I Can’t Resist Commenting On This Barstool “Controversy”


I don’t have much to blog about today and I’m incredibly busy at work but as the White Knight of the Internet, it’s my job keep this blog churning. As someone desperately clinging onto my four days of fame as a Barstool Idol contestant a little over a month ago, I thought I’d share my thoughts on the most recent controversy regarding an article written by someone I refuse to name because I don’t think he deserves the 1.5 page clicks this blog would send his way.

Anyway, the article caused a stir and a few people were discussing it on social media yesterday. Now, it’s been a while since I engaged in a comment section discussion. People are stupid, and by that virtue, I normally avoid petty fueds but there are some instances where I encounter someone who strongly opposes my belief, but who I also feel can conduct a rational conversation.

This happened last night. So, without any reservation, I cracked the fingers and abused my keyboard for a half hour. Below is essentially a modified transcript of what transpired on my behalf of things. The concern of the plaintiff was that a lot of Barstool’s actions are indefensible and their sheer presence is hurting contemporary journalism and I disagreed. There’s your context, so here we go…

For the record, a lot of the controversial shit Barstool has done is indefensible in my opinion but let’s not forget it’s a hit piece penned by some blowhard nobody with an axe to grind. He’s just one of the many “brave” individuals who stand on their soapbox and assert themselves as some paragon of virtue, lecturing us commonfolk on how we should exercise our recreational habits.

For the record, I won’t claim Barstool is bereft of shortsightedness or insensitivity. Obviously they flirt with the line—it’s the foundation of their brand for God’s sake—and I vehemently disagree with how the vocal minority of their fan base elects to conduct itself but for all these self-righteous columnists to fire off these long-winded, agenda-driven, regurgitated op-eds intended to generate a short-lived social media pop in the name of “journalistic integrity” is a joke.

In other words, if you think Barstool is responsible for spearheading the deterioration of contemporary journalistic practice, that’s fine. But in the grand scheme of things, they haven’t dictated the current, sociocultural climate; they’ve simply capitalized on it. And for those keeping score at home, they’re thriving…

Blame Barstool all you want but when it comes down to it, that short-lived social media controversy is what ultimately galvanizes/solidifies their fan base. I’m not going to condemn a product for how their consumers elect to employ it. It’s similar to when people were suing McDonald’s or the tobacco industry for their health complications—no one’s sticking the business end of a shotgun down your mouth and forcing you to embrace it.

In other words, your gripe shouldn’t be with them; it should be with the consumer demographic that has overwhelmingly chosen their model of sports journalism over what “actual sports journalism is supposed to be.”

As for Dave Portnoy, he shoots from the hip and he’s allowed to do so because he’s earned it. The face of any other company isn’t granted this luxury because they didn’t build their brand from the ground up on this model. People should know what to expect when you associate yourself/engage with that brand. It’s like sticking a fork in an electrical socket and blaming electricity for the shock. Don’t be so stupid. If these anti-Barstool people are so right, water will find its level and they’ll die out. Either that or they’ll slowly rot away with their pride in a dying industry. Their choice.

Not to mention, it seems like Barstool is the only media outlet who faces the music in these scenarios and I think that’s some soft serve bullshit.

You can’t completely absolve one side from any fault because they plead victim. Journalists like the one who wrote this piece live to launch these 5,000 word onslaughts on Barstool and when their fanbase reacts exactly the way everyone knows they will, they pull the lollipop from their pocket and start skipping down the road as if their initial intention was anything other than to incite controversy.

The “behavior” on Barstool’s part could obviously be refined, but as someone who’s been a fan of the site for a decade, very rarely do they just fire off unprovoked attacks—that comes from the opposition. People poke the beehive because they know it’s a catalyst for social traction and they benefit from it for a couple days, revert to lab, and go right back to the well when their irrelevancy sets back in. Rinse and repeat.

The article mentioned above has been written 5,000 times. I understand he technically did his due diligence by reaching out for comment, but why in the hell would I ever extend someone with a clearly adverse agenda a comment for a piece that I know is intended to hurt my bottom line? Morality’s subjective to an extent and in my opinion, you’re begging for it at that point. I refuse to express sympathy for the tears of a crocodile.

As I said, I’m not speaking on behalf of Barstool. I don’t work there. I blew my shot. That said, I refuse to hold resentment or join the likes of these clowns on social media who exist to bury those more successful than them. Grow up, build an audience through content predicated on authenticity and talent, then we’ll discuss if you have a point…

Fried-Ay: Tiger’s Back, Sweaty Middle-Aged Women, and Hue Jackson


Guys, guys, guys. It’s officially Friday, which means it’s Fried-ay, which means it’s that time of the week when I take a rusted box cutter to my blogger vein and let the blood of my hot takes cleanse you from sin or boredom.

For starters, I feel great this morning. I smashed about 4 bowls of Wheaties at 5am and split Planet Fitness in half. Out of shape, middle-aged mothers were sweating for a cornucopia of reasons. Side note: “Uncle Drew” is featured on my Wheaties box because he’s an actual athlete and not a fictional character played by a certain Boston Celtic who will inevitably end up on the Knicks next year with Jimmy Butler because he’s a mercenary who’s more concerned with playing in a more lucrative market than playing for a young team/coach with seemingly universal potential. You heard it here first…

That said, and the BIGGEST story of the day is that Tiger’s back and rubbing elbows with the iron at the illustrious East Lake Golf Course in beautiful Atlanta. I’ve been riding this log for over a year and everything’s coming to fruition. They said I was crazy. They said I was nuts. They said Tiger was done. They said he couldn’t string together four good rounds. They said he was on perks. They said his dick doesn’t work anymore. They said you can’t continue to slam cocktail waitresses AND win golf tournaments. But one quick question: where are those blowhard cucks now?

One thing I’ve noticed is that the bar has rose. A year ago, all these Tiger haters were saying he’s not back until he’s competitive again. Then they said he wouldn’t be back until he wins a tournament. Now, after four months of him knocking at the door of major championships, the bar has moved to the point where he basically needs to win the Grand Slam to be considered “back.” Guess what? That will happen. He’ll win this upcoming tournament (doesn’t have to be this current tournament, which I’ve explained), cuck Europe at next weekend’s Ryder Cup, and begin throatfucking the field in these mom-and-pop outings until the Master roll around next April. He tees off at 2… storm’s coming.

In other sports news, the Browns managed to win a professional football game that counts in the standings. The dumpster fire is over and Baker Mayfield is king. I’ve always liked Mayfield because the kid has rocks. I think Moxie can go both ways as a quarterback in this league. On one hand, you want a guy with a little spunk to boost the locker room, but you also want a guy you can bring home to the family on Thanksgiving. It’s a tough rope to walk, but Baker’s done it brilliantly. He doesn’t mince words with the media, but he also doesn’t stir the drink enough to spill.

The only thing standing in his way right now is Hue Jackson, who’s been a force of nature in this league. You’d think that, after the performance Baker put on in primetime last night, there’d be no way Hue could reasonably go back to an injury-prone Tyrod Taylor but don’t hold your breath. If there’s a will, there’s a way; and Hue Jackson didn’t hear no bell…

Man On Wire Is A Terrific Documentary, But Ours Will Be Better…


It’s officially Thursday. We’re one day removed from Fried-ay, so you know what that means? Another blog where I just ramble about shit that I’ve done and deliver bubbling hot takes on life.

As for the documentary I’m filming, we’re still in preproduction. I’m a little over a quarter of the way through this documentary book I’m reading and Michael Moore is officially on the hot seat right now. That fat fuck better start boarding up the windows because a storm’s coming and I’m scouring for hardware. Right now, it’s Oscar or bust and I’ve already jotted down an outline for my acceptance speech:

Wow. Oh my God. This is incredible, I’m so unprepared. I’d like to first that God, because without him, none of this would be possible!

[Insert “hurry it up” orchestral arrangement]

Okay, ummm… I just want to say something about how I’m an ‘artist’ while referring to my work as a ‘craft’! Also, I just want to praise the Academy for such a diverse slate of nominees! Also, I just want to disparage White males while insinuating women run the world! Also, I just want to say “we need to do something” about the most topical sociopolitical issue at hand while simultaneously blaming the president! Then, I want to act brave for doing so even though the last 45 speeches have followed the same template!!!

So yeah, my speech is essentially a lock to split Twitter in half but I need to get there first, which is why I’ve been housing documentaries all week. Last night, I watched Man on Wire—a film critics unanimously consider one of the best documentaries ever.

It follows the story of Phillippe Petit, a tight-rope walker; specifically, his 1974 high-wire walk between the Twin Towers of New York’s World Trade Center. Long story short, it’s one of the best documentaries I’ve ever seen. The problem is that half of it is in French.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike the French at all. I actually have French cousins and they’re beautiful, lovely little half-frogs; however, if you want to see the breathing embodiment of every French stereotype ever conceived, you’ll be satisfied with Man on Wire. Everything they describe is “incredible” or “beautiful.” I could take a shit in a bag and this Petit dude would call it an “intrinsic demonstration of human resiliency” or something. Final Rating: 9.4

If You Aren’t Excited About Josh Gordon, You’re An Absolute FOOL…


As you guys know, the blog goes on. Just because I’ve redirected my focus onto bigger fish doesn’t mean I’m not a savage. It doesn’t mean I don’t still bleed integrity. It doesn’t mean I gave up on soul searching; it just means that maybe I had a few too many Miller High Lifes the night before…

So, the Patriots lost on Sunday, which is something that tends to happen in Florida during the month of September. Struggling on the road in hot weather stadiums has become a trend for Brady and company over the years. It never gets brought up, but if you remember last year, the Pats flew into Miami for a Monday Night matchup against the Dolphins and got absolutely PASTED. They lost by a score, but looking back, they got railroaded from the jump.

Normally, these types of games are just sort of chalked up as a “well yeah, they’re always due to post a stinker against Miami once a year” but this one is different. This was against Jacksonville and, by all accounts, if the Pats wants hardware in February, they’ll have to beat them in December.

Normally, this wouldn’t bother me. I mean, everyone knows the Pats are a different team towards the end of the regular season. Once Week 6 rolls around, they turn into the Terminator and just start euthanizing teams, until they don’t. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: I’m always afraid of 3-4 teams in the league, and they all share the same characteristic—they have balls. I don’t care how electric Houston or Kansas City looks in September, once the shit hits the fan, those teams will roll over.

Two years ago, I went to the divisional round playoff game against Houston. Houston was down a score with a third and short situation on the table and Bill O’Brien elected to punt with a little over 2 minutes on the clock. I audibly scoffed and some fucking moron in the seat in front of me said it would be ridiculous to do otherwise. Dude, you don’t fly into New England as a 14-point dog, play conservative football, and expect to leave Gillette without a set of golf clubs.

That’s the difference. Baltimore doesn’t do that, Seattle doesn’t do that, Denver doesn’t do that, and most importantly, Jacksonville doesn’t do that. These teams play with an edge that’s reflected from the top down. They talk loud, they beat their chest, they hit hard, and they aren’t afraid to make mistakes. That’s the recipe to beat this Patriots team and Jacksonville checks all those boxes.

That said, unless you’ve been living in a bomb shelter for the last few days, the Pats took a flyer on a guy with the potential to be a top 2 receiver in the entire league. I said on Tuesday that Josh Gordon is the second most talented wide receiver Kraft has ever brought in and when you’ve had Randy Moss, that contention holds some weight.

Now, you can say what you want about Gordon. You can call him a headcase and I would never contest that. The guy’s been shitfaced for a decade and hasn’t turned down a blunt since the Clinton Administration—that’s all well documented. However, he also played in Cleveland…

It’s a low risk move but there’s no ceiling here. They picked this guy up for a pack of Big League Chew and if he can screw his head on straight, he could potentially put up 1300+ yards this season. That sounds absurd (I know) but with that sort of talent enclosed in such a heavy blanket of unpredictability, you NEVER know. The one thing I DO know is that Jacksonville follows the ESPN ticker. They know they had a role in this signing and if I were them, I’d just throwing boards over the windows because a storm’s coming, with Gordon or without Gordon.

Documentary Help, Serena Williams, and Latin Music Sucks


Hey guy’s it’s Fried-ay: the greatest fictional day of the week. It’s the day of the week where I describe what Fried-ay is and then blog about a bunch of random shit. For those of you who are visiting this blog for the first time (all 0 of you), Fried-ay is an incredibly clever twist on Friday, which is a day of the week. The only difference is that I changed the “Frid” to “Fried” to insinuate my brain is fried because I’m a fucking genius. Anyway, let’s get into it…

Yesterday I mentioned that this blog is no longer an obligation to me because I am embarking on a documentary. This remains true, however, filming a full documentary is something I’ve never done and the more I consider the subject matter, the more I want to spend added time setting it up. You only get one shot at this type of thing and I don’t want to rush things. I bought a few books I plan to read while figuring out a way to acquire equipment/assistance and I guarantee once we start filming, we’ll be a fucking force to be reckoned with. Stay posted.

Since we’re on the subject of being topical, let’s talk about Serena Williams for a second. Last Saturday, I spent the day at The Machine (the Hooters on my commute home) with my buddy smashing processed cheese and watching Tiger be back. He came up short, and so did Serena. The only difference is that Serena made an absolute fool out of herself.

People often say things like “there’s no such thing as a bad loser.” Ummm, yeah there is. I’m not a huge “conduct yourself with class” or “respect the game” type guy as much as I am a “don’t be a complete flaming douchebag on live television and steal every ounce of spotlight from someone who’s kicking the living shit out of you while justifying the entire meltdown by lecturing the audience on motherhood” type guy.

For the record, I could’ve gone pro in tennis, so I know what Serena went though (aside the losing part). I joined my high school tennis team as a walk-on my junior year and just clawed my way up the roster with nothing but grit and a relentless backhand. No one could handle my drop shot, which resulted in an 11-0 record in practice.

I was a force on the local circuit. Flocks of people would filter down to the local courts to watch “the next Jimmy Connors” euthanize whatever country club cuck was on the chopping block that day. One day after a match, I questioned my coach on how the playoff structure would play out later in the year, to which he replied, “oh, there are no playoffs.” I quit 5 minutes later. What’s the point of dominating if you can’t rub someone’s nose in it. Some still say that, if you put your ear to the ground near Hanover High, you can still hear the screams of fellow team members upon hearing they’d be facing me later at practice.

If you follow this blog, you know I work at a primarily Brazilian car dealership. Portuguese is the first language here, which has lead me on a cultural journey of sorts. For the record, I don’t know if Brazilians are considered “Latino” and I don’t care enough to research but Latino music fucking blows. That said, I love Latin cuisine. It’s just a shitload of rice and different meats.

There’s this shit called coxinha which is basically battered/fried dough that envelops a variety of fillings—chicken, cheese, etc. The only problem is that, regardless what the filling is, everyone still just refers to it as coxinha as if it’s no big deal. Tomorrow morning, we’re serving it as 8 AM and there’s a shot I could bite into toothpaste.

Lastly, if you’re someone familiar with filming/editing or just want to throw your expertise around, email me at joebags015@gmail.com. I’m in over my head with this documentary thing and could use all the help I can get…

I Think I’m Making A Documentary…


Here’s the deal: This will be an incredibly short and concise blog post. For the record, I haven’t been blogging as often as I had been. For about a year before the whole Barstool audition, I was a machine. Basically, one blog a day for a solid 6 months but since getting an opportunity and blowing it in crystal clear, high definition, finding the motivation to write has been like trying to light a bonfire with a wet match.

So anyway, I know you’re probably wondering what the point of this blog is. Well, my interests are fleeting. For the last decade, I’ve done a whole bunch of shit—writing, vlogging, rapping, acting, blah blah blah—and nothing has really stuck. I’ll most likely continue to update the blog periodically if I have something to write about but consider this the end of this site as an obligation.

That said, I do have something in the works and I honestly think it could be fantastic. I’ve always been a big documentary guy. Whenever I elect to watch something other than The Office on Netflix, it’s normally some investigative miniseries or something and part of me has felt I could eventually embark on one myself.

For the last few years, a buddy of mine and I have entertained the prospect of doing something around this particular subject and, on Tuesday morning, that something took a gigantic leap into the “possible” category and I couldn’t be more excited. As you can likely presume, we aren’t working with much more detail than that, however, the potential is all over the place. If we do it right, it could be fantastic; if we do it wrong, it could be fantastic.

I’m going to try to keep a lot of this information under wraps for as long as I can. At some point, I’ll most likely need some cash so expect a low budget Kickstarter coming your way, or maybe not. As I said (for seemingly the 100th time so far), I don’t know…

The main reason I’m putting this in a blog is because I have the mind of a scatterbrained catfish. There are hundreds of things I entertain doing that I don’t follow up on and I believe if I put it in writing, it may put me feet to the fire a bit. My toes need to feel warm in order to operate and hopefully this suffices.