Thursday, April 28, 2011
Second post in a row about people not wanting to watch TV. Royal wedding, blah blah blah, you're not watching because it's on at like 4 in the morning or some bullshit. Don't make this a philosophical stand, bro. Also, it's a wedding of two people you don't know. You know why you're not watching, Leo? Because you're a male. Only females are excited about the wedding and that's only because they claim to like these kinds of things when in fact they just really want to talk shit about the girl and William's horse mouth. Deal with it.
I honestly couldn't resist the irony of posting this article as I'm watching the NFL draft. Cam Newton, mark Poopreads' words on this date, will be a bust. Might make a great tight end someday, special athleticism, but he will never grasp an NFL system well enough to play QB. Ever.
I like the Von Miller pick. Anyone undersized going that high has to have a motor that will serve him well in the pros. But those hugs went on just a tad too long didn't they? You hug your family, you maybe cry a little, but you don't go up and hug Roger Goodell for 20 seconds while crying. Bad look. Then again, I could see Ray Lewis doing that.
Take another look at that title. Can you imagine if you were basically the best high school quarterback in California history, and 25 years after you graduated this was the title of the most popular article ever written about you. Gut wrenching. On the day of the NFL draft, take a look inside the life of the man who may have been the biggest football bust ever. And that's saying something.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Ryan Mallet is a cocky college kid who drinks beer and likes to smoke pot. He's also 6'7", has a rocket arm, and is has a body that is the platonic ideal of a big-time pocket passer. Would you draft him?
Cocky's not bad for a quarterback right? John Elway ring a bell? How about Joe Namath? And what about JaMarcus Russell? Scratch that last one.
Brian Mockenhaupt is a former U.S. infantryman who is now a pretty accomplished writer. He's always got unique angles on things, mostly because of his unique experience. Here he writes a haunting piece on a front line hospital in Afghanistan. Buckle up.
Tom Junod writes a satirical synopsis of Donald Trump's presidential candidacy that would make Robert Swift proud.
This is a book excerpt from Leigh Montville's new book Evel Knievel. This article is about his most famous stunt: jumping over Idaho's Snake River on a rocket-powered sky cycle. The surrounding party was almost as crazy as the stunt.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Collichio's just such a solid product of the great state of New Jersey. An blue-collar, Italian cat who decided what to be and went out and became it. Nothing not to like there. Here he discusses his career, balancing his family life, and of course, good food.
This article for the New Yorker profiles a kind of young, hip scientist who is studying why time seems to slow down during moments when you might die. The article starts off with a recounting a time when the scientist, David Eagleman, a professor of neuroscience at Baylor, fell off the roof of a house as a kid. He mentions the moment when you realize you are really falling. That's a scary moment. In my experience, when you jump off anything over 20 feet high there is a moment I refer to as the "oh fffffuck" moment. The time when your body is telling you you should have landed by now, but for some reason you haven't. You don't even want to scream, you just state to yourself as a matter of fact "oh fffffuck." No matter how many times you do it, it happens. It's really a disconcerting spot to be.
Pretty sure normal people can knock the Wonderlic out of the park right? I love the NFL, but you can't tell me 98% of those dudes aren't dumber than the ten dumbest kids in your high school. You can't. Remember the best athlete in your high school? He was probably one of the ten dumbest kids there. And he went on to ride the bench for two years at NC State before transferring to Muhlenberg or some shit. So think about how dumb the dudes who star at Miami and then go on to the pros must be. Block of wood dumb. That's my guess.
Christopher Hitchens thinks someone should put one in between Qaddafi's eyes. Lots of reasons to disagree with him. Lots of reasons to agree with him. Lots of reasons to read this.
Monday, April 25, 2011
I'm so glad I found this article. It's a compilation of where the top expected draft picks in this year's NFL draft were ranked as recruits out of high school. History, speculation, and high school football all rolled into one. What more could you possibly want out of an article? Anthony Costanzo (previously referenced in this blog update before I read this article) was a 2-star recruit (out of 5 stars). Now he's a first round draft pick. Is that reverse racism?
Probably not. More likely just bad scouting.
Probably not. More likely just bad scouting.
I like Stephen Marche, Esquire's pop culture writer. Here he tears Stefani Germanotta a new one. I don't agree with everything he says though. For example, as far as crappy pop music goes, I think Gaga actually makes some of the better songs out there that were designed to be fetishized by 15 year old girls. She's like a female Kanye to me. I despise her whole persona and if you stuck me in a room with her I'd be pissed, but at the end of the day, I dunno, her songs aren't half bad. Kind of hard to hate her. Not that it stops Marche. I can't decide if he comes off a little old-timey here. He might. But my man is he angry. And angry's good sometimes.
I kind of respect this cat J-Train's game. Kid's about his hustle. Emailed me the other day saying he liked the blog, and he's a writer blah blah blah. And obviously I get like 30 of those emails a day of people trying to plug their own stuff and I usually read their links and don't respond to the email, but it just so happens that this dude is pretty good. Just doling out harsh but honest dating advice to hapless mopes like you and I. Probably more you than I. I don't take advice. I may mull it. And I might look you in the eye and pretend I'm taking to heart what you just told me. But in the end I'm not actually listening. I'm wondering if Kate Middleton is hotter than an 8 or if I can really get behind the G-Men drafting a white offensive lineman from BC. No offense, I just already know what to do. It's my gift. And my curse.
Anyway pretty sure if you let J-Train loose in a room full of chicks a bunch of them would end up in tears but probably be better off for it. Have at.
Anyway pretty sure if you let J-Train loose in a room full of chicks a bunch of them would end up in tears but probably be better off for it. Have at.
Again, the Times is trying to beat me with this pay wall but I will not be bowed. Honestly, I only had a chance today to skim this interview with Ernest Hemingway but apparently there are some absolute gems buried in here. A couple of my boys were emailing me all day with zingers from Papa. They're very writerly.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
"Bright, Careful and Sadistic: Profiling Long Island’s Mystery Serial Killer" by Manny Fernandez and Al Baker - NYTimes.com
Some creeps in the FBI sat around and decided that the serial killer in Long Island is a white guy in his 20s to 40s with mommy issues and maybe a girlfriend. Way to go, professionals. Sounds exactly like every serial killer ever. Also, all of my friends.
p.s. I'm looking at you, Brett.
p.p.s. and chuck
p.p.p.s. and you, chris
p.p.p.p.s. I'm frightened.
You guys seen this idiot? Killed some guy at a liquor store in LA and got the crime scene tattoo'd on his chest, like, to the detail. Seven years later he gets picked up on some random bust and some Sherlock Holmes type cat in the LAPD is like "hey, wait a second."
Check out the pic though. As far as I can tell this doe-eyed Mexican named Chopper Garcia stabbed Mr. Peanut in the head and walked scot-free. But in his defense I bet there's a hundred dudes out there just waiting for a shot at Mr. Peanut. With his top hat, and his smooth dance moves and his smug, smug smile. Dollars to donuts he banged Chopper's girl. Fuckin' peanut got what he had coming to him you ask me.
p.s. nothing to do with anything, but how weird is it that Jordan Catalano has a pink mohawk and sings in a band now screaming about shit? Relax dude, you're not that cool.
The U.S. government just released files on every inmate held at Guantanamo. There's some pictures in there. Not a bad read if you're gonna be flying anytime soon. Just sit there like an owl with your head on a swivel. Full 360 degree rotation looking for terrorists like 25 to life never crossed your mind.
Some people got freaked out by the shoe bomber dude a few years back, lighting his airwalks on fire and failing miserably like a worthless terrorist. I think that's kind of a dream scenario though in some respects. Like, this loser was going to try and blow you and a hundred other innocent people up for no reason, and now he failed and you and the burly dude from aisle 18 have an hour to absolutely fuck his shit UP before you land? And no jury in America is going to convict you for it? Free shots on terrorists? Sign me up.
I would do work.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
My guess is that we are at about a 60/40 break of Poopreaders who know about David Foster Wallace. Put simply, he was arguably the greatest writer of his generation, in possession of a brilliantly analytical mind and capable of the kind of insights that make other writers think about choosing new careers. He was also, by many accounts, an excellent tennis player--nationally ranked as a kid. And he remained a fan throughout his life, which ended at his own hand in 2008. This piece from the NYTimes' Play magazine is perhaps his most famous shorter work. He examines Roger Federer at the height of his greatness. A great read for a Saturday morning cup of coffee, it's one genius explaining another.
Five different firsthand accounts of dudes who failed miserably at hooking up. Always good for a schadenfreude boost on a rainy Saturday morning. You'll have to excuse me now, I'm going to eat eggs.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Oh what the hell, one more entry on Friday. I had a whole thing typed out about this list of 100 things that are awesome about 30 Rock, but Safari kind of sucks and crashed and erased it. Such is life. Anyway, if you like the show, trust, you will enjoy this list.
So as many of you have probably heard, sadly, award-winning photographer Tim Hetherington was killed in Libya this past week while taking photos of the uprising there. Hetherington was a rising star in his field and won the World Press Photo of the Year award in 2007 for the linked shot. He also co-directed the gripping Afghanistan war documentary Restrepo along with Perfect Storm author Sebastian Junger. Also, by all accounts he was an exceptional guy—one who was just out there taking big risks for big rewards, trying to peer into the soul of war fighters the world over with his camera.
Here is the last interview he did before he died.
Drew Magary lays out a plan for all you creeps out there to shake the creep label from chicks and hopefully get laid. Some of his advice is downright misguided, but entertaining to read anyway. In college, i lived with my class's "sketchy" guy. Dude got more butts than an ashtray and I'm pretty sure it was precisely because he was the sketchy guy. There's a bit of an aura about that dude. Where is he? What's he gonna do next? Nobody knows, not even him. Sketchballs are like wild animals in that regard.
Slate comes up big again. This article examines why girls are, overall, more anxious, or perhaps just viewed as more anxious, than boys. I can't think of anything witty to say about this piece, but suffice to say it lays bare some common misperceptions and may help you see a bit more eye-to-eye with your girlfriend/fiance/wife next time she starts making lists for no reason and nagging you to do stuff you don't want to do. Hint: she's on the right track baby, but she wasn't born that way.
p.s. That's right. Gaga. Suck it, it's early.
Thanks to Phelley
Posted by No Clue Ninja at 5:23 AM
Is this Poopreads' first WSJ article? Feels like it might be, would have to check the archives and I'm not going to do that so let's just say that this is the first entry. It's about basketball, weirdly. Specifically the Knicks and their playoff hopes. It's definitely a New York article. Crisp, funny, short. You may want to print out an addendum if you think it's gonna be a while.
p.s. Anytime anyone has the last name Gay I immediately assume they can kick my ass. Kind of like being a boy named Sue.
Update: Not the first WSJ article.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I Don't Know the Title of this Article but It's about Obama When He was Young - by someone at the NYTimes.com
Three different Poopreaders whose opinions I trust sent me this link today. Something about Obama being raised somewhere other than America, but in a positive light and not a Tea-Party type spin? I wish I knew, but the New York Times shut my ass out today. No more free lunches I suppose. Gonna have to pay for my New York Times articles like the rest of you slobs. But let me make this clear, I am not paying for anything on the internet. Ever. There will always be a way around a pay wall. It just takes time to find it.
So click on this if you can for free, and enjoy. But if you have to pay, I suggest hollering at William Donald Schaefer's obit. That's free. Just like it was intended to be.
This is a wacked out story about how two random Boston dudes wound up being best pals with Kendrick Perkins. There's a lot of strange details in this story (Perk doesn't like it when people watch him eat) but I think the most insightful detail of all is that Perkins is at that perfect point in celebrity--people know who he is, kinda, but no one would call him famous--that he can really break down walls with social media. Like, if Perk wants to chill with you, play some Madden maybe, he can, and he will. He's not Peyton Manning, he's got no endorsements and no reason to hide. He's just an enormous dude, playing basketball, getting more tail than he rightfully should, and making friends with whiteboy nerds like the ones in the picture. Does that make sense?
A year after the BP Oil Spill, Tom Junod, who continues to set the standard in my mind for serious magazine writing, reminds us that it wasn't just pelicans that suffered from the disaster. Eleven men died the day the well blew, and the reverberations were felt well past six-degrees deep.
First things first, I don't know jackshit about Bodymore, Murderland, except that Bodie and Bunk were the two best characters on The Wire, Ray Lewis probably didn't kill that guy but I'm pretty sure he's capable of murder anyway, and I love crab cakes but I'm allergic to them when I drink and no one eats crab cakes sober except maybe Ray Lewis because he's a madman. (Breath.) That being said, this is an eloquent obituary for a man who truly knew Baltimore--former Mayor William Donald Schaefer who passed away Monday. He was the guy who gave a damn about Baltimore before David Simon made it the cool thing to do. Read this if you want to be inspired by someone fighting the good fight.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I'll be honest. I don't follow the NBA more than casually. But my man Phil Blizza does and he's smarter than he looks (not hard to do, really). He sent me this link so if it sucks blame him. Pretty sure the title says it all. I guess these guys actually try to win in the playoffs?
The NBA, where mostly apathy happens!
thanks to Phil
A profile of Bear Grylls. You guys watching Bear Grylls? I mean, if you're on a site called Poopreads, you should know that Bear Grylls once drank water he squeezed out of elephant shit. He also ate maggots he pulled off a dead deer. And made a wetsuit out of a dead seal carcass. And fileted a rattlesnake and peed in its skin and hung it around its neck and trudged off into a desert with it wrapped around his neck in case he got thirsty later on. He also lives on a barge on the River Thames with his wife and kids. Get to know this sick bastard. He is interesting.
Wow, a bunch to say about this article, which I read in the GQ magazine and not online. First of all, Wells Tower? You got Wells Tower to write this? His collection of short stories Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned is the tits. Seriously, run tell that. The tits. Dude is a legit burgeoning luminary. We got luminaries on Poopreads now.
Secondly, Stephon Marbury is out of his goddam mind. But you already knew that.
Thirdly, for a country with like 9 billion people, China stinks at basketball. Might seem like a no brainer, but I mean, they're all Communist and borderline totalitarian and shit. Why can't they train ballers like the Soviet Bloc used to? Makes no sense. You got NBA scrubs at the end of the line going over there and acting like Kobe. Lighting teams up for 71 a night. It's ridiculous. Get your act together, China. You're on notice.
p.s. and clean up your menus. bloody duck pieces? sick, dude. (Read the article.)
Monday, April 18, 2011
Peter King is back. He's writing about the draft. I feel like this draft is full of busts. For D-linemen, Bowers is fragile, Dareus is soft, and Fairley is small though he'll have the best career of the three of them. I'd take Clayborn for his motor--kid'll be a solid pro but not a stud. Same for Von Miller. There's no running backs to speak of except for Ingram, who I think people are kind of sleeping on. I could see him being a poor man's Ray Rice, which ain't bad. As for the QB's, anybody who drafts Locker is a fool, Newton's got way too much baggage for a franchise QB, and who the hell is Blaine Gabbert? The kid Dalton from TCU might have the head for the game but not the size. He's the most intriguing pick here for me, especially for his value. But let's be honest, the only sure thing QB in college is that dope at Stanford who decided to give up 40 million bones to go back to nerd paradise for a year even though his coach bailed on him like he was an ugly prom date. Sweet decision bruh, hope you enjoy running through the women's chess team at Stanford next year and tearing your ACL playing Washington State instead of being a multi-millionaire. And you thought Stanford kids were smart.
Slate was on fire today. And I love this Donald Trump thing. He's borderline Sheening. He called Mitt Romney poor. I really think he might be able to ride this crazy train right to the White House*, particularly after he gets the all important "Poop Reads push" from yours truly (pun totally intended). Like, don't let that completely blank comments section when I asked for help yesterday coming up with a new name fool you. Poop Reads is on the make. We are getting hits by the boatload. People love this shit! Pun intended. I'm about to have legions of followers doing my every bidding. It's gonna be crazy. You stay tuned.
Anyway, Donald Trump knows nothing. That's what this article is about. But if he doesn't have his hand in my pocket, that's good enough for me.
*not a Bud Light's chance in Brother Jimmy's
This might be the best article I've ever read from Slate.com. It traces the etymology of the word "shit" and in particular, "shitfaced." I really can't write a better description than the author already did in this thing. Suffice to say, "shittenly" used to be a word. So was "shiteth."
"Shit's rich history reaches back to Old Norse skita, and by Chaucer's time a romance like Kyng Alisaunder could speak of wondrous snakes in the exotic East, where "the addres shiteth preciouse stones." A 1641 treatise addresses a braggart as "thou cracking shit-fire," and one 1766 dictionary entertainingly lists everything from shit-abed and shit-breech to shittenly and shittle-come-shites."
I am so anti-tax right now. Gub'mint stuck they hand in an honest blogger's wallet so deep this year just to line they own fat cat pockets. Gub'mint's really on some bullshit huh? Like, I write stuff for a living, jerkbags. I don't even get a paycheck, I just get a dirty plastic baggie filled with duck's teeth and little pieces of rags every other Friday and I'm supposed to make ends meet with that. Now I got Obama telling me I owe the gub'mint money? Barbaric. If I vote in 2012--which if history is any indicator, I won't--I will vote for Donald Trump so fast it will make Obama's head spin. Hey Barry, you're fired!
Anyway, I'm kind of a puss I guess and I'm afraid of jail so I paid my taxes. But if I had any balls at all I would have cheated on them. In one of the five ways laid out in this article. (Except for the Wesley Snipes way, that just seems misguided.)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
It's true guys. Poop Reads needs a new name. Chicks won't rep us. Neither will serious people. And we need both chicks and serious people to rep us if I'm ever going to get this Poop Reads money flowing in like rainwater and buy myself a yacht called Floater and just update blogs from St Barth's for the rest of my days. Help me find a new name! I don't want anything poop related. (sigh.) We gotta be serious. I wanted www.longstoryshort.com but some nerd already beat me to it. Www.hallpass.com is on the table right now but I'm not sure that really fits the bill. Anyway, I know my Poop Readers. They are smart, they are talented, and they are funny. Leave new name suggestions in the comments box. Help me help you.
Posted by No Clue Ninja at 7:28 PM
"At Mexico Morgue, Families of Missing Seek Clues" by Elisabeth Malkin and Damien Cave - Nytimes.com
Welp, looks like we've lost Mexico. Northern territories in the country are totally under control of drug dealers and murderers these days. Pretty sure I read somewhere that Mexico is more dangerous than Iraq for civilians currently. And there's a war going on in Iraq, don't know if you've heard. Not a big deal though, not like Mexico borders the U.S. We should be fine.
Posted by No Clue Ninja at 7:23 PM
Two articles about Brits in the same Poopreads update. Weird. I like this article, about the fundamental difference between the British fascination with aristocracy and the American need for meritocracy, but I almost didn't post it. I'll tell you why. The author, Eryn Green, writes an insightful and compelling column, but she almost ruined it for me by saying that everyone who didn't vote for Obama is a racist. Now I don't really care about politics. I don't consider myself a Democrat, and I'm by far not a Republican, but to insinuate that anyone who voted for John McCain in the last election is racist is flat out stupid, ignorant, and arrogant and I'm surprised no one at Esquire crossed that line out in a heartbeat. You want to make a political argument as to why Republicans are bad and everyone should have voted for Obama, be my guest. But don't go pulling sarcastic race cards. That's just regrettable. Embarrassing really.
p.s. Kate Middleton is a 12.
How cool a name is Arsenal? My man Gino just moved to London and is looking for a soccer team to support. Now yes, we all here at Poopreads* agree that soccer is pretty boring to watch, and nothing really happens and the players all flop like a bunch of bitches, and we don't even know how many players should be on the field at any given time. Seven? Eight? Literally, no idea. But still, it's a good excuse to drink. Pretty sure that's all soccer fandom is. An excuse to drink beer without anybody hassling you. Most fandom, really. I digress. Anyway, my man Gino needs a team to support and wear scarves for and shit, and I said, no brainer--Arsenal. Coolest team name out there by a long shot. Sounds like guns. Manchester United? Too Beatles-y or something. Real Madrid? Makes no sense. Why would Madrid be fake? Gino! Do you hear me?! Root for Arsenal!!! Guns, bro.
That's what this story is about. Stan Kroenke, an American Billionaire, bought Arsenal and now all the English are fretting (pretty sure that's what the Brits do best, fret) that he's going to ruin the team.
Are poopreaders up on Bolano? My boy Chatterton is like a serious author/intellectual type cat and he is all over Roberto Bolano like he's the second coming of William Shakespeare, except probably with some hotter dance moves. I don't know though. I had the Savage Detectives in my hand once at a book store and just couldn't pull the trigger. Thing is a brick. I have the attention span of a goldfish too. I knew i wasn't going to finish it. I put it down and I think copped a copy of America's Best Short Stories 2009. That's more my speed.
Anyway, this piece by Bolano talks about how writers are helped immensely by leaving their homelands, and about writing is the only profession that is truly a full-time job (clocking 168 hours a week, run tell that homeboy.)
thanks to Chatterton, now rep me on Twitter son!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
This is a recurring column on Deadspin, always good for a laugh. People are really stupid, and dudes will do anything to get laid. The first letter though, I really feel for that guy. Same exact thing happened to a chick i know who used to date my boy Trancheface. Right after they broke up, she must have gone on Facebook and tried to search for him, and instead left his name typed in as her status for a full 24 hours.
Moral of the story, you gotta be careful on Facebook, Poopreaders. Remember, the internet is forever.
thanks to philly dood
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Deadspin drunken poet in residence directs his cutting insight at the American medical system. Also takes a swipe at Korey Stringer, which is kind of messed up.
Hold up. Toby from The Office runs the show? He's the executive producer? That sadsack guy with the droopy-dog face? What the shit? I guess it matters what he has to say about where the show will go once Steve Carrell leaves then. Weird to me. It's always the quiet ones.
A wild excerpt from Cohan's new book Money and Power: How Goldman Sachs Came to Rule the World about the power struggle between Jon Corzine and Hank Paulson for control of Goldman in the 90s. Dudes straight hated each other. And you know what they say, when elephants fight, the grass loses.
p.s. If you work in finance, I implore you: Get out! Get out now while there's still a twinkle in your eyes and a soul in your bosom. Get out and go tend bar in Big Sur, or work a shrimp boat in the Gulf, or start a totally kick-ass blog that is tangentially fecal matter-related. You'll be much happier. I promise you this.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Hey Poop Readers, so I've been spending a lot of time reading up on serial killers lately for a piece I'm writing for another publication in connection with the bodies being found in Gilgo Beach. Frankly, the research is alternately disturbing and fascinating--and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make for some very interesting reads.
Richardson, an admirable writer, takes a gander at Picasso's mistress Marie-Therese Walter, a woman who became the artist's mistress at age 17, bore him a child, and killed herself after he died.
Oh good! Keyshawn Johnson is delving into the world of college football recruiting. According to Staples, Johnson "Admits [it's a] business venture, but truly wants to help these kids."
This won't end well.
God I'm happy Norm MacDonald is back. In high school my curfew was midnight and "Weekend Update" used to come on at 12:09 on SNL. I'd just sit there hammered off of 5 Milwaukee's Best and laugh and laugh and laugh. Then Dirty Work came out and I quoted it for a hot decade. "Note to self: learn how to fight." Still do actually, so let's call it a decade and a half.
Anyway, Norm wants to interview O.J. and I think he might be serious.
Ever wonder why some pitchers have "hop" on their fastball and others don't? Why two pitchers who both ostensibly throw 94-mph heaters can perform so differently on the mound? Well a Danish company is using modern technology to compile a host of new data on pitchers' strengths. And it may make the radar gun obsolete.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Pretty simple experiment here. Guy sees just how much car he can get for $600. Before you laugh, ask yourself, "How secure is my job?"
By now you know that Tom Brady cries like a baby when he thinks about getting drafted 199th in the 2000 draft. And I don't blame him. There he is, a 22-year old kid with the world spread out before him and some jerkbag GM just rips it all away from him by not drafting him to play quarterback in the NFL until the 6th round. Can you imagine! It's not like he's won three Super Bowls, knocked up a smokepop actress then immediately dumped her for a "hotter" chick (I am not on the Giselle train, she looks like a dude to me) since then. I mean his life has totally sucked, you'd be crying too.
This article about him during his college and pre-draft days is actually pretty cool though.
Monday, April 11, 2011
The founder of a 600-employee consulting firm explains why getting your MBA is a waste of time. Dude's so wrong though. You need that MBA to practice business with. It's like a JD or a medical degree in that regard. You can't just go around slinging bonds without a $90,000 MBA on your resume. That's ridiculous. Who do you think you are, a doctor?
Sean Wilentz weighs in on Bob Dylan's recent concert in China, where he didn't sing some of his most pointed protest songs. He has taken some criticism in the press for it (nothing new for Dylan) most notably from the Times' Maureen Dowd. Here Wilentz defends Dylan, and says that the playlist he did play, including a "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall", made fools of the Chinese government, as well as Dowd.
Simmons! You cadillacin' sumbitch you! Looks like the Sports Guy is back to writing articles on a full time basis, which is always welcome. Here he gives his take on Tiger at the Masters.
p.s. You know which group of people I understand the least on Earth? Not the terrorists. Not the Scientologists. Not even the Scottish (under-the-radar strange people). It's people who go to bars to watch golf. To say watching golf in a bar is like watching grass grow is insulting to grass. Like, "Oh look that paunchy, middle-aged, white guy hit that tiny ball I can barely see really far! Now he's walking toward it! Yay! Bartender, Bud Lights all around!" Makes no sense. Just settle these NFL lockout shenanigans and make sure football is on in the fall please. That I'll go to a bar for.
Straightforward piece here. SI.com, probably the best day-in day-out sportswriting on the web, picks their season ending awards for the NBA. The pick for MVP is not Derrick Rose. And it's not Lebron either . . .
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I Always thought GQ's "style guy" was a bit of a fop, but the more I read what he has to say beyond how to cuff your jeans and which Aldens are the best, I actually like him. This article is really cool. Just a bunch of advice on how not to be a d-bag. Most of us could benefit.
This quote from the article sums it up just about right.
"Manny could really hit, but he never cared. Neither should you."
I saw a Hold Steady concert this weekend and at the end the lead singer Craig Finn made a speech about how they didn't start the band until he was 30 and that good things can happen after your twenties, so don't give up on your dreams. Apparently good things happened after his twenties for this author, John L. Williams, who didn't hit it big until 16 years after he bought the farm, kicked the bucket, and sold every last one of his rhododendrons.
thanks to my mom
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Y'all thought this Poop Reads game was a joke? I'm sitting alone in a hotel room in Pompano Beach, Florida at 10:30pm updating Poop Reads on a stolen wifi connection called MyWifesBoobs. I just ate a chicken caesar salad wrap at a bar where i heard some guy ask the bartender how she was doing and she responded "I'm ok, I'm still sober." And I legitimately have no idea whether she is persevering for sobriety or just hadn't drank a bottle of white wine yet tonight. I drove a yacht today.
I bleed crimson blood for this Poop Reads game! This is real shit! All day everyday in broad day on Broadway!
Anyway, some French guy poisoned another french guys wine and now all these french people are all sacre bleu (!) and pissed off about it. Whatever, French, get over yourselves. There's real problems in the world.
p.s. good article though.
thanks to hovetoogood
So apparently there's a bunch of assholes out there who only need like 3 hours of sleep a night and don't drink coffee or anything. They're just naturally rightinyourfacerightnowandidon'tneedanysleeptodoitbitch!!!!!
Never heard of a better reason for rufies in my life. And I'm not advocating rape, I'm advocating finding one of these jerkbags and making them involuntarily unconscious from time to time like the rest of us.
I feel like most people reading a blog called Poop Reads probably aren't into high fashion. I dunno, it's just something that sounds about right to me. That being said, ur'rybody could use a little help with fit and cloth from time to time. Here, Esquire breaks down some simple points about dressing well, in particular by telling dudes not to dress like Steve McQueen. Honestly though, let's start with not dressing like Al Bundy.
You love me because I'm honest with you.
Is Danny McBride the funniest person in the world right now? Zack Galifiannanniakiskus is so last year. Daniel Tosh is overrated. Gotta be Danny McBride, right? He's the dude from Eastbound and Down and the new comedy Your Highness. Do yourself a favor and get to know him better by reading this.
p.s. No way that's natalie portman's real ass in this movie. Have you seen the trailer? There's just no way. Too much pop in that thing for a 90 pound Long Island chick.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Esquire's Tom Junod tries to make sense of that idiot pastor down in Florida who burned the Koran, as well as the lethal attacks (beheadings!) the book burning inspired in Afghanistan. As a news story, this whole episode just blows my mind. Too many fundamentalist morons and hypocritical pieces of shit to count. But as political commentary, Junod's argument is nearly as visceral. Damning just about everyone with equal passion, showing us that we all may have blood on our hands.
The Lonestar State just OK'd the use of a new chemical to be used for lethal injections. Cleve Foster, a death row inmate convicted of murdering a woman he and a friend met in a bar, is scheduled to be the first man to be executed using it. Problem is, the chemical has the potential to kill so painfully that it's illegal for veterinarians to use it to put down animals. The article says Foster could be subject to a pain "likened to having one's veins set on fire."
Christ. That sounds almost as bad as, oh I don't know, getting murdered by some dude you just met in a bar?
So last Friday a panel ripped off the top of a Southwest Airlines jumbo jet at 36,000 feet. I hope they had wifi up there so people could access Poop Reads, because I guarantee you there was a whole lot of pants-shitting going on.
Anyway, no one died, and the plane landed safely. This article from Slate explains how this happened, and also why you should play cool if this fun adventure happens to you!
p.s. I'm flying tomorrow.
This one's mostly for my female Poop Readers. I know you're out there! I know you poop! No shame there. We don't judge at Poop Reads.
Ms. Morrissey took a sad and depressing list of tips to help the future royal couple with their matrimony that was published by Fox News, and crafted a rebuttal that is hilarious and strangely grounded.
p.s. Kate Middleton is smoking hot, no?
Pro wrestling blows my mind. I never really got into it, because frankly, I think it's pretty moronic. But I love this series from Deadspin. It's just kind of entertaining in a weird way. These pro wrestler dudes are all so nuts. So many issues to work through. Fascinating.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Deadspin readers just getting shit off their chest. There's a bunch of worthwhile questions from readers in here, but my favorite has got to be the one about which would you rather have, a handjob or five dollars? Apparently this reader has been batting this question around with his brain trust of friends for 3 full years. It's a no brainer. Drew Magary puts the issue to bed.
I love these Proust Questionarrie's by Vanity Fair. Just so damn self indulgent for celebrities, and yet so damn interesting to me. Like, how cool would it be if one day some random journalist was asking you bullshit like "When is it OK to lie?" and you answered something dumb like "whenever it behooves me" or "only to the poor and ugly". And 437 motherfuckers on Facebook "liked this." Amazing.
Anyway, Tina Fey is great.
Sounds almost as bad as Long Island.
p.s. This poopreads will last you like a week.
Thanks to Hovetogood
They have a lot of things in the suburbs that they don't have in the city. Acorns. Golden Retrievers. Little League coaches that would literally rather rip your throat out with their bare hands than let someone other than their roly-poly son play second base.
But I'll tell you what they don't have out there. Loosies. I had never even sniffed the term until the Chappelle's Show sketch about the game show that tests your hood IQ. Now I know that a loosie is a cigarette you can buy all by its lonesome. It's not legal. The Times investigates.
Thanks to Hovetoogood
Monday, April 4, 2011
I reached way back for this great Clinton Portis profile again by our friend Chris Jones. Clinton Portis is wacky. Love that guy. Don't care that he may or may not fuck sea anemones.
"[His] headboard ... consists of an aquarium that nearly reaches the ceiling, a square-shouldered arch filled with salt water, coral, fish, and a freakishly large sea anemone that looks an awful lot like a gaping vagina. "You gonna fool yourself, too?" Portis says. "I know what this looks like, but I got a woman down in Miami. We been together seven years"
I posted this older, shorter piece because of this nutzoid story that broke today about Steve Nash, his teammate Jason Richardson, and slutty, shameful Mrs. Nash. Steve Nash, get this, white Steve Nash had a pregnant wife, also caucasian, who brought a baby to full term last December. Aww, so cute. Problem was, the Nash's bundle of joy was born a small, black child. Whoopsie-dazie!
Turns out (allegedly) Jason Richardson, Nash's teammate, planted the seed. Nash filed for divorce the next day. Imagine that though? You're all excited to have a son and then bam! Black kid. I mean, that was the final joke in a goddam Naked Gun movie. That is preposterous. That doesn't happen in real life, let alone to two-time NBA MVPs.
Anyway, athletes cheat because they have tons of money and chicks constantly throw themselves at them in ways normal people can't even fathom. Here's Chris Jones' take.
I read this piece a few years back and it really stuck with me. Made me feel like a pussy actually. This 75 year old dude in California runs a fitness boot camp that would make Chuck Norris cry. Bad ass. He trains the likes of big-wave surfer Laird Hamilton and actor John C. McGinley.
Weird career for that McGinley fella huh? Bursts onto the scene as one of Oliver Stone's favorite young actors in movies like Platoon and Wall Street, then disappears. Then he shows up like a decade and a half later as the dickhead boss on Scrubs. Crazy world. Crazy times.
Well, well, well. Mr. Simmons. So nice of you you to show back up on the internet with a new article. It had been a while. These are sad times for the Sports Guy. This is a guy who, according to my research, basically invented a certain breed of humorous sports/culture writing that now dominates certain corners of the internet. I mean, he's the Godfather of this shit. But now he never writes. I know he's a "name" now and has other pots on the stove than his ESPN column. But I don't listen to podcasts goddamit. Come back Bill Simmons! Write more. I need you. Writing needs you! And most importantly, Poop Reads really needs you. Anyhoo, this is his NBA Power Poll. Enjoy.
Layney Lanes, bartender at Asbury Lanes (one of Springsteen's favorite watering holes) waxes philosophic on all things boozy.
Peter King's at it again. This time focusing on rocket-armed former Arkansas QB Ryan Mallett. He's got all the measurables, but he may be a tad, um, Roethlisbergian, for some teams to consider. And he's just one of a handful of top QB's in this draft class that teams don't know what to make of.
These two stoned out ddduuuuddddeeeessss somehow managed to become fairly successful arms dealers. Nice work, if you can get it.
thanks big made