Welcome to Friday STATTS (Stories, Thoughts, and TikToks) where I climb up on the cross of pop culture and accept all of Xi Jinping’s spyware onto my hard drive so that you, the reader, may enjoy a glorious, everlasting
life bathroom break of internet entertainment. Before entering into the smut blogging seminary, I, too, worked the corporate grind, and for me there was nothing better than a great poo-piece that I could take into the handicapped stall and settle in with for a few minutes.
The kids won’t believe this, but lots of us didn’t even have smart phones yet in 2011 or 2012, myself included; so come Friday afternoon, I discreetly printed off the best column I could find and took the stack of papers into the men’s room like I was looking over an important contract during my deuce. I’d like to think the higher-ups noticed my dedication to the company and appreciated the new college grad trying to squeeze out every minute of productivity he could.
The ruse would probably work even better now than it did before, considering nobody would ever see it coming, thanks to iPhones obviously dominating the modern bathroom break (RIP magazines and shampoo bottles). A handful of papers in the men’s room can only mean “rising star,” so if you’re young and hungry, give it a shot. The videos at the bottom of the blog won’t translate well to a Word doc, but I’ll try to stuff the rest of the burrito with enough stuff so that you can kill a half hour while you pass a burrito of your own. Who knows, you may even get a promotion.
My vision for STATTS is simple and is certainly not going to reinvent any wheels. I just want to create a space where I can toss out all of the random takes or one-liners that weren’t quite strong enough for an entire column. While scanning all of the ridiculous news media each week, a lot of random thoughts pop into my head, and I try to write them down as best as I can. Maybe it’s a joke, or an observation, or a bit of satire. A lot of this stuff is just the length of a tweet, so if you want to contribute and be featured, shoot me your STATTS on Twitter and I’ll secretly plagiarize it if it’s good enough. We’ll see what works and what doesn’t and adjust accordingly; remember, this is all just to get you that much closer to clocking out and heading to happy hour, so let’s have some fun.
Here are a few of my STATTS
TK Sanders, 33, 6’4”, 200 lbs; owner of the world’s largest micropenis; once installed a putting green at Michael Flatley’s mansion in Ireland; boob man but appreciate both hemispheres; lied to get on The Price is Right (I’ll teach you how one day); craps is my favorite casino game; was once described in college as “nice when he’s sober, too bad he’s never sober;” INFJ.
1. Literal advice: Trying to get over a cough? Eat some Ex-Lax, then you’ll be afraid to cough
2. Some guys have all the luck: A buddy of mine has a hot sister who married an A-list movie producer. This asshole literally can’t lose; he started off as a manager—made a ton of dough—then became a producer—won an Oscar—and now for fun he has gotten into daily fantasy sports and is a top player in the world. He’s not one of those guys who researches like crazy and grinds it out, though I do know he uses a lineup generator. He just has enough money to game the system and risk like $15k on a random Sunday and not sweat over it. A few days per season he loses his shorts, but most weekends he’s pulling in six figures in winnings as a f*cking hobby. Because of his winnings, he gets invited to the DFS summits to party with all the full-time gambling chodes—you know, the numbers guys who invaded Major League baseball front offices like the clap around ten years ago; and now they’re crushing your $20 fun-money investment. But the guy can’t even go party on someone else’s dime because he’s too busy dominating another incredibly difficult industry. What’s the moral of the story here? Be the hot sister in life.
3. The Woke Report: Is the new COVID variant racist against the good people of the Mississippi Delta?
4. Random music video I enjoyed.
5. Thing I overheard which I agree with: All dog moms are the f*cking same.
6. Best coffee shop name I’ve ever heard: Rise & Grind.
7. I tweeted out the below photo of the bag of chips my girlfriend mauled the other night and got a lot of feedback. It seems that lots of men deal with women who like to position themselves as the refined one in the relationship, but are actually just savages in disguise. One reader told me: my wife once spilled a whole bowl of queso in our car and didn’t tell me. It went all in the pinholes of the leather and the cracks of the seat. She said she “cleaned” it, but when I got into her car the next week, there was a film of cheese that had replaced the seat cushion. A reckless life she lives.
As a follow-up to the pretzel bag shenanigans, my girl then proceeded to leave a clipped toe nail on the living room coffee table. Granted, she doesn’t break the rules of common decency that badly very often, but given the strike she had earned the night before, I polled my married friends to see what the verdict should be. Best response: That’s grounds for packing up and leaving without a note. They’re animals.
8. Off color joke of the week: What do you call a midget prostitute? A low blow.
9. The NFL decided this week to continue bumping into funhouse mirrors and play the black national anthem before the Week 1 slate of games this season, whatever the hell that is. After all, there’s no better way to fight systemic racism than to draw arbitrary lines in the sand based on race so that the whole world can learn to see all interactions through the prism of race.
It’s like saying, we’re tired of rainy days, so here is an umbrella that you must carry around for life.
People with functioning brains say, well, uh, it doesn’t rain every day, so why don’t I just use the umbrella when it does?
To which the entire left says fine, racist, we’ll just piss on your head until you use the umbrella.
And that, kids, is why NFL players wear helmets.
The saddest part of this whole charade is how much fun comedians could have had with this nugget of gold, had the libs not iced them all in the past decade’s mass cultural shooting. Can you imagine all of the good Bone Thugs N Harmony jokes that people with senses of humor could’ve made about a ‘black national anthem.’ But alas, no fun will be had, and instead we must reverentially pay respects to an arbitrary song chosen by Marxists on the upcoming first of the month.
10. Book I’m currently reading: When Hollywood Had a King: The Reign of Lew Wasserman, Who Leveraged Talent into Power and Influence by Connie Bruck.
“The Music Corporation of America was founded in Chicago in 1924 by Dr. Jules Stein, an ophthalmologist with a gift for booking bands. Twelve years later, Stein moved his operations west to Beverly Hills and hired Lew Wasserman. From his meager beginnings as a movie-theater usher in Cleveland, Wasserman ultimately ascended to the post of president of MCA, and the company became the most powerful force in Hollywood, regarded with a mixture of fear and awe.”
TikTok Roundup 2: Attock of the Clones (remember, volume up)
If any guys were able to scroll past that video without watching at least five times, it’s time to have a major chat with your parents. Jesus, what a swing. I don’t know where this girl lives or what she’s doing right now, but she needs to be on the Golf Channel teaching me how to rotate my chest STAT. This girl is so smokin’ hot that she actually made a little sad, which is funny to think about in this era of infinite online sexuality. I’m sad because now I know what’s out there swinging free at Top Golf, and I’m sad that I’ll probably never meet her. Whoever out there is currently taking divots with this ace, congratulations and f*ck you, I hope you three putt for all eternity.
This video is old and probably fake but damn it’s funny. It’s like a Coen brothers movie: just bad decision after bad decision cascading down a cliffside like an avalanche. I never tried to fish a log out of the pond, but I did drink too much at a high school NYE party one time and accidentally threw up in the sink. Half-asleep and spinning, I tried to hand-toss it out of the sink and into the adjacent toilet, but the damage had been done–the sink was totally clogged. Needless to say, I wasn’t invited back for the Fourth of July.
Why doesn’t the NFL just bring this guy out onto the field before kickoff and let him heal all of our country’s scars with one chopped and screwed remix?
I love everything about this video. Dude in the back knows that once he starts throwing some T-Bell on top of those vodka shots from the bar, his chances of a rub n’ tug are gone forever. Nobody is about to crawl into bed with a guy spitting fire sauce from his mouth. So he stays in the game, trying to be clever while holding back yawns, looking at pictures of bar girl’s dog on her phone. All the while dude with the camera has phoned it in hours ago, and has decided to forego the chit chat and make love to a crunchwrap instead. My guess for what happened? Homeboy in the back got neither the girl nor the late night snacks, but at least he knows all about Rufus’s scarring from when he got fixed last month. That will keep him warm at night.
I thought this would be a good one to end on since we’ve all been there, plus this guy deserves a slow clap from all of us at OutKick for having a golden leg and booting the ball clear out of the stadium. Rocking a Lawn and Landscape shirt and a pair of flip flops to clean the gutters, this dude managed to pull a 10 who had his babies, despite a couple spring break tats, and a quiet suburban life. Well done, my good man; you deserve a trophy named after you or something. No doubt you paint some mean lines on the riding mower, and for that, we salute you.
Thanks for stopping by today, and hopefully your legs aren’t numb. The day is almost over on the East Coast; just a few more hours to go. Let me know what else you’d like to see in future STATTS on Twitter @outkicktommy. Have a great weekend.