Lincoln Riley Is Terrified Of The SEC

Lincoln Riley has been one of the best coaches in college football in the past five years. I have no problem giving him his flowers. He’s been courted by blue blood college programs and NFL teams every single year since his debut season. So what changed? 

Yeah yeah I know, his contract is crazy . $110 million, buyout his OU contract, buy both his homes 500k over asking price, hand him a $6 million home, and a 24/7 private jet to boot. Blah blah frickety blah. People are going nuts about this private jet. Fucking Schiano worked a private jet into his Rutgers contract and he hasn’t done shit in the last decade. You think USC is the only program that can afford this ransom? LSU’s pockets ain’t light. 

The other big rumor for Riley was to be the new Tiger King of Baton Rouge. In my opinion, what should have been the most coveted vacancy. Has another school ever been able to boast that their last three Head Coaches have won a National Championship? The school is guaranteeing you recruits, guaranteeing a giant contract, and guaranteeing you your best shot at a college football legacy with a National Championship. Ok so maybe Lincoln rathered LA over a Louisiana swamp. But I’m not buying that reasoning. Plus like, traffic… ever heard of it? 

So why not LSU? And why leave now? Lincoln Riley just signed a six year extension with OU in July of 2020. He just filed for inspection for his new home he was building in Norman this fall? What the hell changed?

The SEC is not for the weak hearted. Orgeron just got shown the door two seasons removed from a National Championship. Dan Mullen was fired after bringing Florida to the SEC championship in his third season! Gene Chizik two years after winning a Natty at Auburn, gone. Mark Richt 145-51 at Georgia, goes 1-3 against Saban, fired. Les Miles, championship winning coach, 114-34 all time goes 3-7 vs Alabama,  dead. This isn’t worrying about Iowa St and TCU mediocrity out here. Week in and week out you’re playing grown men. No one knew that better than Lincoln Riley. 

Lincoln has taken Oklahoma to the playoffs three times. All three times he lost to an SEC team. His first year he put up a fight against Georgia. The other two playoff games both Alabama and LSU put Lincoln Riley over their knee. Whenever OU played an SEC team in a must win situation, Sooners couldn’t get it done. 

I reckon when Oklahoma decided to leave the Big 12 is precisely when Lincoln Riley decided to leave Oklahoma. He saw the trail of dead bodies that Nick Saban and Kirby Smart left in their rear view and walked, no, RAN out to California. Another dead conference where he can be a a big fish in a small pond. Lincoln Riley is a little bitch boy. Terrified of the SEC, it just fucking means more. 

How To Stop Reliving Your Bad Drunken Nights

If you’re unlucky it hits you as soon as you wake up the next morning. Sometimes it comes to you in the shower. A certain phrase or word could trigger it. Even worse in a text, forcing you to face reality. But when you’ve had a bad night of drinking, the humiliation comes in one form or another. You convinced yourself it probably wasn’t that bad, but it was. 

Maybe you were embarassing. Maybe you were mean. Maybe you stroked the ego of someone you don’t even like. Maybe you agreed on topics you’re actually against or made promises you had no intention of keeping. Maybe you professed your love. Maybe you faked love. Whatever the case, the cringes toll for thee. 

When a flashback of an argument, or a heart to heart, or a failed pursuit invades your thinking space, it’s paralyzing. You cringe, suck your teeth, or maybe even groan and yell it out. So how do you make it stop?

First you need to get in the right mind set. It happened, don’t give yourself false hope by trying to convince yourself otherwise. It was just your time to pay the piper. Don’t make excuses of outside influences causing you to overdo it. It was just your turn to take one on the chin. If you haven’t made an ass of yourself while enjoying a drink, cast the first stone. Don’t feel ashamed of something everyone has done. Shame is nothing. Shame is just something the Catholics invented to force you to give them money. 

Stop the bleeding. If it was a public spectacle odds are you’re gonna catch some heat in the inbox. If your friends are like mine, you’ll most likely be burned at the stake where everyone can see, the group chat. This is where I like to take what I call, the “Varys Approach”. I am availible to all my friends, I am a trustworthy confidant, I’m accepting, and above all else, I keep receipts. I’m a group historian in a sense. If anyone tries you in the chat, send them a screen shot or an embarrassing picture of themselves. I personally have a file on all my friends. It’s not blackmail, it’s just reminding them of a time when you kept your mouth shut when they had a bad moment. Its definitely not blackmail. 

Clear your mind. The Taoist monks of China have been trying to clear their mind of thought through meditation since before JC. Their government finally released a reasonable thoughtlessness solution nearly 2,000 years later- Tik Tok. It’s my personal choice because it fills me with useless fun facts, traveling fantasies, and people getting hit in the nuts. Whatever works for you, deploy it. Netflix, video games, sports, movies, whatever it is that gets you to that point where your brain is on airplane mode. 

Indulge. This probably isn’t the best time to be rewarding yourself but fuck it. You already abandoned your morals last night, you can afford to lose the diet too. Order food you shouldn’t eat. Grab a snack. Eat the ice cream in the freezer. Give yourself something to look forward to. Time heals all and you’re in a race against a countdown til this thing you did doesn’t matter anymore. Fill the countdown with things you enjoy. 

Accept what you did but don’t forgive yourself just yet. Especially if you did something you need to apologize for. Just apologize and accept the consequence. People who ask for forgiveness have already granted it to themselves. Don’t be that person. 

If all else fails go get drunk again, you’ll be less hard on yourself. It’s a Hail Mary but it has a high conversion rate. Unless of course you were violent or committed a crime or something. If that’s the case, maybe it’s time to hang em up. 

Of course your best course of action is just don’t be a idiot when you blackout. Or don’t blackout ever. I don’t know, I’ve heard it works but haven’t tried it yet.

Everyone’s had a bad night, you’re doing fine.

Going To A Restaurant On Thanksgiving

Yesterday was the day after Thanksgiving Eve. A day of reflection spent pretending that you’re not hungover and like all of your cousins. This year was something. My dad had been reinstated to holidays since he’s started dating my mother again. My family couldn’t go to my aunt’s like normal since my grandfather won’t talk to my uncle. And I’d been ignoring all my friends texts messages because of my performance from the night before. So what did we do? Kicked a field goal down 28 in the fourth. We went to a restaurant on Thanksgiving. 

I picked up my little brother from his trailer in the late afternoon. Normally not one to miss a holiday Instagram opportunity, he walked out in a hoodie, beanie, and cigarette hanging off his lip looking like he hadn’t slept. It’s why I decided to drive him, misery loves company. We tried erasing flashbacks of the night before by chain smoking menthols and playing alternative music too loud. It didn’t work. 

Despite our 3:30 reservation, we didn’t sit until 3:15. I don’t know if you’ve been to a restaurant on Thanksgiving but it’s a sad place. It’s mostly fathers having their crack at it while their kids scroll through the phones. Or other various characters who dressed like they had been kicked out of their family. Plus all the servers look at you like it’s your fault that they’re not seeing their family today.

It took saying grace for my grandpa to bring up my uncle. No one found it as funny as I did but he gave me a wink after his rant. After my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s we took his car since he insisted he could still drive. We took it about two years ago and whenever he asks where it is we say it’s only been in the shop for a week. But it wasn’t always that easy. My uncle, who’d spent the most time with my grandpa, fell on the grenade for us. When we first took the car grandpa lashed out at all of us. My grandma and aunt took the brunt of it. So my uncle sat him down, asked him if he trusted him, told him he took the car and explained the dangers of him driving. Since my grandfather’s sick, he said my uncle stopped in the middle of the Outerbridge, dangled his keys in his face, and chucked them over the side. Now he says the next time my uncle will see him is at his wake. None of it is true of course, I actually have my grandpa’s car now and even drove it to the restaurant. 

My grandma was stressed over my grandpa. My mom was sad her sister couldn’t be there. My dad was overcompensating too much for missing the last three Thanksgivings. My brother couldn’t stop going to the bathroom. My sister’s baby, the youngest of her four, wouldn’t stop climbing on her and crying no matter what tricks we threw at him. We were the crying baby table. And my flashbacks wouldn’t stop coming. 

But do you know what? My grandma gave the funny toast she does every year. My oldest niece and I played a game where we make funny faces and the first one to laugh loses. I lost every time. My sister and I almost fell on the floor from the look my mom gave my little brother when he came out of the bathroom wiping his mouth. My nieces were so excited to ask my parents to keep going up to the buffet to make their plates. And my Grandpa had us dying when he kept having his great grandchildren recite “knock-knock” jokes that made absolutely no fucking sense. 

It wasn’t what we were used to. It wasn’t what we preferred. But any day on this side of the ground is a good day. And I was thankful that we ate together, even if it was at a depressing ass restaurant. 

The Yankees Don’t Buy Players But I Wish They Would

I’m in a three person group chat with a Sox and Mets fan so I’m often left defending myself from a two pronged attack. It’s always the same cliche throwaway insults during this time of year. “Yankees fans think they can sign everyone”, “Yankees have to buy their championships” “blah blah blah”. They hear each other say it so much that they never stopped to realize that it really isn’t true. 

Ok so there’s Gerrit Cole, I recognize that. But 300 mil is the new 200 mil, right? Plus the Mets went out and gave stinky Lindor like a gazillion dollars. So whatever. But outside of Cole, that’s pretty much it. 

Last year we signed a thirty four Corey Kluber to one year 11 million. Not exactly breaking the bank. We also initially signed a LeMahieu that nobody wanted to a two year 24 million dollar contract. 

Outside of those three players, who in the Yankees starting rotation or lineup was “bought”? No one that’s who. 

Gary Sanchez came up through the farm. Voit traded for. Rizzo traded for. Got Gleyber and Ursela in a trade. Judge drafted. Stanton traded for. Gardner drafted. Joey Gallo traded for. German came up through the farm. Jordan Montgomery and Nestor Cortes were drafted. Jameson Taillon traded for. 

But but but Yankees always buy All Stars! No they don’t. They’re much more likely to to trade for an All Star and that’s another team’s fault, not ours. So tell Stroman to shut his bitch ass up. 

But I wish we would buy all the all stars. I wanted Bryce Harper and Manny Machado. Go crazy. I was promised a fully operational Death Star and what I got was Brian Cashman with a claw machine laser pointer. In the words of Tyrion Lannister, “I wish I was the monster you think I am.” 

I reserve the right to rescind this entire blog if the Yankees sign Seager/Kershaw/Freeman/Scherzer. 

Big Bait Catches Big Rat

I read somewhere once that if people were gambling on a coin flip and there were an equal amount of people betting on heads as there is tails, the handicapper would have to change the 50/50 odds. Makes sense right? If the amount of winnings equal the amount of losses, the house can’t win. So they throw little nuggets to entice you to one side or another. Rat lines, as they’re commonly known. I know they’re manipulating me, but I ate the cheese anyway.

How the fuck do they always know? I’ve never accepted “algorithms” as an acceptable answer. That’s cheating and they know it. There’s absolutely no reason for Aaron Rodgers to throw for four touchdowns and 385 yards only to lose to Kirk Cousins and a 4-5 Vikings team. What’re you some fuckin wizard? HOW DID YOU DO KNOW THAT? 

In case you can’t tell the last three weeks have kicked my balls in. Since I was getting soo much wrong I decided to only bet heavy on one game. You guessed it, Packers. “And Eve bit the apple and suddenly knew she was naked.” It’s just.. I thought… you know, it was so low because Aaron hadn’t been playing so they were overcompensating for his drama and I would catch them slipping. I’m playing mind games with an invisible entity. 

After the Packers game I went to the 7/11 across the street to get a bag of Tostitos. I ordered Skillet Queso from Chili’s and it got delivered with dip but no chips. Imagine the state of me then. Legally I think I could fight that kitchen to the death with no repercussions. The 50 something year old guy in front of me came in only for scratch offs. He was skinny and frail looking. He had dirt in his fingernails and holes in his sweatpants. I pitied him. Scratch offs seemed suddenly cruel to promise a life of grandeur to a man who would never see it fulfilled. On the way to our cars the man lit a cigarette and I hit my vape and we both left in our respective Hondas. Fuck. 

I decided then to take a break from gambling. I vetoed my decision almost immediately when I realized Thanksgiving was this Thursday. I haven’t canceled the break, just postponed it. Might as well start ripping my sweat pants now. 

Gamble Responsibly. 

High School Reunions Have Been Rendered Useless

Hollywood would have you believe that high school reunions are magical places. A chance to settle old scores, overturn unrequited love, and prove to everyone once and for all that they were wrong about you. Romy, Michele, and the American Pie crew all had me convinced that this one going to be one of the best nights of my life. But is anyone even going to these things anymore?

I could see the entire thing in my head. The jock still in his letterman jacket whos 3/4 bald and turned town drunk. The pregnant cheerleader who’s lost a step chain smoking menthols. The nerd who got hot. The quiet kid turned millionaire. But that’s not the case, is it?

One thing you don’t think about as a senior in high school is how you’re only(!) 28 at your ten year reunion. Ten years is an enternity at that age. It’s more than half your existence. You’re going to be so different in ten years! Except none of us really are.

Sure, some people are doing great. But majority still live home with their parents paying off their student loans. Their more sophisticated pallet turned into doing cocaine on the weekends instead of buying dime bags from the kid who graduated two years ago. You got some change in your pocket now. But going from server to bartender wasn’t really the “next step” you were hoping for. We all still drink Fridays and Saturdays, except we stopped playing sports so everyone put on a couple pounds. Otherwise, ain’t shit changed, so do what’s the point of catching up?

Apparently my line of thinking seems to be the consensus since I’m not having a High School Reunion this year. Ten years have gone by and there’s no committee, no Facebook group announcement, not even a group text message. Apparently no one feels the need to relive our private school years just yet. My mother, as she’s contractually bound to do, is very upset over this despite it not concerning her whatsoever. Which developed into hearing allll about her high school reunion. 

I’ve seen pictures of my dad’s ten year high school reunion. They were much older ten years after high school than my graduating class is. Anyone in a picture with a yellow hue over it was old even when the picture was taken. They had families with three kids hanging off of them and talked about the remodel they're doing on their kitchen. I’d say less than ten people have children in my class and none of them did it on purpose. My dad’s class introduced their spouses and talked to people they hadn’t seen since high school. They wore name tags just in case they forgot each other’s names already? I know maybe three couples who got married and it was to the same person they were feeling up when the ball dropped in 2010. 

I know everything about everyone I went to high school with whether I want to or not. Social media has changed the game. I know the ones who are trying to start their own shitty company with no business model. I know the names of the babies of people who got knocked up. I know the ones who selling cable packages and won’t acknowledge the pyramid scheme they’re in. I know the ones who turned hippie and make videos on their holistic healing methods. I know what the quiet girl who sat behind me in Trig had for breakfast this morning and I’ve never even said a word to her. 

Whats there to catch up on? We’ve had impromptu reunions at DJais and Bar A every summer. I didn’t care to hear about what stocks they invested in then and I don’t care for it now. If they had anything interesting to tell me at a ten year reunion I’d reply “Oh yeah, I saw you post that,” and then the conversation would flatline. My parents needed a reunion because they got married four years after high school and never saw anyone again. I saw a kid I was in a school project with once in Belmar and smoked a cigarette with him on the porch and watched the cops write him a ticket for peeing in public. 

We’re all caught up. No ones different, nothing drastics happend, and it turns out ten years isn’t a long time. Guess we’ll have to wait til the next one. Which is fine by me. I always needed extensions in high school, and now I have til the twenty year to get my shit together. 

How To Become A Holiday Shopping God

I have an affinity for thrift stores. The possibility of getting one over on an idiot who doesn’t know what they’re selling is enough to make my mouth water. That adrenaline rush is what led me to finding my secret favorite website: shopgoodwill. 

Goodwill stores are in thirty-six states around the US. They’re a place to go shopping for used items like clothing, electronics, art, jewelry, furniture, etc. All of the items are donated, mainly from families who didn’t know what to do with all grandma’s crap when she croaked. Occasionally, you’ll find something half decent in a store but those moments are few and far between. Why? Because all the good shits on the website. 

Not many people know this, but Goodwill has online shopping. It’s an endless catalog of wonders that replenishes itself every day. It’s a bidding system that awards the highest bidder when the time runs no matter what, no extensions. There’s 30 different categories, each with thousands of items to cyber sift through. It’s easy to get lost for hours. 

The site has everything. Right now some of the most popular items are Travis Scott’s Cactus Jack Jordan’s, a WW1 helmet, a lot of 7 Nintendo Wii’s with 19 controllers, and a Christian Dior full length mink coat. The highest bid for an item at the moment is 40k for a diamond bracelet that was appraised at 119k. 

But I bob and weave all that garbage. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel for the treasure no ones found yet. To be successful you need to know where to search, good timing, and a little bit of luck. 

Keywords are crucial. Know what you’re looking for and then filter it by most bids. Let other people find do they heavy lifting, most of the time they’ll still only bid $15 dollars anyway. Then you sit and wait til the final minute when they think they’re safe and pull the rug out. I’ve gotten things like vintage Ray Bans, a Widdy dart board, and a signed Gerorge RR Martin signed GOT book doing this. 
I got so good at buying stuff for myself on shopgoodwill that I decided to do my Christmas shopping for others. Today I bought my brother a dope Camel ash try from the 90’s, a collectible Batman glass from McDonald’s that we used to drink sodas out of at our grandma’s house, and a signed headshot of Billy Zane. All that plus a Deion shirt from the Barstool store and I can cross him off the list. Four things I know he’ll love and it cost me less than $70.
Whatever someone likes, type it into the search bar. If they like Star Wars, I searched that once and found a sweet 80’s Miller High Life poster with Lando and chained up Leia looking like they were about to get it on. If they like a college program, search that for old starter jackets and old memorabilia for cheap. Want an N64? They have 29 consoles available right now. Hell if they like Brett Favre, there’s a signed photo with the certicate of authenticity currently at $9.99. Don’t believe me? 

I still have some bids out so I’m not going to tell you where are the treasured buried, but it’s out there. 
You can go the weird and obscure route like myself. Or check popular sports items and video games and shit. Just set an alarm so you don’t get sucked into a vortex. The site is your oyster. If you can think it, shopgoodwill has something for it. Come Christmas time, people will think you’re a god and you never have to tell them it barely cost you a dime.  

Robert Durst Of HBO Documentary “The Jinx” Sentenced For Murder

Obviously “true crime” has been around for eons, but I feel like The Jinx was the first time that streaming platforms realized it was a gold mine. It’s the first one I remember streaming anyway, back when HBOMax was HBOGo. Ten months after Jinx’s success, Netflix released Making A Murderer and opened the flood gates. 

The statute of limitations on spoiling The Jinx is way past due. It came out seven years ago, get a grip. So to refresh your memory, The Jinx goes into the life of Robert Durst and the suspicious deaths that seemed to follow him around the country. It started with the disappearance of his wife Kathie in 1982. To this day her body has never been recovered. Then Robert moved to California and became close friends with writer, Susan Berman. Right before Susan was set recant her alibi given for Durst to police, she was found executed in her apartment. Robert then moved to Galveston, Texas. Nearly a year after Susan’s death, the body of his neighbor and friend Morris Black was discovered dismembered in a river. Robert confessed to this murder and got off on a self defense argument. At the end of the documentary, the filmmaker provides damning evidence against Robert to his face and he excuses himself to the bathroom on a hot mic. This chilling video shows Robert talking to himself on the unsuspecting microphone saying, “There it is, your caught….What the hell did I do? Killed them all, of course.” Durst was arrested the day before the release of the documentary. 

Every where Robert Durst went, the person he was closest with wound up murdered. Now you may be wondering why law enforcement just shrugged their shoulders like yeah we’re not sure who did this shit. Robert is from an old New York family who’s built a real estate empire with unlimited money. According to Forbes, the Durst family owns more than 16 million square feet in both New York and Philadelphia in various skyscrapers and luxury housing. They even own 10% of the World Trade Center. The family is worth 8.1 billion, with a “b”. So they let little Robbie run rampant. 

It’s a shame really that saying someone “sounds like a murderer” will never hold up in court. Obviously with all this death surrounding Robert, he was looked into. The second he opened his mouth you knew he did that shit. But with unlimited lawyers and resources, prosecution was never able to get anything to stick. Until now. 

In mid October, Robert Durst was sentenced to life without parole for the murder of Susan Berman. Some of the strongest evidence came from the documentary itself. It included a letter that was written to police to locate Berman’s body which misspelled the word “Beverley” for Beverly Hills. Thefilmmakers  uncovered a previous letter from Durst to Berman where “Beverley” was misspelle and had the handwriting analyzed and matched. Robert’s bathroom confessional was also used again him. Found guilty, first-degree murder. 

Now, a grand jury has indicted Robert Durst for the murder of his wife in 1982. It might seem like beating a dead horse, but in opening this case Kathie’s family hopes to put pressure on the District Attorney to look into the possible involvement of Robert’s brother and head of the Durst Organization, Douglas in influencing the case. A possible forty year cover up hangs in the balance. 

Robert’s currently in custody in California. He’s hospitalized for bladder cancer and contracting Covid at 78 years old. His lawyer is concerned for his health. I’m not. Robert Durst got 23 and 48 more years than Susan Berman and Kathie McCormack. Rot in hell, little bitch.

Are We Now Responsible For Britney Spears?

Fine, I’ll do it.

Freeing Britney Spears is one of those rare moments where the entire internet is an agreement. We kumbaya’d, we protested, we made documentaries. And we won. Britney is free. But has anoybody stopped to wonder if we might have “unleashed” the former Princess of Pop?

Let me start by saying, I think Britney’s father is a monster. Controlling her medication, financials, and overall life while forcing her to perform is gross. He even looks like a villain. 

I truly believe that we failed Britney Spears. Her family failed her, the media failed her, and we the public failed her. She was subjected to inappropriate interviews where she was hit on, Justin Timberlake talking about her virginity, and the paparazzi’s dependency on her mental issues. She was clearly robbed of a normal childhood, and I’m glad she’s now in control of her own life. But I pray she’s capable of a being an adult. 

Have we forgotten about 2007 Britney? Some of these kids wearing #FreeBritney t-shirts were still in diapers during the star’s year long breakdown. So allow me to break down the breakdown. 
Her very public divorce from K-Fed was the genesis of Britney’s spiral. She started partying along with the queens of Hollywood. Her long nights and early morning with Lindsey Lohan and Paris Hilton ultimately ended with Britney checking into rehab. She wrote a letter to her fans on how she’s looking forward to coming out bigger and better than ever. A self-fulfilling prophecy of epic proportions. 
The day after she checked herself out of said rehab is when we get her famous head shave freak out. I understand it was a statement of her being in control of herself. But she reportedly did it herself after the hairdresser refused to buzz her saying, “I just don’t want anybody, anybody touching my head. I don’t want anybody touch my hair. I’m sick of people touching my hair.” Totally understandable, but maybe don’t go to hair salon? The number one place for hair touching. 
Britney checked into a rehab two days later. Checked herself out in less than a day and then returned to finish the program after her estranged husband asked for an emergency custody hearing. 
Her divorce with Federline was finalized that July and she now had to fight for custody. That August Britney was charged with a hit and run and driving without a license two weeks after a judge mandated random drug tests stating he found her to be “habitual, frequent, and continuous” user of drugs and alcohol. 
The custody battle ends in October and Britney is forced to relinquish temporary custody of her two boys to her ex-husband. A few days after it was finalized, her bodyguard, Tony Barretto, accused Britney of child abuse and sent a referral to DCFS on the grounds of “issues of nudity by Ms. Spears, drug use, and safety issues involving the children post-rehab.”
The last straw actually came in early 2008. After a visitation with her two sons, Britney refused to return her children to her ex husband. Federline’s bodyguard allegedly tried to convincing Britney, who he claims was intoxicated, to return custody of the boys. After an hour and a half the police were called. The children were returned and Britney was taken for psychiatric evaluation. That February, she’s put into conservatorship under her father. 
We know now that granting dear old dad responsibility was the wrong move. But all of the actions listed above came before the conservatorship. Who was the architect of her behavior? If you want to say that Britney shouldn’t be blamed for her actions back then due to the way she was treated, that’s fine. I actually agree with you. But the fact remains that the person who was in and out of rehab, was called a habitual drug user by a judge, was accused of child abuse, and then involved her children in a custody standoff with the police is now free of supervision. 
I believe in second chances. Even fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh chances. I think we can agree to forgive a forty year old Britney Spears for the actions of a twenty-six year old. But if she goes off the deep end again, we can no longer blame her father for her actions, and we’ve accepted that she’s not responsible. So will the FreeBritney movement take accountability? I doubt it. 
I hate to say it but how ironic would it be if the #FreeBritney movement is ultimately what lands her in jail. The world is rooting for Britney. I’m rooting for Britney. But after being on lockdown for thirteen years, she deserves to let loose a bit. I just pray that she takes every resource available to successfully transition back into freedom. Because Britney knows best, the only thing the media loves more than a redemption story is a crash and burn. Their cash cow is back. Every move she makes will be under the microscope. Don’t take the bait. Because you know that they’re fucking dying to write that “Oops She Did It Again” headline. 

Is Instagram Dead?

Way back when in 2012, when Facebook was being overrun by people with paid off mortgages, Instagram was the place to be. It was a free for all of long hashtags, fake candids, and blatant cyber flirting. No stories, no meme pages, no ads. Just people you actually knew trying to convince the world they were good looking, kind hearted, or interesting. 

Yesterday I found myself scrolling on Instagram with my brain on airplane mode when something struck me. I’d been scrolling for like three minutes and hadn’t seen a single post of anyone I actually knew. I follow 701 people, where the hell is everyone?

What I was subject to was absurd. Multiple meme pages that post identical jokes minutes apart from each other. Sports profiles that treat it like Twitter with the amount of quotes they post as pictures. Seriously, Bleacher Report should be in jail for how much they spam. And I shit you not, a sponsored advertisement of a product I don’t follow a minimum every four posts. Honestly try it. You won’t get past four real posts without an ad. How many fucking NFTs do you need Zuckerberg?

I haven’t posted a picture since July 30th, 2019. I’m aware Instagram isn’t holding it’s breath for my next post, or living or dying on my participation. But I feel like no one posts anymore unless they have a brand they need to maintain. 

Where are all the real people? Is that why Instagram shoves memes, highlights, and “posts you might like” down your throat? To distract you from the fact that out of the actual 1,000 people you follow, only 12 of them have posted something in the last three weeks? If Instagram isn’t deceased, it’s certainly on life support. 

Instagram has essentially become Facebook in that it’s initial purpose has become so diluted that you only go back to it out of habit. But you don’t stay long. I had a purge yesterday in unfollowing meme pages, sports profiles (hello? Twitter?), and celebrities. I kept a handful of the essentials of course, but otherwise I’m back to basics. I must say it’s made my mindless scrolling much more enjoyable, even if I’m still up to my neck in ads. 

The Weirdest Competitions Around The World

I’ve always resented people who say they love to travel, like it’s a part of who they are. Cause like no shit? Have you ever met someone who says “nah hate traveling actually”. Loads of people are just living for their next vacation. I’m on that track. 

I’m subscribed to all sorts of alert systems for cheap flights to far away lands. I even pay for one honestly. Yes I never buy any of them? I’ve realized I’ve paid for these things, not to actually travel there, but to fantasize about traveling there. It’s embarrassing really. But there’s always some bachelor party or out of state wedding that forces me to burn my time off. So I stick to pretending like I’m going to travel. 

I hate islands, they’re all the same. I like cool shit and weird traditions. I’ve written about strange festivals that I want to visit around the US in a blog here. My newest obsession is wanting to see the wackiest competitions around the world. Here’s my list of my top targets. 

6. International Cherry Pit Spitting 

There’s cherry pit spit competitions all around the world including US, Canada, Germany, Australia, and France. The competition is exactly that the title says it is. You try and spit a cherry pit as far as you can. It’s extremely competitive. There has even been a cheating scandal at the Witzenhausen competition where a contestant was manipulating his pits by surgically placing metal pellets inside. But no one takes it more serious than my man Rick “Pellet Gun” Krause, 19 time champion and Guinness World Record for furthest cherry spit. “You gotta definitely have good lung capacity, you gotta have your tongue muscles have to be strong enough to get a really good seal around the pit,”- Pellet Gun. I really just want to meet Rick. 

5. Toe Wrestling Championships

Go toe-to-toe with the best competitors of England from something straight out of Rex Ryan’s wet dreams. Intially born in Ye Olde Royal Oak Inn by a bunch of the lads who were trying to figure out something that England could dominate in. The sport is now trying to edge its way into the Olympics. Much like arm wrestling, the object of the match is to lock big toes with your opponent and pin their foot against the opposite plank. These fierce warriors have taken every measure from shaving their ass for better grip on the grass to surgically removing their toe nails for that extra edge. 

4. Buzkashi

Buzkashi is a popular sport in Central Asian that centers around throwing a headless goat into a raised concrete pit. It’s four on four with both teams on horseback. This shit is wild. They knock each other off of their horses, jump off horses with the goat head-first into the concrete pit, and fall off trying to pick up the ball(goat). The gameplay is so insane that the fact that them dragging around a headless goat isn’t even the craziest part. 

3. Air Sex Championships

 

I’m so Catholic in the bedroom that I would laugh so fucking hard watching these people pretend to have sex in front of a bunch of strangers. I get embarrassed to show how I have sex with the person I’m having sex with? I can’t imagine the stones you have to have to do this on a stage. The girl up top is going for the sneak attack reach around. Middle guy is doing what looks to be two in the stink, tongue in the pink, and moonwalk on the little man in the canoe. Look at the guy on the bottom! He’s got a purple dildo sticking out of his mouth! 

2. El Colacho (Baby Jumping)

What’re you doing that for? This competition takes place in Spain on the Feast of Corpus Christi. Which is weird, because like I said, Catholic school for fourteen years and I don’t ever remember seeing this in the Bible? Is this the Church’s alternate solution to abortion? Give the baby a chance and let Jack Be Nimble settle their fate? Just so many questions. Do you have to pay a premium to put your baby at the front part of the blanket? What happens if it rains? You HAVE to postpone it. What’s going on?

1. Cooper’s Hill Cheese Roll

This one is a bit more well known than the rest of the list. Every year in Gloucester, England a massive crowd of people watch these idiots sprint down a steep hill after a wheel of cheese. I love watching people eat shit, can’t get enough of it. These people do multiple fully extended flips mid air like those snowboard accident videos. I think the only thing you actually win is the cheese at the bottom of hill and a dislocated everything? 

One day. One day I’ll be able to go to all the ridiculous competitions and festivals I want. I just need to hit the lottery, get more pto, or people to stop getting married. 

Bradley Cooper Is Spearheading The Next Great Sci-fi Project

Dune has been a massive success. The first weekend in the US alone brought in $41 million during a time where nobody seems to be going to the movies. It’s Villeneuve’s biggest opening of his career beating out Sicario, Arrival, and Blade Runner 2049. Super impressive especially if you consider all the people who watched on HBO Max instead of going to the movies. So now all the studios are going to do what they always do, and try and find another Dune while the iron’s hot.

I’m telling you right now, the next great sci-fi franchise is Hyperion, written by Dan Simmons. The first book of this series is the best book I’ve ever read. When I first read Hyperion, I ripped through the internet trying to find anything that said it would be hitting the big screen. That’s when I came across a Reddit post from like 2012 that alleged Bradley Cooper’s obsession with the series. Yahtzee. 

Then it came out that Syfy had bought the rights to Hyperion. Which was shit because Syfy had already butchered a triology that I loved in “The Magicians”. I convinced myself I was happy it would be a TV series, because that’s the outlet I believe could best portray the massive world. But I didn’t have high hopes. I wasn’t leaving myself vulnerable to another Syfy let down. 

So imagine my surprise when I read that Bradley Cooper's new production company bought the rights from Syfy. He’s been trying to push this through Hollywood for like a decade. It’s a series he’s passionate about and proved it by taking it on as his company’s first project. He’s already managed to get Tom Spezialy to sign on, who did the kickass adaptation of “Watchmen” on HBO. Right now it’s set to be a movie but I don’t even care as long as Bradley Cooper stole it from Syfy. 

Here is my spoiler free description that I’ve previously written for the first book: 

“Hyperion by Dan Simmons is probably my favorite book and I’ve never met anyone who’s heard of it. Simmons creates this complex universe with intricacies that make you feel like you’ve lived there all your life. This level of world building is paralleled to only maybe George RR Martin. 

Thousands of years in the future, seven pilgrims take the journey to Hyperion because one of them has the best chance to stop the mythical Shrike. The Time Tombs that held the immortal killing godlike creature are deteriorating. Both religious prophecy and super computer confirm that these random people from all walks of life have the best chance to prevent the universal apocalypse. But only one will stop the Shrike and undo the tragedy in their life, the rest of them are walking to their deaths. 

The pilgrims consist of a Catholic priest, a disgraced war hero, a drunk poet, a nature Templar, a Jewish scholar with his infant daughter, a private investigator, and a government official. Each one tells their story of why they took the journey on the way to the Tome Tombs and why they risk their lives in front of the Shrike. With each passing tale, it grows more and more difficult to figure out who you are rooting for to be the last one standing. 

Dan Simmons does an unbelievable job in painting different planets with their different properties and histories. While still acknowledging “Old Earth” and where humanity stemmed from. His foresight for future technologies is genius. Houses that have portals for doors that result in each room being on a different planet. Robots that have the memories and live the lives of humanity’s most famous artists, philosophers, and leaders. Hyperion is really unmatched.” 

Dune is amazing, I’ve read that as well. There most likely is no Star Wars, or Hyperion, or anything of that level of sci-fi without Dune. It was groundbreaking for 1965 literature. But it’s publication is it’s blessing and it’s curse. Just like the first-gen of anything, it’s been tweaked, built on, and improved. Think of the first PlayStation when it came out. Iconic, couldn’t even believe what you were playing. Respect, but Hyperion is a PlayStation 5. 

What’s The Worst Text That You’ve Sent By Accident?

Have you ever had your heart drop to the center of the earth once you’ve realized you’ve sent a bad text to the wrong person? We’re all experts at phones now, but sometimes our wires get crossed. You become so concerned with velocity that you lose out on accuracy. Maybe you sent the text to the person you were talking shit about because they were on your brain. The ol’ Freudian slip. Or something that was meant for one group chat went to another. Well I’ve done both. 

I think I was still a senior in high school for the first one. Couple of the boys around town decided to have a poker night at this kid Robbie’s house. That’s his real name too, I don’t care cause I don’t like him. It’s not like you’re gonna be like “Oh shit! That Robbie?” Well Robbie was talking smack for weeks about how he’d take all our money in poker. I don’t think anyone actually liked him, but he was one of those kids who was on every sports team with us so we just put up with him. Plus he was the only one who could host so we couldn’t not invite him to his own house. Turns out he actually was good at poker and I got knocked out in like the first hour. So I’m texting my best friend like “Fuck this. We’re not letting Robbie win.” So we start cheating. I stand behind Robbie, and every time my best friend goes in with him, I text him Robbie’s hand. Very scandalous shit. It was working perfectly until my dumbass texted Robbie his own hand. 

“What the fuck? Why did you just text me my cards?”

“…..Uh… No, I was, like, I was saying that’s a good hand.” 

“Fuck this. I’m taking my money back you guys are being sketchy.”

“Shut the FUCK up Robbie, nobody’s being sketchy finish the fuckin game.”

We stopped cheating after that and he ran our pockets. 

The second one was way worse. Within each group chat, there are smaller side chats that talk shit about the collective group. And if you’re not in one of those sub-chats either no one likes you or no one trusts you. My story happened to take place in a work chat. Instead of texting my smaller work friends chat, I texted everyone I work with, including the big bosses. 

We had a mandatory unpaid work event that everyone needed to attend. Now I had no problem going, I wanted to go, truly, it was an event I would have been proud to attend. But I didn’t… and it was a 9/11 Memorial. Now before you go judging me, I had a funeral the same day for a 36 year-old. Who’s the asshole now? 

My bosses were aware that I couldn’t make the memorial, I had already spoken to them and they were fine with it. They sent out the group text the night before detailing the time we were expected, what to wear, and the itinerary for the ceremony. I’ll admit, I had been drinking, I had just left a wake. Seeing an opportunity for a shock value joke, since my work friends didn’t know I wasn’t attending, I sent the following text to what I thought was my work friends’ chat: “Oh I’m not going to that shit. It’s not even catered?” To a 9/11 Memorial. I hate myself. It would’ve landed in the correct chat, it’s mostly dark humor and they obviously would’ve known I was kidding. But I sent it to everyone I work with instead. 

I started getting individual messages saying “OMFG YOU DIDN’T!” and “You’re a fucking a idiot.” My blood ran cold, I thought I was gonna pass out. Only my big boss responded to my stupid fucking dumbass idiot text saying, “I’m very disappointed in your response and I hope you make time to attend.” I didn’t even acknowledge my mistake. What was I supposed to say? Wrong text? It made too much sense with what was said. I was joking? About a fucking 9/11 Memorial?! So I just pretended like I never sent it. Texted my boss the next morning to remind him I wouldn’t be at the memorial because I had a funeral and he just said “Sorry for your loss”. And that was it. But I know they think I’m a giant piece of shit now. 

This is the part where I’d try my best to impose some wisdom. Say double check your recipients before you start saying dumb shit. But we all know that’s never going to happen. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches and accept that you’re an idiot.  

Farts Will Always Be Funny

I’d go as far as saying everyone alive has a funny fart story. It’s impolite to fart in public and almost equally as rude to acknowledge them. Laughing when you’re not supposed to is the hardest laughter to suppress. So when someone lets it fly in an environment they’re not supposed to it makes for a good memory. 

Thanks to Camilla Parker Bowles, the future Queen of England, or Royal Consort or whatever, farting is back in the news cycle. If The Crown is to be believed, Camilla has a knack for upper-echelon gossip. Her juiciest topic of late being a presidential two-cheek squeak. 

“It was long and loud and impossible to ignore”

Joe Biden farting during Scotland’s Climate Change Conference in front of the world’s leaders and elites is impossibly funny. Just picture the petitions and powerpoints on methane emissions as the most powerful man in the world releases his own methane from the third row. Our species at stake, on the topic of global doom, and Joe’s ripping freedom right in Camilla’s face. I like to picture his facial expression being unchanged as he farted. He’s 79 years old, how do you not laugh?

It’s the seriousness of the context that makes it stick the landing. My Dad farted once in the front row of Tarzan on Broadway and I couldn’t contain myself. But the hardest I ever laughed at a fart was at a funeral. I worked at a family-owned restaurant for ten years and one of the waitresses passed away unexpectedly. We were devastated. My work friends and I found ourselves sitting behind a regular who was famous for falling asleep in the restaurant. He farted in the middle of the memorial ceremony on the hardwood pew of the church. That thing had personality, it rumbled. We put our heads down and laughed for so long that coworkers came up to rub our backs thinking we were crying. In fairness there were tears. 

I can’t even blame Joe, I myself have Scotland related farting story. My Great Aunt was coming to our little New Jersey town from Glasgow when I was about 12. My mom lost her mind. It’s her godmother, they were a proper affluential family since my Great Uncle was a Judge in Scotland’s capital. My mom legit had us running etiquette lessons in the house. We had warnings on words we could and couldn’t say. My little brother and I were going to being separated for the entire meeting. So when we went to my grandparents for the grand introduction, I gave my Great Aunt Patsy a big hug and let out a noisy rumbler right in her arms. My dad’s and brother’s laughter did not help my case. My mother dragged me into the bathroom, ignoring my pleas. She put soap right in my mouth. Liquid soap too. She threw every threat she had at me with steam coming out of her ears. When we walked out my Aunt Patsy was still laughing. 

So Biden did a little toots? Lighten up Camilla, adulterer. There’s no chance he can control his own flatulence at this point. Tread lightly with your insinuations, because I’d wager her Majesty can’t either. And there’s nothing wrong with that, honestly it’s probably even funnier. 

In Defense Of Dave

Today was the day Business Insinder’s has been waiting for as they dropped their Dave Portnoy hit piece. What I assume is a blue print deployed by companies whenever they need to get their numbers up. I won’t even go into them advertising their pay wall to read the article, the ties to the stock market, and the curious timing of the publishing. What I’m trying to grasp is what was the message being portrayed. 

As far as I can tell, no criminal charges have been brought forward. So what are you trying to convey to the masses? An alternate title could have been “Dave Portnoy Has Sex With Women.” 

There’s a couple of lines in this article that I’d like to address that didn’t sit right with me. 
“He sent her graphic videos of other women he slept with,” I don’t know if this is true or not, but by Business Insider’s own admission, Dave sent a woman videos of what he does in the bedroom. And then we were what? Surprised by what he did in the bedroom? I’ve seen and know what Dave does in the bedroom and I’ve never even wanted to have sex with him. 
“He wasn’t funny at all. He just reminded me of a boring, grumpy old man.” Rude and unnecessary to the point you’re trying to get across. 
The middle of the article was the same old regurgitated stories of Dave and Barstool that surface every three months or so. These have been addressed so many times that it’s pointless for me to even comment on them. 
“Since 2020, Portnoy has issued commands on Twitter for his fans to ‘ATTACK!!!!’ people who criticize him or Barstool, tagging an employee who was hired expressively for the purpose of harassing Portnoy’s enemies.” First of all this just isn’t true. Dave has never asked fans to speak on his behalf. Does he deploy the Vindog, sure. But if you don’t understand that a 60 year old man flushing a poorly cropped head down the toilet is not aggressive pressure or intimidation (harassment), then you’re blind to the fact that you’re holding a comedy site to political standards. 
“While Portnoy was not a perpetrator in her harassment, Weiss believes he has created a culture in which the Stoolies run wild and Portnoy rarely tries to stop them.” Earlier in the article Business Insider  commented on how Barstool reports 54 million monthly unique visitors. To suggest that Dave is somehow responsible for the words and actions of 54 million people is deranged. Out of those 54 million, how many of them do you think “run wild”? Majority of Stoolies are regular every day people who enjoy the content without engaging in Twitter spats. There always was and always will be assholes on the internet. To imply that Dave Portnoy put them there is beyond credulous.
“Perpetually tan and bearded,” Not rude. 
“In the popular r/barstoolsports Reddit threads, Stoolies regularly discuss Portnoy’s conquests.” I mean come on, this is reputable journalism? A high school English teacher wouldn’t accept Reddit as a viable source. 
On a shared direct message to Dave from one of the women that were interviewed, it read, “I wanna be famous so bad I’d be so good at it” Now I’m not judging this DM. I respect the hustle, and applaud this woman’s honesty. Do you girl. But if these are the kind of DMs Dave’s receiving, are we really that shocked they’d rather make a Twitter headline than a police report?
Now I wasn’t there. I’m not saying Dave’s telling the truth. I’m not saying these girls are lying. I don’t know anybody involved. But what’s essentially happening, that I don’t appreciate, is that we are in the midst of a journalistic trial in which the defandant has already been deemed guilty without the right to defend himself. If something egregious did happen, send evidence from both sides into discovery, and have an actual trial where both parties state their case. 
But Business Insider already admitted that the woman they talked to doesn’t consider her interaction as sexual assault. So all we’re doing is spreading gossip about what Dave Portnoy does in the bedroom for a pay day. 

PSA To All The Crybabies Regarding CFB Playoff Rankings

Congratulations to the College Football Selection Committee for getting the rankings correct. I’ve been ripping shots of tears from CFB Twitter who have been stomping around and tugging at their hair because Alabama was ranked 2nd. Kudos to the committee for not giving into everyone’s inevitable whining. 

Every coach in the top four spots right now are either Nick Saban or one of his former assistants. You think he gets his ranking by accident?

We’re talking about a coach who has won 50% of the National Championships in the last twelve years. He’s played in eight out of those last twelve championship games. Alabama loses one away game to a top 15 team by three points and everyone’s all “Not fair! Alabama is terrible now! Blah bias blah biased! Wahhh but there’s other teams that are more deserving!” Shut the fuck up? That’s not the goal or the criteria. It’s the best four teams point blank. 

Cincinnati should have been in over them? Cincinnati? You mean the team that barely squeaked out a win against Navy? “But they beat Notre Dame away!” Shut your mouths about Notre Dame. They stink every year, even more so this season. ND beat Tulsa and FSU by only a field goal this year and both those programs have losing records. How much would you be willing to wager that Cincinnati is better than Alabama? No spread since they’re the better team. 

In fact, gun to your dick, name one team ranked behind Alabama that you’d pick to win at a neutral site. Chose correctly or say bye-bye to your clackers. Who has the balls to bet against the Tide in this scenario? No one. 

God I want Cincinnati so bad. If Alabama wins the SEC Championship they’ll be the number one seed. Hopefully the Big 10 eats itself or Oregon loses and Cincy sneaks into the four spot. If that’s the case, all you crybabies just signed their death warrant. 

But please, keep the whining and groaning coming. You’re only doing Nick Saban’s job for him. How do you motivate the #2 team when they’re getting everybody’s best game week in and week out? Show them the entire college journalism world telling them that they’re undeserving. Rat poison is a helluva drug. I’ll put up 500 on Alabama vs the field for the National Championship against anybody who’ll listen. As always, Roll Tide. 

What If Q Is Just A Big Ol Prankster

I have to be honest, I’m terrified about Q Anon and I have absolutely no idea what it actually is. I feel like five years ago they were just a person in a Guy Fawkes mask that would air out peoples’ dirty laundry on the internet. I’m not a political person in any sense, but I feel like they’ve now pivoted to political movements and conspiracy theories? 

My extent of Q Anon knowledge stems from scrolling through what’s trending on Twitter and my best friend’s mom occasionally telling us “what’s really happening in the world” while we’re trying to hit Same Game Parlays. So little to nothing. But what I do hear and see sometimes is so out there but I can’t help but giggle. 

For just a few seconds, imagine that Q Anon is actually the funniest person alive and the greatest internet troll of all time. Picture him/her/they sitting at a round table in a writing room: 

“Ok, what do we wanna do next? I was thinking we’d tell them JFK Jr. is coming back from the dead, again.”

“He died 22 years ago, no one’s going to believe that, Q.”

“Oh they’ll believe it.”

“Where are we going to say he’s going to reappear?”

“In the exact spot his where father was murdered…”

“There’s no fucking way you pull this off!”

And then they all sit back and laugh their asses off as they watch hundreds of middle aged white people with the same exact fashion sense standing in the rain saying the pledge of allegiance, waiting to see a resurrection. I mean, that’s a next level gag. That prank makes international headlines, Ashton Kutcher fucking wishes. 

What would even happened if he did show up? Supposedly he’s going to reinstate Trump? “Uhh sorry JFK  Jr., glad you’re alive and all but you can’t just announce someone as president, it doesn’t work like that.” Then Jr.’s just standing there twiddling his thumbs, like fuck I really thought that would work. 

Now I’m no fool. I’m sure there’s super elites, secret societies, and people behind the scenes with stupid amounts of power. But I would never base my personality around that? That’s for the back of my brain to worry about. The most amount of thought that conspiracies get from me is when I see something like it on a TV show or movie. Like the people in the gold animal masks in Squid Game. And I go “oh yeah that shits probably happening” and then I just go on with my life. Why? Cause you can’t prank a prankster. 

This isn’t my realm of expertise though. I’m not one of those weird people who share articles on Facebook and expect to change people’s world views. I don’t even vote. Politics isn’t for me, so naturally I really don’t know anything about Q Anon. I’m impressed with them in either outcome. If they’re telling the truth about anything, good for them for knowing all the secret spy things. If they’re lying to the masses to make people all silly, fucking hilarious. And if you’re reading this, Q, don’t kill me please. I’m just goofing around. Like you? Maybe?

The Gangster Greek Philosopher You’ve Never Heard Of

When most people picture the lives of Ancient Greek philosophers, it’s a bit stuffy. It’s all white marble, political discourse, professional rhetoric, and dudes in togas. But there was one man, quite possibly the most brilliant of them all, who said fuck all this and went the complete opposite way. 

Diogenes of Sinope was the cornerstone of the school of Cynicism. Extreme Cynicsim. Diogenes believed that we had gone too far in building societal norms and reverted back to his most natural self. Much like the well known Thoreau at his little pond. But Thoreau was a pussy compared to Diogenes. His goal was to relieve himself of all guilt, shame, and peer judgement through total self acceptance. To achieve true happiness in his eyes, he adopted the most idgaf lifestyle ever recorded. 

To prove his commitment to his Cynical philosophy, Diogenes abandonded his lavish lifestyle to live on the streets. His only wordly possession was a water bowl which he threw away when he saw a child drinking from cupped hands and famously said “What the fuck do I need this thing for.” He would beg for food, live in an oversized ceramic wine jar, and shit and piss whenever and wherever he felt the need. 

His most famous shit was in the middle of a theater. Although he was essentially a crazy hobo, Diogenes often found himself with a foot in both worlds. He was born to an influential father and knew the ways of the elites of Greece. Plus his intellect kept him in circles that he otherwise should have been shunned from. For example, one time a rich man invited Diogenes into his home and instructed him not to spit on the floor. So Diogenes spit in his face claiming it was the dirtiest place in the house. 

Diogenes didn’t have the ego of the other philosophers of his time. While his contemporaries were building schools to download their bullshit into new crops of students, Diogenes taught through actions and stunts. He was often seen carrying a latern at night and putting it in the face of passerby’s claiming he was looking for “an honest man in Greece.” 

Most didn’t agree with his methods, most notably Plato. Diogenes fucking hated Plato. He trolled him at every turn. Diogenes believed Plato to be an egomaniac who perverted the teachings of Socrates. Plato regarded Diogenes as a “Socrates gone mad.” It was popularized during this time to define man in the simplest form possible. Plato was praised for defining man as “featherless bipeds.” So Diogenes plucked a chicken and nailed it to Plato’s Academy exclaiming “Behold! Plato’s man!” 

His feud with Plato wasn’t his only interaction with one of the most recognizable names in your history books. Undoubtedly, my favorite Diogenes story involves Alexander The Great. Alexander was visiting Corinth where Diogenes lived and was greeted by all sorts of statesman and philosophers. Alexander had hoped to see Diogenes since he had previously turned down his invitation to meet. When Diogenes no showed Alexander’s arrival, the King of Macedonia sought out the homeless philosopher in the streets. He found Diogenes sun bathing and told him that he wanted to grant him any wish that he desires. Alexander was flexing his power while showing respect to Diogenes. In front of the massive crowd of people Diogenes responded “I wish you would stand out of my sun.” People were killed for far less. Diogenes basically told the most powerful man to ever live to go fuck himself. His guards waited for a command as Alexander walked away but instead he said “Surely if I was not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.” 

Diogenes was eventually kidnapped by pirates who intended to sell him as a slave. While on the ship he and the other slaves were treated to harsh conditions and little food. Diogenes argued with the pirates that before you sell a pig you fatten them up. They were fed handsomely thereafter. He then made a mockery out of his own auction, swaying the crowd to his favor. When asked what his strengths were, Diogenes replied, “ruling men” and pointed to a man named Xeniades shouting, “Sell me to this man! He needs a master!” And Xeniades bought him to tutor his sons. Despite many friends trying to buy his freedom, Diogenes rejected the offers and lived most of the rest of his life with Xeniades and his family. 

There are many theories on the death of Diogenes. Because it is believed many of his teachings and writings were destroyed for being too controversial, we rely heavily on the secondhand accounts of his life. It is widely agreed upon that he lived to the age of about 90. My favorite story of his death is that he one day decided to simply hold his breath until he died. 

So while your at work this week, thinking about how much you hate it, consider Diogenes. None of these things we do is real. It’s all fabricated social norms we constructed to pass the time until we die. Be Diogenes where it permits, just don’t shit and masturbate in public. 

Instagram Parents Need To Chill Out

My grandparents at 23 years old moved to a foreign country (here), three kids, not knowing a single soul, with only the money in their pocket. My grandfather carried around a picture of his daughters in his wallet. My parents were pretty normal. My little brother had a mullet for a little bit and maybe there’s one too many pictures where my mom made us match outfits but otherwise normal. But today? This new batch of parents who think they’re the first people to ever have children? Every trend. Every hour. 

You know when you see an old picture of yourself as a toddler in some whacky costume and weird haircut and ask your parents what the fuck were you thinking? They’ll say something like “Everyone was doing it!” or “That was the style then!” You can see fads aging badly in real time every day on Instagram. We don’t need an update every month on that stupid blanket with the month circled. Then you add their HIPAA violation chart. “I now weigh____… I’m ___tall…. I like____ … I dislike____…. I have ____ teeth.” Unless you plan on sending your kid to the combine next year I don’t need their measurables, Christine. And no shit Jaxon doesn’t like when his sibling steals his toys, nobody does. 

If it’s not an update, it’s a holiday picture. No matter how popular or obscure. The hot trend this month is pumpkin butts? What’re you doing? Take your baby out of that damn cornucopia and put some clothes on them. Painting their butt as a pumpkin, what’s wrong with you? Do you even keep up with the news? As we speak, they’re suing Kurt Cobain’s corpse for this type of shit.

But undoubtedly the worst kind of people are the ones with daily tips on how to raise a kid. Nobody gives a shit. Let people do their own thing and stop acting like you have all the answers. You got knocked up by a foodrunner when you were 23, none of your followers even have children. This is gonna be your big break? Tutorials on how to put a headband on a baby is your ticket out of that 9-5 that you hate? How did people even raise children until you came along and taught everyone your swaddling method?

Believe it or not I don’t blame people for posting their kids or baby constantly. It’s your family and you’re proud of it, I get that. Just stop with the theatrics, like everyone’s hanging on your newest update or calendar to drop. Just chill out.

And if you see me in person, stop showing me the pictures on your phone and forcing me to pretend to be interested. No one gives a shit about your kids, people used to understand that. There’s such a massive parenting gap with this generation and our predecessors that needs to be shrunk. For instance, when your kid sucks boobs and shits themselves, you post it on your story saying “No one said it’d be easy!” But when I do it, my parents tell me maybe it’s time to give up drinking for good.