Should Notre Dame Change Their Logo?

fighting-irish

Fox News “Now that the Cleveland Indians have dropped their controversial ‘Chief Wahoo’ logo, should Notre Dame’s athletic teams cease to be called the Fighting Irish and abandon the Leprechaun mascot?

“‘The answer,’ ESPN host Max Kellerman said Tuesday, ‘is yes.’

Kellerman, who also works as a boxing commentator on HBO, admitted that ‘many Irish-Americans are not offended’ by Notre Dame’s nickname and symbolism, ‘but many are.'”

A lot of people talking about Max Kellerman’s take yesterday that Notre Dame’s Fighting Irish logo should be changed and I know what you’re thinking: “no.” But I think we need to dive a little deeper here. Let’s peel off a few layers of this onion before we jump to conclusions.

First of all, I’ll admit that I’m biased here. Ever since his MONUMENTAL take that “Tom Brady will eventually retire”–which, by the way, is still 100% in play–Max Kellerman has been my favorite sports analyst on the planet. He’s a God damn hot take machine. Just pumps em’ out like some high velocity pitching machine. He’s the voice of the voiceless, the mouthpiece for the disenfranchised. Just my go-to source for all things sports/White guilt.

So yeah, this blog may come off partisan but that’s because it is…

That said, I think Kellerman has a point here. He’s pointing out something all you left-wing, anti-military, Hilary dick-sucking snowflake cucks are too soft to admit: Alcoholic Midget Lives Matter.

People are so focused on civil prejudice and rape victims that we’ve completely ignored the 3-foot tall boozebag population. Fake news won’t cover it, our racist president is too focused on grabbing pussy and the economy to bring it up; so guess what, SOMEONE has to wave that flag. SOMEONE has to be the guy to raise his hand and fight for those who are too small and too drunk to speak for themselves. Max Kellerman–and now, me–have officially stepped into that ring and we’re willing to lead with the chin here.

And I know what the alt right is going to say: “But Joe, we’re not racist towards alcoholic midgets/I don’t even see height or alcoholic tendencies/I think ALL lives matter/I have alcoholic midget friends.”

Well guess what, if Colin Kaepernick/Martin Luther King has taught me anything, it’s that just because you aren’t part of the problem, doesn’t mean you’re part of the solution. Anyone can serve in the military or help out underprivileged regions within our country–that stuff is easy. It takes balls to kneel during the national anthem, or wear a shirt that says “equality” to a press conference, or call out the Notre Dame “Fighting Irish” logo in a public forum. Fight on, Max. Be the change you want to see in the world…

Hilarious False Ballistic Missile Alert In Hawaii, Proves Some People Can’t Take a Joke

13-hi-false-alarm-missile-threat-w710-h473

USA Today: “Hawaiians were sent scrambling Saturday morning — for more than 30 minutes — after an emergency alert notification warned of a ballistic missile threat, which turned out to be an error… 

‘What happened was … during shift changes (with) outgoing and incoming staff, somebody selected the wrong item on a computer. It was user error,” Rapoza said.'”

First off, Hawaii broke the #1 rule of executing a drill: Never, and I mean NEVER, reveal the drill is not a drill. The only reason a drill succeeds in the first place is because it’s a drill. In other words, once you confirm 2,200 lbs of thermonuclear chaos is barreling towards my back patio, informing me of the negation of the drill is useless.

That’s like if my parents went away for the weekend in 10th grade and were like “Joe, we have absolutely no idea how much booze is in the fridge but don’t drink any. Also, here’s our credit card for groceries. Don’t use it to anonymously order porn from one of the channels on pg. 38 of the TV Guide. This is not a drill.”

Furthermore, this is fucking Hawaii. We’re literally talking about a tract of land completely surrounded by ocean. Even if I know the drill, does it even matter? I mean, what’s the evacuation plan? Swim?

Lastly, this dude HAS to be canned, right? It’s one of those situations where I understand it could potentially happen to anyone, but it didn’t—it happened to you, bud…

Then again, I changed my mind. You give that dude a promotion because he exposed the idiot who set up a system where some intern can just waltz in and “accidentally” spray out a massive, BALLISTIC MISSILE warning.

Why is there even a button for that? Who the fuck would ever launch a ballistic missile at Hawaii? The only reason I could surmise would be to rid us of the Pro Bowl, in which case, I’m actually fine with it.

You know what? I’m actually for this entire situation. Keep doing you, Hawaii…

MFK: Butter, Cheddar, and Caramel Popcorn

popcorn tin from top

Combatants: Buttered Popcorn, Cheddar popcorn, Caramel Popcorn

Nothing gets the gears churning quite like a solid Marry, Fuck, Kill and this one’s an absolute doozy. The premise came to me after having a discussion regarding cliche Christmas gifts and the tin of popcorn is always a last minute “Get out of my fuckin face” Secret Santa go-to. I’ve asked roughly 12 people the same question and, for seemingly the first time in my history of asking these questions, we’ve had an impressive lack of overlap. Thus, I need to set the record straight on this one. Let’s go to the tape…

Marry: Buttered Popcorn

This was a textbook marry in my opinion. You can’t get much more “salt of the Earth” than buttered popcorn. It’s a God damn American staple. From movie theaters to carnivals to sporting events, buttered popcorn has stood the test of time. It’s battle-tested. A wise man I know once famously told me to never marry anyone until I’ve lived with them for at least a year. Well guess what, I’ve lived with buttered popcorn for over 25 years and although our relationship hasn’t been that “couple of dough-eyed kids from middle America” sort of love, it’s been stable. Simply put, you wine and dine buttered popcorn; put a ring on it.

Fuck: Cheddar Popcorn

Before this MFK, there was the age-old argument of “what would you rather: cheese or blowjobs”? Being the red-blooded American that I am, I went with cheese, which should tell you how difficult this decision was. Cheese is awesome, and with cheddar being a part of that family tree, you need to give it its do. Cheddar popcorn is that late night romp in college that you barely remember–almost to the point that it didn’t happen–but can attest that it was awesome. Cheddar popcorn is that back alley throatfuck in front of two puke-covered homeless dudes after getting tossed from $1 Beer Night. Simply put, cheddar popcorn has the capacity to blow your dick off but it’s nothing I’d feel comfortable exchanging vows with. Cheddar popcorn has prenup written all over it, which is why I’m pinning it in the “pipe” category. You gotta know when to keep your distance.

Kill: Caramel Popcorn

Not much to really say here. I hate having to kill something a glorious as caramel popcorn but I’m between a rock and a hard place here. Caramel popcorn is fantastic. It offers you something different and is probably the most reliable of the three popcorn options (you rarely “miss” when you go with caramel) but the ceiling is just too low for me. I like excitement in my life and caramel just doesn’t have that second gear, blow-you away-at-the-combine type fastball.