p.s. This happened in Florida. Smart money says the Orlando area. I think like 1/5 of the population there consists of child abusers and kidnappers. Watch the news.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
This bitch is straight up and down nuttier than squirrel shit. Her husband got convicted of diddling a little girl and she stayed with him. ("Hey hon, I cheated on you! With a 12 year old!") And she's got her young sons living with him in the house. Jay-sus. I don't know. Crazy shit. Read this.
"Be a Jerk: The Worst Business Lesson from the Steve Jobs Biography" by Tom McNichol - TheAtlantic.com
I just command F'd* this article looking for one passage and came up with 59 hits for the word "asshole" in like a 2,000 word piece. Admirable.
Anyone, the gist here is that being an asshole does not make you a brilliant businessman. If you happen to be a brilliant businessman and an asshole at the same time, you can succeed, but being a douchenozzle with legs will only hinder you in that endeavor. Moral of the story, just because you read Atlas Shrugged and bought into Ayn Rand's self-justifying horseshit does not make you special. It more likely than not just makes you an asshole.
Steve Jobs was a genius because he was Steve Jobs, not because of, but in fact in spite of the fact that he might have been an asshole. Trust you me, you, my dear Poop Reader, are not Steve Jobs. And if you think you are, you are more likely than not a complete asshole. In fact, try this out: If you're not alone, turn to the person next to you and ask them "Am I an asshole?". If it's a fellow dude he will more likely than not say "yeah, a lil bit, yeah." And if it's a chick, she'll say "no," or maybe even "sometimes," but she will not fuck you tonight, and if she does she won't enjoy it.
Yes! This is more or less exactly why I've been rooting for Tim Tebow lately. He's just so refreshing. So real. So earnest. Not even joking. See that? My soft, non-God-fearing ass can't even express my own earnest sentiments on the man without coming off sarcastic.
I love Tim Tebow just running around being as earnest as fuck. Just being exactly how the people who knew him when he was 16 thought he'd be. A Christ-loving, willful, winner with unexpectedly cherubic cheeks for a dude with what looks like less than 6% body fat.
And if earnesty is the new irony, I'm surprised these goddam hipsters out there haven't adopted him as their new mascot. Bunch of scrawny, stinky art majors running around with Tebow jerseys on. Which they would of course be doing somewhat ironically--because if you're a super sweet artist running around Williamsburg with an NFL replica jersey with another man's name on the back, make no mistake, you are being ironic as a motherfucker. Which maybe comes full circle to earnest at some point? Fuck that dude, "born to be ironic" is no way to go through life. Stand for something or fall for anything. That's the truth. God (that I don't believe in) bless Tim Tebow. And I mean that earnestly.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
This is a short article about the untimely death of Patrice O'Neal and also a vintage Youtube clip of him on Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn interviewing anorexic models and gay fashion designers at fashion week a while back. Dude kills it. Never understood why he didn't blow up bigger. Sucks he died. Rough couple of weeks for big fat blacks guys, what with Heavy D passing and all too. Too soon. Enjoy.
This is from the same string of conversational letters between Deadspin and Slate as those pieces from Nate Jackson I've put up here. This particular one is from the unfortunately named Stefan Fatsis about the wood Kenny Phillips put on Jimmy Graham in the Giants-Saints game the other night. Honestly, it looked clean to me. I mean, what is Kenny Phillips supposed to do in that situation, get out of the way? They wear helmets for a reason--sometimes their heads collide. Plus Phillips obviously didn't mean to decapitate the guy he was apologizing or something right after the play was ended and Graham was lying there looking like a sniper got him. I mean, not to be a meathead about it, but it's football. There's plenty of other sports where you don't run the risk of hitting your head. Swimming, for one.
Are you reading these humblebrag columns yet? You should be. They're pretty funny. Guy collects the most egregious brags disguised as humility on Twitter and publishes them with funny commentary. It's good.
Tyler, The Creator, lead rapper in the rap group Oh My God Kill Them All LOL Wolf Attack Skaters or whatever the fuck they're calling themselves these days is killing it on Twitter. Kid just seems like a complete dufus. Like yeah he's got a cool voice and raps about some fucked up stuff. But other than that he just seems like a dork. Maybe that's the point? I don't know. Kids. I lost him when I realized he had a comma in his rap name. Get, the fuck, over yourself, Tyler, the Creator.
Monday, November 21, 2011
GQ sent a writer to go hang out with Aziz Ansari, David Chang, and LCD Soundsystem frontman James Murphy while they got fucked up in Tokyo. Assignment was basically go party with these dudes and write about it. And that my friends, is why people want to write for magazines.
Here's where I come down on these cats:
James Murphy: Rockstar and hipster icon. I really like LCD Soundsystem which might make me a hipster but the fact that I just said that makes me not one so eat a dick. "Dance Yrself Clean" is my favorite LCD soundystem song, and sometimes I drink a drink called the James Murphy, which is champagne with a shot of Jameson. In Murphy's words, "the champagne gets you drunk and the whiskey keeps you that way." It doesn't taste gross either, you can hardly taste the whiskey. Sign me up.
David Chang: Founder of Momofuku, or as I like to call it Mo-mo-fuck-you. Hipster icon. I hate this guy. He gets all this love from critics and all these people that think eating his food makes them cool. Meanwhile all he does is slang fat sandwiches disguised as steamed pork rolls in over-priced restaurants that people try to convince you are cheap. Second worst dining experience of my life was at a Momofuckyou. The one on 12th and 2nd. As far as I'm concerned this dick still owes me the 90 bucks he stole from me that night.
Aziz Ansari: First funny Indian guy ever?
p.s. Worst meal I've ever had in NYC was at The Old Homestead steakhouse hands down. Place smells like a dirty shoe, the steak came out cold, and they tried to rip us off on the bill. Go to Keen's instead and thank me later.
I don't mean to make this a football blog, it's just that like 60% of the articles I've posted lately are football-related. You know why? You don't? I'll tell you. The amount of actually smart people, as opposed to "football smart" people or run-of-the-mill sportswriters that write about sports, and football in particular, lately is astounding. The author of this piece on why running the ball in the NFL outside of short-yardage and red zone situations is pointless, is the founder of the Web site AdvancedNFLstats.com. He's also a former Navy fighter pilot with an M.S. in math and an M.A. in business. Now granted business school masters are horseshit, but still.
I'm not sure why nerds got into the sports-writing game, real nerds that is (I suspect Chuck Klosterman had a hand in it), but I like it. Nerds have a place. Nerds are smart. That's what nerds do. If you can listen to a nerd nerd-out and not have to deal with said nerd on a face-to-face basis, it's a win win. You learn something, but you don't have to hang out with a nerd.
p.s. That being said, this nerd is cooler than me and could probably beat my ass too. Fucking fighter pilot huh bro? Yeah? I got nothing for ya. You win, nerd.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
That's the sound of a frustrated man. This author trained for two years to become a pro MMA fighter and then wrote a book about. And this author is not me. How did I not think of this? FFAAHHKKK. Whatever I'll still read it.
Anyway here's his tale of training at Randy Couture's gym with a bunch of pros, when a big fat guy walks in and claims to be a 10-0 pro fighter. Says he wants to train with the big boys. What happens next sounds like a legal gang initiation. What happens after that is where the lesson is kids. Read this, you'll like it.
Look I don't claim to be no financial expert. You lock me in a room with a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet and only one of us is coming out alive. But this story about Buffet really struck a cord with me and just seems to make a lot of sense. The author theorizes that men like Buffet are truly the champions of capitalism and that these OWS hipsters wouldn't have call to be so mad if the rich made their money more like he did. You know, invest in actual products and companies instead of glorified get-rich-quick Ponzi schemes. I'm sure that's simplified as hell, but at times like these, something simple seems about right, does it not?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Now this is what the fuck I'm talking about Nate Jackson! Guy manages to use the SAT word "cursory" correctly and then drops some insider knowledge like this:
I played tight end at 235 pounds on a good day. As the season wore on, it was difficult for me to keep that weight on and I'd dip under 230. One season I was getting dangerously close to 220 pounds, and that doesn't fly with the coaches. We had weigh-ins every week, so on the mornings I had to hit the scale I would walk to my locker, put on my sweats, then walk into the training room and grab two five-pound ankle weights to strap on under my sweats. Nobody ever caught on. 232.
That's cool. There's nobody out there doing what Nate Jackson is doing right now writing about football. Enjoy.
We'd hope so wouldn't we? Turns out they are, but it's not really as bad as Oz or Law and Order: SVU would have you believe. Not even close. California locked up 13,000 sex offenders last year (way to go Golden State!) but only had 11 people murdered in prison. Most of whom were gang members it seems.
The most interesting fact I gleaned from this article is that successful bank robbers are some of the most respected guys in prison. I did not know that. But I guess it makes sense. Takes brains and balls to be a successful bank robber.
"Craig Finn of The Hold Steady Talks Friday Night Lights, Religion, and His New Record" by David Haglund - Slate.com
So The Hold Steady is my favorite band (I'll post a song at the bottom). And their lead singer Craig Finn has a new album coming out called Clear Hearts, Full Eyes, that is inspired partially by Friday Night Lights, which is probably my second favorite show of all time behind The Wire. Suffice to say, I don't think anyone in the world is quite as suped as I am for the release date. I'm weird like that. Here's an interview with Finn. The guy is smart and entertaining. Listen to the song at the bottom and then read this article. The theme of this party's the Industrial Age, and you came in dressed like a train wreck.
The Weekenders by The Hold Steady http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=744-m7CXs6E
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
This article is flat-out hilarious. People name their sons some stupid shit. Like, when I think stupid names in sports, I immediately think of lacrosse. In fact, just for kicks, I'm going to go to the 2011 UVA lacrosse roster right now and pick the three stupidest names I can find. (Swear to God I didn't look at this roster before.)
'Scuse me for a second ... Steele Stanwick, Mark Cockerton (!), and Rhody Heller. Just fantastic. Honestly, it's a great game to play if you're bored and looking for a laugh. Look up any big time lacrosse school and the names are just ridiculous. Always.
That being said, and I hope this doesn't come across racist, but the shit cuts both ways, maybe even deeper for black dudes. Because for every Cockerton, Rhody, and Steele swaggering around the Little League-dropout* circuit, there is a Barkevious Mingo, HaHa Clinton-Moore, and Philander Moore just tearing up the Gridiron.
This article is absolutely ridiculous. A Poop Reads must read. Stamped, mark it down, done.
*Only Little League dropouts play lax. Lacrosse: the sport for kids who can't hit curveballs.
Nate Jackson played in the NFL and is a good writer, astonishingly good for a former NFL player. His columns for Slate and Esquire almost always lend a touch of levelheaded insight and inside experience to conversations that often are dominated by non-athlete pencilnecks talking about jock-dom. This column about how women might need a bigger role in football, wweelllllll, not his best work I've read, but it's still got some sharp insight as to how NFL players in particular deal with the fairer sex. Read away if only for that.
Monday, November 14, 2011
I haven't read this yet but it's getting a lot of pub. Alex Pappademas is a good writer and he profiled Jay-Z. That's a money Poop Read if there ever was one. This is why Poop Reads is.
The "What I've Learned" series of interviews for Esquire are seminal in my mind. Long interviews with famous people boiled down into nuggets of wisdom. This one from recently deceased boxing great Joe Frazier is a favorite of mine and I thought it was a fitting remembrance for a guy that literally fought his way out of the Jim Crow south to become champion of the world. Sample quote:
I wasn't a big guy. People thought the big guys would eat me up. But it was the other way around. I loved to fight bigger guys. Only one big guy I didn't like to fight. That was George. Fightin' George Foreman is like being in the street with an eighteen-wheeler comin' at you.
RIP, Joe Frazier.
RIP, Joe Frazier.
I woke up to this song today. Love it. Always have, even before the more cowbell skit. So it was a fine coincidence that I came across this eponymous article about Steelers safety Ryan Clark and violence in football.
The author notes that every time there's a big hit in the Steelers defensive backfield, he thinks it's Ryan Clark. I have the opposite reaction. I feel like Clark, who is a hell of a safety and a big time hitter for sure, gets kind of lost on that defense. He plays alongside perhaps the most recognizable mop in football, Troy Polamalu, he doesn't have Kiesel's beard, he's not built like James Harrison, who looks like a Volkswagen with a yellow helmet on: He's just kind of generic Steelers defender No. 1.
But man does he put the whomp on people. The article's about how we can't help but salute his kind of game, even if it's what we're supposed to be saying we don't like about football. Listen, football is about violence. That's just the way it is. That's why guys play it, and that's why fans love it so much. Yeah it's a sport and there's strategy and marvelous athleticism on display, but at the end of the day people want to see big hits. And yeah, one of these Sundays, you're going to witness somebody actually die going over the middle or returning a kick. It's going to happen. It doesn't mean football is evil. It doesn't mean Ryan Clark is going to Hell. It's just a fact. A fact the author doesn't shy away from.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I've said this before, but it warrants mentioning again, I love these John Brandon columns for Grantland. The guy just seems cool. Knows football like whoa, and can really write. This is the rare dude that can learn you something about a sport while also wowing you with his own voice. If you like football, or writing, or you're just bored, or taking a dump, or whatever, read this and tell me I'm wrong. Or more likely, thank me later.
Posted by No Clue Ninja at 5:47 PM
This is an incredibly insightful piece that tries to explain why exactly Rihanna is so popular, despite not having an especially good voice or being particularly original. Weiner really breaks her career and persona down well. I didn't know that she is already tied with Mariah and Madonna for most number one singles for a female ever, with 11. Wildly impressive since she's like what? 26? 25? Dammit is she 25? Oh, motherfucker! I just Googled it and she is 23! Fffffuuuuhhh-hhhkkkk.
Whatever I bet she ages in dog years.*
Anyway, Rihanna's popular because she is sexy as all get out. Hell she is sex. I bet if you caught a whiff of her it would smell exactly like b'dussy.** Butt, dick, and pussy, all at the same time. Except not gross.
She also blends well. Just adds a little something to the song she's on without overpowering it. Rihanna is human butter. Got a good piece of bread? Put butter on it. Boom, better bread. Good steak? Butter that shit up. Better steak. Fudge? Toss some butter in it. Can't really taste it, but you definitely know it's there, and its presence makes the rest of the meal that much better. That's what's Rihanna does.
**Confession: The lyric "sex in the air I don't care I like the smell of it" makes me blush like a schoolgirl.
Monday, November 7, 2011
This Penn State shit blows my mind. Like really, really gets to me. Professional clowns, high school art teachers, swim coaches. These are the people you expect to be buttfucking little boys. Not legendary defensive coordinators at revered football institutions who make their name on "doing the right thing." Like, Sandusky was just so brazen about it too. He didn't get a hotel. He didn't lure little Johnny into his rape basement where no one could possibly find him and there would always be plausible deniability.
No. He buttfucked kids, kids, right in the goddam Penn State locker room. With no closed doors, and apparently enough people milling around that some poor graduate assistant could walk in on his old pervert balls just slapping away.
Fuck that guy. If this is all true, I hope he goes to prison and gets raped right back. Hard and repeatedly. I do. His crimes are about the worst you can commit. There are good reasons in this life to murder someone. (He raped your ten year old child, for example.) There are no good reasons to sexually abuse a kid.
And Joe Paterno, if he knew about it, and it sounds like he sure as shit did, then fuck JoePa too. Fucking hypocrite grandad asshole. Nice all-time wins record bro, hope you enjoy the mention of pedophilia in the first paragraph of your obituary. Just disgusting.
p.s. Ask me how I really feel.
Not gonna lie I didn't read this one but it's Klostermann and I posted it anyway. Pretty sure he's about to get real real on Andy Rooney's death.
I don't know much about Andy Rooney except he was kind of like my Ghost of Terror Night, if you will. Terror Night being the Sunday night before going back to work when I worked cubicle jobs that I hated with every ounce of my being. I'd go out and drink myself silly on Sundays hoping to stretch out the weekend and then come home and that fucking 60 Minutes clock would be going tickticktickticktick right as I started to sober up, counting down the hours til I had to insert myself back into the soulcrush, and all of the sudden Andy Rooney's mug would pop up all huge and old and angry on the screen complaining about some shit that really grinds his gears.
Didn't get much sleep on Terror Night. Moral of the story: Do what you love kids. No Terror Nights then.
So this is what the kids are listening to these days? A bunch of weirdo vegetarians from the hood rapping about tofu and shit? What. The. Fuck. Biggie Smalls is rolling over in his fucking grave, belly fat urrywhere. Tupac probably too, but sneaky kind of wanted to be a vegetarian weirdo rapper anyway I bet.
Anyway, NYMag is about to introduce you to some new shit. Hold on to your horses. Shit's about to get weird, ugly, and soft. Hope some of these dudes can actually rap?*
*Doubtful since the lead guy in the article is revered for not rhyming in his raps. Again, not rhyming. In his raps. So really we're just talking about speaking. He speaks well, I guess. But also I'd probably not guess that too.
Bill Simmons goes in depth on Eddie Murphy's career. Did you know his movies have grossed more than Will Smith's and almost twice Denzel's? Me neither. Obviously the Shrek series is a good chunk of that but still. Too bad he's into trannie's huh? Guy coulda really made something of himself.
I don't get that. Trannie's. Chicks with dicks. The whole deal. Are you gay? Are you almost gay? Are you gayer than gay? Something else? It's so weird, and yet remember how many ads there were for them in the back of porno mags? Tons. Shitloads. Dudes must be into that shit. At least in the 90s anyway.
Hey here's Lola. She's smoking hot and wearing a skirt. She's also got a legit hammer. Deal with it.
RIP porno mags.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
This writer for GQ, John Jeremiah Sullivan, is getting a ton of pub lately for his book of essays, most of which were published in GQ already. He's a good writer and takes interesting and original angles on his subjects. I don't know that he's worth the critical blowjobs that have been lavished upon him as of late, but I've been wrong before.
Decide for yourself if he's that good, as he takes a long and detailed tour into the realm of Christian rock. Shit's about to get weird and godly, all at once.
This story's kinda crazy and deranged. An ex Boston mafia guy moved to Idaho and started a new life with a fake identity. Everybody thought he was just some dumb city boy who didn't know dick about farming. They were half right.
How he got caught is the real rub to this story though. Sometimes even bad people are capable of the best intentions.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Tom Chiarella lost a bet because of Philip Rivers. Tom Junod seems bitter. Still astute though.
Cane toads are ruthless. You heard about them? They're these big, fat, ugly toads from Latin America who were imported to Australia to eat beetles or something and ended up eating everything in sight. They're also poisonous so nothing can eat them. Crocodiles die if they eat Cane Toads. Seems unfair. Cane toads also routinely eat each other which is gross.
Here's a bunch of other tales of animal cannibalism the Times collected just for you. The one at the end is just twisted.
Alright, this isn't really great literature or whatever, but it is a crazy story. Some dude showed up at a gym upstate at 5:45 a.m. and meated out like the kids on your college football wanted you to think they could. Tossing 700-pound weight machines around and punching dudes off of treadmills. The cops showed up and tased him, and then he wrestled away a taser from a cop and tased himself. Then kept hulking the fuck out. Wild shit. Just goes to prove my theory: Only psychos workout in the morning.
Oh also, he died.