My Future First Blog For Barstool?

I feel like I've just transferred into a high school mid senior year. I don't know where to sit, I ate lunch alone, and I'm terrified that everybody will make fun of me if I say the wrong thing. I normally get off on the wrong foot, first impressions aren't my strong suit. Most of my closest friends started out hating me. I'd compare myself to the old adage, that I'm like a finger in your ass. Uncomfortable at first, but you'll learn to love me. 

A little about myself, I have two speeds: angry or apprehensive. Majority of my blogs will have the tone of the aforementioned, along with my opinion on random things I find funny. I was a cop for the last two years, we can get more into this at another time. It's going to be a nightmare now that that's out. The narc jokes are going to be exhausting and I haven't pre-loaded any good comebacks yet. I think I'll just have to buy a bunch of weed and offer to smoke with every co-worker I come across. My father is going to be so ashamed. He was a DARE teacher for 20+ and my very first blog I'm suggesting drugs so people will think I'm "cool". Still gonna do it though. I'm not a good weed smoker. I just think about things that freak me out and have to keep reminding myself to smile so people don't realize the conflict going on inside my head. It can't look good  from the outside. So if you're a pothead reading this, some tips on where to get the "haha" weed and not the "who the fuck am I?" weed would be greatly appreciated.

Sports. I love sports. Ya know, now it feels like college syllabus week where you have to introduce yourself with a fun fact and all the guys just say what sports teams they like. I always used to lie during those. What were they going to do, call me out? They don't know me. One time I told the class I was a foreign exchange student from China. I was a 250 pound white dude with a full beard from New Jersey, and they just had to accept that I was Chinese. Getting off track, focus. I'm a Yankees, Alabama football (graduated '16), and Rams fan because underdogs are for losers. I guess I'm a Nets and Devils fan too. But like, whatever with them. 

That's all for now, just a little preview. Who knows, maybe everybody was nice to me today on my first day at Barstool. I wouldn't know, I'm writing this on my Notes App on 4/17/20 at 2:20 in the morning and I have work in a couple of hours. I hope the quarantine is over by the time you're reading this. Well, no nevermind, cause that would mean I'm still pretty far away from being hired then. Actually, nevermind the nevermind, I hope they find a cure tomorrow on 4/18/20 and you're reading this from a lockdown lifted America. It was nice meeting you, I'm TKJ.

I Stan No NBA King

I just finished watching the first two episodes of ESPN's Michael Jordan documentary, The Last Dance. Watching the adoring and crazed MJ fans made me realize that I was robbed of an essential childhood influence. I've never had a favorite NBA player. I spent my whole basketball fandom hating LeBron that I never took the time to love somebody else. 

I'm going to jump around a bit here because apparently explaining things in timelines that are hard to follow is the best way to get your NBA point across. I'm a Nets fan and Billy King ruined the league for me. If you don't know who Billy King is, then you most likely aren't a Nets or Celtics fan. He's the GM that traded three first round picks for a couple years of a declining Paul Pierce and KG. That was his magnum opus but he fucked things up way before then. Billy also traded Portland a first rounder for Gerald Wallace. That pick turned into Damian Lillard. He traded Derrick Favors, Devin Harris and two first rounders to the Jazz for Deron Williams. One of those picks turned into a 3rd overall pick in Enes Kanter. Since the Nets had Brook Lopez already, they probably would've taken Kemba Walker. Those three picks he traded to the Celtics? Turned into James Young, Jaylen Brown, two more first round picks, and Jayson Tatum. It was pretty difficult to pick a favorite player when the franchise you support is actively handing out their chances at a young superstar. Since my joy was stolen, I turned to resent. 

To be fair I hated LeBron before those trades and it isn't completely his fault. My best friend's favorite team is Bron. He follows him everywhere he goes because he loves him. Ironically enough, everybody loves my best friend, except me. I hate him. I'm going to call him E because I'm saying "best friend" too much and it's bothering me. People think E is a jolly, harmless old chap who just wants to have a good time, but I know better. He nukes drinking gatherings with NBA rhetoric. E isn't your casual merch wearing LeBron stan who doesn't understand the game. E's a swagless accountant and he's been a swagless accountant since we were 7. His arguments for LeBron are well thought out, thought provoking, and above all else, nauseating. Because of E, I have turned my back on my generation and refused to bend the knee to LeBron. 

As for Michael, I'd like to call him the greatest but I just can't bring myself to do it. It's fraudulent. What I remember of Jordan is Space Jam and his return to the Wizards. I was born in 1993. I was five when Jordan won his final ring. Which is why it bothers me when people my age throw parades for him. If you're from Chicago you get a pass, I guess. If you aren't, stop pretending like you're a "historian" of the game. You're full of shit is what you are. Pretend you watch the ESPN Classics all you want, nobody believes you. 

If you enjoy screaming LeBron over Jordan because you're basically saying our generation is greater than everybody else's, that's cool. I get it. For me personally, it just isn't possible. I don't have a player that I can crown and worship. All I have is hate in my heart, and it turns out that's entertaining enough for me. 

Help Women Masturbate Today

Enough is enough! It's time we men, let women masturbate! Aren't you sick and tired of hearing men telling females to quit cranking it?! For too long us oppressors have steadied the hands of our human counterparts. No more. Today, the charge is being led by the good people of Lovense. 

This morning #LovenseOrgy was trending on Twitter, I bit. Lovense, from what I gather, is a remote control vibrator. Yup, that's exactly what it is. I just checked their Twitter and two days ago they posted a video of a guy controlling his girlfriend's(?) twat tickler from his phone while in public. Today is their #LovenseOrgy, where they are capitalizing on our valiant movement in women's masturbation. No such thing as bad press I suppose. As we speak, thousands of women are being masturbated around their world. According to their Twitter 10 hours ago, 3k people are already being controlled remotely! Wow, keep fighting the good fight! 

How can you help you say? Apparently download the Lovense app and help a woman masturbate. This your chance to prove to a woman "Hey I think you guys can jerk off too. It's totally cool and definitely doesn't make me weird or uncomfortable". Death to the patriarchy! It is THEIR body and THEIR choice and today they are choosing us to choose when something vibrates inside their vahunas. Let's check in on the revolution!

Fuck.

I Changed My Tinder Location To Tel Aviv

The picture is of Tel Aviv. I couldn't think of anything funny to put into google images for this. I don't know what I was expecting changing my Tinder location to Israel. I don't know what you're expecting by opening this blog, but I can tell you that it doesn't end with, "and we lived happily ever after".

During my never-ending boredom, I accidentally opened Tinder. Alright it wasn't an accident but this next part was. A promotion popped up on the screen to change your location to anywhere in the world at no charge. I thought I hit cancel but then an interactive world map popped up. I was going to x it out but then I figured, if it's for free it's for me. It took me less than a second to zero in on my targeted country. Israel, birthplace of Natalie Portman and Gal Gadot. My undisputed number 1 and 2, in that order. That's how I came to be on the virtual prowl in Tel Aviv. 

I'm always wrong time, right place or wrong place, right time. Right now it's the latter. My Tinder stock is way up in Tel Aviv. It's always good for the ol ego to receive that "A new person likes you on Tinder" notification. I'm getting sick of them, that's how well I'd do in Israel. 

Ran into a little a problem, I don't know what the fuck they're saying. Their writing in sanskrit or whatever. If you don't know what sanskrit is, imagine Michael J Fox writing in cursive. I can make that joke because I have really shaky hands and fairly certain I'm going to have Parkinson's one day. So yeah, I might not know exactly what Yael's saying, but I have a good idea. I'm pretty sure it's something along the lines of "Wow you look very handsome in your last picture!". So I responded, "Thanks that's from when I visited the Alamo with my cousin". She hasn't responded to that yet, but it feels like a pretty strong icebreaker. Ya know, cause of the whole territorial fighting thing.  

I don't know why I open Tinder, I've never been laid from it. I've never responded more than three sentences because I just picture the first date, start laughing, and close out the app. My level of attractiveness has nothing to do with it. Maybe that's why I put myself 5k miles away. I knew I'd get the same result as if it was 2 miles away. I'll be honest, I have no idea what my end game is here. Best case scenario, I end up with a hot pen pal like I'm in the third grade. Worst case scenario, I fall in love, Euro Trip myself and get mugged in the Middle East. I'll keep you posted. 

  

Quarantining With Alzheimer's

My grandfather and I are very close. He has alzheimer's. Which is cruel because even during his best days I don't think he could ever pronounce that. Grandpa has a strong Scottish brogue. You should see his attempt at "squirrel", it's unbelievable. Of course, pronunciation isn't his only issue with the disease, Alzheimer's really sucks. He'll never admit he has it (See: Scottish^^), he only refers to his memory loss issues as "my thingmy". 

I'm going to brag about him for a bit. My grandfather met my grandmother at a dance hall in Glasgow, Scotland. She was visiting her sister from Ireland and was convinced to go out and dance, regardless of how much she hated it. When they met she denied his advances. He told her he'd meet her at a street corner the next afternoon at 12:00 for a proper date. He swore that he wouldn't stay a second later than noon. She was an hour late, he stayed. By the time he was 25, he packed up his wife, three kids, and moved to America alone and with little money in his pocket. He raised a family on a carpenter's salary, and all three of his girls came into success of their own. That's half the story of how I came to be. 

It's a shame that it took his diagnosis for me to want to learn more about him. After he got Alzheimer's, the clock ticked a little louder for me. Since his thigmy, we've spent a lot more time shooting the shit in local bars. He hasn't forgotten how to put back whiskey sours. My grandpa's recent memory is pretty much non-existent, so we just pretend that it doesn't exist and swap old stories. I don't shut the fuck up and he's my perfect audience. I love telling stories, and with Grandpa I have unlimited material. I land every punchline no matter how many times he's heard it. His stories are special though because he reaches so far back to where his memory is still near perfect. I know things about him that my mother and grandmother have never even heard. He talks about his time in the RAF (Royal Air Force), biking drunk through Loch Lomond, ex-girlfriends, and futures that could have been. After he told me the story an Australian girl that he almost married he looked at me and said "I think about her every now and then. Wonder what my life would've been if I married her. But then I look at you, and I know without a shadow of doubt in my heart, that I made the wrong choice." 

The quarantine has been rough on the old man. His routine is off. Normally him and my grandmother grab their donut and coffee and drive down to the beachfront for a stroll or to stare at the New York skyline. The beach has been packed with stupid people with no respect for social distancing. Unbeknownst to my Grandpa, I conspired against him with the help of my 'tough' aunt to restrict his trips to the beachfront. It was ok at first, but the other day he lost it. We told him there was flooding down by the beach and that he wouldn't be able to get to it. He told my grandmother he didn't believe her and was going with or without her. If he was going to expose us as liars, we would've hoped for a little bit of memory loss. He took my Grandma's car and left without her. My grandmother called me, and I texted a cop I knew was on duty to ask to look out for him, but then all of a sudden, he came back. He only went to the end of the street. Grandpa threw the keys on the table and pouted on his chair for the rest of the day. My grandmother had to deal with him being grumpy, but I know secretly she was satisfied that he caved before she did. 

It hasn't been all sad though. My mom told me a couple of weeks ago in church he went to go kiss an old friend on the cheek. We remind him of the virus, but it fucks right off after an hour or so. Apparently the look of shock and fear on this old lady's face at the prospect of my Grandpa kissing her was something out of a horror film. My mother didn't appreciate my laughter, but that didn't stop me from doing it. Then about a week ago, I drove past the beachfront and saw the oldies walking the boardwalk. I got out at a safe distance for a chat. My grandfather came over to give me a hug and a kiss. I kept backing away and telling him I can't for his own safety. He didn't know what the fuck I was talking about and thought I was fucking with him, so he kept chasing me. People might find that sad, but he was laughing from it, which made me laugh, and before you knew it we were both leaned up against the car trying to catch our breath from cackling. 

This man has taught me so much. The necessity of family, how to laugh at yourself, and that just because something seems grim, doesn't mean you can't laugh at it. But the number one trait he passed down to me is how to tell really long stories. I plan on hearing many more of those stories. So it's time to hammer home my hidden message. If something happens to my Grandpa because you fucking idiots think you're too good to stay inside and watch TV, I will lick a hospital floor, hunt you down, and sneeze in your mouth.  

I Hate The Jets And Here's How I Plan On Ruining Their Fans' Draft Night

I hate the Jets. I hate my friends because of the Jets, I hate the Jets because of my friends. Jets fans are easily the most delusional, the most arrogant, the most mindless fans in the NFL. The best months of a Jets fan's year is April-October. After the draft they start their shit talking about how they're going to go 11-5. Not this year. This is the year I make them miserable for twelve months straight. I'm going to piss on their fire before it starts. 

A little bit about myself first, I'm a Rams fan. I became a fan in 2001, Greatest Show On Turf, Super Bowl, the whole nine. I was 7. Kids in the school yard were mad when I said I wanted the Rams to win the Super Bowl vs. the Patriots cause I was a "Rams fan". Everyone and their mother in the parking lot called me a frontrunner. I wasn't. I was determined to prove I wasn't, so I stuck with them. I became a fan out of spite. I even got a Marc Bulger jersey. They lost that Super Bowl of course, and only went back to playoffs two more times in my first sixteen years of fandom. I thought that I was silently cursing the 

Rams and nobody knew it except me. But I stuck with them. 

Being a Rams fan in New Jersey was tough. Not only cause they sucked for the better part of two decades, but because I was rarely able to watch my team. In the pre-RedZone era, in the times before two TVs in the living room, dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was forced to watch Jets games with my buddies. They constantly ragged on my poor Rams to feel better about their shitty franchise. I've been through the Pennington years, Sanchize back to back AFC Championships, the rise of Geno Smith, FitzMagic, and now their new chosen one, Sam Darnold. Years behind enemy lines gave me a new perspective on the NFL. I learned to hate the Jets just as much as I loved Rams. 

Fighting with a Jets fan is rough. Arguing with them isn't based on who can make the most valid points.  Their strategy is to just get louder than you until you get sick of hearing them scream and end the argument. It takes careful preparation to trap them in their own misery any earlier than Week 7. That's seven weeks too many. It all starts with the draft. There's no accountability with this fan base. They'll watch tape for weeks on prospects they want to draft, explain to you how that prospect is going to take the Jets to the next level, and then when they draft someone else? "We're going to the Super Bowl".

Today I texted all my Jet friends individually. We've been bringing up sports scenarios ever since the NBA left us at the altar, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They never suspected my ulterior motives. I sent "For the NFL draft, give me 2 picks you'd love, 1 pick you'd be ok with, and 2 nightmare picks for the Jets". Everyone willingly gave me their best Mel Kiper impression. I now have every pick they claimed would be a nightmare for the Jets. I have the receipts, here are my findings. 

We can't have the smelly Jets draft Ceedee Lamb, Jerry Jeudy, Andrew Thomas or Tristan Wirfs. Jedrick Willis or Henry Ruggs they'd be ok with but after a week would still become insufferable. However! If the Jets draft K'Lavon Chaisson, AJ Epenesa, CJ Henderson, or anyone else, we win. Pretty much, if they select any defensive player in the first round they'll be miserable. For those of you keeping score at home, since 2010 the Jets have selected a defensive player with 10 of their 11 first round picks. Oh boy. 

The Rams don't have a first round pick this year, and I think this is the most excited I've ever been for a draft. If the Jets select a player that any of my friends called a "nightmare pick" I will bombard them with screen shots every time they start to run their mouths. Send this text to your Jets buddies if you want to feel how I'm feeling. If the Jets draft a nightmare pick, no matter how much their fans squirm, keep the pillow over their face. You've already won, Jet Down. 

My All In Challenge

It's time for me to step up. The All In Challenge was started by someone, and is a fundraiser(?) charity(?) where people donate their time to raise money for families affected by the Covid-19 Pandemic. So far Magic Johnson has offered a dinner, a game of horse in the Staples Center, and floor seats with him to see the Lakers. Eli Manning has put his Super Bowl MVP convertible up for auction, along with a nice chill sesh. Kevin Hart is giving the chance to star in his next movie with a speaking role. Justin Bieber is giving one lucky donor a private concert. Plus many more. Here is my offer. 

I'll bring you to play a game of pick up with the boys outside our old middle school on the court with double rims. We'll even make you team captain. After, we can freshen up at my place and I'll even lend you a sweatshirt if you need one. We'll pregame with a couple games of 21 Cup Pong. Then for dinner, I'll pay for Friday's Happy Hour (Half off apps and $3 LITs). From there, it's your choice for night life. We can go to our local Tiki Bar, JakeaBob's, where I used to bartend at. While the rest of the bar is waiting an eternity for their drinks, I can basically go behind the bar and serve myself. Or option B, we take the ten minute train ride to Red Bank and go to a bar of your choosing. I'll pay for your cover, no questions asked. At either bar I'll foot the bill (up to $100). When the bars close down, I'll bring you to a BYOB Strip Club. You have to pay for yourself there, but I'll still go with you. When the night comes to an end, I got the Uber home. You can crash downstairs on my couch, free of charge, with my dogs Avon and Mickey. In the morning I'll get us Pork Roll Egg and Cheese sandwiches from Gem's. We'll nurse our hangovers together with your choice of anything on Netflix, Hulu, HBOGo, or Amazon Prime. Unlimited waters and Advil, while supplies last. You may choose to leave at any point. 

God Bless our frontline Emergency Services and God Bless America. Bids start at $500. Inquire within the DMs for further Venmo information.