Has Anyone Ever Liked a Column by Rick Reilly?

If you feel like you haven't been pissed off at somebody in a while, and just miss the feeling of unequaled rage, read one of Rick Reilly's columns on espn.com. Reilly has been writting for Sports Illustrated and espn.com for as long as I can remember, but I'm not sure that he knows that he is writting to an audience of almost entirely sports fans. His most recent column outlines how dangerous of a place an NFL stadium is, and makes a few suggestions what not to do when attending a pro football game...

• Don't wear a jersey, ever. In January of this year, two men wearing Philadelphia Eagles jerseys attacked a woman wearing a Tony Romo jersey outside a convenience store in Bethlehem. So much for peace on Earth.

• Don't bring a sign. Last year, at a Patriots-Jets game in New Jersey, Michelle Munoz's 14-year-old daughter held up an "I Love Tom Brady" sign. Munoz was then allegedly kicked, punched and thrown over a row of bleacher seats. And the Jets were ahead.
• Don't sit up high. If you sit up high at an NFL game, more than your nose might bleed. Instead, pay through the nose and sit low, where the generally sober people are. (Exception to this rule: If you or your child is offended by the kind of language that would make a longshoreman blush, don't sit anywhere near Jets head coach Rex Ryan.)
• Don't get within an area code of the Oakland/San Diego game. This rivalry is to the NFL what Jennifer and Angelina are to the E! network. For a time, there were so many brawls at this game that the San Diego police installed a makeshift jail in the bowels of the stadium. Saved time.

And oh yeah, one more thing... he thinks we should get rid of the booze too.

There's an easy answer, of course, but it's the third rail nobody wants to touch: beer.
Without beer, the NFL would dry up and blow away. But how about stopping sales after halftime instead of the third quarter? How about opening up parking lots two hours before the game instead of four? How about telling the networks to stop showcasing single-brain-celled fans like Fireman Ed and Can't Feel My Face Shirtless Buffalo Guy, dolts who give the impression that this game is slightly more important than their next breath?

I take special exception to this, as my father and I had season tickets to the Buffalo Bills in the 300 sections since I was four years old. Going to the games are literally my favorite childhood memories. I remember the 1994 playoff game against the Raiders where it was 0 degrees out with a windchill of -32. My grandfather went to go get me nachos and hot chocolate to stay warm, but by the time he got back up to our seats it was cold chocolate and the nacho cheese was frozen. But it didn't matter because my childhood idol, Jim Kelly, lead the Bills to a late touchdown to beat the then Los Angeles Raiders 29-23.

And yeah, I was exposed to tailgaiting, heavy drinking and every curse word that existed when I was a kid Mostly because I was sitting with the rest of the fans who couldn't afford to sit in the lower seats. But I was also exposed to the best sports fans in the world. Buffalo is a very poor city and we LIVE through our sports teams, well honestly, because we don't have much else going for us. But there is something to be said about being around people who genuinely love something with everything they have. It's easy for me to say that I am a better person for having experienced both the highs and lows, in person.

Sure, I can see where Reilly is coming from in saying that fans should be passionate, but not criminal. I have been on the other side of things too. I  have had a knife pulled on me at a Jets game and told to 'Go home and fuck my goat.' But to condemn fans who wear jerseys, bring signs, sit in the cheap seats, go to rivalry games and hit the booze during games is a wide sweeping generalization. To remove the fans who provide the hostile environments in Oakland, Buffalo, Seattle and Cleveland would be to take away from kids today the memories of banging the metal bleacher seats as loud as you can on third down, showing up to school on Mondays with no voice from yelling the opposing team's quarterback's last name or sitting on their father's shoulders to be able to see his favorite players squeak one out in the fourth.

But I guess what it boils down to is that you can protect your kid, or you can let him play in the dirt and build up his immune system. Sure, every once in a while he will catch a cold from a bad experience. But much more often than not, he will gain memories and experiences that he will stay with him forever. And if you want to go to Reilly's ideal stadium, try going to a Patriots game. Pretty sure they serve tea, crumpettes and tuna tartar at Foxboro.

Okay enough serious talk, back to our regularly scheduled hilarious programming.

Kid Sets World Record for Kicks to the Nuts

The Horse Attempts World Record For Nutshots - Watch more Funny Videos

I guess it's cheaper than buying condoms? I mean 63 kicks to the nuts has gotta take away your ability to reproduce, right? Mrs. Dumbass is not getting any grandkids from this shitforbrains. I'm still on board with thinking this kids had his scrotum fillers removed before the stunt. I took one little ball grazing kick from PrincesSA once and I dropped straight into the fetal position. 63 consecutive kicks with the full amount of testosterone being produced in your body does not seem possible.

Do I Need a Touch of Gray?

Look, ladies love the Silver Fox. Damn, that actually woulda been a pretty solid blogging name. I wish after my blogging birth that my blogging parents would have named me either The Silver Fox or Skittles Valentine. Alas, you can't pick your family and you can't pick your blogging name. But you can pick your nose, just don't eat it. Never understood those dirty fucks that shoved buggers in their mouth. If you're that hungry come on over to my place and I'll throw a pot of rice on for you.

Okay, sorry I popped my Aderall and am ready to start this blog. JSmiles and I have had the talk on multiple occassions that we want to go for the salt and pepper look and die our hair and beard with gray highlights. You know, get that distinguished look. I'll never be able to act mature, so I might as well try and look the part to try and fool people into liking me.

That was until on the way back from McFadden's this week I hop on the subway behind this kid who could not have been older than 20, but had the touch of gray real hard. And to be honest, he couldn't pull it off. Just too much of a baby face to rock the look, which, to be honest, rocked my world.

If I'm not rocking the scruff, I look like I'm 12 years old. Which makes me hesitant as to whether or not I could pull off the Silver Fox look. I mean I don't want there to be an oximoronic age war on my face where my hair is saying I am a man of experience but my face is saying prepubescent teen who has never unhooked a bra. It just wouldn't make any dollars or cents.

So, I'll leave it up to you meatheads... Can I pull off the Silver Fox look? I'm gonna try and remember how to make a poll thing, and if you guys can muster up 25 yes votes by the end of the year, I'll actually go out and brush in some gray highlights in my hair and beard. But I'm trusting you guys here, give it to me honest.

PS- The Silver Fox conversation is entirely JSmile's brainchild. Fortunately for him he looks like he's 37 already and could definitely pull off the look.

Remember When Your Mom Told You She Was Going to Send You on a One Way Trip to the Moon?

NPR- As the nation attempts to go on a debt diet, the cost of federally funded space missions, like the long-awaited manned mission to Mars, is being questioned. But two scientists are recommending a different approach that could change space exploration forever: leaving the astronauts there.

Davies envisions the astronaut who will travel to Mars to be in his or her 60s, with enough life experience and training to willingly take the journey into space. They would live off of a power source of some kind, ideally a nuclear reactor, and take enough medical and food supplies to sustain themselves through the rest of their life.

Let me first say that it would be a bright and colorful day in the life of Pattyshack before I would go on a one way trip to Mars (Get it? Because he's colorblind and because he's the most miserable fuck I've ever met). I am, for the most part a pretty low matainence type of guy. Give me my bag of rice, a white t-shirt and a pair of mesh shorts and I'll make due. That is with the exception that I NEED human contact at all times.

I could not be joking less. Simon and Garfunkel can fucking shove it because I hate the sound of silence. I blast the radio for the three minutes it takes me to get changed when I get out of the shower so that I don't have to be alone. And if you know me well enough, you know that I am a Green Dot on gchat 97% of the time and that the most frustrating thing in my life is that I can only fit 5 convos on the screen at once. Well, maybe a tie between that and trying to shave my back. Yeah, I shave my back. God decided about a year ago that my back was the canvas for an abstract work and 3 inch black hairs were his medium. Yeah, gross.

Back to Mars though... Haha who am I kidding, no one read that back hair joke and didn't find something better to do with their time. And if you kept reading, you're sick in your head. But if you can stomach the thought of the randomly scattered patches of hair on my back, there's a few spots I can't quite reach and I could really use a hand.

This kid is gonna get it

"9-year-old Jets fan envisions Tom Brady bleeding to death on the field Monday night"

Well that pretty much says it all right there folks. Jets fans are dirty, dirty people. Just scum of the earth. Scum raising scum, apparently. And clearly with no art skillz whatsoever. That picture is just a real piece of shit through and through. I really hope his mother was proud of this one. Oh that's right she probably hasn't seen it because she's been whoring herself out at the local mall or down at Karma in Seaside with the whole Jersey Shore crew.

PS karma's a bitch, huh? (Pun intended). This little asshole draws this picture and Jimmy Leonhard breaks his leg. In practice. What a pussy.

PPS - Tom Brady bleeding to death with no legs would still be top-5 good looking dude in the world.

(via Deadspin)

Huffington Post and Wilkes University just bringing the heat

Huffington Post - According to a recent Wilkes University study, 91 percent of students text during class.

Two Wilkes psychology professors, Deborah Tindell and Robert Bohlander, circulated a survey that questioned respondents on their text messaging habits and attitudes toward texting in class among 269 students.

YOU DON'T SAY! Kids text in class? No fucking way dude I don't believe it! This is some really hard-hitting journalism here.

These professors do not live in real life. "Tindell decided to perform the study when she realized how unaware she was of the texting that occurred during her class." Either this article failed to report that she is also legally blind, or she just has shit for brains. Have they not noticed that people in the 18-22 year old demographic literally have their phones in their hands 25 hours a day, 7 days a week? And they're now shocked and awed to find out that 91% of them are texting during class. If you scroll down in the article they also go on to tell you that the sun goes down at night and that most people like music.

There are only three shocking things that you should take away from this article:

1. That Wilkes University paid two professors to find out that their students text in class

2. That the Huffington Post found the survey results to be worthy of publishing

3. (This one from the always-wise words of Special Ed...) "Who the fuck is the one out of ten that's not texting in class?" Amen brother.

On a side note, I was at one point in my life the lucky recipient of a "Wilkes Crew" t-shirt. How this came about I have NO idea. Now don't get me wrong, it was a nice little shirt. But, I do not know anyone that attends or attended Wilkes University. I do not know where the fuck Wilkes University is. The only thing I now know about them is that they commission the most pointless pieces of research of all time. If I'm ever wondering whether people like sun more than rain, I'll be sure to give these guys a call.

Turns out there is actually a perfect woman out there

GQ - "I love a good dick joke. Fart jokes. Poop jokes. They're hilarious. They never get old. But especially not a dick joke."

Well if that quote is not the icing on the cake/cherry on top/another obscure dessert reference, I just don't know what is. I already thought Mila was the second most-perfect woman in the world (behind Rachel Jansen, her character in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, duh), but I think this pretty much vaults her up to number one and it's not even close.

I mean dick jokes, fart jokes, poop jokes....umm welcome to 219% of my conversations with Special Ed. Really, ask PrincesSA. Though I'm pretty sure she thinks they do get old. Which is why she is clearly not the most perfect woman in the world, but that's another story for another day. Anyway, if we aren't making jokes about dicks, farts or poop then we most certainly are not talking. She literally could not have made three more perfect choices of the types of jokes she likes.

I don't think I need to spend much time on how perfect her appearance is. I mean look at her. Fully clothed and I'm fully erect. Plus, she has a lip bite to DIE FOR.

Mila, if I had a nickel for every time someone told me back in the day that I looked like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone, I would be richer than Mark Zuckerburg and Bill Gates combined. So I vote you kick his sorry ass to the curb and come check out/christen the new black couch we just got in our apartment. It's plush leather!!

Hey guys looks like you made a mistake here

The Bygone Bureau: The Best New Blogs of 2010: Editors Kevin Nguyen and Nick Martens talk with fellow bloggers about favorite new additions to their RSS readers.

So I obviously didn't read this whole string of nonsense but I most certainly scanned the list and I most certainly noticed one glaring omission. I'll give you a hint I write for it like 15 times/year! (And no it's not my Twitter account I hit that shit up all the time people love to hear my thoughts!!!!!.)

Just to make sure I wasn't overlooking anything I of course did my due diligence with a quick little Apple+F and alas, no mentions of the word 'meat' anywhere on that page. What the fuck is with this? All the names of the blogs they choose are not NEARLY as witty as this one so I'm pretty sure by the transitive property or something like that it means the stuff they write isn't nearly as good. Seems like a pretty logical conclusion. I just don't get it.

On second thought, if those colorful people above are the ones that are choosing this prestigious award, maybe it's for the best we're not on there. Looks like my high school math team up there, I don't want them reading my shit. Just kidding I was on my high school math team so we looked fuckin hot.

Try and Tell Me This Shit Wasn't on Purpose

Husband's Play Punch On Wife Goes Wrong - Watch more Funny Videos

If you have ever lived with a girl, you know for damn certain that this guy fully intended on connecting full force with this haymaker. Oh yeah, Sweetheart! I promise I won't actually hit you! What I'm gonna do is, just wind up and....... BOOM gotcha bitch! Next time don't send me a text message while I'm at church that the toilet seat is up and that we're out of tp.

I'm Now a Tool

Ladies and Meatheads, if you didn't think I was a tool before for writing, you now have my permission to consider me one. I dropped my cell phone in a cup of coffee about 10 days ago, and it became the Hellen Keller of phones (and YES I put it in a bag of rice). I could txt, but the clear button was stuck pressed down so it was a race against the clock to finish typing, and I could make and receive calls, but I couldn't talk into the phone or hear what the other person was saying.

So today, when I needed to return my important business phone calls and couldnt because I had a deaf mute for a phone, I texted Patty Shack where I could find the nearest Verizon store. Once he informed me that it was literally across the street, I walked and caved to the pressure to get a BlackBerry.

I got the Curve, but I'm technology retarded so don't try to BBM, SMS or MMS me or any of that shit, because I still don't know how to Reply All on emails works. Ergo, I obviously don't know how to use a damned BlackBerry. All I know is I'm gonna be breaking bricks till the cows come home and writing emails that say Sent From My Verizon Wireless BlackBerry like all the rest of the people that I hate.

PS- Don't judge me, Patty Shack got Twatter. You can follow him @BenedictPatickArnold.