, the Yankees only have 7 triples on the entire season. But not only do all those hits have to occur, then you have to predict who will hit them. That alone should guarantee you 25k. But no, exact numbers on Ks/Hits/Runs as well. Nostradamus couldn’t even pull that off. 

I’ve been asking my fellow Yankee fans if it was the last game of the season, win and your in scenario. Despite odds and logic, you have everything correct on the App. Yankees are down one, it’s bottom nine, two outs, one man on… are you rooting for a walkoff home run or a strikeout? 

All of them said home run. Whaaaatttt? Why? So they can break your heart in another 7 game ALCS? We’re just wiping our asses with 25k now? I know 25k isn’t a lot to the Yankees but I could use a down payment on a house. I know my answer. There’s always next year boys. 

This little lottery game is more smoke and mirrors and empty promises from the Yankees. The organization keeps writing checks that they know Hal’s ass won’t have to cash. 

Worst Descriptions To Have In Your Dating Profile

I’m 28 years old which is kinda gross. My clock to start a family and pass on my shitty genes is ticking. I’m aware of this because my mother reminds me every Tuesday when I go to her house for dinner. 

If my calcaulations are correct, I’m clocking out at 48 from a heart attack. If I start dating this year, figure three years of dating, engaged at 31. Two years to plan the wedding, have our announcement party, have her bachelorette party, my bachelor party, and our engagement party, now we’re looking at 33. We’re still young enough that we convince ourselves to travel for a year before we start a family. At 34 we start “trying”. I don’t really know what “trying” is, two of my buddies in high school weren’t trying and have kids like half their age now. So let’s say trying takes three months (?), add the nine months of pregnancy and I’m 35 when I have my first child. That means I have thirteen years, ten solid ones, to part some wisdom on my son/daughter before tragedy strikes and he/she is left with their poor widowed mother.

So to put this master plan into action, I go shopping at the popular stops. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, you know the deal. You would think with my looks, outlook on health, and overall demeanor towards life, that I’d be a little less particular when it comes to swiping right. But I’m easily bothered. I have certain words and phrases that immediately eliminate from my future widow sweepstakes. 

-Saying you’re any kind of coach that isn’t sports, i.e. fitness or life. Too much optimism. I need a fellow wallower, not someone who’s going to judge me for eating Chinese at the end of my bed while I watch HBO Max. 
-Wanderlust. Congratulations you learned a word. Oh you like traveling? Welcome to being every person who’s ever lived. You’re not sneaky, we’ve all seen that Paul Rudd and Jennifer Anniston movie. 
-Introvert. Have you ever heard someone call themselves an introvert out loud? Of course not, that would be contradictory. I feel like having a dating profile eliminates you from actually being an introvert. And don’t even get me started on the introverted extrovert crowd. Puke. 
-“I’m an upfront person.” This is an actual phrase people proudly use to describe themselves. Imagine bragging about that? Might as well just write “I’m a piece of shit.”
-Any political affiliation. Bet you’re a real hoot at parties. If this is a vital piece of describing yourself, I want nothing to do with you. Are there really people out there that are attracted to who you voted for?
-420 friendly. For anyone above the age of 21 this is unacceptable. Especially now that it’s legal in Jersey. That’s like writing “I drink alcohol”. Sick brag, skill L’s dude. Plus if you have a picture of you wearing one of those rug sweatshirt things I’m automatically going to assume you smell like everything bagels. 
-Sapiosexual. You’re a liar is what you are. Like you would just fuck the shit out of Stephen Hawking? You mean to tell me that the hottest person you ever seen approaches you, you’re checking their SAT scores? Get out of my face. 
Where is your shame? Write a cheeky line and get it over with. There’s probably a small percentage of users actually reading these things anyway. I do because it’s the modern day people watching. But what do I know? It’s not like I’m making waves in the online dating world. 

Reason One Million Why The Robots Will Kill Us All

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdTcchyS/

In case that video doesn’t work or you’re just too lazy to click the link, I’ll give a quick synopsis. This guy with a death wish forced an AI to watch thousands of hours of Batman and then had it write it’s own Caped Crusader movie. He gave a scathing review. 

I’ll never understand the human race’s obsession with flirting with death. Look what Hitler did when we made fun of his paintings. What do you think this AI will do to you when it becomes sentient? 

Some notes. Alfred doesn’t call Bruce Matress Wayne, but actually Master Wayne. Common mix up. The sentence structure was hard to comprehend at times, and there were some obvious plot holes. 

But other than that I loved it. No doubt soon to be an Officially Buttered classic. Massive twist I didn’t see coming at all was when the Joker gave Batman a gift but it turned out to be a coupon for new parents. Thoughtful right? Wrong, it was expired. Master class.

Why do you think a first edition of “I, Robot” goes for $10k? It’s not a book, it’s a blueprint sent from the future to survive the robot revolution. Leave their art alone. Stop kicking those motherfuckers jumping up on boxes too. 

Lizzo And The Art Of The Rumor

In her newest spread rumor, Lizzo stated that she’s pregnant with Chris Evans’ baby. To be fair, she was just responding to some dumb dumb’s comment on Tik Tok asking her if she was pregnant and she replied saying she was “having a little America.” The pop star mad a video of her blasting her new single “Rumors”, with messages from Chris Evans saying how happy his mother is going to be. This all comes on the heels of Lizzo exposing recent DMs of her shooting her shot to Captain America. 

While it’s a nice marketing straegy for her “Rumors” single dropping mid-August, it’s very clearly not a real rumor. The two have been messing about and flirting in our faces for months. Real rumors are much more fun than that. 

My friends are aware, Rule #1 is I lie. I am a massive rumor guy. Making up pointless lies is a lost practice. It’s the stuff of folklore that lives only in 90’s family sitcoms. Well I haven’t forgotten.

There’s a lot of power in rumors. In an age when perception takes precedent over reputation, rumors could do a lot of damage. But I don’t meddle in anything malicious like that. I spread things only slight weird enough to make you question everything you think you knew about a certain person or thing. 

Like my debut rumor in high school. I spread one around my high school that one of my friends likes to put mayo on his hot dogs. People were disgusted with him. But the public could still imagine a world where it might be possible. Mayo and hot dogs are a dime a dozen at a BBQ. Maybe it happened by accident the first time and he never looked back. One time at a graduation party, the host asked my friend if he wanted mayo while grilling up some dogs. My buddy replied, “Gross, no?!” I walked over to the host and whispered, “He gets embarrassed because he knows how weird it is.” For year people believed that shit. 

I also once started a rumor that my best friend still believed in Santa. 

But my most recent one came last weekend at the wake of my co-worker’s grandma. I was coming out while a friend of mine was going in. He hates this sort of stuff and asked me how it was inside. I told him, “Really strange actually, everyone’s kissing the grandma on the forehead. It’s some kind of cultural thing. I felt weird doing it, but literally every person in front of me did it. The family announced it was some sort of tradition and that they would appreciate it if they respected their customs.” After arguing back and forth about being desrespectful, he screamed “I can’t believe this shit!”, and walked in. I was this close to getting him to kiss this dead woman that he had never met before. 

You have to be careful though, I’ve spread more rumors than I can track. People will bring something up to me months later and when I ask them where they heard that from they scream “YOU!” Oh, that. Right, sorry, I was lying about that. It’s a dangerous game. But if you enjoy pulling strings, it’s worth the risk. 

Hunter Thompson: The Last American Outlaw

I outed myself a couple blogs ago about being a big reading nerd. Although I suggested only scifi/fantasy

for new readers, that doesn’t mean that’s all I read. When I’m all geeked out and ready to get my feet back on the ground, I read Hunter Thompson. The most badass author of all time. 

He isn’t my absolute favorite author, but he’s the best pound for pound writer I’ve ever read. His command on the English language is beautiful. It’s like reading R-rated poetry. The only thing that’s crazier than the stories he tells is the actual life he lived. 

The best place to start, is at the beginning. Or close enough to it. Although his intelligence is evident in his writing, Hunter Thompson never graduated high school. On graduation day he traded the gown for an orange jumpsuit. While his classmates walked down the aisle, Hunter was holed up in a jail cell for accessory to a robbery. At the time he had already been arrested for buying alcohol underage and suspected of robbing a gas station. At his sentencing he was given the option of prison or military, so Thompson decided to join the Air Force. He was honorably discharged in 1958. His commanding officer who recommended his release stated, “This airman, although talented, will not be guided by policy.” 

Hunter Thompson jumped around a lot from there. He spent time as a sports writer, writing for Time, The Rolling Stone, Daily Record, New York Herald, local papers, and a stint for El Sportivo in San Juan, Puerto Rico. But what put Thompson on the map was his article for Scanlan’s Monthly titled, “The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent And Depraved.”

After having all expenses paid to cover the Kentucky Derby, Thompson had no story for his editor. Panicking to meet his deadline, he began numbering the pages in his notebooks and faxing them to his employer. The incoherent scribbles barely mentioned the race. Instead it told of Hunter Thompsen’s drunken weekend of blacking out, threatening to mace the Governor, getting into bar fights, gambling, stealing passes into the Derby, and starting rumors of a Black Panther protest to scare old white men with antiquated views on the world. This story outlined Hunter’s future works from a subjective view to his own insane perspective. 

Hunter went on to write “Hell’s Angels”, where he followed and lived with the infamous Motorcycle Club for two years. It ended abruptly when he was beaten to within an inch of his life for trying to stop a member from assaulting his wife and dog. “Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas” is Thompson’s most well known work thanks to the Johnny Depp cult classic. What was supposed to be the covering of a police shooting, turned into a drug induced (LSD, cocaine, ether, mescaline, adrenochrome, marijuana) trip to Las Vegas, hallucinating the death of the American Dream  while on the verge of a psychotic break. 

Hunter Thompson had a knack for reporting a major event while still making himself the subject. He was absolutely a narcissist, as I suspect most geniuses are. This form of writing led to the birth of Gonzo Journalism. A genre of his own creation. A style that combined social scrutiny, self sabotage, a rejection of objectivity, and a first-person narrator that you both pity and root for. This led to a wave of young, sad, white alcoholics who thought that writing consisted only of telling people how you went to Puerto Rico and convinced a rich housewife to have an affair with you. But none of them did it like Hunter Thompson.

The man was a walking contradiction. Thompson was a self proclaimed hippy who was a member of the NRA. He hated both Nixon and Clinton vehemently. On more than one occasion he told law enforcement to fuck themselves and then shaved his head and ran for Sheriff of Aspen, Colorado. He was a great man, but like most great men, he had a hint of madness to him. 

For example. Thompson once nailed a boar’s head on the door of his religious fanatic neighbors’ house to get them to move out. Told a cartoonist he’d light him on fire for using his likeness. While trying to interview a diva Keith Richards who locked himself in a room, he blasted a recording of pigs being slaughtered until he came out. Legally became a doctor. Accidentally shot his assistant while trying to scare off a bear. Almost killed Bill Murray, pranking him by duct taping him to a chair and throwing him in a pool. Stole property from Ernest Hemingway after he committed suicide. And got the cops called on him by Jack Nicholson for firing shots off in his backyard while playing animal screams as a “birthday prank”. 

No one was allowed to tell Hunter Thompson how to live, it was only fitting that death would follow suit. After a weekend of family partying at his request, Hunter Thompsen called his wife Anita and took his own life as she was hanging up. He left a sucide note titled “Football Season Is Over”, it read “No more games. No more bombs. No more walking. No more fun. No more swimming. 67. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun- for anybody. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax-this won’t hurt.” 

Hunter Thompsen’s funeral was atteneded by movie stars, famous authors, senators, and rock bands alike. His final wishes were carried out by Johnny Depp. His ashes were fired out of a cannon that was on top of a 150 foot tower, while fireworks went off and Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man” played in the background. 

He was America’s last true outlaw. 

I’ll leave you with one of my favorite Hunter Thompson quotes. I recite it whenever I’m requested to make a toast: 

“Let’s us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives…and to the ‘good life’, whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.”

Things You Should Never Think Or Say

It’s a dangerous time for thinking and saying things. The c-word is always lurking around the corner. I mean “cancel” of course, I would never say cunt. I won’t point out the obvious ones. Because if you already think or say them, you deserve to catch one in the sucker. For the safety of your soul I’ve assembled some more obscure things you should avoid. Never think or say these things, I know I won’t be. 

-If you see someone who looks really good at a wake or funeral you should never say, “Hey you look great, people in your family should die more often.” 

-Dissociative personality disorder is a serious disease. You know, like in the movie Split. Never wonder if all those people are faking it and are in way too deep now to turn back. 

-If someone’s showing you conspiracy Tik Toks where the person says “I love my life, I would never hurt myself, if I’m found dead it’s because I was murdered.” You should never say “Wouldn’t it be funny if they actually were the ones who did it just to make conspiracy people go crazy?”
-Don’t think about how the North Sentinelese are fake tough guys who really don’t want the smoke. 
-If someone tells you that they got a restraining order on their ex because they threatened to murder them, never say “If they’re actually capable of homicide do you think a piece of paper is going to stop them?”
-Don’t ever think that the New Zeland Haka rituals are played out. 
I would never think or say the things above, and neither should you. Ever. It doesn’t matter if use comedy as a crutch, not everything’s a joke. You need to pray more and think and say less.