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Jamboroo

Which NFL Head Coach Has The Most Punchable Face? A Defector Investigation

All 32 faces of the NFL coachesCredit: Getty Images

Drew Magary’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday at Defector during the NFL season. Got something you wanna contribute? Email the Roo. And buy Drew’s book, The Night The Lights Went Outthrough here.

Football is a violent sport that triggers violent thoughts. In every way, this is healthy and good. You see your team kick a field goal from the two and you think to yourself, “My coach is an imbecile. I’m gonna fuck him up.” Good for you. I like where your head is at, and I like where you want to put that coach’s head at: on a pike, with blood dripping down all nasty and shit. That’s the good stuff. That’s football.

Coaches make more money than you, are often are worse at their job than you are at yours, and you have no recourse when they fail you. All you can do is boo, which … what is that, even? What’s that gonna do, remind the fucker that it’s Halloween? You boo like an impotent chump, and then you go home and hope your even bigger asshole of a GM or owner will fire the head coach and bring in a new one, just so that you can repeat this tedious process all over again. Booing won’t do. Not in football. No, what’s required with a poor head coach is you balling up your fists and BOOM! Punching that bag of shit right in his playhole. THAT’S FOOTBALL. Every NFL head coach deserves to have his face punched daily. Hourly. Secondly. It’s good for the sport and good for the environment, too.

But which NFL head coach has the most punchable face of them all? Reader, I ask myself this question every week. I turn on my TV and am greeted with a procession of men who are dour, ugly, joyless, and stupid. Hard to sort out which one deserves a taste of my iron knuckles the most, which is why I’m using this space, right now, to rate all 32 head coaches in terms of their facial rearrangement potential. For this exercise, let’s assume that every coach in question will be held back by two of hired goons of my choosing, both during the punch and indefinitely thereafter. They have no chance to punch me back, which is good because Mike Vrabel would pound me into a splatter. Let’s proceed.

Dennis Allen

Team: New Orleans Saints

Punchability Index (1-10): 3

Scouting report: Dennis Allen isn’t even gonna last beyond this season, which might lead you to think I feel something akin to pity for this man. WRONG. I pity no coach and refuse to spare them the rod. So sorry, Dennis Allen. You look like a mafia bookkeeper who just snitched on the bossman, and for that you must pay.

Post-punch effects: How’s it feel to eat your own goatee, dipshit? All hairy and gristly and what not? Good. I’d punch this man so hard his nose wart would detonate on contact.

Kyle Shanahan

Team: San Francisco 49ers

Punchability Index (1-10): 10

Scouting report: Motherfucker looks like every asshole in college who stole a hookup out from underneath me. Is the only person alive who can’t see his own smugness. Hide inside that hood all you like, KYLE. It won’t shelter you from the thunder I’m about to bring to the inside of your pretty little skull.

Post-punch effects: “Dad! Dad! The mean blogger man punched me! Now my nose is pointing even MORE due east! Let’s sue him WAHHHHHH! I wish I were a lax player!”

Ron Rivera

Team: Washington “Commanders”

Punchability Index (1-10): 1

Scouting report: Ugh, the man’s a cancer patient. I consider this a supreme inconvenience for my evil purposes, especially because Ron Rivera has earned more than his fair share of Fuck You. He’s dined out for years on his phony-ass integrity, and eludes scorn merely because both his owner and his quarterback are FAR more punchable than he is. But you know what? This is football, Ronnie. NO FREE RIDES. In fact, I’m gonna revise the index…

Punchability Index (1-10): 5! WHATCHU THINK OF THAT, OLD MAN?!

Post-punch effects: In the post-punch presser, a toothless Ronnie earnestly insists, “Listen I’ve had cancer. I’ve experienced more painful things,” and then media goes AWWWW, and then I storm the podium to thrash him a SECOND, and final, time.

Mike Vrabel

Team: Tennessee Titans

Punchability Index (1-10): 5

Scouting report: A Belichick connection boosts any punchability score by at least three points. And look at this man, all jocky and Barstooly. Looks like the kind of guy who tells everyone he can’t wait to start a fight at the bar. Just for Vrabel, I’m gonna don a pair of boxing gloves with the padding removed.

Post-punch effects: Oh, he’d be SO proud. Wouldn’t even bother to wipe the blood off his face. He’d be like, “This isn’t a game for sissies!” conveniently forgetting his clock management habits while making that declaration.

Todd Bowles

Team: Tampa Bay Bucs

Punchability Index (1-10): 4

Scouting report: Thinks he can avoid criticism just by talking real soft.

“Well we’re in a very dark place but that’s OK.”

You can’t hide from me in that dark place, jerkoff. I’ve got a flashlight, and an even bigger roundhouse, too! I’ll hit you so hard that you go flying above Bruce Arians on the Bucs org chart!

Post-punch effects: With his jaw wired firmly shut, Todd Bowles finally gets to realize his dream of being the most understated coach in NFL history. 3-14.

Pete Carroll

Team: Seattle Seahawks

Punchability Index (1-10): 9

Scouting report: LOL who doesn’t want this man pummeled until the chewing gum flies out of his destroyed sinus cavity? Sometimes, sometimes, I find Pete Carroll adorable. When he’s all jumpy on the sideline and going RAH RAH TEEM! like he’s in high school? That’s fun. Most of the time, though? He’s gonna eat a whole lot of pavement at my hand.

Post-punch effects: Giving Pete Carroll a traumatic brain injury only enhances his playcalling abilities. Wrapped in gauze like a mummy, he orders a quick slant at the goal line, and it fucking WORKS. Horrible to contemplate.

Mike Tomlin

Team: Pittsburgh Steelers

Punchability Index (1-10): 7

Scouting report: Really had enough of Tomlin spending every press conference like he’s a fed-up police chief demanding that every reporter in the room turn over their badges and guns. I know what team you coach. I know what players you coach. So don’t get huffy with me, Sarge. I’m only 20 years away from retirement. I’m too old for your shit.

Post-punch effects: Tomlin doesn’t even flinch, so then I have to punch him again and again and again, just to get a reaction out of him. Then he dies quietly. Not unlike his offense!

Bill Belichick

Team: New England Patriots

Punchability Index (1-10): 10

Scouting report: Courts the vengeance of the world with every word he utters, and every moment of stony silence he gives you for daring to ask him any pertinent question. PAYBACK TIME, YOU OLD MAN FROM NANTUCKET. The only thing you’ll be sucking on when I’m done with you is a straw! Gonna start off with my right jab and then bench it for my left. The crowd will go bonkers for it.

Post-punch effects: “Werf unner Cinfinnattuff.”

Nick Sirianni

Team: Philadelphia Eagles

Punchability Index (1-10): 8.

Scouting report: One of the rare feel-good stories among NFL head coaches, Sirianni went from a total nobody to the be-stubbled wizard of an unlikely juggernaut. Unfortunately for Saint Nick here, he looks just like every white Philly fan in existence, and I fucking HATE Philly fans. So whiny and needy and chesty. WE GOT ROBERT QUINN COUNT DA RINGZ BAYBEE. Fuck off and die. When you serve as proxy for that horde of cocky fuckheads, you get the hair gel punched clean off of every last strand of hair on your head.

Post-punch effects: Ends up starring in some Bud Light commercial to make light of his injuries and then designs a Super Bowl–winning play based off of that ad. “Oooh, this is a good time to call the Tricky Nicky!” Horrible. Go Astros.

Robert Saleh

Team: New York Jets

Punchability Index (1-10): 2.

Scouting report: Honestly, the man looks like he can bench press 300 pounds with just his head alone. Can I use a bat?

Post-punch effects: Saleh gives an amiable and downright educational lecture to the media on his beatdown. “I went back and looked at the tape and you can see that my chin mechanics were off.” The clip goes viral, because coaches go viral anytime they talk like reasonable people. I’m being too nice to this man. Fuck him with a jet engine.

Brandon Staley

Team: Los Angeles Chargers

Punchability Index (1-10): 8

Scouting report: How is his neck so thin? Who the fuck let the Chargers hire a stick figure as head coach? And he’s so shiny, too! Looks like a doctor who would voluntarily talk to Joe Rogan. This face is SCREAMING to be punched.

Post-punch effects: The nice thing about Brandon Staley is that I’ll shatter his orbital sockets and then he’ll explain to everyone that letting me beat him into a pulp was actually the correct move from an analytical standpoint. You bet it was, you shiny fuckball.

Brian Daboll

Team: New York Giants

Punchability Index (1-10): 2

Scouting report: Looks so jolly, I’d have a rough time summoning up the requisite PSI to lay the smackdown. If only we could put Daboll behind the wheel of a fuck-you pickup truck to goose my fury a little.

Oh wow, much better. Now I’m ready to manually transplant his beard onto his barren scalp. It‘d be an improvement.

Post-punch effects: New York Post headline the next morning: “HEADLESS COACH!” Subhead: “Jints top man suffers Brain Dribbol at the hands of lowly basement dweller.”

Josh McDaniels

Team: Las Vegas Raiders

Punchability Index (1-10): 10

Scouting report: You’re shitting me, right? We’ve ALL scouted Josh McDaniels for years now, and we all want to make him eat his visor.

Post-punch effects: “Fellas don’t worry about my face situation. I can turn a high school face into a supermodel’s. I’m just that fucking good. All of you are cut.”

Andy Reid

Team: Kansas City Chiefs

Punchability Index (1-10): 4

Scouting report: No head coach has engendered more goodwill late in his career than this man. But close your eyes for just a moment, and picture Andy Reid’s face. Just his face. Picture every asshole sheriff you’ve ever seen on the news. Picture every tough-guy dad who greets his daughter’s prom date at the door while stroking a tire iron. “If you try to have sex with my daughter, you’ll pay, buddy boy!” Not so likable anymore now, is he? I’ll fucking tomahawk chop Andy’s head clean off. Hi-YA!

Post-punch effects: The fat is the best part of any barbecue. K.C. residents know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.

Doug Pederson

Team: Jacksonville Jaguars

Punchability Index (1-10): 6

Scouting report: Perhaps the only man whose appearance is IMPROVED by the presence of a visor. Without one, Doug Pederson looks like your boss’s boss. I’ll bash his face in with a stapler. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE TREVOR LAWRENCE BETTER, YOU PUDGY FUCK.

Post-punch effects: A dazed and foggy Pederson stumbles aimlessly through the concourse and out of the tunnel, only to be greeted by DUUUUVAL bros who mistake him for one of their own, throw him into the stadium pool for a laugh, watch him drown, and then walk away hoping no one notices the corpse floating around. And no one will!

Frank Reich

Team: Indianapolis Colts

Punchability Index (1-10): 2

Scouting report: Tired of these guys hiding behind beards to mask their more unlikeable superficial qualities. FUN FACT: I was rooting so, so hard for the Houston Oilers in that one playoff game. I have no idea why. All I know is that I was overjoyed when they took a 35-3 lead at Rich Stadium. And then this motherfucker had to go and kill my buzz. How about a little knee to the crotch to set you up for a devastating uppercut, Frank? Ka-BOOM! THIS IS FOR AMERICA, HERR REICHSTAG!

Post-punch effects: Left unable to walk, talk, speak, or chew food, Frank Reich stands by helplessly as owner Jimmy Irsay assumes not only all personnel duties for this team, but also its playcalling duties as well. Every Sam Ehlinger audible is subsequently named after a guitarist who appeared at Woodstock. “TOWNSEND 80! TOWNSEND 80! SET HUT!”

Lovie Smith

Team: Houston Texans

Punchability Index (1-10): 3

Scouting report: Ugh. Another beard. Plus I have to call this guy, a grown man, “Lovie.” You’re not my fucking grandson, man. Anyway, Lovie is a seemingly nice man thrust into miserable circumstances. He also looks like a cult leader. Well listen, “Lovie,” I’m gonna dump out this cup of Kool-Aid you handed me and punch out your larynx instead. Who’s the messiah now?

Post-punch effects: From afar, a deposed Jack Easterby issues a solemn and utterly insincere prayer for not just Lovie to heal, but for the WORLD to heal as well.

Nathaniel Hackett

Team: Denver Broncos

Punchability Index (1-10): 10

Scouting report: AHAHAHAHAHA, fuck. So ruddy. So bald. So dumb. Fucking Popping Martian-ass head. I’d grab ol’ Nate’s neck and squeeze so hard that his eyes and nose and ears would all pop out simultaneously. Like so:

Post-punch effects: Five-year contract extension from a liquored-up John Elway.

Zac Taylor

Team: Cincinnati Bengals

Punchability Index (1-10): 7

Scouting report: Oh, I don’t like this face. This is the face of all of our worst young congressmen. But boy, is it ever punchable. Looks like an overripe piece of fruit that goes SPLOOSH upon any kind of solid contact. That’s perfect for my needs. I’ll explode this face and then drown it in a toilet. And not a clean toilet. Let’s mix a quart of diarrhea in there to get the bacteria hustling.

Post-punch effects: Zac Taylor already looks swollen, so I doubt you notice any difference the next day. He walks out onto the field all white and puffy and then wins the game because his assistants did all the work. Then some Bengals fan offers to treat his bruises with a pile of cold spaghetti.

Kliff Kingsbury

Team: Arizona Cardinals

Punchability Index (1-10): 6

Scouting report: Kliff aspires to be Kyle Shanahan one day, and already has the carefully manicured stubble needed for the role. Now all he has to do is run an actual offense, which is where his effort is bound to fall short. After he’s gone, everyone will know that he’s a fraud, and that he looks like the kind of guy who dresses down waiters to impress women. How about this, Kliffy: instead of keying your BMW, I key your forehead?

Post-punch effects: My man is laid up in his desert bungalow and everyone is too busy admiring the sconces to notice that he’s leaking pus all over the kitchen tile.

Dan Campbell

Team: Detroit Lions

Punchability Index (1-10): 4

Scouting report: Everybody loves Dan Campbell, which is amusing because he sucks. But he does, indeed, have a lovable tough guy face. Looks like he works as a bouncer all night and then comes home to a loving family, awwwwww. But if you ask me, Dan Campbell always looks like he’s trying to make pancakes and failing. More than anything, I just want to punch some brains back INTO him. See if I can turn a light of some kind on in there.

Post-punch effects: “Not gonna lie to you guys. This one freakin’ hurts. Just hurts so freakin’ bad!”

Arthur Smith

Team: Atlanta Falcons

Punchability Index (1-10): 9

Scouting report: Oh my God what a fucking slob this guy is. I bet his fingers are greasy all the time. I’m gonna nickname him Lurch, just to be mean. Rumor has it that Arthur Smith is the son of the CEO of FedEx. Well here’s a special delivery for you, Artie boy: me at your doorstep, DDTing you right into the stoop. WELCOME HOME, MOTHAPHUCKKA. Oh, and could you sign here, please?

Post-punch effects: A black-eyed Arthur Smith staggers around one of the million Peachtree Streets in downtown Atlanta, breathing out of his mouth like a fucking dork and not a single Atlantan even noticing who he is or caring. That’s what will hurt him the most.

Kevin Stefanski

Team: Cleveland Browns

Punchability Index (1-10): 8

Scouting report: Proving himself to be a lousy coach with every passing week. Looks like every color guy I can’t stand. “Adam, someone on this team has got to STEP IT UP in the second half.” You know how long I’ve wanted to punch Mark Schlereth? I’d rather punch that asshole than see my kids go to college.

Post-punch effects: I get suspended from blogging for 11 games. I know how the NFL works.

Matt LaFleur

Team: Green Bay Packers

Punchability Index (1-10): 6

Scouting report: Why do so many of our younger head coaches look like yippy dogs? Here’s Matty LaFleur, fresh from the grooming wagon, pissing on your shoes and going YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP! until his owner—some rich suburban lady who probably owns a gun—feeds him a little treat and doesn’t care if he keeps on yipping after that. And then she’s like, “He’s such a good boy!” when he absolutely isn’t.

Post-punch effects: Finally, Aaron Rodgers gets to assume head coaching duties for Green Bay to distract everyone from the fact that he can’t play anymore. See him now, walking over LaFleur’s rigid cadaver to grimly tell the media, “Some guys in this building have the wrong attitude, and we’ll do something about that.”

Matt Eberflus

Team: Chicago Bears

Punchability Index (1-10): 9

Scouting report: Looks like he just got sentenced to 15 years for tax fraud. His hair makes NO sense to me. Supposedly, Bears players love this guy. But that doesn’t mean I have to. I bet Matt Eberflus is one of those people who parks his car right along the space line so that the adjacent spot is all but impossible to pull into. BIG FUCKING DICKHEAD, IF YOU ASK MY IMAGINATION!

Post-punch effects: Getting punched until blackout is actually part of GM Ryan Poles’s five-year plan to rebuild this team, so I’d be hired as Poles’s assistant and stroll by Eberflus at the team facility every day with a smug look on my face as the coach sucks on a Ritz cracker for nourishment.

Steve Wilks

Team: Carolina Panthers

Punchability Index (1-10): 1

Scouting report: Mostly, Steve Wilks’s face bothers me because it isn’t Matt Rhule’s. Do you know how high Rhule’s index score would be if he still had this job? It’d make Jalen Hurts’s bench press look like he was lifting a golf club shaft.

Post-punch effects: David Tepper: “I actually brought punching to the city of Charlotte. It never existed here before I arrived. You are welcome.”

Sean McDermott

Team: Buffalo Bills

Punchability Index (1-10): 8

Scouting report: Why’s this asshole look so grim all the time? Kid, you get paid millions of dollars a year for Josh Allen to make you look good. You’re not a ditch-digger. Take off that stupid hat and get ready for me to piledrive you through a marble countertop I had set on fire.

Post-punch effects: #BillsMafia cheers ecstatically as a concussed McDermott rises to his feet, crying out for someone to call 911. Then they force him to funnel a beer and he throws up blood all over a nearby pan of artichoke dip. More cheering ensues.

Kevin O’Connell

Team: Minnesota Vikings

Punchability Index (1-10): 4

Scouting report: These entries are all starting to sound the same, aren’t they? DURRR HE’S UGLY I’LL HUFF AND I’LL PUFF AND I’LL BLOW HIS HEAD OFF, etc. Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe the guy I really want to punch… is myself.

Maybe I need help.

LOL JUST KIDDING I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I’M DOING AND I’M GONNA JAM A RUNNING HAND MIXER INTO YOUR FACE, COACH STIFLER. NO PROM KING CORONATION FOR YOU.

Post-punch effects: “When I get all of my teeth knocked out, we ALL get our teeth knocked out. We have to function as a single, mutilated unit, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

John Harbaugh

Team: Baltimore Ravens

Punchability Index (1-10): 9

Scouting report: He’s a Harbaugh, which means he has a hair trigger that makes Baltimore cops jealous. Looks annoyed that other people even exist. For one time only, I’d tell my hired goons to let go of Johnny Boy so that he can build a seemingly insurmountable lead before I get off of the ropes and pull his eyebrows down past his chin.

Post-punch effects: I tee up his head so that Justin Tucker can split the uprights with it from 70 yards out. Sportswriters and physicists alike marvel at the feat.

Mike McDaniel

Team: Miami Dolphins

Punchability Index (1-10): 5

Scouting report: Even after sending his own quarterback back out onto the field to ensure Tua Tagovailoa’s early death, I can’t hate Mike McDaniel. Everyone loves this guy, including me. But, as with Andy Reid, block out the Mike McDaniel you know for a moment. The charm, the self-deprecation, etc. Just picture his face and tell me you don’t see every IT guy you had to deal with in the early 2000s: irritable, condescending, an obnoxious gamer both in his free time and on the clock. Move up another 10 years and he’s opening up a boutique pizza joint in Brooklyn that only takes cash and doesn’t take reservations. Suddenly there’s a lot to hate about this supposed dream coach. I’ll break his glasses with my fist, tape them up, put them back on his face, and then break them again.

Post-punch effects: “Actually, Drew punched me in the back.”

Sean McVay

Team: Los Angeles Rams

Punchability Index (1-10): 6

Scouting report: Again, strip away the context. Without his Prodigal Rich Kid branding behind him, Sean McVay looks like a libertarian tech bro who sells protein smoothies made of recycled human feces. Also, he looks like he’s got a 45 IQ in the above photo. Cuts in front of you in the keg line and doesn’t even apologize for it. Gonna body him like I’m Aaron Donald splitting the guard and center. Watch his headset go flying into the owner’s suite.

Post-punch effects: Retires to the booth and sounds 50 times more lucid than Troy Aikman does.

Mike McCarthy

DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Team: Dallas Cowboys

Punchability Index (1-10): 10,000,000

Scouting report: You knew who’d win this little derby. It’s Beav: the guy who looks like both the bully and the victim all in one. I fucking hate this man’s face and want it destroyed. We all do. Gonna stick a bit in his mouth, hop on his back, dig my spurs into his love handles, and ride him like a wild stallion. GIDDYUP SHITBAG!

Post-punch effects: Angrily tells the media from his hospital bed that he wouldn’t have done anything differently. What a goddamn pud. Fuck Mike McCarthy with a bolo tie.

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Giants at Seahawks: I have a Seahawks fan friend, let’s call him Att Mufford, whose only rooting interest for this season was Seattle sucking so hard that both Pete Carroll and GM John Schneider got the gate at the end of it. WHOOP DEE! Pete Carroll is gonna stay in power longer than even Dan Snyder will.

Four Throwgasms

Ravens at Bucs: This game is tonight! I swear it’s true! It’ll still end with a score of 4-2, but still! REAL STAR POWER.

Three Throwgasms

Packers at Bills: Aaron Rodgers’s teammates could be plotting to murder him as we speak, and I pray they succeed.

Cardinals at Vikings: In addition to playing a procession of stopgap quarterbacks, the Vikings also play nine home games this year, with six of those nine still to go. Furthermore, one of their “road” games was actually a neutral site game in London against New Orleans, which they (barely) won. In fact, the two other teams with the best records in the NFC—the Giants and Eagles—also play nine home games apiece this season. The 17-game season is still in its infancy, and while we don’t have a massive sample size of these seasons yet, you don’t need advanced metrics to know that teams with more home games are at a decided advantage over teams with fewer of them. And THAT is how you’re gonna be sold an 18-game season when it eventually comes to pass. Some future team will miss out on a playoff spot because they only had eight home dates, their owner and their fans will go NAWT FAIR, and then Roger Goodell will say to everyone, “Expanding to 18 games will bring equality and justice back to the NFL schedule.” And then every quarterback will have Parkinson’s by December.

In the meantime though, I’mma enjoy the primrose path my asshole team currently has laid out in front of it. Nothing can go wrong.

Patriots at Jets: Everything about the Jets’ season so far has been leading to this moment. They’re 5-2. The Patriots are in the AFC East shitter and just got their jocks handed to them by the Bears. You already know that Jets fans are gonna pack into the Meadowlands on Sunday primed to avenge two-plus decades of humiliation at the hands of Bill Belichick and company, only to look on in horror as New England wins this game 42-6. I’m not an idiot. I’ve been here before.

Niners at Rams

Bears at Cowboys

Two Throwgasms

Steelers at Eagles: The smug coming out of Philly after the Robert Quinn trade was so thick and dense that it makes Boston smug look like fucking sunshine by comparison. Again: go Astros.

Commanders at Colts

Raiders at Saints

Dolphins at Lions

One Throwgasm

Broncos at Jaguars (London): The bad news is that the Broncos are on national TV. Again. The good news is that this is probably Russell Wilson’s last game as a professional. I know impending doom when I see it.

This is all a massive setup for Russell Wilson to rise from the dead two days after Good Friday.

Bengals at Browns

Titans at Texans

Panthers at Falcons

Pregame Song That Makes Me Wanna Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

“Going Blind,” by The Melvins! This is actually a cover of a KISS song, but reader Jason makes a strong case for its existence:

It’s pretty creepy and more than slightly pedophilic (is that a word? I’m in the library and don’t think it’s a good idea to look it up). Also, it’s so good it ALMOST justifies Kiss’s existence. ENJOY.

“Pedophilic” is indeed a word. And you better believe that this song is MORE than pedophilic, which fits with KISS’s entire catalog of songs whose main thrust is This girl’s underage but she FUCKS! Her daddy wouldn’t like her blowing me and my drinking buddies! But here the beloved Melvins do indeed redeem Gene Simmons’s crimes by refashioning this song into four-plus minutes of quality stoner metal. Even though I grew up in the ’90s, I actually never listened to any of The Melvins’ songs. I knew they were influential, but there are many influential niche bands from that era and prior whose albums I never bothered with. Clearly I’ve missed out on a few things.

Great Moments In Poop History

Reader Tim sends in this story I’ll call THE TURDICT.

My tale of woe started second year of law school when, like a dumbass, I let a stomachache go on for a week, finally crawled to the doctor, and was immediately rushed into surgery for a ruptured appendix. This resulted in multiple surgeries, four weeks in the hospital, a weight loss of 50 pounds, 137 pain killing shots (the only good thing about the whole experience) and one fucking lousy autumn.

I recuperated at home, and although I missed the fall semester, recovered enough to go to the law school’s semester-end party to catch up with my classmates. As one can expect, even two and a half months post surgery, my bowels weren’t completely recovered. All was fine when I got in the car to make the hour trip to school. But as these tales always go, about 20 minutes from my destination, I felt the first intestinal gurgle.

Said gurgle soon increased to warp pressure, resulting in the standard sweating, an attempt to tweak out some gas, and a frantic increased speed to get to the law school bathroom. I navigated the stoplights, was somehow able to operate a stick shift and clench my asscheeks at the same time, and made it to school. Luckily the bathrooms were close to the entrance; however, I failed to realize that sitting and clenching was the only reason the gates of hell had not been opened. So, the minute I got out of the car, my uncontrollable sphincter opened up and poop started exiting in a slow and steady stream for the entire walk to the bathroom. A walk that had been made by many prominent politicians, judges and rich snooty law partners.  

Thank god no one saw me as I waddled to a stall to clean up. Of course, just after I dumped my soft-serve laden underwear in the waste basket and was washing my hands, my uptight first-year civil procedure prof walked into the aromatic cesspool and looked at me quizzically. I could have sworn he gagged as he was taking a piss. At any rate, the rest of the night was great. I got tons of attention and sympathy, got drunk, and chuckled every time I took a piss in the stinky law school bathroom. Better yet, I made that dickhead law prof gag. 

Well played, sir. Kinda.

Which Idiot GM Is This?

You know your team is in good hands when the man in charge of the roster is a professionally sweaty guy who MEANS BUSINESS. Which team does the man below hold in his meaty paws?

“Hi gang!”

That’s Omar Khan of the Steelers. Hard to take you seriously when you look like a guy who just failed his audition to play Lex Luthor.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Private Men’s Club Light! Ho. Ly. Shit. Nothing’s gonna top this one, will it? From Sean:

Several years back I lived next to a beer distributor in Brooklyn that featured a “discount beer” section. Being a distributor, the selections were always as amazing as they were cheap (Three Stooges Beer?). However, the best value by far was this swill.  When served cold, it has distinct hints of beer, but when consumed warm it’s a whole other story. My friend once described the taste as “crime”. For $1.99 a six pack, however, we didn’t complain much.

Look at that can. LOOK AT THAT FUCKING CAN! I want this in the Smithsonian.

Gameday Movie Of The Week For Panthers Fans

Den Of Thieves. A perfect film, even though neither Gerard Butler nor 50 Cent can act. Doesn’t matter. FOUR STARS.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote

“Watch it, you walking tub of donut batter!”

“Hey, I got pictures of you, Quimby.”

“You don’t scare me. That could be anyone’s ass!”

Enjoy the games, everyone.