Tag Archives: sports

#43 The Fantasy Football Fanatic

It's like I'm actually part of the team!

It's almost as real as beating off to porn!

Since when was it socially acceptable for a grown-man to watch football on Sunday with a laptop propped on his thighs? This question is one of the many asked while observing the internet’s latest product, the Fantasy Football Fanatic AKA F3s.

Other questions include, “why would a grown man live out his life vicariously through an offensive line?” Or even worse, “why would an adult let his life be consumed by the stats of a newly acquired placeholder?” These questions are just part of the enigma that are Fantasy Football Fans, a group immensely growing in numbers while ironically, their cocks shrink.

“Irony” is the proper term for this pathetic culture of loserdom. The F3 is a big proponent of all things masculine: reading FHM, doping drinks with GHP, and shopping at GNC. All in all, F3 lives in a fantasy world (obvious by his name). But on Sunday, all that masculinity culminates to a couch cushion in order to perform the least manly thing possible: watch television and let a computer tally up statistics. F3 plops himself on the couch for an arduous day of nothing but potential bragging rights at the water cooler tomorrow. In doing so, he has become the perfect example of the pussification of the American male.

Whereas only 10 years ago, adult males would enter the workplace on Monday morning to trade stories about who’s penis went where over the weekend or about how much property damage they caused — today’s men meet at the water cooler to boast about who traded up for Ricky Waters prior to Sunday afternoon*.

Even more stupendous than their pussification is the event they hold just before their 5-month internet hard-on. I’m referring to the Fantasy Football Draft, which, if some of you aren’t familiar, is the equivalent of the motivational huddle fluffers create the first day of shooting on a gay-porn set.

Spotting an F3 is one of the easiest tasks to master. For one, F3 outfits are as uniform as the referees they’ve come to detest. By sporting their favorite football team’s home jersey or t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, the F3 announces to the general public that A) I’m a huge fan of Eli Manning and B) I’ve abandoned self-confidence and have given up caring about my place in society.

Secondly, all F3s congregate in the same place: their homes. There once was a time where F3s wandered planet Earth like the husky dog in heat. But much like the husky breed, they’ve been neutered, trading in their natural ways for a fat, domesticated life on the couch. Nonetheless, an enticing menu of chicken wings and boobs can get F3s out of the house, but the lack of internet access hinders their social behavior. And while you’re trying to kick it to a pair of slutty Chargers fans, your F3 “Wingman” will be too busy texting his buddy Karl to hit the refresh button, and update him on their fantasy league.

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Known As: Tim Couch, Peyton Not-a-Manning, Warren Goon, Warren Sappy, Mean Joe Recliner, Robert DeNiro in The Fan, Season Ticket/Dick Holder

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#40 The Sticker-on-Hat Guy


Nothing says “fresh” like a circular hologram sticker. And for the Sticker-on-Hat Guy, this is life. It’s his “Born On” date. And even the thought of removing that sticker causes a salty discharge from his tear duct.

The most important thing to know about the Hat Sticker Guy is this: the thing on his head is not just a hat, it’s a shrine. Like comic book nerds collecting first prints, or a cokehead trying to spread out his last 8-ball, the keyword is preservation. They need to keep that hat as new and untouched as the day they bought [or stole] it. So help them god.

That means the brim needs to be perfectly straight. The sticker needs to remain as it was on display — shiny, unblemished, and visible. And they when they wear the hat, it must barely even touch their head. Preferably, it will be hovering, cocked off to the side, and backwards.

Obviously, the next normal question is “why?” I mean, would you keep an XL sticker on your new pair of jeans or the wrapper on your condom? The answer, I imagine, is no. And why buy a hat if you’re going to be concerned about it’s safety and wellbeing? Why not just have a child instead?

But for the Sticker-On-Hat Guy, reason is not important. They don’t do it because they like it, they do it because they think other people will think it’s cool. They are your run-of-the-mill posers and copycats — the same people that bought Parachute Pants when MC Hammer hit it big.

Boyz 2 HatWhile the SOH is gaining large ground in the white, wigger community, it’s important to note that this style was introduced a long time ago by African Americans. Perhaps it’s first visible variance can be seen on the hat of Mike Bivins in Boyz II Men’s cross-platform hit “Motown Philly“.

It’s no sticker, but his signature “clothespin and price tag” look trail-blazed the way for all kinds of on-hat accessories.

Like baggy pants and rap music, this is one of the latest trends that white people have stolen from the black community and made douchey. Those largely responsible are the uber-white, New Jersey-style posers that rock a flat-brimmed Yankees or Mets hat.

If you know a Sticker-on-Hat Guy, there’s two ways to handle the situation: 1) Silently remove the sticker when they go to gel their hair into a blowout, or preferably, 2) Take his pristine hat and return it to the store for a full refund. Then use the money to buy yourself a 12 pack of Bud Diesel and #1 combo at Chick-Fil-A.
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Also Known As: The Hat Sticker Whore, On-Display Douchery, Dr. Seuss, It’s Cool To Keep The Tags On, Sticker Stanley, The White Bread Hat, Poppa Cap

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#24 The Home Plate Waver

If only the ball hit him
The Home Plate Waver is the biggest gip amongst a whole slew of gips commonly referred to as baseball fans. Seen loafing on a plastic chair 4 rows behind the umpire, he demands the TV audience know he’s part of the broadcast — all 4 centimeters of his bulbous head.

Using the patented Frantic Hand Wave and Cell Phone Call™, the Home Plate Waver strives for one goal and one goal alone: talk to someone watching and let them know there’s a slight chance they’re on TV. Jazz hands are frequently used for emphasis.

Yet the hope of being seen quickly turns into desperation. Like a child on a diving board screaming for his mother to watch him jump, he pursues telephone calls to family and friends well into the 8th inning, hoping one person will say, “Yeah, I see your fat ass. It diverted me from witnessing a fantastic full count strikeout by Frank Viola, but I see your fat ass.”

He may be senile, but he\'s still a HPWSure, he’s got great box seats, but what the Waver’s really announcing to the world is his despondent need for attention. Such longing to be noticed ranks right below strippers and just a step above adult-film stars. But where pornstars get paid for blowing somebody, Home Plate Wavers are just blatant cocksmokers, forcing the great debate amongst American scholars as to who is actually the most attention-desperate

Unfortunately, 9 out of 10 HPWs never get discovered. This occurs for two main reasons: one, nobody gives a shit. And two, they simply don’t stand out. A perfect example: wearing an entire navy blue outfit at a Yankee game, with a dark hat that covers the eyes. It’s also hard to recognize someone when they’re stuffing their face full of hot dogs for 7 straight innings.

But negativity aside, the Home Plate Waver does display one positive quality: a resiliency on par with Die Hard’s John McClane. They will never give up on getting noticed. Yet, such stubborn manners force many of the baseball fans sitting directly behind them to scream outlandish sentiments about this pathetic plea for attention, as well as who had sex with HPW’s mother and in what orifice.

The Home Plate Waver can be found all over the USA, ruining MLB games in any city he visits or resides in. Very rarely will the Home Plate Waver stop his trademark shit storm — this usually occurs after a loud-mouth fan throws their shoe at him, or more frequently, when the usher comes by to check tickets and realizes the slob didn’t belong in this section in the first place.

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Known As: Wavey Cockett, The Jazz Hands FairyMan, Look-At-Me-Dupree, Waveheart, Jenna Wave-a-son, Weiner Breath, The “If You Wave it, They Will Boo” Guy

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