I Fell For A Fake Stoolpresidente Account

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I am such a fuckin dope. For years I laughed at old people for falling for internet scams. How could anybody be that stupid? You’re a white sixty-two year old from suburbia New Jersey, how the hell could you have a distant Nigerian Prince relative that you didn’t know about? Oh and they left you millions? By all means, share everything about yourself. Well I now have a Nigerian Prince of my own and his name is @stoolpresidonte. Emphasis on the “onte”. 

I’ve been blogging into the void for years now without so much of a peep of interest. So imagine my surprise on a random Wednesday morning when I got the notification that “Dave Portnoy liked your Tweet” in regards to a blog I wrote. This was it, this is what I play for. 

Infamous mugshot and all. I clicked on the profile to confirm it was Dave and sure as shit the El Presidente/ 3 Time Bee Survivor bio was staring me in the face. 

Vindication. It’s pathetic, I guess, but I called my little brother to tell him. I counted all the chickens. I started running scenarios through my head of how I’m going to gently let down my current employer. Where I would live. What my first blog would be. What I want to do with this opportunity. Telling my mom. Everything. 

But all he did was like the Tweet. I wasn’t reached out to but it was at least some kind of acknowledgment. I started to try and make sense of what the “liked” post meant. Did it mean keep up the good work? Did it mean keep writing those type of blogs? What was this hit and run mind game of liking the Tweet with no further contact? 

I went back to the profile. This is how fucking dumb I was being. I suddenly saw that I was now able to DM Dave Portnoy. In my head I convinced myself that because he favorited my Tweet that it created a Twitter loophole that allowed me to now DM him. Yeah, I don’t know. Made sense at the time. Afraid that the loophole would expire, I DM’d him. 

I’m not even going to post what I messaged him. Too ashamed. I was being such a professional dork that I cringed myself into paralysis when there was no response. None of my personality was in my Hail Mary attempt at being hired. 

Against the odds, I woke up to a response from Dave Portnoy. Holy shit, this is it. His message: “Are you registered to the Barstool Sportsbook?” Uhhh yes, but what the hell does that have to do with anything. My conscience ran through the scenarios in my head. Just go along with it, he’s testing to see if you’re a company man. Or maybe it’s because all of my contact info is on there. Yeah that’s it. “Of course I’m registered with the Barstool Sportsbook.” 

After an excruciating forty minutes I got another response. Before we could talk shop, I was told I had to be some kind of premium member with the Barstool Sportbook. He even gave me the phone number to contact his personal assistant to set up my membership. 

Lightbulb. 

Wait why doesn’t his assistant have a New York area code? Quick Google search told me that it was an Iowa phone number. Not completely damning but it started to shatter my morale. I went back to his profile. Fucking @stoolpresidONTE. Cheeky bastard. 

How did I not see it? I guess the excitement. The prospect of getting what I’ve been working towards blinded me to the obvious red flags. I was so concerned with how to articulate my case. It also wasn’t lost on me that on the night Twitter was convinced the world was about to end was the precise moment that I was about to land my dream job. I just chalked it up to my luck and pushed on. I was so consumed by my thoughts  that I never even realized that this fake stoolpresidente only had 1,243 followers. 

Luckily I caught it before I gave up any of my personal information for this premium membership. I sent them my email but, whatever. I don’t think they can get anything from that but I changed my password for good measure. 

I had already mapped out my entire new life without even scheduling an interview. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. 

Can hate the player. Stoolpresidonte was probably licking his chops like, my God look at this fuckin idiot. My DMs to him were so bad that I can’t help but imagine him laughing at them. What a dickhead. 

The call to my brother was horrible. All I had to say was “I’m a fuckin idiot” and he started cracking up. Like uncontrollably. Can’t blame him, I would have had the same reaction. In his defense he was supportive when we thought this dream was a go. Even helped me plan my strategy to pursue. But when it all fell through he pulled the rug out from underneath me. He’ll hold this over me for awhile. 

Only thing to do now is order Chinese food and blast some Shania Twain like a champion. HA damn, I really thought this was my big moment. Stupid idiot. Well, back to the drawing board. 

Nick Saban Confirms He’s Never Going To Retire

Best Coach in CFB history, seven National Championships, leader of men, international sex icon. I’m secure enough to admit that I’ll probably cry when Nick Saban retires. Do I put too much of my personal well being and happiness into a football program? No, I don’t think put enough. Life without Nick Saban will be an empty abyss. I’m glad to hear he agrees. 

“Everyone asks me when I wanna retire. Retire from what? I’m gonna jump into an empty abyss of ‘What am I gonna do?’ The very challenges that I talk about and the things in our profession that concern me- for you and for me both in your game and our game- that’s what keeps me going. That’s why I get up every day. That’s why I can’t sleep at night sometimes. Why would you quit doing that? I haven’t figure that one out yet.” -Nick Saban at the Alabama Football Coaches Association clinic. 

This isn’t the first time Saban has talked about the inevitable. In a 2015 interview with Paul Finebaum Saban said he has at least sixteen years left. His logic was that his mother hit a hole in one golfing when she was eighty, so there’s no reason he can’t still be coaching. 

If you’re wondering if Nick Saban is slowing down, look no further. The whole coaching world is coddling their players with the generation change. That’s how you get Brian Kelly doing his weird Buffalo Bill dance with that recruit. So what does Saban do? Zigs while everybody zags. He publicly called out our young recievers for shitting the bed during the National Championship. Ultimately laying the blame at their whiny feet. And he’s God damn right. 

Every single video that Saban has been in since the National Championship loss has had so much fire and passion in it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He smiled way too much last season. Now the man wants his pound of flesh. 

I’m trying to appreciate Saban in real time. He has me fired up for college football at the end of February for chrissakes. I’m not going to know what to do when he’s gone. Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much. At his rate and my rate I probably won’t even be around to see it. 

Jersey Strip Clubs Vs. Parisian Cabaret Shows

I’m going to Europe for eighteen days in September of this year. Before you say “Oh look at money bags over here,” I’ve been saving up for this trip since I graduated college. I’m going by myself which is nice because I don’t have to cater to what anyone else wants to do. I plan on a good mix of history nerd shit and downright partying. 

I’ve booked a tour of Versailles, a dinner cruise on the Thames, a viewing of the Sistine Chapel, gondola rides in Venice, and a trip up to the Swiss Alps. I’ve also made a list of the oldest bars I want drink in, the coolest food to eat, and clubs to party at. Which brings me to Paris. 

I’m going to tackle Moulin Rougue. Or one of those cabaret shows, for the culture. But to be honest I’m not sure what they are or how to act in them. My knowledge of these performances boils down to short scenes in prohibition era movies. I think they’re just French strip clubs? 

I live in an area with a conspicuous amount of strip clubs. There definitely are “strip club guys” out there but I’m certainly not one of them. With that being said, I’m no stranger either. 

I have thirty-six cousins on one side of my family. Irish Catholic. Turning eighteen and going to the strip club with your older cousins is a right of passage in my family. My first time stepping foot into one went as expected. Deer caught in headlights. I was overwhelmed and too shy and awkward to buy a dance so I spent most of the time at the stage wasting dollar bills. My cousins waited until, how do I say this, the most tenured performer got to the stage to embarrass the shit out of me. She didn’t look a day over fifty-seven. She came out in pigtails and a little cheerleader outfit. My cousin called her down to earshot and said “It’s my baby cousin’s 18th birthday, can you do something special for him?” Then dropped a stack of money on the stage. Candy strutted over to me and shoved my face under her varsity skirt. She pulled her panties to the side and slimed my face up and down. Her pussy smelled like cigarettes and Japanese cherry blossom. I didn’t move a muscle or utter a word as she rode my face off in front of a bunch of strangers. Completely stone-faced despite overhearing my cousins suppressing laughter and whispering “Stick your tongue out.” 

That was just my first encounter. 

Through the years random nights the boys and sometimes girls would find ourselves at the local establishment. It’s BYOB and stays open three hours after the bars closed. One time we lost a friend to the VIP section to what felt like an eternity. He walked out like a puppy dog who had just been kicked. When I laughed and asked him how much money he’d lost he kept answering “Leave me alone.” The stripper he went in with came out of the back laughing and pointing him out to other strippers. The entire roster wouldn’t leave him alone for the rest of the night. I’m aware that guys have paid for “extras” before but I never have. My buddy didn’t get any extras that night either, he sure paid for a lesson though. 

I’ve also literally lost a friend in a strip club after he got kicked out unbeknownst to us. We were seconds away from calling the cops to see if he got locked up before we found him passed out in a random car with the doors locked. It was a Rumple Minze night. Another time I got punched in the face for going with a dirty old man who slapped a woman’s behind and blamed it on me. Then there was the time my cousin knew a stripper from high school despite being an hour away from where they grew up. I spent the whole night making over/under bets with her about how much money she could get off dudes. 

Point being, I know what to expect and how to act in a strip club. 

But what of a French cabaret club? Normally I don’t pay much attention to what people think of me but there’s just something about the French. I don’t want to be the reason they have more ammo to prick their noses up and snort at Americans. 

Like, can I make it rain? Is it skin or strictly those funny tassels they twirl around with no hands? Should I golf clap or hoot and holler? Can I pull the sweatpants move or is it business men in suits? Can I act like like I’m at the Bada Bing or will Shi Shen have me murdered? I guess there’s really only one way to find out. 

Aziz Ansari Switched Over To A Flip Phone. Could You Do It?

Aziz Ansari dropped a mini special on Netflix called “Nightclub Comedian”. It’s been out for about a month now but I just got around to it. It feels very ‘back the basics’ as Aziz finds himself in The Comedy Cellar on a barstool just shootin the shit for 30 min. Which we find out is fitting since Aziz slowly reveals he’s taking a similar lifestyle approach. 

Aziz was big canceled for a bit there. I’m not sure what the outcome of that was but Netflix seems to be cool with it. I’ve seen some Tweets bashing the special, mainly stemming from the serious undertone of the performance. I’ll agree that it was a bit political for my taste but I still enjoyed it. Plus if you can’t laugh at someone making a joke about your side of the fence then you’re a wiener. 

The biggest shocker of the special was when Aziz whipped out his flip phone mid-special. He must fancy himself a modern day Thoreau. It’s not Walden level extreme, but certainly a simplistic lifestyle by today’s standards. 

Which got me thinking what would I miss the most if I gave up my iPhone. Here are my top five. 

5. Social Media

I shoot this shit into my veins. I think I would initially I’d be jonesing with withdrawl but I’d be better off around the turn. I can’t imagine the amount of time I would have on my hands. I’d probably be an astronaut. The potential benefits land Social Media in the last spot. No Tik Tok would be fuckin tough though. 

4. Maps/GPS

I’m not sure if they even sell those clunker monitors that we used to suction to our windshields anymore. I’d be utterly useless without a lady robot voice telling me where to turn. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have to read signs and pay attention to distances while driving. And if I had to use an actual paper map like I’m fuckin Lewis and Clark I just wouldn’t go. 

3. Keyboard Texting

Today’s kids will never know the pain of being in a dire conversation with your crush and using up fifteen minutes to get three text messages back and forth. I was a wizard with T9 Word but I couldn’t go back to that amount of editing because the dumb phone couldn’t keep up with my vocabulary. God forbid you had to type out a curse or slang you’d have to convert back to ABC texting. The worst people in the world were the people too technologically illetarate to use T9. If you used ABC texting you might as well have sent a carrier pigeon. 

2. Looking Up Random Facts

I get into arguments every single day. I’m a gunslinger with daily appointments at high noon and skin an iPhone 12 out of my holster. Just today I got into an argument with a Red Sox fan who told me it was embarassing that the Yankees are retiring Paul O’Neil’s number. In under two minutes I gave him Carlton Fisk’s (Sox retired his number) stats with Boston which were 1,097 hits, 162 home runs, 568 RBIs, .284 BA, .837 OPS and 0 championships. Compared to Paul O’Neil’s time with the Yankees with 1,426 hits, 185 home runs, 858 RBIs, .303 BA, .869 OPS, and five World Series rings. Case closed. I win again. With a flip phone I’d be caught with my pants down during everyone argument, I’d never know what that actor’s from while watching a show, and unable to update myself on the James Webb Space Telescope. 

1. Group Chats

Back in my day when you texted multiple people at once, you’d receive all the responses individually. I can’t revert back to that. Without my groupchats I’d lose all my friends. Long distance would never hear from me again. Local friends would never see me again. Group chats are the heartline to all my social interactions. Whenever I go to a bar, go out to eat, or find myself at an event it’s because it was posted in the chat first. Imagine having to individually text one person every time a group makes plans? I don’t trust my friends to do that, I know I wouldn’t. I don’t know if that says more about them or me…

Verdict: couldn’t do it. Sounds refreshing in theory but I’d never pull it off. There’s no reason to make life less convenient for sanity’s sake. Not to mention, this whole premise is based on a punchline. If Aziz Ansari thinks I’m buying his flip phone bullshit he’s got another thing coming. 

Investigative Journalism: Sopranos Chevy Commercial Edition

It’s a miracle that I caught this commercial. It was a point in my Super Bowl experience where commercials became mandatory bathroom breaks. Luckily my ears are so attuned to the Sopranos theme song that it stopped me in my tracks. 

If you haven’t seen the commercial Jamie-Lynn Sigler reprises her role as Meadow Soprano to drive around mainly shitty parts of New Jersey. The northern part of the Turnpike mostly. I’m not gonna lie I thought it was a trailer at first and was outside of my skull. When she plugged in her blue electric Chevy it became clear that it was just another car commercial.

AJ Soprano also made an appearance hugging Meadow outside the restaurant she parked in front of. Good to see AJ’s still in character being a shitty son. He didn’t even tell his old man he was going to be in a Super Bowl commercial, which you can watch here. 

But…wait, hold on. I immediately became that Leo realization meme of him pointing at the TV. I know that restaurant that Jamie Lynn parked in front of. Bit pricey for my side of the tracks but my Mom tried kicking me out of Bahr’s on Mother’s Day one year because I got her a “grandmother” card and put a fake sonogram in it. 

There’s no fucking car charging station there, is there? 

The restaurant in the commercial, Bahr’s with the big red lobster sign, is 5.1 miles from my house. A nine minute drive. Since I’m sick of letting the Sopranos leave things to my own imagination, I decided to investigate for myself. 

Low and behold:

(Praying this picture uploads) 

No charging station. Not even a hint of a charging station. In fact, where Meadow parked would have been super illegal. There’s no parking on that side of the street and it would have been right on top of the ramp entrance to get back on to Highway 36. I guess the Sopranos have committed worse than a $60 traffic violation, but still. 

Why does this matter? I don’t know. False advertising? I don’t think that’s how that works. Encouraging people to park illegally? Nobody is that dumb. I thought the big reveal was going to pack a bigger punch honestly. Just thought you ought to know.

No, actually, you know what! What it is is that I know that slimeball David Chase was on the set for this commercial! I saw the behind the scenes. It’s been thirteen years and this sick fuck is still getting his jollies off on tricking you through your television for absolutely no reason. Just tell us the truth, David. 

Former Alabama QBs Are In An All Out Twitter War

It all started with a harmless picture posted on Twitter from @ClintRLamb of former Alabama quarterbacks: Cooper Bateman, David Cornwell, and Blake Barnett. The caption read “This feels like ages ago.” It was the 2015 team. At the time those three quarterbacks were some of the highest QBs Alabama ever recruited. Of course, Jake Coker, a 3 star recruit, would come in to eat all their lunches and lead the Tide to their sixteenth National Title. A nice trip down memory lane, right? Not so fast. 

Cornwell responded to a since deleted Tweet about Blake Barnett saying, “I was in the QB room, he really didn’t have much talent. Any other questions about the 2014-2016 seasons?” I’m going to be honest, I don’t know what the tweet said that he was responding to. But judging by Blake’s response, it was clearly about him. 

Since pictures hate uploading I’ll present the back and forth Twitter spat that followed between Blake Barnett and David Cornwall in script form:

Blake Barnett: “From breaking into my dorm room and trashing my room (multiple times) to trashing me on social media. Glad to see you’ve become more secure in yourself. Hope all is well with you too davey” 

David Cornwell: “Is handing over a binder of team ‘allegations’ to the NCAA, so you can transfer without penalty trashing a program? Asking for a friend. I’ll leave it at that.” 

BB: “😂 I wonder if you fabricate stories this good about your playing time. Leave me alone dork lol.” 

DC: “Lol nope, I’m an injury riddled 5 star bust, but I’m ready to admit that, and I’m even willing to set you up real nice for retirement, shoot me a text 💰”

BB: “Business is boomin huh? Glad to see you’ve stepped up from selling fake Yeezys to teammates. Once again, have a good one, leave me alone.” 

DC: “These Yeezys? That you gave me the contact for? And told me they were real? Yeah my bad. #fraud” *Attached we’re Instagram posts of Blake Barnett in Yeezys. 

The Twitter feud pretty much ended there. Blake Barnett tweeted out “Seriously people I have no more intentions of going back and forth on twitter. I’ve retained relationships with former teammates and coaches for a reason. No desire to throw stones on social media.” But Cornwell wasn’t tagged in the tweet. 

I’d be shocked to find an Alabama fan who has anything nice to say about Blake Barnett. For those of you who don’t know, Barnett was supposed to be the greatest thing since sliced bread. 5 star recruit, Alabama’s highest ever QB recruit at the time, early enrollment and all. I remember calling for him to start as a freshman. Coker clearly turned out to be the right call.

The following year, Alabama opened up against USC and Blake got the nod to start as a redshirt freshman. It was that game that USC came literally crawling out of the tunnel like they had to be held back and got embarrassed 52-6. Alabama got off to a slow start that game with Barnett under center. His play got him benched for a true freshman. None other than Jalen Hurts, the rest was history. 

Blake blamed a lot of his transferring on criticism from Saban. He went to ASU the following year. He barely saw the field and transferred to his third school in three years, USF. Barnett had 12 TDs and 11 INTs in eleven games for the Bulls. Then he lost his starting job to Jordan McCloud his senior year. Sucks to suck. 

So am I a bit biased when it comes to this Twitter fight? Most likely. But I feel like it was a blood bath. Davey shoved Blake in a locker one last time. First of all, whining about your room being trashed by upperclassmen when you’re a freshman is just sad. It’s called hazing. Ever heard of it? The only clean jab Blake got in was calling him a dork. Not an easy thing to come back from. The whole Yeezys thing is whatever. Even if Cornwell was selling fake Yeezys, like, respect the hustle. But the killshot came from DC alleging Blake tattled to the NCAA upon transferring. 

If that’s true, I wouldn’t step foot in Alabama if I were Blake Barnett. Even though whatever he said obviously wasn’t true, I’m pretty sure it’s punishable by death in the great state of Alabama to snitch on Saban. 

My Rams Curse Has Finally Been Lifted

I’m happy for Aaron Donald for solidifying his proper place in NFL history. I’m happy for Cooper Kupp having arguably the best wide receiver season ever. I’m happy for McVay silencing all the doubters. I’m happy for Stafford clawing his way out of hell to challenge the minds of Hall of Fame voters in just one year. I’m happy for OBJ for proving all the haters wrong. I’m happy for my guys. But enough about them. 

I’ve been fighting for a Rams championship for longer than any player on that team. 

During the 2001 season, the Rams’ Greatest Show On Turf seemed to be reaching it’s pinnacle. Kurt Warner, Marshall Faulk, Torry Holt, Isaac Bruce, Orlando Pace, the whole sha-bang. Rams were on a crash course with an improbable young up and comer, Tom Brady and the Patriots. 

My third grade teacher (curse you Mrs. Leite) decided to ask the class who they want to win the Super Bowl by a show of hands. I don’t know if these kids knew their football or if it was just because she said Patriots first, but every single person raised their hand for the Patriots. So I raised my hand for the Rams. Quite the contrarian even at such a young age. 

Mrs. Leite tells me to explain why I want the Rams to win. I didn’t know there’d be a test? I had nothing. “Just to be a dick,” wasn’t an acceptable answer. So chest out, I proudly told the class, “Because I’m a Rams fan.” You would’ve thought I voted for the Nazis to win. The whole class jumped down my throat. Everyone was quick to point out the Giants jacket I constantly wore to school. I told them my Dad made me wear it. I was the harshest critic in the class and my classmates saw their chance and took it. 

They called me a liar, they called me a band wagon fan, and worst of all, they called me a front-runner. “I’m NOT a front-runner!” I had no idea what a front-runner was but I was sure I wasn’t one. I’ll show these fucking idiots, I’ll show them all. I’m Rams til’ I die now, I have no choice. Plus my new found team is in the Super Bowl? How hard will it possibly be to be a fan of a team this good? 

The Rams lost that Super Bowl. Tom Brady actually played like shit. Ty Law and Adam Vinatieri won that first ring. Whatever, we have Kurt Warner and Marshall Faulk we’ll be back next year. We were not back next year. Rams went 7-9 my first full year of fandom. 

The football gods do not smile favorably on turncoats. I didn’t know it at the time but I was about to serve a twenty year sentence. 

It was my fault they were so bad for so long. I was silently cursing the Rams and nobody knew it but me.

I stuck with them. I was confident Marc Bulger was the rightful heir. I was in love with Steven Jackson. I was cocky about Sam Bradford not knowing his knees were made of glass. I thought Robert Quinn was the next LT. I fought for Jeff Fisher and Jared Goff. I talked shit during our twelve year playoff drought. 

I live in New Jersey. I don’t know if you’ve ever met a a Jets or Giants fan from New Jersey but they’re scum of the earth. The Rams left me in the trenches taking grenades from overweight drunks with too-tight backwards hats and kids with too much gel in their hair. Giants had two Super Bowl wins and Jets had their back-to-back AFC Championship games years in that time frame. Two of the easiest franchises to talk shit to and I didn’t have a leg to stand on against them because at the end of the day I was a Rams fan.

And then Aaron Donald was drafted and then McVay came, and things were starting to change. From worst to first in our first year under McVay. Second year Super Bowl. Shit the bed, took a couple shots personally, but I felt it in my loins that we’d be back. 

I heard the noise all season. We couldn’t beat good teams. We thought our Week 3 win over the Bucs was the Super Bowl. I even got into an argument with a Zach Wilson wiener rider in a Mcloone’s that we should fire McVay. We’re gonna get washed by the Cardinals first round of the playoffs. Wrong. Made Kyler quit. There’s no way we beat the Bucs twice. Wrong. Bengals are a “Team of Destiny.” Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong…

It was poetic really. I’m not sure the date I became a Rams fan but it’s damn close to exactly twenty years. The Rams brought Tom Brady into this world, it was only right that we take him out. But just like 2002, new up and comer stud who everyone was rooting for. The team that’s lost for so many years now has their young stud. Same place I found myself in my first Rams Super Bowl. But this time we were ready and we wiped our ass with the Nation’s dreams. Only Detroit, 1/3 of LA, 1/2 of St. Louis, and myself were rooting for the Rams. Super Bowls Champions. 

It doesn’t matter that McVay might leave for TV even though he’s never had a first round draft pick. It doesn’t matter that Aaron Donald might ride off into the sunset. It doesn’t matter that Whitworth might join him. It doesn’t matter that Von Miller and OBJ are free agents. It doesn’t matter how old Stafford is getting. Doesn’t matter that my kindergarten niece will get her driver’s license before the Rams see another first round pick. 

None of it matters because we pulled it off. Hangovers last two days now but Lombardi’s shine forever. 

The Barstool Bama Instagram Viceroy Needs To Transfer

Whatever freshman is running this Instagram account needs to be dangled by their little piggies from the roof of Rounders until they squeal for mercy. Yesterday before the Super Bowl, some idiot had the gall to post a picture of whogivesashit with the caption, “It’s Joe Sheisty’s world and we’re all just living in it.” Excuse me? Are you aware this is an Alabama account, sir? People have been expelled for less. 

I’m not exaggerating when I say I hate this person.

This post had me googling if you can fire someone who isn’t being paid. Which might sound extreme but trust me, it was the most humane punishment I came up with. 

The good people of Alabama haven’t been getting arrested on COPS yelling “Roll Tide!” in a pair of silver bracelets for decades only for some out-of-state vest wearing douchebag with perfectly manicured hair to roll over and let LSU pat our belly under an Alabama banner. You are not our champion, you do not speak for us. This disgusting display of cowardice should be enough to make you leave the school. If you love Joe Burrow so much why don’t you marry him?

Do you understand what this man did to us? It’s been three years since LSU beat us in Bryant-Denney and I literally had to argue last night that Alabama would have beat them if Tua wasn’t two weeks removed from ankle surgery. On one leg he still kept the Tide right there in a 46-41 loss. Do you even know what they’re talking andouille sausage of a coach said in our locker room after that loss? All because of your precious “Joe Sheisty”! You should be ashamed of yourself. 

The last time Nick Saban’s angelic face graced the Barstool Bama Instagram page was on December 14th, 2021. In that time we’ve spanked Cincinnati and gone to a National Championship. How is it even possible not to post Saban since then? Oh but I have a grand idea, let’s post us sucking Joe Burrow’s dick. 

This is what happens when you don’t let the band play Dixie. These little punks don’t even know, “FUCK AUBURN….AND LSU…” You see that second part? Underline it three times and burn it into the back of your skull. 

Look, I don’t want to hound too much on a potential eighteen year old who’s just trying to make a name for themselves, but they should be kicked out of the country. This post actually has me questioning the entire First Ammendment. At the very least, this Tigers fan in Bama clothing should be stripped of their student package next year. 

Only Bitches Can Be Dog Moms

People who comment on Facebook community pages, and Disney adults, and dog moms and dads are all the same people. It’s one gigantic group of self-unaware weirdies who are so out of touch with the internet that they believe their posts are validation to their own insanity. 

Look, I love dogs. I love your dog actually. I love seeing dogs out in the wild. I love seeing posts of dogs. I, too, have a weird voice that involuntarily comes out when I’m interacting with a dog. But they are not children. 

So keep your “fur baby’s” Instagram request the fuck away from me. You wanna post your dog then post your dog? But I count be held accountable to you taking offense of my friend request rejection from a creature that doesn’t even have opposable thumbs. And the captions? Oh God. Where you pretend the dog is saying the caption and change your “r’s” to “w’s”. Where is your shame? You weren’t made fun of enough as a child. People can see this. I will never be Instagram Furiends with you. Ever. 

I’m assuming it’s because we’re pushing thirty and none of us have kids. Unless you oopsie’d in high school or something. For the last 100 years or so we were told your twenties and early thirties are your baby making years. That threshold seems to have been pushed back. Which I don’t give fuck, do whatever you want with your timeline. But don’t put a fucking bonnet on a dog and shove it down my throat because feel like playing house. 

Making dogs pets is top three things humans ever decided to do. We love them, we baby them, and they love us back unconditionally. But you are not their mom or dad. You’re lonely and unfulfilled. 

Tik Tok Trend Has People Horny Online For Disney Characters

Smash or pass was first invented by Mark Zuckerberg in the beginning of The Social Network. Since then it has taken on a life of it’s own. From Tinder marriages, to Grindr stall handjobs, and now Tik Tokers confessing what cartoons they want to fuck. 

If you need diffinitive proof here’s a list: 

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdkb8K42/

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdkbFkWA/

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdkbj6xD/

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdkqWjhp/

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdkbhEsX/

That’s just a taste. Searching these videos is certainly going to fuck up my fyp for awhile but that’s my cross to bear. 

If you’re lazy or don’t trust links for whatever reason, here are just some of the strangest “smashes” from the videos above: Dory as in the fish, Tigger, Joy from Inside Out, Maid Marian the fox version, Baloo, Cogsworth, Lady from Lady and the Tramp, and Mike Wazowski. 

I heard that one time somebody even admitted wanting to hit Nala from Lion King. 

This trend is a glaring examples of two problems evident in today’s society- we over sexualize everything and nothing is sacred on the internet. 

I wouldn’t put it past slimeball psychiatrists to be the ones to create these trends. There’s a lot to unpack here. Doing the trend is one thing but when you start to question why you want to fuck inanimate and animal cartoons from your childhood that’s a whole other ballgame. 

You have to feel for the original creator of this filter. It’s a simple Dinsney character randomizer. They probably thought people would ask “What Disney character am I?” or “Who would be my best friend?” or “Who’s coming to save me if I’m kidnapped in a Disney movie?” What could possibly go wrong? It turned into- who’s back do we want to blow out, that’s what. 

This is a sick world we live in. 

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That being said, Jasmine or Mrs. Incredible if you’re reading this… DMs are open. 

What’s The Worst Thing You’ve Shown Up Hungover To

In honor of Brian Flores accusing John Elway of showing up to his interview with bloodshot eyes, tie askew, and smelling of strippers (ok, my words not his) I took a trip down misery lane to reminisce on some of my most poorly timed hangovers. 

However bad you think your hangovers are, mine are worse. My friends say I have a distinct “hangover TKJ” smell and it normally ends with me picking various Chinese food leftovers out of my bed for the rest of the week. 99% of the time I stay horizontal for the entire hangover. But sometimes that pesky little bastard responsibility gets in the way. 

Everyone’s shown up to work hungover at some point, pretty sure it’s written into the Constitution as a right of passage. There were also my three consecutive years of doing a Beer Olympics the day before St Pattys Day and then going into NYC hungover as a dog. Then there was the time I was hungover and had to move my rich uncle into his Manasquan shore house in the snow. But my undisputed worst was when the stakes were at the highest. 

I had to take an unofficial physical fitness test that determined the outcome of my career. My livelihood, my way to get pay my student loans so my parents didn’t have to sell their house. My physicality can best be described as the guy who lost a step, lost three more steps. Fathlete for sure, but a 4 on my Madden stamina rating. And now, hungover, I had to complete a timed 1.5 mile run, a 300m sprint, 24 perfect pushups in a minute, 28 sit-ups in a minute, and a vertical jump. Back to back to back to back to back to back. I can’t run up the stairs to my apartment.

I’m Sorry, But Luke Skywalker’s A Dumbass

LeBron James is second only to Luke Skywalker as a “Chosen One” to be given a pass by the general public. The man is hypocritical, short-sided, and quite frankly, a dumbass. This latest Book Of Boba episode proves it. 

* Spoilers for The Book Of Boba Fett Chapter 6

From the Rey triology we’re made aware that Luke started training the next generation Jedi in an academy that ultimately ended in a massive failure. From the newest BoB episode, we learn that he fucked up from the very first student. 

In the prequel season, Order 66 orchestrated by Palpatine and carried out by the clones and Anakin took out most of the remaining Jedi. But how did we get there? 

I propose that it’s the Jedi Counsel’s fault. Their inability to adapt their antiquated rules led to Anakin becoming Vader. Sure, Palpatine used his grief over his mother and mostly his love for Padme to turn him. But he only offered him an alternative to the Jedi’s stupid rule. An alternative to love who he pleases. Since the Jedi Counsel bans any outside love or attachment, Palpatine found a crack. The Counsel was incapable of allowing their Jedi a life outside of their order and it led to their downfall. If they simply allowed Anakin a life as a Jedi with Padme, Sidious wouldn’t have had any leverage. 

Which brings us to Luke. A life without love and attachment was easy for the young Padawan since the only family he’d known got clapped on Tattooine. At first. But Luke grew into the picture perfect Jedi. Which surely means he had no outside love or attachment, right? What about Leia? What about Han? What about his love for Vader? Luke explicitly tells Yoda “I can’t kill my own father.” 

In that final battle between Luke and Vader, Luke says three times that he won’t fight him. It isn’t until Vader learns of his twin sister and threatens to turn her to the dark side that Luke is able to defeat him. To which Palpatine says, “Good your hate has made you powerful.” But we know he doesn’t hate Vader because he’s unable to bring himself to kill him. It was his love for Leia that made him powerful. 

And how about Vader? As we see Sidious lightning fucking Luke to hell as he screams out “Father please!”, what turns him back from the dark side? Oh that’s right, his love and attachment to his own son forces his remaining hand to kill Palpatine. So Vader’s love and attachment for Luke and Luke’s love and attachment to Leia save the galaxy. 

So we all learned the valuble lesson that allowing love and attachment isn’t a weakness for Jedi but actually a strength. Luke loved Leia and Anakin, I’m positive he’ll allow other Jedi to follow the same path. Surely he won’t make that same mistake The Jedi Counsel did with this new generation of Jedi, right? Wrong motherfucker. First fucking student, Grogu, is forced to choose between the Beskar armor and a lightsaber. Din Djarin or Jedi. Can’t have both. Two steps forward, three steps back. Hopefully Ahsoka talks some sense into this dumb motherfucker since she witnessed Anakin’s downfall first hand. But judging by the shit she was saying to Mando I highly doubt it. 

I’m not pushing Sith idealogies here. There’s a fine line between love and hate and the Sith use that to endorse the latter. Instead of eradicating all outside attachment I’m merely suggesting that Jedi, who, mind you, meditate for hours a day, to distinguish the difference between the two. 

Protect And Serve Up DoorDash

A South Dakota police officer is going viral for finishing a DoorDash delivery after the driver was arrested on a warrant. You can watch the Ring camera footage and see the Sergeant’s response here. The officer says “…your driver got arrested for some things he didn’t  take care of.” Which normally means they forgot to pay a minor traffic ticket, hence the warrant. It’s really just some quick paperwork and normally the fine can be paid and the arrested persons released immediately thereafter. Officer Buhr, however, went above and beyond to serve his community. Arby’s to be specific. 

What I believe most people fail to recognize is that when you generalize police, you discount cops like Officer Buhr. Most of the cops in this country serve small communities, in small departments, with a low crime rate that are able to do favors for their towns. Like finishing deliveries. But that’s not to discount big city departments. I can’t imagine working their constant carousel of ass-puckering calls and making the decisions they face on a daily basis. I’m not saying they’re without good deeds, but I doubt the NYPD has the time to finish roast beef slider deliveries. 

But these are a staple of small town policing. A large majority of that job is mediation and figuring out a solution where everyone can leave as satisfied as legally possible. I’ve called the cops once in my life. It was only because I knew the guy was a registered sex offender out on a street corner at midnight in a neighborhood he didn’t live in or know anybody. Fair call, right? Crimes, medical emergencies, fires, or reasonably suspicious activities occurring. That’s what I was taught anyway. 

Apparently everyone didn’t receive that same lesson as me. Here are some instances where people have called outside of that criteria, or so I’ve heard. 

- A man called because he believed there were either squirrels or raccoons in his attic. I don’t know what crime he believed was being committed. Maybe he thought the cops would just shoot them? He was hand delivered a list of locally trusted exterminators and animal removal companies. 

- A woman flagged down an officer in her vehicle by beeping and waving her arms frantically. The officer quickly, yet safely K-turned for fear that the woman was in danger. The driver asked the officer if he could drive her to her DoorDash address that she couldn’t locate. A mile and a half out, the officer happily showed her the way. 

- One department constantly receives calls at all hours of the night when it snows. Not for a motor vehicle crash or anything but to inquire if school will be open the next day. Why the residents believe the police have this information is unknown but they promise to post it to their Facebook page whenever they receive confirmation. 

- Another man called saying he needed help and hung up the phone. The man declined every call back from the dispatcher as officers responded to the address. The man needed a package brought in from his porch and requested that the police plug in his new cable box for him. 

- One particular town has a known holiday lights house. People from out of town continuously call for directions and to question what time the lights start and finish. Though the police are not customer service for this lights spectacular, they try and disseminate the information as quickly as possible to free up the emergency line. 

- A woman in her thirties called because there was a bee in her house. She had no allergies, she just didn’t like bees. The officer chased the bee with a newspaper until it finally flew out of an opened window. The officer radioed in that “The suspect took off on wing and he was currently in pursuit. The perp was last seen where black and yellow striped clothing.” A seminar was given the next day in the department on radio etiquette. 

People call police for non-police matters every day. Unless they’re busy, they don’t mind. In fact quite the contrary, they enjoy the interaction. I’d wager that 99% of cops took the job to protect and help the community. Many of them grew up in the towns they work in. That’s why they’re also proactive in doing tasks that they aren’t required to do. I know cops who shovel out fire hydrants when it snows. Who give rides to people when it’s raining or they’ve had too much to drink. Who are the first ones to donate and raise funds for families that have been hit with tragedy. 

I’m not saying it’s a perfect profession without fault, and I’m not one of those blue line weirdos. I just think it’s nice to hear the good with the bad. Like Officer Buhr, who has the meats.