There Are Too Many Dang Sports On

I really never thought I would be the one to say this take. I have long held that October is the best sports month of the year, because all four major sports leagues are playing. When sports were canceled at the beginning of quarantine, I was counting down the days until they returned and provided some mild sense of normalcy. But now that we’re at this point, I must say—with a very heavy heart—that there are too many damn sports on.

I want to keep up with everything. I really do. But it’s just too much. To spend all day Saturday watching college football, all day Sunday watching NFL, and Monday and Thursday nights watching more NFL; to have NBA conference finals showing every night, Stanley Cup finals showing every other night, baseball games airing every god forsaken day, and push notifications coming in from ESPN announcing the result of some UFC fight about which I could not give a solitary shit—it is all just too much.

Take some of them away. Not permanently, but just for a bit. Pause the NFL season until the NBA and NHL are done (thereby making some time for 15% of the league to recover from their torn ACLs). Let the MLB players rest. Nobody needed to watch the Dodgers bend the Rockies over three more times when their postseason fates were both already sealed. Delay college football for a month, except for the games where Oklahoma and LSU lose in their season openers, which I want to watch now.

Either that or just delay my grad school program so I can watch all of these games all day long and finally know the true meaning of inner peace.

The Jungian Archetypes I Wish I Actualized

Swiss psychiatrist, psychoanalyst, and low-key dilf Carl Jung proposed that there are several archetypes—archaic symbols and images that derive from the collective unconscious—that we actualize and manifest when we interact with the outside world. Which, cool, but I have to say, it’s total bullshit that I never get to fulfill any of the good ones. Just ask my therapist. 

Anyways, here’s the Jungian archetypes that I wish I could embody just once instead of acting like my innermost child all of the goddamn time: 

  • The Cool and Intimidating Californian Teenager
  • The Hot A.P. U.S. History Teacher
  • The Trickster
  • The Version of Myself When I Attended My First Frat Party
  • My Therapist
  • The Red Power Ranger
  • The Baby Panda at the National Zoo
  • The Version of Myself When I Got My First Paycheck
  • Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving
  • The Frank Ocean
  • The Elena Kagan
  • The Instagram Account for Your Friend’s Recently Adopted Pit Mix
  • Anybody But My Father

Everybody Wins When Corey Perry Loses

Last night, Corey Perry and the Dallas Stars fell 2–0 to the Tampa Bay Lightning in Game 6, ending the Stanley Cup Finals and closing the book on what has been a remarkably well-run NHL postseason.

As it happens, Corey Perry is also an unrepentant, pulsating wiener, so we are just extraordinarily glad to see him eat shit. He is a gross-looking assclown who combines Cristiano Ronaldo’s penchant for diving with Christian Bale’s tendency to be a flaming dickwash to everyone around him. He is not even a person; he is an anthropomorphic, carefully sculpted pile of smegma. He is the natural successor to Todd Bertuzzi (but obviously not as bad as Todd Bertuzzi, because nobody is as bad as Todd Bertuzzi).

Need proof? Check out this video, which I sadly did not make myself, but whose title is so perfectly crafted that Shakespeare himself probably would piss his breeches if he were alive to see it.

Suck one, Corey Perry. The world rejoices at your misfortune. Have fun diving into the offseason.

Who We’re Nominating When We Pack the Everlasting Fuck Out Of The Supreme Court

Alright, fuckers. The endgame is here. Win this election, never see Donald Trump again, and pack the Court like it’s the last bowl you’re going to smoke before you go home for the summer. Get your padfolios ready, America—you might be joining the nation’s most powerful court. Here are the not-so-select few people we’re adding to the Supreme Court the fucking minute Biden is sworn in:

  • A Starbucks barista who Biden complimented on “the way her shirt fit”
  • 15 illegal immigrants
  • Hunter Biden
  • Your local DSA treasurer 🌹🌹🌹
  • Chief Justice Cardi B
  • The E Street Band
  • Your local ambulance chasing attorney with a kick-ass nickname like “The Justice Hammer”
  • My fifth grade teacher Ms. Leach she was nice 🙂
  • People who loudly shout “Tequila!!!” when the Tequila song plays
  • Rebecca Black
  • Our corporate sponsor, NBC Comcast
  • Jimmy Buffett’s Parrot. He has a parrot, right?
  • Still not Michael Avenatti, sorry!
  • Jeb!
  • Several Krassensteins
  • That guy who tried to chug an entire bottle of Patron in a parking garage and just vomited everywhere
  • Count Chocula
  • Diana Ross, along with no more than two other Supremes
  • The frontline healthcare hero from that Blink-182 album cover
  • Al Franken 😱😱😱
  • A bombastic drag queen whose stage name is Amy Bony Carrot
  • Paul George, so he can finally secure a victory on the court
  • Kett Bravanaugh
  • Every dog with over 50,000 Instagram followers
  • I think my roommate’s boyfriend is pretty sharp actually
  • The Migos member you don’t know
  • A cardboard cut-out of Antonin Scalia with an 18-inch dildo affixed to the mouth region
  • Damn Daniel
  • Kate McKinnon, roleplaying as RBG
  • Scooter Libby
  • Alec Baldwin (300 hours of court-ordered community service)
  • Flo-Rida
  • The weiners from Pod Save America, so they can go bother somebody else
  • Jack Daniels
  • Ur mom haha
  • Esteemed Eastern District of California judge Troy L. Nunley
  • Idris Elba, because what can’t that guy do!
  • My bodega guy
  • Balloon boy!!!!
  • 2003 Oakland Athletics’ All-Star Reliever Keith Foulke
  • Saquon, who suddenly has the time
  • Herman Cain’s ghost 👻👻👻
  • Joe Lieberman JK FUCK THAT GUY
  • Three Toddlers in a Trenchcoat
  • Susan Collins
  • Van Jones, so he gets off my dang TV
  • Claudia Conway
  • Flo, but not Jamie!
  • Taylor Swift, when she is in the woods
  • Merrick Garland
  • Anyone with LED lights in their bedroom

RIP to RBG

In a year full of loss, this one hits the hardest. 

I went to the Supreme Court on Friday night. Two things stuck out as we walked among the people assembled on the steps. 

The first is Ginsburg’s incredible legacy. Long before she was a Supreme Court justice, she (seemingly single-handedly) led the charge in the 1970s for sex equality. Nearly every landmark Supreme Court case about sex and the Equal Protection Clause was tied to Ginsburg. Then she went and authored her own crucial opinion once she was on the Court. 

You don’t need me to tell you that RBG was a trailblazer. But seeing the assembled mourners on Friday night was a powerful reminder of all the people whose lives she helped change for the better. The women who were able to have fulfilling professional careers that weren’t conceivable in the years before Ginsburg forged her own path. The lives that are richer in a society that has benefited because of the work RBG did to push us toward a more equal nation on the basis of the sex. She helped challenge and loosen the ingrained, constricting, and unfair gender roles and legal rules that confined men and women. Our lives at home and at work are unimaginably better for it. 

The second thing that hit me though was how losing RBG makes the law in general, and the Supreme Court in particular, feel ever more like a tenuous and arbitrary edifice. We have put so much pressure on nine old people in the Supreme Court to uphold and enforce our rights, and we feel crushed every time they fail to do so. We have let a Court of almost uniformly white men cloak itself in a veneer of objectivity only to get kicked in the stomach every time the Court helps the conservative movement swipe away another hard-fought right. Ginsburg’s passing sheds even more light on the artifice of an institution that stakes claims to neutral principles of law while allowing states and the federal government to concoct preposterous abortion restrictions or establish crosses on public land or kill Mexican teenagers playing on the wrong side of an invisible line

These feelings are mixed up with some frustrations about RBG. She was celebrated as a liberal icon—even when other justices outflanked her on the left. Her hiring practices weren’t as progressive as her legal opinions. And her meme-ification as the Notorious RBG had overtones of minstrelsy and appropriation

Perhaps most frustratingly, she could have retired earlier and let an Obama appointee continue down her path for a more liberal expansion of rights. Instead, we’re staring down the barrel of 30+ years of Amy Coney Barrett using RBG’s seat to build a “kingdom of God.” 

Ginsburg became known for her impassioned dissent on an increasingly conservative Court. We were already in for a lot more dissents like hers given Trump’s two nominations to the bench so far (one stolen, the other simply despicable). But now things could get very bad for a very long time. What lies ahead might force us to rethink our view of the Supreme Court as a fair institution that will protect our rights and values. In that case, we may need to shift our focus away from the federal courts and toward matching the conservative movement’s strides at the state level. 

RBG crafted a brilliant litigation strategy that operated within an overwhelmingly white and male power structure to make a push toward sex equality. But her legal victories—as crucial as they were—only took us so far toward concrete and lasting change. The real change comes from the sweat and blood of shifting hearts and minds as we fight for a more just society. Ginsburg could see the whole board when it came to social change, and she knew when and how the law fit into the bigger picture. 

It’s a shame that Ginsburg’s death immediately became a political battlefront rather than a testimony to her incredible achievements and lasting influence. But it’s heartening that we can celebrate her achievements and continue her legacy by fighting to protect the rights she fought for and to expand the vision of equality she articulated. So let’s do that. May her memory be a revolution.  

Jesse Plemons Is a Bully Who We Have Allowed to Fail Upward

How have we let this happen? How have we, as a nation, allowed Jesse Plemons, a.k.a. Meth Damon, to fail upward like this?

There were warning signs. All it took was his second film appearance, as Tommy Harbor (younger brother of star QB Lance Harbor) in Varsity Blues

What do we call this? Bullying. Pure and simple. And the only thing bullying produces is more interpersonal violence: 

Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice? 

The red flags were all around us. This bullying behavior by Plemons’ character Ox in Like Mike is textbook. The aggression. The lack of empathy toward a height-challenged Lil’ Bow Wow. Look at how he thrives on the insecurities of others (to hide his own insecurity at being an orphan, perhaps?) while misusing his power over other foster children. 

America appeared to be on to this shitbird after Like Mike. Plemons spent the remainder of the early 2000s schlepping it from CSI to Grey’s to NCIS. But somewhere along the way we lost our focus, and we allowed this bully to continue to fail upward. Worse, we let him continue to think that his antisocial behavior was okay. 

Like most bullies, Landry Clarke’s pals on Friday Night Lights might not have thought there was anything wrong with him. But just tell that to the man he MURDERED. How does a kid go from a stable, football-loving home in Texas (Varsity Blues), to an orphanage in Los Angeles (Like Mike), to committing involuntary manslaughter back in Texas (FNL)? BECAUSE WE ALLOWED HIS WORST CHARACTERISTICS TO DEVELOP WITHOUT CHECKING HIS UNWANTED, AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR, THAT’S WHY.

And don’t for a minute think that Landry’s killing (not the last murder Plemons would commit on screen, either) was a once-off, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. No, Plemons would continue to commit ever-more heinous acts of violence against those less powerful than he:

Like most bullies, Plemons’ Todd in Breaking Bad flirts with white supremacy. Based on his meth-slave relationship with Jesse Pinkman, it’s clear that he also struggles with letting his friends be independent from himself. 

The bullying would continue. Take Plemons’ appearance in Black Mirror, in the episode “USS Callister,” for example. Plemons’ intimidation and coercion has progressed into middle age, where he takes out his frustrations and resentments on sentient digital clones of his coworkers. Unsatisfied with bullying on a terrestrial stage, Plemons now appears to have taken his abuse to galaxies unknown. 

And the behavior persists to this day. It was only last year, in fact, that Plemons portrayed Chuckie O’Brien—the man who may have been responsible for Jimmy Hoffa’s disappearance—in Martin Scorsese’s lauded TV mini-series The Irishman.

What can possibly be next for this heinous bully? What new heights will we allow him to climb? Will Jesse Plemons next portray Regina George in a gender-reversed recasting of Mean Girls? Will he transport back in time to join Cobra Kai? 

Whatever he attempts next, it’s time for the American moviegoing public to just say no. Plemons’ bullying has to end. It must end.

The Monday Night Football Double-Header is Decadent and Depraved

To try and establish even a loose hierarchy of the NFL’s idiotic, inexcusable policies is a fool’s errand. But for all the talk about concussion protocol, the catch rule, COVID-19 policies, and some half-baked platitudes about racial justice while using a very powerful platform to do precisely nothing, there is one outrageously stupid NFL policy that doesn’t get nearly enough flak: the second Monday Night game on Week 1 of each season.

The NFL’s gradual encroachment of the American weekend has, generally, been both understandable and fairly successful. There was once a time when football was for Sundays, and Sundays only. Now the football weekend starts on Thursday night, ends on Monday night, takes over Saturdays after the college season ends, and sometimes begins at 9:30am Eastern on Sundays so that, from the moment we wake up to the moment we lay our head to rest, we do not have to spend a second not staring at Roger Goodell’s bare ass.

That’s all well and good. Most sports fans would probably agree that only having to suffer two days a week without any football, college or professional, is a good thing. But who—I mean, seriously, name one goddamn person—really wants to watch seven hours of football on a Monday night?

Most of us have jobs. They know that, right? I—nor my compatriots of the coastal elite—cannot afford to stay up until two o’clock in the morning watching a limp-dicked interdivision butt show. We are perfectly content to watch the first game and go to bed. 

And for those of who are fans of a team in the second slot? The NFL is forcing us to stay up three hours past bedtime to watch a game we’re going to hate anyway. 

The worst part is that the NFL clearly knows this. There’s a reason why the MNF doubleheader hasn’t been extended past week one. If there were a market for it, there’s no doubt they would have already expanded it to the whole season. So it’s really just an exertion of power and control. It is a yearly reminder, to set the tone for the next five months, that we are completely beholden to every sadistic whim and fancy of the world’s worst-run non-profit organization.

Anyway, you bet your ass I stayed up until 2am last night watching the Trevor Siemian Revenge Match between Denver and Tennessee. But man, I really wish I didn’t have to.