Salt Bae Should Be Canceled After Coronavirus

I'm writing this pretty late because I wasn't sure if I should blog tonight. It didn't feel appropriate with everything going on in the country and on Twitter. But the more I thought of it, the more I felt like I should bang one out. If someone is looking for a distraction and finds my blog, even it's for a few minutes, I guess that's something. Trust me, I don't think I'm doing God's work here, but if you want to read it it's available. Without further adieu, it's time to take down the nation's true enemy, Salt Bae. 

Salt Bae first went viral for slinging his meat on Instagram and salting his steak like he's better than everyone else. He's a pompous prick. Salt Bae owns his own restaurant and will sell you a steak for $80 and judging by his videos, try to sleep with your date in the process. Which really shouldn't be much of a shock for us 90's kids, since he looks exactly like Wandisimo. If you aren't familiar, Wandisimo was a fairy in the Fairly OddParents with a shocking amount of sexual charisma for a Nickelodeon character. A character who always tried to sleep with the main fairy's wife. See the bottom for a comparison, it may shock you. 

After this pandemic, Salt Bae is toast. I know that most cooks will still be touching my food barehanded in the kitchen but out of sight out of mind. Nobody wants Salt Bae's elbow shrapnel in their food. Germs. Put the salt on with out being a jackass, there's no need to bounce it off your elbow. I mean, I've heard of putting in elbow grease before but this is ridiculous... 

   

 

There's A Good Chance I Lose My Job

Well, this is not good. If these cuts hit my area, I'm very gone. Not cause I stink at my job or anything, but because I was the last one hired two years ago and I'm still technically part-time. I have all the responsibilities of a full-timer, I just get paid a lot less and don't receive benefits. While my co-workers are buying houses and starting families with their salaries, I'm going out on the weekends and chipping away at my student loans. Oh fuck, how am I going to pay my student loans. 

You might be thinking, well there's always unemployment. No son, not for me. I'm actually paying unemployment right now. It's funny when I say it out loud. Unemployment shafted me about two years ago after they approved me to collect and then invoked take-backs. I got a call from the state where they were like, "Hey remember that money we said you can have? We need it back. We made an oopsie when we approved you.". So when Big Unemployment is paying a record 14.7% of the nation, I'm the one doofus paying Big Unemployment. If I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all. To be honest though, I don't know if 14.7% unemployment is a record, I'm not up to date on my unemployment trivia. I am however, up to date on my unemployment payments.

So what's a guy to do? My best work friend, who most likely will be furloughed right alongside of me, seems to think that panicking works. I don't know, not really my style. I'm more of a, suppress your fears until you have a heart attack at 52, kind of guy. It's sort of a family tradition. I'm actually a bit jealous of his nervousness? It's seems like a nice release. During his rant to me about how fucked we are, my mind drifted off to me wondering if there's something wrong with me for not mimicking his concern. At the end of what I imagine was an articulate and passionate rant, the best I came up with was "Ya know, what're you gonna do." He was visually disgusted. 

I think it's probably just easy to distract yourself when you have a lot of personalities. For a quick second today, I thought about how I might have to go back to bartending or driving a truck to keep up with my payments and my cheeks started getting hot. But then, a voice in the back of my head said "Yo you know how after you turn on your fan by your bed, you still have to hit it twice and it makes you look like The Fonz? That's pretty cool." And I thought hey, that is pretty cool. I might be fucked. I might not be fucked. All I know is panicking sure ain't gonna help. 

What Happened To Skateboarding?

Last night I was scrolling through Instagram and happened upon some Matt Tomasello skateboarding clips. They were the definition of gnarly. I went through his page for over an hour. I mean really fucking crazy groundbreaking tricks. I was so confused why I had never heard of him. Then I remembered, I haven't given a shit about skateboarding since about a year after the Lords Of Dogtown movie. 

I can't speak for the rest of the nation, but where I grew up, every kid wanted to be a professional skateboarder at one point of their life. We searched for local "gaps" and quoted Grind way too often. We knew every skater. Bob Burnquist, Rodney Mullen, and Chad Muska were household names. Most of us hadn't even had our first kiss yet and we were already talking about how we were going to slay like Sheckler. Now the skateboarding world, as far as I know it, has been diminished to people laughing on Twitter about Tony Hawk not being recognized in public. 

My skateboarding years weren't exactly a cherished time in my life. I had long hair and growing boy boobs that more than I'd like to admit, had me mistaken for a young lesbian. I was terrible at skating. I could barely ollie. I could barely jump. I was terrified of the concrete. The smallest cut and the gentlest fall normally put me on the IR for weeks at a time. That didn't stop me from making my parents spend way too much money on a dope board for my birthday though. 

I dressed the part too. Big shoes I never scuffed from too many kickflips, Indecline stickers, Volcom t-shirts, Kirra cologne, and beanies during the summer. One day in the seventh grade, people kept saying "TAP" in front of me and ran away giggling. I kept asking people what it meant but I couldn't get a straight answer. I started saying it too and laughing along, but inside it was driving me crazy. Eventually during recess, one of the nice girls told me it meant "TKJ's A Poser". Fucking earth-shattering. I needed to prove myself as a badass skater. It turned out that the kid who started it was the best skater in our school. So when the bell rang, I beat him up.

I sucked at skateboarding, but I enjoyed the rebellious teenage world it introduced me too. During my middle school years, the skating world dominated our pop culture. Everyone talked about Don Vito's latest prank on Viva La Bam. Or we argued during Hacky Sack about who was the true goat out of the Lords Of Dogtown trio. If your favorite movie wasn't Grind, it was Jackass. But no matter what, everyone's favorite video game had "Tony Hawk's..." in it. Mine was Underground. Video games were most likely the reason for the skateboarding boom. Luckily, they announced that Tony Hawk's Pro Skater is being remastered and set to be released in September. The nostalgia for millennials strikes again. As much as I'll probably regret this statement, hopefully Tony Hawk creates another wave of skater bros out of Gen Alpha. So if you want to feel twelve again or get in the mood for the new Pro Skater, check out matttomasello on Instagram.  

A Crazy Story About My Dad For His 62nd Birthday

Most kids tell crazy stories about their dads that aren't true. My issue was never if the story was made up, but whether I was allowed to tell it or not. I know everyone thinks their dad's stories are true, but my dad always had accomplices. He wouldn't do something without witnesses, for him, it'd be a waste of doing something astonishing. Two things you need to know about my dad for this story, he loves the Yankees and he has balls of steel. This is the story of how he snuck into the Yankees World Series dinner in '96 and '98. 

Dad really really loves the Yankees. His first choice for my name was Don, after Don Mattingly. After my mom vetoed that, he went with his second choice, his own name. During the 90's my dad, my uncle, and their two friends went splitsies on an RV that they used to travel to their season ticket games. The whole thing was decked out in Yankees and the paint job was pinstripes. The bottom of the toilet was the Red Sox logo. They've had Steinbrenner (George and Hal), Giuliani, Torre, and countless players take pictures in and out of the "YankeeMobile". They were even asked to ride in the Yankee's World Series parade, twice. They were always getting into shit. 

After I believe the '96 World Series, they found out the hotel where the Yankees were holding their championship banquet. As fate would have it, one of their compadres knew a security guard in the hotel. He got them up to the floor where the banquet was being held and then basically said you're on your own from there. They were in suits but didn't have passes to access the dinner. My father was watching people in vests walk into the swinging doors in the hallway and come out in the banquet hall. It was the kitchen. He told my uncle and his friends to follow his lead and above all, act like you belong. They put linens over their sleeves, walked into the kitchen like they owned the place, grabbed some trays of food and walked out into the Yankee's World Series dinner. They met the players and ate fancy dinners, while the Yankees were going around signing autographs. 

The '98 dinner was a bit trickier. Their inside man told them that they had upped security and that there wasn't much he could do for them. Dressed to the nines they stayed in the crowds and waited for their moment. When Joe Torre decided to do a press conference they used it as a distraction to get into the elevator. Since they knew what floor the hall was on from their previous dinner they had no trouble there. Out in the hallway, they once again found themselves unable to get through the main entrance. The kitchen was blocked off this year, a squandered trip to NYC seemed evident. The lucky bastards, Bernie Williams decides that he needs to use the bathroom in the hallway and that it couldn't wait until he got inside the banquet hall. My dad saw opportunity. He said that the hotel security was there but they were overwhelmed. So my dad goes up to the bathroom entrance, screams out my uncle and his friend's by name, and goes "We got it from here, boys no one gets into that bathroom while Mr. Williams is using it". They were pretending to be security. When Bernie got out he was rushed by the crowd and my dad yelled "Mr. Williams will be happy to sign autographs once he's inside. Right now folks, we need to get him to his seat.". They made a path and walked right through the front door with Bernie Williams. 

Happy birthday Dad, you crazy old man. Love you. 

My Fantasy League Member Set His Lineups From Jail

For some of us, fantasy sports is life. For others, it's 25 to Life. I normally spend all year playing in fantasy leagues and I'm starting to have withdrawals. We need it back. I play fantasy hockey, baseball, and football. Football is king though, always will be. If you want to gauge what fantasy football means to people, I'll tell you the story of the guy in my league who was setting his fantasy lineups from jail. 

The league is a 16 team auction league, four keepers. Depending on what price bracket your keepers fall under determines the increase in their salary. It's $350 a team which is pretty high roller for my neck of the woods. A couple of years ago, we had a wrestling belt made that we paid a grand for to present to the champion(s) at the end of the season. The pay outs are pretty nice too. 

I was invited to split a team with a friend of mine. I didn't know majority of the people in the league before my first season. A lot of people split a team so there is about 25 guys in the league. My friends make up six of the teams. The other teams are made up of teachers, construction workers, a Costco manager, a guy who owns the gas station in town, the local dive bar bouncer, my barber, a couple of other people with mystery professions, and a lawyer. 

The Lawyer is a nice a guy. I thought so anyway. He's funny as fuck, he's an attentive owner, and he cooked these gourmet meals for the whole league on draft day. He was normally shorted money for what he put out for the food and spent hours cooking, but he never complained. About two months after our draft this year, The Lawyer was arrested for stealing funds from clients. He's a real estate attorney and was accused of telling clients he'd put their house in escrow and then just took their money for himself. I don't know real estate law all too well, but I do know if he's found guilty on all counts he'll do 5-10 in state prison. I'm not sure if he's had his day in court so it's not my place to judge him, but it did feel like he was in Puerto Rico every other week. 

I'm on the Board for the league now and we discussed a temporary owner for The Lawyer while he figured out his legal issues. Unbeknownst to me, The Lawyer wasn't having any of it. He called another Board member every day to discuss trade proposals, keep up with scores/standings, and set his lineup. The show must go on. The worst part was, I lost to him while he was in jail. Completely and utterly demoralizing. 

That's what fantasy sports is, a distraction from the reality around you. We need distraction. We need fantasy football. Please God, Trump, NFL, the Illuminati, whoever needs to hear this, please let us have football this year.

Bonus story: Everyone has that one friend in the group who is just better at life than everybody else. Our friend like that just so happens to also be in this league. He was the first one in our group to buy his own place and he thought he was better than us. He employed The Lawyer to buy his house. He even bragged about how The Lawyer took him and his family out to an expensive steak dinner to close on the home. We never let him live it down that he might have been an accessory to.  

RIP My MDW

First and foremost, I'd like to acknowledge the fallen heroes who sacrificed their lives for us to continue living our own. I don't like throwing the h-word around but that's exactly who we are memorializing today, heroes. American badasses. Not to completely flip the script here, but I'm going to talk about drinking, partying, and listening to music too loud because that's the American way. 

I am done with the obnoxious bar scene. I'm 27 now, so it's kind of been a long time coming. That means no more Bar A, no Parker House, no Osprey, no Leggetts, and certainly no D'Jais. If you aren't from the tri-state area, these are know as the Jersey shore town bars. Not like that Jersey Shore, but not unlike it either. 

If you haven't been to one of these bars I'll try to explain to you what it's like. You wait in a line for about forty minutes which is starting to kill your pre-game buzz. You've had to pee since five minutes before you even got in the line. You begin to weigh in your head if it's worth it to pay a peeing in public fine over possibly pissing down your pants. Sometimes when you get to the front of the line, if they don't like the way you look they'll trip up your license on a technicality and won't let you in unless you have 7 other forms of ID. If you're lucky enough to get past security you have to pay ten to twenty dollars to get in. 

Once you're in, you have to do your best Moses impression to part the sea of belligerent 21 year olds to get to your predetermined spot with your friends. If you didn't choose a spot before you got in, you're going to get separated from the group and spend the rest of the night looking for each other. If you're a big guy like myself, throw comfort out the window. People are going to be shouldering you all night to get around you while sweat spots start to form through your shirt. 

The drinks are over priced. It isn't that the service is slow, but there's just so many people that it takes twenty minutes every time you need to get another round. So you order too many drinks at once and start feeling it too early in the night. Now you're in the middle of a high school reunion that you otherwise wouldn't RSVP to. You say a silent prayer that one of your buddies doesn't try to fight the guy who used to sleep with his girlfriend, or his ex's current boyfriend. Either one is possible. You start talking to a kid that you weren't friends with and haven't seen in four years. He tells you about his pyramid scheme he's in where he sells cable. He dresses it up as his company that he started called Atlas. You get out of the conversation by saying you need to pee. 

The estimated bathroom line is thirty five minutes and you already feel like your bladder is going to rupture. You stand in line with a stranger who tries to small talk you about literally nothing. Powerless, you watch as girls use sex appeal to cut the men's line and use our restroom. You're not happy about it either but small talk guy goes way over the top and starts calling them c-words to you, while you look around and hope nobody thinks your with him. If you're a large bearded fellow like I was, find the scrawniest looking dude at the head of the line and tell him you bounce at the bar and tonight's your night off. 9/10 times he'll let you cut him, that one's for free. 

After climbing out of the zombie pit, you find your friends again and there's another shot waiting for you. You guys decide you're sick of talking to the same girls you've seen every weekend since 2008 and go on the prowl. Almost immediately you're belittled by a hot group of girls who have a lot more money than you and ditch you to go back to their VIP section. Amongst yourselves somebody suggests that they were probably lesbians and you order more shots to nurse your pride. Someone almost knocks you over on the way to the bar. 

You wake up on a couch you don't recognize. Your voice is gone from screaming over house music all night. That and probably the pack of cigarettes that mysteriously wound up in your pocket. The first familiar face you see gives you a cheeky smile and asks you how you're feeling. You wipe last night out of your eyes while your friends tell you that you're the one who got everyone kicked out for starting a fight with your girlfriend's ex. 

Or something like that. 

This year I worked Saturday, but met my buddies late for a couple of drinks to celebrate our friend's return from Marine training. Yesterday I went to my other friend's BBQ. While they got hammered, I baby sipped a couple of High Noons and watched golf. I stopped after my third drink because I knew I had to put in my grandparents AC units today (Monday) with my little brother. I went home at nine when my friends went to another BBQ. I woke up to my brother staggering into the house at nine in the morning. He told me to wake him when I go to my grandparents house. I went to Target to buy my dad a birthday gift from the both of us. He's 62 today, the old fuck. At 3:30 I tried to wake my brother and got banshee screamed at. I did my grandparent's AC by myself and damn near threw my back out. Now I'm trying to figure out what to do for my dad's birthday dinner. My brother is still asleep. I can't wait for him to be fucked by the responsibility monster. 

This was the perfect end to my MDW run. Normally this would be our first weekend in our Squan house. The lines this year would have been quadruple the size with social distancing and all. You know that employee that has spent too many years at a company? They don't want to fire them so they start hinting that they retire before someone has to make a decision they don't want to make. That was God or the Universe or whatever with me this Memorial Day Weekend. I was forced into summer bar retirement, it feels shockingly refreshing. 

P.S. Drastic changes for Jersey men is very in right now. My timing as always, is impeccable. Look at this picture I just found of DJ Pauly D. 

  

The Only Honest Blog About Judge's Girlfriend

In case you are living under a rock, Aaron Judge's girlfriend got a DWI, bad stuff. Then she tried to drop his name to get out of it, double bad. The whole internet is giving her a proper roast and throwing out words like "entitled" and "obnoxious". I get it, and it's cute to pretend that preferential people don't get preferential treatment, but be honest with yourself. Preferential treatment is America's true pastime, not baseball.  I don't hate her for trying. Do you want to know the God's honest truth? It would've worked on me. 

I'm a Yankees fan, if that last sentence didn't give it away. Here's what I would have done. After the name drop, I would've asked for proof. If she could prove it, I'd park her car, and tell her to get into my back seat without a word. Then, I would drive her home and explain to her that Judge needs to come to the door so I know she's left in good hands. He comes out and I explain the situation. Then I tell him where the car is and urge him not to let her out of his sight because my job is now in jeopardy if she leaves intoxicated. We dap up. I wait a week, then I leak my own body cam footage to TMZ. Immediately fired. I tweet at Judge and say "yo it's me, I got fired". Judge DMs me and I tell him I'm looking for a security job now because my dreams as a cop are gone forever. He makes me his personal head of security. The job pays one million dollars a year and we become best friends. I have a speaking role in his documentary twenty years after he retires. 

Pretty flawless if you ask me. 

The obvious point to her story is get an Uber. If you don't, truth is, it's still just a traffic violation. Learn from it, you could've seriously hurt someone. You'll lose your license for three months and pay out the ass in fines. That shouldn't be a problem for a person who literally doesn't have to drive for the rest of her life if she just said the word. Fuck, I wish I had been a cop in Arizona. Don't drink and drive. 

I Know Something You Don't Know

 

If you have sports updates on your phone then I'm sure you've heard by now that an unidentified NFL player is suing United Airlines for an alleged sexual assault that they failed to put an end to. John Doe 1 said that a possibly inebriated female made unwanted sexual advances towards him during his LA to Newark flight. It took United four complaints and an hour into the flight to change the alleged's seat. She was grabbin his dick and shit. I know John Doe 1, he's a friend of mine.

I am drunk with power. Is this what the President always feels like? Just knowing the information that the rest of the country can only guess at? I got this notification on my phone.... and I know the big secret. I've seen this on Barstool, Sports Illustrated, ESPN, The Times, The Post, USA Today, and so on and so forth. What a rush.  

To be totally transparent, I'd classify us more as "boys" than I would "friends". We're in the same friend group and he's close with people I'm close with. We were with each other two weekends ago though, watching the UFC fights. I was getting him all fired up. I mean, I was really trying to get in his head about high school sports hypotheticals. I wouldn't of tried to upset him so much if I knew he had been a sexual harassment victim.  

It's so strange but so awesome to see someone you know getting ripped by Francesa. It was obviously a terrible take by Mike, laughing at John Doe 1 for "not being able to protect himself" as an NFL player from a female passenger. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Blast this chick in the face? That would've been the headline and the end of his career. But I understand the comedy of the visual. I'm a fan of humor in a dark situation. But since this is somebody I know personally, I can't joke about it. Like I can't say something like "Are you ready to be the face of the NFL #HeToo movement". That would be despicable.   

Seriously though, I do feel sorry for him. When this gets out I imagine it won't be easy to face in a locker room. It's clearly something he wanted to keep under wraps. He didn't tell us about his lawsuit. One of our mutual buddies sent us The New York Post article and said "yo this is Blah Blahblah". Which I responded, lol fuck you. But then my friend said he wasn't kidding and told us to seriously read the article. The Post, those big dumb dumbs, put the NFL players hometown in the original article. They removed it now, but it was too late, the damage had been done. There is only one NFL player in my small New Jersey hometown. And I'm not telling.

Joe Rogan In My Experience

I was introduced to Joe Rogan like most of us had been, religiously watching Fear Factor. Besides maybe Probst, he was my favorite TV host. I knew he was going places when he laid out his idea for "smellevision", a TV that added another sense. Next time I saw Joe he was ringside at the octagon calling fights for the UFC. When I got into the UFC and noticed him for the first time I did that Leo pointing meme in recognition of one of my childhood heroes. Today, Joe Rogan is everywhere and he just inked a $100 million Spotify contract for his podcast. 

If you don't know what The Joe Rogan Experience is, how the fuck did you even find my blog. I love Joe Rogan, I don't like his podcast. I understand that there is eight million or so people that would disagree with me on that but, fuck em. I think Joe is a master at extorting these amazing stories from guests that otherwise might have been tight lipped. He is obviously very very talented, it just isn't my cup of tea. 

I've heard and watched clips here and there but I only listened to one episode in it's entirety. The Bob Lazar episode. Real quick if you don't know, Bob Lazar claims to have worked for Area 51 and personally attempted to reverse engineer an alien spacecraft. I fucking love aliens. I listened, and I enjoyed it for the most part, but hated that it was two and a half fuggin hours long. It was exhausting. For days nothing real seemed like it mattered anymore. There was fucking aliens out there and people knew about it! I tried listening again to a different episode and it was just as fantastical as the Lazar story. The idea that everything in the world is a conspiracy just turned me off. I just refuse to believe that literally everything we know is fake. Plus I don't do drugs, so I opted out of the experience. 

My real main issue with Rogan's podcast is that it makes each of his listeners think they're just as smart as Joe Rogan. Spoiler, they aren't, they're just dorks. Have you ever been at a bar and then somebody starts talking about literal black holes that are going to suck humanity into nothingness when you're just trying to get a frozen margarita? That's a Joe Rogan fan. Have you ever been having a good conversation with someone and then they say "Yeah in Joe Rogan's last podcast..." and then they just trail off cause you're in your own head like, fuck somebody get me the hell out of here? Me too. Ignorance is bliss, and if you don't agree with me, you'd probably be really good friends with my therapist. 

I know I know, I'm a sheep. But jokes on you cause sheep have pretty dope lives considering. I'm just scared of the "we believe everything" crowd that The Joe Rogan Experience has created. I'd much rather be with the "we believe nothing" crowd. Or am I the one that believes everything the government feeds me and they are the ones who believe nothing? Fuck! See what Joe Rogan does to me! 

What If Homeless People Became Priests?

Weird, this is my second homeless people blog in the last month. My last one was suggesting them as contestants on Survivor. I think all this "we need to save the world" talk is turning me into a philanthropist. I want to save the homeless.

So why not become priests? I saw this Catholic priest today walk out of his paid for house and I thought, hey not a bad gig. His house is bigger than mine is. He was in a tracksuit. I'm not sure what the rules on the whole collar get-up are but he just looked like a regular dude. The priest then got into his Jeep Wrangler (2 door of course, because of the whole vow of poverty thing) and went to go get groceries. I know he got groceries because I was still there when he got home to carry them in and wondered who pays for priest's groceries. I was hanging out in the front yard of a friend's house across the street. I don't have some Ray Donovan vendetta where I stalk priests, I swear.

Free house, free Jeep, free groceries. I couldn't be a priest because of the whole celibacy bit. I'm aware of the irony. Good one. Anyway, I wouldn't want the gig, but I started to wonder who would. Homeless people! It's a win win really, and honestly the Christian thing to do. It's no secret that the Catholic Church is struggling to convince young men to become priests nowadays. Well, do I have a crop a candidates for you.

Besides the obvious perks of room and board, the job description really isn't all that demanding. All you have to do is be able to read. You even get to drink on the job. It's mandatory actually. The best part is, homeless people are already experts in talking and listening to people that don't actually exist.

Ok, so that's the end of the blog. I am Irish Catholic though, so I am freaking out at what I just wrote. I am going to hell, no doubt about it. Sorry God. It was just a joke. So.Much.Catholic.Guilt. Jesus Christ, how am I going to explain this one in Confession. I might just have to create my own Penance for my sins this go around and hope The Big Man calls it even stevens.

Dear High School Class Of 2020

Welcome to adulthood, first lesson: Shit normally does not go as planned. Granted, nobody thought you would have to learn this one so early but so it goes. Regardless of the 4,224 Harry Potter pages you read to make you think you are in charge of your own destiny, for a lot of us that isn't the case. I know, I was pretty bummed by that one too. Something that you had no control over has now had a deep impact on your life. From here there are three options now presented to you. 1. You can let these external factors upset you so much that you are unable to overcome your own feelings that you were dealt this injustice. 2. You can get really angry about it and pout that nothing is fair until you receive so much criticism for your antics that you decide to do something about it. 3. Use this unjust moment as fuel to take the reins on your own life immediately so you can steer yourself in a direction of your choosing. I know option 3 is the correct answer, but honestly I use option 2 most of the time and it's not that bad either. 

Second lesson: Laugh at yourself. Fucking cliche, I know. I'm not happy about it either. Side lesson, everything you say and do has already been said and done. But it's the truth, you need to laugh at yourself. Take humor whenever it presents itself. Like you, for instance. You're probably sitting at your kitchen table on a video conference in a full cap and gown, fighting back tears because you can't walk on a stage. Hopefully, you can take that in now and have a good laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in. If you can't laugh at that right now, that's ok too. With any luck, in a few years you'll look back at the absurdity of your makeshift graduation ceremony and find the comedy in it.   

Lesson three: Look for the positive side in things. I know, I struggle with this one myself. Sometimes it's so easy to enjoy the negative. It's a big world out there and as I'm sure you've heard, a lot of it is shitty. If you focus on everything that's going wrong, it'll consume you. I don't want to see that happen so I'll even try to start you off. Yes, you won't have a traditional senior year like we had, but we never had a six month summer like you're about to have. Those were the things TJ Detweiler's dreams were made of. If you don't get the reference, please Google it in silence so I don't feel so old. 

I can cue (queue?) you in on what you missed from my point of view if you'd like. My graduation was on a turf field where everything is already twenty degrees hotter and it was my first time in a dress. As hard as the heat tried to make me pass out, it was the beach ball that I blew up that almost did it. Fighting unconsciousness, I threw the ball out to my fellow classmates only to have it intercepted by our Dean of Students and instantly popped by what I hope was a pen. After my bubble was literally bursted I tried to tune back into the adult talking on the stage who nobody knew. He said something along the lines of "it didn't matter about the two dates on your tombstone, but more what you do with the dash in the middle", like he hadn't plagiarize that whole concept after you spent the last four years submitting everything to turnitin. Then a couple of more people talked while I sweat through my gown. After that I grabbed a piece of paper, and went out to eat with my family. We didn't even throw our caps in the air which I thought was the whole point of graduating. 

If you're still feeling slighted here are a few suggestions that I've compiled. If you want a graduation experience, put a blanket over your head on a football field and make funny faces at your friends while you take turns reciting poems that no one has ever heard of. You missed prom and alright, you've got a legitimate gripe there. Once everything opens back up either go in on a beach house or rent out half a motel with your friends. Secret is, that's the only part you remember anyway. As for the Valedictorian, tough luck kid. You put in a lot of hard work and missed your opportunity to prove that you're not just a nerd. That really sucks and I'm sorry. But something tells me you're going to turn out alright. 

Jealousy is one of the ugliest traits, try to avoid it at all costs. Yes you may be jealous of our normal senior years and of our graduations. But I guarantee you that you aren't half as jealous as we are for the memories you are about to make in college. Enjoy it while you got it. Best of luck Class Of '20. 

Please Invite Me To Your Secret Parties

I've always hated the saying "If you can't beat em join em". If I can't beat them I'll probably just cheat until I win. But in the case of the underground party life in New York City, I think I could make an exception. I know we're supposed to shame shower people who are partying but, can you imagine what the secret parties are like in the city right now? Sinatra level swank. 

I've read a couple of articles in the past few days of people chastising NYC's underground night life and I just don't understand it. There was one article I read where the author was complaining about a party they were invited to where they had to decrypt the password and location an hour before it kicked off. First of all, hello, very badass. Then they had they audacity to lecture the crowd about their nonchalance on the law of gatherings. These fucking people are doing cocaine and acid out in the open at the bar, you think they give a fuck about your homemade mask? Get a grip. 

I don't mind either way if the country opens up or not. I love bars and my bedroom evenly. What I would like though is an invite into Emerald City. I won't do drugs and I'll probably stick out like Ace Ventura in his " New England Clam Chowder" scene but I don't care. I won't tell. I just want to see what it looks like. Above all I think I really just want to use a secret password. I have no trouble suspending my morals. 

Hilary Clinton's Life Reimagined

To be fair, I'm not reimagining it, Curtis Sittenfeld handled that. In her novel, Rodham, Sittenfeld creates an alternate universe of Hilary's life if she hadn't married Bill. A "what if" story of sorts, kind of like what Judd Apatow's doing with this new Pete Davidson movie. When I was like eight I first watched the movie Hook, and thought it was the most fucking genius thing ever created. To depict surrogate lives for characters we already know in and out is my favorite kind of story telling. 

Here is my disclaimer paragraph. I did not vote for Hilary. I did not vote for Trump. I did not vote for anybody because I don't vote. Like I've said before, if you stand for nothing, you must love laying. That's me. If my own father was a presidential candidate I don't think you could convince me to leave my house and wait in a line to stand in a voting booth. I also didn't read this book. I'm looking at it from a strictly historical and entertainment point of view. Ok cool. 

What I'm about to say probably goes against everything that this novel was written for but... Hilary was kind of a looker in her day. I mean that as a compliment. Shit, I don't think you can say that either. I think Hilary was pretty. Is that appropriate? Hope so. I always just assumed that Hilary was born in a pants suit with a stapled on smile. This retelling of her life sent me down a rabbit hole of pictures of Hilary when she was younger. It was like I was seeing her as a person for the first time. I had never actually ruled out that she's a robot. 

In the novel Hilary denies Bill's proposal for good this time and gets the fuck out of Arkansas. Which to me, always seemed like the much more logical decision. From what I've gathered, after graduating from Yale, Hilary establishes her own life in the political limelight through women's rights activism. She eventually runs against Bill for president who takes on a Trump like role. So for literature's sake, Bill is our antagonist of the story.

I imagine Bill's character in Rodham is worth the price of admission. Sittenfeld recently admitted in an Air Mail interview that she felt like she "fell in love" with Bill while reading his autobiography for her own research. Imagine creating a villain that's so charming you can't help but fall head over heels for him. The book contains the scene of Bill and Hilary's actual first date where he sneaks them into closed art gallery by promising to do some landscaping for the venue. They don't call him Slick Willy for nothing. I'd love to rid myself of the droopy eyed version of Bill for a bearded hippy persona who oozes charisma. America just can't quit Bill Clinton. 

Regardless of your opinion on Hilary, there is no denying that she is arguably the most powerful woman in United States history. It's a cool concept to imagine what life could have been like for our almost 45th president had she gone another route. Spoiler alert maybe, she probably becomes president and it will make you wonder if it was all worth it. If that upsets you, I don't know, don't read the book. I'll probably give it a read. I think for me, it will humanize an icon that Twitter and I once considered being a lizard alien planted by the underground controlling race of the planet. 

*Bonus picture of Hippy Bill*

I Bit My Fingernail Too Short

Before I even start this blog I need you to know those aren't my fingers. I found the picture on Google. That guy should be in jail. His fingers look like the first night Kane took his mask off. Absolutely terrifying. Now that I've gotten in front of that, I bit my fingernail too short. 

It was the thumb. The second I started the peel I knew I had went too deep. I couldn't even finish it with the bite. It was just hanging there, burning, so I had to finish it off with the old pinch and pull. My thumb blew up like a tick. It had it's own heartbeat and everything. Pulsed throughout the rest of that first day. 

I don't know if there is some type of medicine I could've taken to prevent what happened next, but I wish I had. I don't take medicine. It's not to be a tough guy, I think I'm actually too lazy to take medication which is a breakthrough that I just had while typing out this sentence. Jesus. Whenever something on me is hurt or bleeding I just stick it in my mouth. Like a four year old. Especially now, I know that I shouldn't be putting my fingers in my mouth but it's just an instinct. I'm working on limiting the amount of things I put in my mouth. Not like that, sicko. 

I knew I probably wouldn't be able to recognize myself after this quarantine but I never imagined it would start with my thumb. The second day was way worse. My thumb grew a little thumb off the side of it. It's this alien puss pocket that won't stop throbbing. Or burning. If you're the queasy type skip to the last paragraph. 

I've become addicted to popping this puss sack that formed from biting my nail too short. It probably doesn't help the healing process but it gives me relief in my thumb for about a minute. I can't stop. It's like when you scratch a mosquito bite until it bleeds. You know you just made things worse but those few yielding seconds are pure bliss. Plus I really enjoy those pimple popping videos and this is like a live show. The first "pop" was a real squirter and I'm not entirely sure where it landed. It was unnerving, sure, but not enough to teach me my lesson. 

My thumb is a shell of it's old self. Literally. It's like this white hardened skin now that I can move around. I think I'm mutating. I know that people around the world right now are suffering and dying and a lot of other stuff too. But that doesn't make my finger hurt any less. So once you're done clapping for the nurses if you can remember to say a prayer for my thumb that would be much appreciated. 

  

How's The Economy Doing?

How is the economy doing? Not the slightest clue. I just realized the other day that I don't have an inkling of what it means if the economy is doing good or bad. We sure hear it a lot, but what does it actually mean? I don't know the answer, I'm asking you. 

People are saying that the economy is going to go to shit if we don't open up the country. Ok, but how do you know when the economy is shit? What's the gauge? Like is it gas prices? Is that how you know? I feel like unemployment is probably a pretty good indicator, but it's not like I keep up with that. I can tell you what Gio Urshela's batting average was for the Yankees last year, but if you asked me what the unemployment rate was? No clue. Sorry if that makes me a bad person. The other day a friend told me that unemployment is at 14% and I said "Hey not bad". Not the answer he was looking for.   

I can pick it up in conversations from real adults if the economy is doing good or bad. Then I regurgitate it to impress people. I killed it in 2008. When houses were bad or whatever I'd casually slip into conversations, "yeah that was before the economy went to shit" and get a lot of acknowledging nods. But I don't know what that means. All I know about the economy is that there is macro and micro, only because everyone had that one accounting friend in college who loved throwing their little abbreviations around. 

Gun to my head, if you asked how the Great Depression happened, I'd say the stock market crashed. If you followed up with what does that mean, I'd just stare at you and try to listen for the gunshot.

All I'm saying is that proclaiming the economy is doing good/bad is a very blanket statement. I live in stats. Give me something I can work with. Like say we expect this many people to lose their jobs, or something that costs this much is going to cost that much, and other shit like that. I ran out of hypothetical stats, but you get the point. If you want me to learn how the economy works make a fantasy league out of it. Wait....is that what the stock market is? 

  

The Bryan Adams Dilemma

This blog is not going to be a proclamation of my stance on Bryan Adam's tweets. So if you were looking for me to bash or support him, I'm sorry you've come to the wrong place. This is more of a philosophical question that I don't have an answer to. Do I have to hate Bryan Adams?

A few years back I used to work as concert security for PNC Arts Center. After proving that I could be both a ruffian and a professional they started assigning me to backstage details. The first time I actually worked the catacombs of the dressing rooms was for Bryan Adams. I was nervous as shit. I was positioned right outside his room, like anybody could possibly get there, and had to walk him up to stage with his entourage when he was ready to go. I stood there like a jackass for hours, no phone no nothing. My feet hurt and I was bored out of my mind. I tried eavesdropping to entertain myself but I couldn't make anything out. All of a sudden the door opened and I scared the shit out of Bryan Adams, he didn't expect me to be standing right outside his door. I was standing at attention and staring at the wall like a fucking robot. I was maybe 22. He said hello and I replied "Hello Mr. Adams" like a fucking dork. He laughed and clasped my shoulder. Bryan Adams told me to relax a bit and asked me my name. After pleasantries, I told him I was looking forward to hearing him perform. He asked if I was a fan and I told him to be honest I really only knew the hits but that he sung my parents wedding song. My parents were obviously married in the 80's. He said that he was honored and told me to enjoy the show. I told my parent's how cool a guy Bryan Adams was and how he made me feel like we were old pals when I was basically shitting my pants. 

Fast forward to yesterday. Bryan Adams tweeted this: 

   

Yeesh. I know. Real bad look for my buddy Bryan. The internet is dragging him. Somebody wrote that the Summer of 69 was when he formed his opinion on race or something like that, I don't really remember. Fucking brutal burn though. I'm not going to get into the politics of what he said but I will say I disagree with it. I think most people can agree it was just a fucking dumb thing to tweet. Plus my parents got divorced so his wedding song wasn't exactly good luck. 

Do I have to hate Bryan Adams? Was he just heated his tour was canceled? Was it a rough attempt at a joke? Do either of those reasons excuse the tweet? Once the internet hates someone you're just supposed to fall in line. But I met the guy, albeit briefly, and I thought he was a good dude. Truth is, I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel about Bryan Adams. But I did play Summer of 69 while writing this, and what I do know is that song still slaps. 

*Editing Note: I just now read Bryan Adam's apology and he spun it by saying he was speaking out against against animal cruelty and was promoting going vegan. Genius. Fucking knew I liked this guy. My intuition is never wrong. 

Is Jerry Seinfeld Funny?

Jerry Seinfeld, the almost billion dollar man, just released his new special "23 Hours To Kill" on Netflix. If you haven't watched and don't want to ruin your perception of Seinfeld, I wouldn't recommend doing so. If you have watched it, how far did you get? I have about 23 hours and 28 minutes left to kill. 

Jerry likes to keep things clean. His new stand up has no profanity, no gossip, and no comedy. I'm not saying you need to be dirty to be funny. Nate Bargatze is one of my favorite comedians out there. I just believe that if you're going to do clean stand-up you should at least have punchlines. The biggest laugh that I saw from the crowd came from, "This is out. People talk about going out. We should go out, we never go out, let's go out. Well...this is it." Man, real clever Jerry. This is blogger level funny, not sold out arena funny. 

His comedy should have evolved since the 90's. Jerry's simple observations in stand-up were only given a pass because you knew he was going to get bailed out by Larry David's writing after his thirty seconds was up. I'm a Seinfeld fan, but it's time to admit that Jerry is Robin. No clutch gene. Carried by Larry David his whole career. Think about his own show. Have you ever even heard somebody say that Jerry is their favorite character on Seinfeld? Of course not, how little would you think of that person? 

Jerry has a joke where he talks about doing this special, but obviously not because he needs the money. So what was he trying to prove? I hope it's not that he's just as funny as Larry. It's a crime that Jerry is double LD's net worth, but only half as funny. After they "co-wrote" Seinfeld, Larry went on to create Curb Your Enthusiasm and receive 43 Emmy nominations for it. Jerry created this special where he says "I had bucket list but I changed the B to an F". Which is so bad that it's actually a Kenny Chesney lyric and I don't even think Jerry is aware of that. 

23 Hours To Kill would have been a funny/viral commencement speech, but it makes for a shit comedy special. It made me sad, like watching Shaq play for the Celtics. Just accept that you were only meant to dominate in your era and move on. I'll always have love for Jerry. Seinfeld is iconic. So obviously I'm not saying that I'm funnier than him, but I actually might be.  

Turns Out Being Hungover Still Stinks

I was planning on writing a blog today about getting back to normal and how it feels good to be hungover again. I can't do it. I'm in the midst of one of those hangovers that make you think you're never going to be normal again. I'm getting old, this is probably going to last at least three days. 

There was a time when I would drink for the hangover. I was untouchable. Nobody bothered me when I was hungover because they didn't want to deal with me. I get really needy, and really silly when I have flu-like symptoms. So I would remain horizontal and watch Netflix for fourteen hours, in peace. Peace from the roommates and peace from myself. I ate whatever I wanted without an ounce of guilt. Wasn't my fault that I ordered $18 of Taco Bell, I was hungover. Those were the days my friend...

I woke up at 1:00 today and thought it was 8:30. I could smell how hungover I was before I even got up. I had an hour to shit, shower, and get over to my grandparent's for lunch. I was 27 minutes late. I love my mom, obviously, but it was really selfish of her to have "her day" on my only day off. I don't want to say that it was a waste of a day off but I had planned on doing nothing. Now I was doing something. Multiple things actually. When I got to my grandparents house my mother made me carry a flower pot that I would have sworn was 300 pounds. Immediately threw up in my grandparents' driveway. Mom was not amused. My grandparents sat on the backyard porch and we sat distanced out on the lawn. In the fucking sun no less. I ate half of my meal and decided I was over Mother's Day. Luckily, no one was allowed in the house because of high risk and everything. Where you see responsible pandemic precautions, I see opportunity. I made up that I had the shits and announced that I was running home to use the bathroom but that I'd be back. My Grandma, the angel that she is, insisted I stay home if my tummy wasn't feeling well. My mother couldn't expose me without being embarrassed in front of her own parents for how miserably she failed in raising me, despite her best efforts. So through a gritted teeth smile she said "Go get some rest sweetie" and I was out. 

I spent the rest of the day in the fetal position with the Batman trilogy playing in the background. I scrolled through TikTok to distract myself from the nuke of a drunk text I sent last night. Just writing about it makes my toes curl. My room has been diminished to a drink graveyard. There's nine different types of empty drinks on my window sill. I bought an air freshener from my bed. My naked bed. My sheets are missing and I have no idea where they went or why they're gone. I don't think I peed, but there are no guarantees in this life.

I prayed today for the first time since my Nan died. I thought it would feel silly talking to her in my head and wishing her a Happy Mother's Day. It didn't. I'm not confident it works but on the off chance it does I don't want to be pulled up to heaven by my ear when I die for neglecting her on Mother's Day. The prayer ended because I got embarrassed that I asked Nan to take my hangover away if she had any pull. I threw up afterwards. 

Youth is wasted on the little assholes who don't get hungover. Enjoy enjoying your hangovers while you have the chance. I am living proof that those days are numbered. 

Dorky Kids With Hot Moms

Sometimes life is cruel. God, the silly bastard, has been known to have a sick sense of irony. His greatest example, dorky guys with hot moms. You see it in movies all the time. In Hot Tub Time Machine with Jacob, Sofia Vergara and Manny in Modern Family, Jimmy Neutron and his mom. If you don't think Mrs. Neutron is hot, you don't find Lana Del Rey attractive. That's just the facts. 

On screen, the milf/nerd relationship is often utilized to portray the dichotomy of eras. In real life it's just down right hilarious. You know the type. The mom is dressed head to toe in that fuzzy Juicy jumpsuit with big sunglasses and a tight pony tail. The son wears wolf t-shirts and always has his Nintendo DS on him. Whenever I see them out in the wild, I like to imagine how mean the mother would be to her son if they were the same age. 

You know it's true. These moms were the girls in school who wanted so badly to be popular that it has now carried in to their forties. Those girls were always the meanest ones to the quiet kids. They craved cheap laughs so they targeted the low hanging fruit. You don't think a Juicy Mom would be nice to a kid who is fully fluent in Dothraki, do you?

We all had that friend who's mom was really hot. If you don't have a friend like that, you're mom's smokin. Picture Stifler for instance. He often had to wear his friend's comments about his mother. But Stifler at least could physically fight back. I can't imagine the poor kids who were too timid or too scrawny to even stick up for themselves having a hot mom. I wonder if this has any relation to the spike in school shootings.

I guess what I'm try to say is appreciate your mothers this weekend. You could have had a mom like Jacob^^ who was so obsessed with her own image that she didn't realize that her own son had to create a new life in a video game. At least I think that was the gist of their relationship in HTTM, it's been awhile. If you are one of those geeks with a hot momma, I'm sorry pal. Best of luck in virtual reality. 

Defending Jack Mac

Nobody is more surprised about this than I am. I've never liked Jack Mac. It's not something he's ever done or said. I think it's just his face. Or maybe his voice? I don't know. If I'm being honest, it's probably just because I wish I had his job. Regardless of my feelings towards him, he is a part of Barstool and I will not let these Tennessee bumpkins have their way with him. I Volunteer as tribute. 

This is a classic Tennessee move. Cry out that you're a rival with somebody when nobody knows who the fuck you are. Congratulations, now I know who you are. You're the angsty teenage girl from the Incredibles. 

You and all your cousins can get the smoke. Not cigar smoke though, you haven't beaten Alabama since 2006. Fuck you and the pig you rode in on. I will leave a trail of beat up pussies in Knoxville that would make Lane Kiffin jealous. 

It's incredible how identical your taste in football and women are. Both little sister programs. Speaking of your sisterfriend, I will Rocky Top your girl, since Tennessee fans and standings are always bottom.

How dare somebody from Tennessee speak ill of husky girls. Your orange and white checkered clothing looks like it can host a family picnic of five. And stop wearing those ugly ass checkered overalls without deodorant. Stinky fucks. 

You are still Tennessee. I don't care how many recruits have committed. Who are you replacing as the SEC champion, Alabama or Georgia? You can talk down to UConn fans, but the fact of the matter is, after your new recruits get blown out in Tuscaloosa, they'll remain on your campus as long as Gruden did. This year will become the rallying cry on the trail on why recruits should never waste their time in Knoxville.

So run along now son, daddy's here now. You don't want to bump shoulders with the big boys. 

Fuck Rocky Top and Peyton Manning. Butch Jones Forever

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mor3ZBsKINI

Jack Mac if you're somehow reading this, don't let this kid bully you. Say something that at least resembles a burn. You play for the winning team, start acting like it. I believe in you. 

Not Everything Is Doom & Gloom With Me

Our town Mayor died. Wait, just wait a second, I promise this is a positive post. I've noticed that most of my blogs are pretty negative. But I'm a pretty negative person. So today, I'm going spread some positivity, and it all starts with a dead Mayor. 

I'm from a small town. It's a square mile and has one traffic light. The residents often refer to our town as being in a "bubble". We don't lock our front doors and we blast Ray Charles' rendition of America The Beautiful on the Fourth of July. We're a tight knit community. At the center of our bubble, was our Mayor. But he wasn't just a Mayor, he was a friend. 

The Mayor made it his business to personally know the people from his little corner of the Earth. He called my siblings and I by our birthdates. When he saw my parents together, he referred to them by their anniversary date. He was at their wedding and they were at his. The Mayor married my sister. He married some of my friends. He was the town's All Star baseball coach for 25 years. Everybody made the team, and we often were slaughtered. 

The Mayor served the town for 38 years. He wasn't Mayor the whole time obviously, but he had been since 2007. In 2012, Hurricane Sandy struck. 85% of homes in our town were damaged or destroyed. Our community became the poster child for desolation. We answered to news stations while we rummaged through what was left of our lives in the middle of our streets. All eyes were on us, and all of our eyes were on him. While we picked up what was left, the Mayor would go from home to home to check on every single family he could. He was there to help, with a hug, a witty toast, or a smile. 

During an interview our Mayor was asked how our town was going to possibly fight back from all this devastation. His answer was simple, we're going to keep smiling. Keep Smiling was our Mayor's shalom. He signed it at the bottom of his letters, he had t-shirts of it, he used it as a hello and a goodbye. His words weren't empty either, it was his creed and he lived by it. The Mayor was always.fucking.smiling. Always. 

Our town Mayor died. Four days ago, cardiac arrest. The fabric that had woven our town was loosening. We couldn't properly mourn. We couldn't have a wake or a funeral. We couldn't say our goodbyes. So we started saying stories instead. Stories after stories about our beloved Mayor. Happy ones, sad ones, funny ones, and pointless ones. 

The surviving family knew that the town wouldn't be able bring themselves to see the Mayor, so the Mayor was brought to visit the town one last time. The Mayor was strapped to the top of a firetruck, draped with an American flag, and led by a twenty-five police car escort. All surrounding towns sent an envoy to join the Mayor on his final ride through our community. Cops, firemen, EMS, councilman, neighbors, family, you name it. The whole town lined the sidewalks, properly distanced with masks, waving American flags, blowing bubbles, and wearing Yankees and Jets shirts (his favorite teams). As the Mayor was carried through our streets people cried, some clapped, others even cheered. It was unconventional. But I don't think he would of had it any other way.

No matter how much I shit on humanity, it's moments like these that continually restore my faith. Celebrate life, especially when it's difficult. We're going to be alright, Keep Smiling. 

The Happy Birthday In Heaven People Need To Go

Somehow Instagram has become even more unbearable during this fuckery. Without being able to see people anymore, we don't know if anyone still likes us. So we fire up the validation machine, and see if we still have our fastball on Instagram. Likes are like confidence currency, and the town beggars are the "Happy Birthday In Heaven [Insert Deceased Family Member]" crowd. 

I hate them. I'm sorry, I just do. The day your loved one dies and you post it, fine. It's your way to memorialize them and I respect that. I'll probably even throw you a like. I personally wouldn't post that, but I recognize that everybody grieves in their own way. Even their first birthday or holiday or whatever in that first year without them, I'll give you all the passes needed. But my tolerance for mourning ends after one year. No more Happy Birthday In Heaven posts, Nana's been dead for six years it's time to move on. Now you're just chasing that initial high from the amount of notifications you received from your first bereavement post.

They can't say thank you to your "Happy Birthday", so who are you saying it for? Yourself. 

They say you die twice. The first time when you stop breathing, and the second time a bit later on, when someone says your name for the last time. But wouldn't you want to speed that process up if you knew your shitty grandchild was parading you around on Instagram in a hospital gown, at the ugliest stage in your life, just to see if their crush cares about them enough to like the post? I know I would. 

You're supposed to witness your grandparents death. If you don't, something went horribly wrong and you died before them. For many of us, the loss of a grandparent is your first lesson in mortality. Your grandparents' final gift is how to cope with love and loss. So don't let them die in vain and fucking cope with it. No more Happy Birthday In Heaven posts.  

Ghosting

Let's talk about ghosting. Face to face confrontations have become relics since the invention of the smart phone. Ghosting might not paint the most chivalrous picture, but I candidly believe it to be the best option available. Ghosting is a brave endeavor. It takes an uncomfortable sacrifice to give no reason for your departure. To leave like the Roadrunner without a trace. She might be stuck like Wile E Coyote, with a "What Are We?!" sign, but that's the decision you're going to have to make. For the both of you.

The original ghosting was writing love letters to soldiers you didn't didn't know were dead yet. It has since transcended to getting your messages left on read while he decided to sleep with that girl from work who's pictures he kept liking on Instagram. You probably preferred it when you found out we weren't writing back because we were dead in a trench somewhere.

The first time I had seen a ghosting was in the seventh grade. Us Catholic school boys were dating three public school girls from the other side of the track. Our one friend started to make excuses every time we would hang out with our girlfriends, but we didn't really think anything of it. One afternoon in the local Brunswick Zone, our missing friend's girlfriend slammed down her pizza and stared through our souls. "Are me and Tyler still dating!? He hasn't answered my texts in a month and every time we all hang out, he doesn't show up." That was the funniest thing I had ever heard during a Cosmic Bowling hour. Our laughter drowned out Madonna's Last night I dreamt of San Pedrooo and we were drawing death stares from at least six lanes over. We had no idea this was going on.

Who taught Tyler this method? Is it instinctual? Is there something primitive built into our makeup that makes us flee when the going gets hot? This kid was a pro, and he was only thirteen. This was pre-memes, pre-Twitter, pre- everything but AIM. Ghosting hadn't even been coined yet so our friend group named it, the Tyler treatment. We implemented it into our own lives when the cooties became too much. 60% of the time, it worked every time.

It begs the question, who's at fault for the ghosting in an adult relationship? Every time he tried to end it, you saw it coming, and Jedi Mind tricked him into sex mid argument before he could break it off. Divide and conquer, it's the oldest trick in the book. You separate our dicks from our brains and we're rendered useless.

If you dangle nooky to prevent the usurping of your tenure as girlfriend, you're taking advantage of someone who is legally incompetent. Trust me, it'll hold up in court. You know that thing you love that we do? Your clitoris or whatever it is. Our entire sexual organ is one giant clitoris. If you exploit that weakness to interrupt a breakup, we should be found unfit to carry out normal proceedings. 

It's crazy cause women hate when you cheat on them. But if you don't allow someone to break up with you, what other options do we have? How do you break it off with someone without being seduced? You do absolutely nothing until she eventually gives up. In both scenarios, she gets hurt and that's unfortunate. But at least you can't cheat on her if you're already aware that you two have broken up. Even if she isn't up to speed yet.

If you're wondering if you're being ghosted, you are. It doesn't take Summer Sanders to figure that one out. In person break ups are gone for good. Texting break ups have been shamed into obliteration. So now you get nothing. 

I Don't Think We Can Be Friends If You Use Any Of These Emojis

I could never bring myself to use emojis. I haven't gotten good reviews from it either. Women have told me I make them uncomfortable from my lack of little yellow pictures. I also don't use "lol", it really bothers them. Do I find myself intellectually superior from my silent protest on emojis? Only a little bit. I'm not calling you stupid if you use them, but you're probably at least a little dumb. 

Girls get a pass on emojis in my book. I don't have any good reason why, it's just how I feel. Only in texting though, if you post any of these emojis, all bets are off. And any guy that uses these emojis, text or post, cannot apply for the coveted position of being my compadre.

Crown Emoji

Have some self respect. If you feel the need to crown another person publicly then you undoubtedly hold yourself to a low standard. Nothing good can come from a crown emoji. If you post this in regards to a female, you're a "simp", as the kids say. If you post a crown at a man, I have no choice but to think you want to be cucked. Either way you should probably see a therapist. 

Nose Smoke Emoji

Nobody cares about your workout or your progress. If you aren't using this emoji for fitness, stop posting this when NBA players dunk on somebody. It's weird. Are you saying that dunk made you puff out, or them? Erroneous on both counts, just use an exclamation point like an adult. 

Squinty Tongue Out Emoji

This is one of the emojis that girls can use whenever without fear of my harsh criticism. It's just cheeky enough to make it acceptable. If you're a straight man selecting this on a keyboard, what the fuck are you doing? You aren't cheeky, you're scaring people. 

Double Hand Emoji

I don't believe you've ever had an authentic reaction in your life. You say "Yeessssss" a lot too and it's nauseating. What even is this anyway? Are you bowing down like Wayne's World's "We're not worthy". I don't believe so, I think it's a two handed high-five. I have never even considered giving somebody a high ten. Put your fucking hands down you weiner.


Prayer Hands Emoji
No sense of irony. You're taking something that symbolizes a sacred practice and simplifying it to Simpson hands for attention. Either you're putting something hilariously not serious (prayer hands) on a serious post (death/memorial picture) or you're preying on somebody's religious views in hopes that they'll notice you. Where is your shame?

Like in all things, not every emoji is useless. The side eyes and clown face emojis are funny. Other than that, if you feel the need to express yourself, use your big boy words. Until then I'll have consider myself smarter than you. Well in all fairness, even if you change your ways, I'll probably still think I'm smarter than you. Type however you please, but know there are consequences.

Who Would You Freaky Friday With?

If you could Freaky Friday with anyone in the world for a week, who would it be? For those of you who weren't the biggest Lindsay Lohan fans, Freaky Fridaying is switching bodies with another person through fortune cookie magic. Any one in the whole world, player's choice. 

I considered the Pope. You'd have the power to go anywhere and be adored by millions. The big draw would be learning all of humanity's secrets. Access to the knowledge of history's most powerful dynasty. Couple of problems with the Pope. He knows like five languages and I wouldn't be able to keep up that charade. People would know something was up when I was asked to give mass. The Catholic Church has been through enough controversy, I wouldn't want to be the one to end Christianity. Plus he gets laid as much as I do and that'd just be waste of losing my body for a week.

I considered the President. I could be one of the most powerful men in the world, if not the most powerful. Knowing about aliens would be my number one priority. I'd walk right into Area 51. Every President has to have done that right? Like that's got to be the first question in the Oval Office, "Tell me about the aliens". My issue with being the president is I can't even take care of my car, never mind a whole country. What if we were attacked or something? I'd shit myself. 

I considered Leonardo DiCaprio. Men want to be him, women want to be with him. Living the Leo yacht life would be pretty spectacular. But I couldn't choose the Oscar winner because he's too woke. Imagine I switch with him and he's on one of his save the world expeditions. Then I'd most likely just be working for a week in one of Earth's harshest climates. Or I'm asked to speak at a fundraiser. I wouldn't be able to keep up with Leo's depth. Not as an actor, but as a thinker. 

I decided on Cristiano Ronaldo. Do you think there is anywhere in the world that would say "Sorry, Mr. Ronaldo, you're not allowed in"? The man has international access. I'd have more money than God, any partner of my choosing, and basically no responsibilities. If he has a soccer game, I'd tell them I'm sick. If I only speak English, they'd think he's been practicing his language skills. Go ahead and say he's married. So was Tiger Woods. So is LeBron James. Some guys are just bigger than adultery. Who knows, he might even enjoy seeing how the other half lives. Odds are he'd probably lose 50 pounds in my body during one week. Double win. 

Exclusive Interview: Rick Mahorn On Bullying Isiah Thomas

Do Lives Matter?

All Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, Do Lives Matter? Damn, 2020 Dr. Seuss. I don't choose any slogan, because I don't think anybody really cares. What's the saying? If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything? I love laying, can't I just do that? I say if you stand for nothing, enjoy laying down. 

Today "Blue Lives Matter" was trending and I clicked to make sure there wasn't a violent murdering of police. Not that I could do anything about it, but I wanted to know. Turns out it was trending because of a video of white people yelling at cops protesting the quarantine. Everyone was making the same "It's only Blue Lives Matter until they violate white people's rights" joke. Which, first of all, if you look at the video it's very clear that this crowd has never been the Blue Lives Matter type. Take a look at their haircuts, dead giveaway. Plus they didn't have the right fit.

Most people would probably assume I'm a Blue Lives Matter guy. I'm not, all causes annoy me equally. Blue Lives Matter people creep me out. Like the people who fly the Blue Line flag without being a police officer give me the creeps. Even cops who have that flag, like, chill out dude. Are you aware how uncomfortable it is to have a random stranger come up to you and say "I think your life matters"? Wtf, get away from me weirdo? I never knew my life mattering was in question until everyone started stating it. 

Do we really think any lives matter though? How quickly does your life go back to normal after you hear the news of another mass shooting. Obviously, the same can't be said for the victims or their families, but how long did you linger on the last shooting? Do you even know who or where the last active shooter was? 

Last time I told someone about a shooting spree they said, "Like an active shooter?". Like they needed a prerequisite to know how much pretending to do. If it wasn't happening at that exact moment, it was already old news. If they already missed the twitter thread of posting how much they cared, then what's even the point? Remember when the President used to have a press conference after mass shootings? Now it just spends one day as the number one trend on Twitter. That's how we memorialize victims today. Why? Because we've actually stopped caring about lives. 

YOLOing this quarantine really hammers home that we don't care about anybody but ourselves. I'm not criticizing, I'm just calling it how I see it. People are marching on government buildings because they haven't gotten a haircut in a month. Neither have I, I look Amish- and not in a hot way. But every time there's protest we have to decide who's life matters in the situation. Clearly Old Lives Matter isn't doing too hot. There is only one answer to who's life matters. Black cops. They fall under All Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter, and Blue Lives matter. Their lives matter more than anybody else's on earth. 

p.s.- If I had to choose a winner, it'd have to be the Black Lives Matter movement. Originality alone gives them the edge. Everybody kind of swagger jacked them after that first sign. Plus it's a hilarious troll move. I know that's not it's intended use, but it's always funny to see how much it riles up the old white folks.