Time for your weekly edition of the Defector Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. And buy Drew’s book, The Night The Lights Went Out, while you’re at it. Today, we're talking about grill pans, born again Dookies, Woodstock, and more.
Your letters:
Steve:
Grocery store shopping has become a uniquely stressful part of my life because I just got sent back to the office full-time (Federal employee), and I have a one-year old child at home. It suddenly feels like there isn't enough time in the day to get everything done. What are your top grocery store tips for a fellow family man?
I’ve been there. Dinnertime is a major stress point for any working parent, especially a new one. Hitting the grocery store on my way back from the office was always a slog. I just wanted to get home so I could take off my socks and make myself a drink, but first I had to burn 40 minutes trading elbows with old ladies in the soup aisle. Do that enough times and you quickly understand why so many people in 2025 use meal kit services like HelloFresh, even though HelloFresh sucks. When time is at a premium, shopping and cooking are usually among the first tasks that American parents jettison.
But my wife and I refused to do that. We wanted to cook our own food, and we wanted the family to eat dinner together every night. So we powered through that shit and, in the process, I learned to enjoy my grocery store outings. I love gawking at all of the food, of course. But I also savor the ritual of walking the aisles, hearing shitty Paula Cole songs wafting out from the loudspeakers, and getting a warm hello from familiar cashiers. It’s a meditative exercise. I don’t think about all the bullshit going on outside of the grocery store when I’m in one. I just wanna stroll from aisle to aisle and check everything off of my list. It’s a quest: a mundane one, but satisfying all the same. Even if you have small kids, you too can find refuge in this errand. Here’s how.
1. Do not bring your kids with you to the store. They always wanna ride in that special cart that has a play car attached to the front. This cart is longer than a battleship and roughly as easy to maneuver. Then they demand you buy them six boxes of Fruit By The Foot and scream bloody murder when you refuse. Then they suddenly evacuate the cart halfway through the trip and go wandering off behind the butcher case. The whole affair is a fucking disaster, so time your errands to allow for you, your spouse, or another caregiver to handle the little fucker while you shop without distraction.
2. Go to the store first thing in the morning. I usually go at 8:00 a.m. on weekends. This qualifies as “psycho behavior” if you only speak meme, but my methods have long proven ironclad. I want to get to the store before the old folks show up, and definitely before the teens show up. That time of day, I can work my way through the produce section unmolested. I can make it through the chips aisle without running into a five-cart pileup. Best of all, I don’t have to wait that long in line. Even if I do have to wait a little bit, who gives a shit? I’m out at the crack of ass with nothing else to do, so I can deal.
3. Always to go the same store(s) if you can. That helps you stay familiarized with the layout, which allows you to…
4. Group your shopping list by sections of the store. The supermarket I frequent the most often has the produce section at the front left, the bakery/deli at the back left, the meat and fish along the back wall, the frozen foods and dairy on the right, and all of the nonperishables in the middle aisles. So I order the master grocery list accordingly, which prevents me from having to double back because OOP DEE, I listed the Twinkies with the vegetables. I got this tip from my wife early in our marriage. Did I find her process too anal? You know I did. Did I grasp the logic within a few trips? I did. A miracle.
Best of all, pretty much every major, non-Trader Joe’s grocery store has a similar floor plan. That means that I won’t feel too lost if I’m in a new store, or if my old one has rearranged its shelves just to be annoying. You never want to get lost in the supermarket. You will no longer shop happily.
5. Keep a dinner/recipe list. Every family has a dinner rotation, but it takes some trial and error to sort out what goes into that rotation and what doesn’t. For my wife and kids, allergies and food hang-ups are a deeply irritating factor in the process. But my wife and I have still managed to sort out what dinners are keepers (chicken pot pie, pizza, Shake & Bake, this Giada de Laurentiis pasta recipe). All of them go into the recipe box. That way, when we’re faced with the inevitable “The fuck are we gonna make for dinner?” problem, we have an instant reference guide to turn to instead of having to stage a spontaneous brainstorming session.
None of these tips will rid you completely of stress and/or confusion, but they represent a basic example of how a small amount of organization can save you a lot of horseshit. Once you get into the rhythm of grocery shopping, or any other early parenting chore, it’s no longer as imposing a task as it once was. You might even end up enjoying your trip, especially if you spring for a package of Hormel pepperoni that you wolf down in the car before driving back home.
Dan:
The last thing I want to do is to put this on someone's radar, but remember Woodstock '99? Man, terrible, right? We're coming up on another 30 years here. With the world running on nostalgia, would they dare trying another Woodstock? I hope not because no one's got great feelings about Limp Bizkit, Rusted Root or Moby. But someone's going to do this, right?
I don’t know about that last assertion of yours. There’s a whole generation behind me that grew up on nu metal and is still fond of it. Some of those kids work on the Defector staff, if you can believe it. And Michael Mann has been personally responsible for every residual check Moby has received over the past 20 years. Shit man, nostalgia acts are the only rock bands that can fill a stadium anymore.
So don’t just blindly assume that those acts have been forgotten, the way Dan here forgot about Woodstock ’94, when Green Day and Nine Inch Nails helped turn the festival grounds into a giant mudddddddddddd pit. If there’s a buck to be made in staging another Woodstock, some Fyre Festival bro will try to pull it together. LET’S JUST DO IT AND BE LEGENDS. The problem is that Coachella exists now, so the appeal of driving 19 hours to Buttfuck, NY, to stand around in a lake of manure isn’t what it used to be. Woodstock ’99 was the logical end result of brands taking an iconic moment in protest art and sucking all meaning out of it. Woodstock ’29 would go the same way, only with more fires and more sexual assault.
Now, since Dan brought up the original Woodstock, I’m gonna share a thought that’s been on my mind ever since the inauguration: White people, and white men especially, have never gotten over the 1960s. Some of you are nodding already, and you know why. Prior to the Civil War, white men controlled everything in America. Then Lincoln got rid of slavery and whites became so unnerved by the idea of sharing that they hung onto segregation for another century, through the second stage of the Industrial Revolution and two world wars. By the '50s, American whites were like, Oh wow, our country is so rich and powerful now that we can all afford to buy a house and two cars! We’re the greatest generation and now we have the greatest society! Let’s go surfin’!
Then came the civil rights movement and the Voting Rights Act, after which conservatives began drawing up plans for the current Republican death machine that’s now fucking everyone over. White people could never fully on board with the idea of living in a truly equal country, and the worst of us decided that if white people couldn’t have everything to themselves, then they should trash the whole place.
That’s the deal. That’s why we are where we are, and Jimi Hendrix isn’t alive anymore to get us out of it with a bitchin’ rendition of the national anthem. Even if he were, that solo would now be brought to you by Fanatics.
Andrew:
Are dad groans more a learned behavior, or are they just reactions to physical pain?
The former, and I can offer my older son as proof! I’ve been making dad sounds for a long time now, and the boy took my grunts and moans as tacit permission to start making his own. Every time he wakes up, comes back from school, or finishes soccer practice, the noises begin. And I’m like HEY ASSHOLE I’M THE DAD IN THIS HOUSE! Then he groans even louder to rub it in my face. Can you believe that shit?! This kid is 16 years old! He’s supposed to be embarrassed by his father, not influenced by him! What have I done?
So consider yourself warned. These kids hear everything, except for when I ask them to do the dishes.
Charlie:
Grill pans are bullshit, right? Grilling is for people who reserve their tasty fare for when it’s most appropriate: outside and preferably with a sprinkler on for kids to run through.
Flavor-wise, yes. Grill pans are bullshit. I learned that the hard way after getting one as a present 20 years ago. Back then, Ted Allen wrote that a good grill pan knocks the Foreman Grill “on its ass.” He was right, but a lot of kitchen implements are better than the most popular bachelor appliance of the 1990s. If you’re comparing grill pans to actual grilling, it’s another story. I’m a year round griller, because the weather here usually allows for it and because my sons are both addicted to steak night. So I trudge out into the cold and rain to grill meat properly or, if it’s way too shitty outside, I sear meat on the stovetop. Other members of my family still use the grill pan, but I myself don’t have much use for it.
There’s one other factor at play here, which is that our grill pan is nonstick. I was a nonstick acolyte for years, because I was lazy. But last year we bought a nice, stainless steel Tramontina pan, and that changed the way I cook forever. The pan gets hot in an instant and everything I cook in it comes out with a restaurant-quality sear with barely any sticking. I am now plotting to replace all of the nonstick shit in our kitchen, and I have my wife’s blessing because she fears all of the cancer shit in Teflon pans. I plan on making my move right when the economy comes to back to life in 2045. Mark it on your calendar.
HALFTIME!
Casey:
In the morning I typically use the steam room for five minutes at the gym before I shower, take a breath, and mentally prepare for the workday ahead of me. There are usually a few people in there with me, but it is nearly always a quiet affair with other people who are relaxing before heading to work. Except for this one person who has decided that the steam room is a great place to very loudly brush his teeth. When he is done brushing his teeth he spits the toothpaste/saliva into a towel that he keeps on his lap. This is... horrible, right?
Brushing your teeth in a steam room, especially a communal one, is some truly weirdass shit. Why not do it at home that morning, or at the gym sink once you arrive? There are only three explanations for this person’s behavior:
1. They have some sort of neurodiverse condition, in case which YOU’RE the asshole, Casey. Dammit! I hate it when that happens.
2. It’s some really old guy doing weird old-guy shit.
3. You’ve made this story up.
All of these scenarios are equally plausible, so I’m gonna guess No. 2. Once any old guy walks into a gym locker room, they immediately treat the place like it’s their fucking apartment.
Lou:
The spoonerism for Paige Bueckers is Beige Peckers. I'm ashamed that noticed this and don't want to share it with anyone who respects me. Please enjoy.
Oh wow, I have a beige pecker! That’s fun! Anyway yeah, don’t share that discovery with anyone else. You’ll get stares.
Ian:
Is there some combination of height and age where a person has no excuse for not being able to dunk? Should someone who's, say, 6'7" have no excuse for not being able to at least awkwardly stuff one in there? Can you lower the height threshold to 6'3" if the person is 21?
I’m 6-foot-3, so that answers your last question. Not every fairly tall, beige-peckered fella can jam it down. And I don’t buy that every 6-foot-7 person can or should be able to do it, regardless of age. Consider former Everybody Loves Raymond co-star Brad Garrett, who stands 6-foot-8. Excellent comedic actor, and probably a very nice man. There’s zero chance that Brad Garrett could ever dunk, even at that height. You still need some semblance of athleticism to get above the rim, and your average theater kid probably doesn’t have it. So I’m establishing a full seven feet as the mandatory dunking height, and I don’t even feel confident about it. A lot of tall people have health issues, and not just Greg Oden! Something to consider.
Michael:
I've been a lifelong fingernail biter/picker, to the point where I've had girlfriends mention how they don't like it. I'm trying to stop, but now I am completely obsessed with the length and shape of my nails. This seems way worse as a man in his mid 30s. What should I do?
Being all mafia guy about your cuticles is far, far preferable to biting them. What are girls gonna do if they see you filing them, call you a metrosexual? That term went out of style 20 years ago, but chewed-down nails have always been nasty to look at. You’re allowed, as a modern man, to care about grooming and skin care and all of that other shit. Don’t let Jesse Watters tell you otherwise.
Furthermore, this current obsession of yours is likely a phase. I know because, after I quit biting my nails four years ago, I too got super fussy about them. I filed and buffed my nails incessantly, and even asked my wife if I should get a professional manicure (she said no). These unbitten nails were a novelty for me, so I played with them like a child would with their big ticket Christmas present.
But then the novelty wore off, and my new fingernails just became my fingernails. Clipping and filing them is a normal part of my routine now, and I haven’t touched a buffer since like 2022. But I still don’t bite them, and that’s the only thing that matters. Stick with that part of the equation and the rest will sort itself.
Kevin:
Just attended the Virginia Derby and saw Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin walking about four feet in front of me on his way to the stage at the finish line. The proximity allowed me to loudly and repeatedly tell him to go fuck himself. I got mean mugged by a bunch of his security and state cops. The head of security for the venue told me that he would personally escort me off the premises if I continued. I have come to learn that I alienated some of the people around me with my tongue lashing of Virginia’s highest elected officer (shocker). None are weird MAGA apologist, just people who think I am out of line with public decency protocol. My argument is that the public decency goal posts have been moved—nay, uprooted and thrown in the sea—over the past 10 years, and my behavior should be judged in the context of our current, fucked, times. Thoughts?
Kevin sent this email before Trump dumped his Diet Coke all over the stock market’s circuit board and tens of millions of Americans flooded the streets over the weekend to tell MAGA to go fuck itself. So I’m guessing that Kevin’s neolib friends might now have some choice words of their own for Governor Vest. Or maybe they're friends with Nancy Pelosi, David Brooks, and Chuck Schumer. Can’t think of anyone else left who thinks that maintaining norms should be the priority.
Anyway, Kevin: ignore these whispers. If someone’s got a problem with you giving lip to the Patron Saint Of Protecting Parents From Their Trans Children, they can say it to your face. If they can’t summon the courage to do that, then they don’t really stand by their convictions. I got right in then-Maryland governor Larry Hogan’s grill when he tried to expand the Capital Beltway into our backyard. His lackeys were just as sneering and dipshitty as Youngkin’s, but I have zero regrets. And no one said dick to me about it afterward, so I never bothered to worry if they objected or not. If you got a problem with Kevin and me being rude to nasty people, that’s your problem, not ours.
Oh, and the Beltway project has been delayed indefinitely. Meanwhile, Large Larry got his ass handed to him by Angela Alsobrooks in last year’s Senate race. Eat a dick, Larry. I’ll sear it for you in my shiny new sauté pan.
Scott:
My close friend married a Dookie. She is great, and they have a happy little family. Love them all. But now my friend has become a full-blown Duke fan in his late 30s. He is from NYC and has tasted plenty of championships in his days (Yankee & Giants), but he never was a serious CBB fan. So I’ve been giving him shit for his late stage fandom, mostly on account of it being Duke. Like if he married a diehard Oregon State fan, and rocked only Beaver hats, that'd be fun. But Duke? Ick. I know I should probably get over this and it isn't the worst fan crime committable, but he should be open to serious ball-busting over this, correct? Thoughts on late age new fandoms and rules around it?
Of course he should take his ribbing like a man, especially after the Blue Devils choked on a biscuit late against Houston. Your boy knew damn well what fanbase he was latching himself onto, and what kind of baggage comes with joining it. He doesn’t get a But I just got here! grace period. He gets PAIN, especially for being a bandwagoner. Yes, you get to accuse him of jumping a bandwagon even if you know the real context. If you hook up with a team late in life and they win a lot of crap, the rest of us get to connect those dots whether you think it’s fair or not. This guy roots for the Yankees, for fuck’s sake. He can’t be that naïve. GO SLAP A FLOOR, BUDDY.
Michael:
What can cities do instead of greasing the streetlights/poles to stop drunk college kids from climbing them? Can they entice them into something else, like setting up bouncy houses?
Knowing how local politicians in America operate, they’ll build all of the new streetlights with barbs sticking out of them all the way up. It’s like how they put armrests on every public bench so that homeless people can’t sleep on them: a rude solution to a generally nonexistent problem.
Now if I were the mayor of Philly, and I think all of you are praying for that to become a reality one day, here’s what I would do about the pole-climbing issue: Nothing. I wouldn’t even grease them up before a big game. If you wanna climb up a streetlight and then fall to your death, that’s your choice. I’ll just call the sanitation department to scrape your body off of the pavement afterwards. And if one or two streetlights get damaged in the celebration, big fucking deal. They’re just streetlights. Let the people have their fun. Besides, that’s good PR for any city. I watch any video of fans flipping over police cars after they win a title and I’m like, “Fuck, people in that town know how to party. I gotta visit sometime.” BOOM. The spike in tourism pays for 100 replacement poles.
Will:
Is there any way Elon Musk thinks he can live all of his terrible bullshit down? He's only 53, and the tides will eventually turn against him.
Hasn’t it already? Most Americans fucking hate Elon now, to the point where they’re vandalizing people’s Teslas to voice their displeasure. The problem, of course, is that this backlash hasn’t mattered. No one in the Trump universe has paid for being uncool, and these people are so, SO fucking uncool. They look uncool and they spend every day doing uncool shit, and yet they could care less about getting called out for it, even if you and I like to think they have thin skin. All of them eat shame for breakfast and then go back for seconds. They can’t WAIT for you to cancel them, because then they get to wear that honor like they just won Super Bowl MVP. Then they go back to doing all of their gross, uncool shit.
That’s one of my deeper frustrations here. I just want to live in a place where uncool people are punished for being such big fucking dorks.
Email of the week!
Ben:
Who has it better when pooping: dogs or humans? As a dog, you can piss or shit anywhere you please outdoors, without any sane person passing judgement. However, unless you're a bad dog, you can only go to the bathroom outdoors, and you require a human to let you out in order to do so.
Would you, as a human, accept a swap of bathroom situations with a dog? You'd never have to worry about disgusting public washrooms, let alone having to find one in an emergency, and nobody would judge you for taking a heaping dump outdoors. However, when in the comforts of your own home, you’d need another human to let you outside.
Assumptions:
- You're in a domestic relationship, so there is another human to let you outside
- You don't have to wipe your ass, thus freeing you from having to carry TP around everywhere
Go Blue Jays!
I’d stick with my current setup. Besides, I take plenty of whizzes outside anyway. The best of all worlds.
Also, congrats on re-upping Vladdy.
