The Fourth Judge Doesn't Feel Sorry for Vin Baker
A few weeks ago I read a story about Vin Baker, notorious NBA drunkard – not that I’m judging – reportedly losing $86 million in bad investments.
On the one hand I feel bad for the guy. $86 million is a lot of loot to flush down the toilet. But on the other hand, the hand that knows its ass from its elbow, what the fuck was he doing investing $86 million? You invest money so you can GET $86 million. Once you have $86 million you stop what you’re doing and you buy a bunch of coke and an island and a whole mess of shallots (they make everything more delicious). If there’s enough money left over you send your kids to Rutgers.[[MORE]]
I don’t care if it’s “technically” stupid to not invest that amount of money. You know what’s stupider? Technically? Losing $86 million. You know what’s awesome? Having $86 million.
If you have to invest in something, invest in a passion. If you love farts, let’s say, and you want to invest a couple of million bucks in a house made of farts, I’m ok with that. If you lose some money that way at least you’re losing it pursuing a passion. Live and learn. But there is no passion that requires $86 million to pursue, unless your passion is throwing away $86 million like a complete jerkoff.
What I’m trying to say is that Vin Baker is a greedy monster and deserves everything that has happened to him and more.
I have a coworker who refers to everyone as “friends.”
“Friends, I’d like to introduce you to a whole new way of thinking about social networking and educational publishing.”
“Friends, my Lotus Notes calendar is up to date. Please schedule a meeting to discuss this.”
“Friends, I will now finger my butthole and lick said finger clean.”
Not one of us is actually friends with this guy and his constant abuse of the word “friends” is nothing short of criminal. I suppose it’s in keeping with his character. This is the same “human being” whose screen saver is a 3D rendering of the word “COURAGE” rotating 360 degrees on a loop (I guess he got sick of the flying toasters). But I find his character detestable and I hope one day someone pulls his pork pie hat down until the brim breaks (yes, he wears a pork pie hat) then strangles him to death with a friendship bracelet.
Do you think we could get Vin Baker to strangle my coworker to death with a friendship bracelet for $50? If it’s more, do you think Kickstarter would accept this project? We could say we are funding a conceptual work of art.
Anyway, I’m completely serious about this but I’m not so sure what my initial offer should be, so please let me know how much you think we should offer Vin Baker to strangle my coworker to death with a friendship bracelet in the bustling comments section below.
I’m single now, and that’s all fine and good, but I wouldn’t mind meeting a potential LIFE PARTNER. If the right woman (has $86 million or more) comes along, I’m completely willing to settle down and raise/physically abuse children (with my fists, you monsters. Jesus christ, what do you think I am?).
Knowing this, friends of mine occasionally try to set me up with people they they think I’ll like. Recently a coworker wanted me to meet someone who she thought would be perfect for me.
So, one night while I was out with some friends, my coworker stopped by with this friend of hers. As my coworker entered the bar I could tell immediately that I wasn’t not attracted to the woman she’d brought with her. I’m not saying she was a psycho hose beast or anything, but the sparks just weren’t there. Looks aren’t the only thing, of course, but if you’re not attracted to your partner things aren’t going to work. That’s the way life is.
But this woman was there specifically to meet me, and they didn’t bring any other friends with them, so I was stuck talking to her for the most excruciating sixty minutes of my life that didn’t involve doing my job, or, as I like to call it, the most excruciating 2,400 minutes of my life, every single week until I die.
I had to walk the line between friendly chit chat and flirting, which isn’t so much hard as it is embarrassing. There’s an obvious difference between friendly chit chat and flirting, so the other person is pretty clear that you’re not trying to get freaky.
Eventually I went to the bathroom, jumped out the window, and ran 6.5 miles back to Brooklyn.
Technically that’s not true. Technically I went back to my group of friends, waved the girl over – Hey, come join us! Aren’t I friendly? – and pretty much stopped talking to her for the rest of the night. I had paid my debt to society, it was time to live as a free man.
Which reminds me – convicted felons should be allowed to vote. C'mon, man. This isn’t the Jim Crow south. Enough already with this disenfranchisement bullshit. What’s the danger, anyway? They’re gonna vote for worse politicians than the ones we have now?
^OH MAN! SOMEBODY MAKE THIS MAN STOP BEFORE MY SIDES LITERALLY EXPLODE! I CANNOT HANDLE ANY MORE OF HIS RAZOR SHARP POLITICAL OBSERVATIONAL HUMOR!
Have you guys ever watched My Cat From Hell on Animal Planet? I’m assuming the answer to that is “Seriously? You can’t get someone else to write for this boxing site?” so let me fill you in on the details.
There’s this cat whisperer of sorts who goes to people’s homes and figures out why their cat has ripped off their genitals and smothered their babies to death. The couples are always “on the verge of breaking up” until this big fat dude with tattoos and a funky beard shows up and starts baby talking Snicker Doodle out of being a demon.
“Come here, my little precious one. Oh, do you want to draw my blood? That’s ok for now. We’ll work on that. You’re a sweet kitty at heart, aren’t you?”
He’s the kind of guy that I would normally want to beat to death with the guitar case full of cat toys he carries around – I mean, his name is fucking Jackson GALAXY – but for some reason I find him completely endearing. He cries at the end of every episode when the cat is better and the couple is happy, but they don’t seem like crocodile tears. He’s genuinely moved by the whole thing.
Maybe it’s because I hold out hope that one day my cat won’t try to rip my feet off in my sleep, but I’ve been touched on a number of occasions while watching this show. It tugs at the heart strings. I highly recommend it.
DOES ANYONE WANNA GO OUT AND FUCK SOME BITCHES LATER?
Speaking of fucking bitches, don’t ever let anyone tell you that thinking with your penis is a bad thing. In my experience my penis is much more emotionally sensitive than I’ll ever be.
I’ll give you one highly embarrassing example.
A little while back I was dating a girl that I wasn’t that into. I wasn’t particularly physically attracted to her (a problem, as we’ve already discussed) and even though we had a lot of fun together, I knew that this wasn’t the girl I wanted to marry.
About a month after I came to this conclusion my penis had had enough, and in the middle of missionary style sex it decided to go soft. I freaked out at first because
a) I didn’t know your penis could go soft during sex
b) I assumed this meant I would never have a healthy sex life again
c) Without sex you might as well throw yourself on a rusty asshole spike until it sticks out of your mouth.
It turns out, though, that my penis stopped working because it knew what was happening wasn’t right. It knew I shouldn’t be with this girl if I wasn’t serious about the relationship and it was trying to send me a message. In all my sexual encounters since then (IN THE THOUSANDS), I’ve had absolutely zero trouble with waning shaft strength. I’ve been right as rain, #asitwere. The only logical explanation is that my penis didn’t want to see this poor girl grow more attached to me, only to have the eventual heartbreak be that much worse.
So yeah, thinking with your dick is perfectly fine. If it’s anything like mine it just wants to find a happy, fulfilling relationship with a smart, pretty girl with a sense of humor who doesn’t believe in God. And if she happens to have $86 million and wants to make me a house husband, even better.