Time for your weekly edition of the Defector Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. And buy Drew’s book, The Night The Lights Went Out, while you’re at it. Today, we're talking about football, bags, car buttons, meowing on an airplane, and more.
Well now, here we are. Happy first bag of 2025 everyone, and let’s all thank the great Rachelle Hampton for braving the sonororotomotorolavirus and hosting this column so brilliantly just last week. Now let’s get to your letters:
Shane:
Apparently Netflix wants their writers to repeat plot points and explicitly state actions so people can only pay half attention while doing other things (housework, gambling on their phones, etc.). Is this a good or bad thing?
A bad thing, obviously. I’ve known about Hollywood’s efforts in “second screen content” for a while now. If you only one watch one movie at a time, at 1.0x speed, you’re all but worthless to many of these companies. They want you absorbing as much content as possible while retaining none of it, so they churn out as much mindless crap as they can provide. That’s how you end up with a generation of psychopaths who play video games, speed-listen to podcasts, and watch Squid Game 2 on their phones all at the same time.
I don’t need to tell you how bad this is for art, for culture, or for personal health. I also don’t need to tell you that, as an artist, I object to all of this on principle. I don’t write books so that you can skip every other chapter while scrolling through Reels with your free hand. You should always try to consume art with respect for the people who created it.
However, I’m likely in the growing minority on that. All of the shit that you and I can’t stand—dumbed-down scripted shows, fake companies, AI—is normal now, and will only become more normal as we enter Phase Two of the MAGA Experiment. You and I will get more AI, more assembly line films, and more Ryan Murphy, even if we don’t want it. All of those things will become an everyday nuisance, and only those of us who are reality literate will be able to prioritize the good shit over the bad.
In hindsight, this was always what The Singularity was going to look like. Remember all of the big Singularity articles? They posited a future in which man and machine joined forces in a feat of cybertopic evolution. We’d become a race of sentient androids with the processing capacity of a supercomputer but with the recognizably tender aspects of analog humanity. That was all a sales job, naturally. What The Singularity has actually become is LLM models that are a poor facsimile of intrahuman dynamics, and intrahuman dynamics that, more and more, resemble some useless dogshit that a computer would spit out: memes, PR statements, GIFs from a movie you never even watched, nothing with genuine imagination or creativity. We were never gonna become better by becoming more like computers, and yet we’re being trained to behave more like them. There are like 500 songs in Radiohead’s catalog that warned us about this. Now it’s here, and it’s ANNOYING. I wanted a robot arm, not whatever the fuck this is.
Eric:
Your recent take on the Vikings playing with house money this year got me thinking. Do you honestly believe your favorite team(s) will win a championship in your lifetime? I turned 50 this year, an obvious milestone birthday, and I just can't make myself believe that any of my teams will ever win a title again.
I don’t think about it that way anymore. I can’t base my entire life as a sports fan on a binary outcome, even if the take industrial complex would prefer I did. It would prefer that I tether my happiness to whether or not my team wins it all, and that I maintain some kind of Master Prediction about whether or not they ever will. Like there are some tea leaves in the highlight reel that give me a clear window into God’s plan for them.
But sports don’t work that way. We have enough information on hand now to know that. Destiny isn’t real. Every team has a chance to win it all, but those chances vary year by year, and in no year do they clock in at 100 percent. I have no control over whether or not my team will ever make good on all of my fancy daydreams, and I accept that. I’m too old now to be like, If the Vikings never win it all this’ll have all been for NOTHING! That’s a shit way to go about life: acting like every high point has just been cosmically arranged to make every low point that much more painful. You’re refusing joy when you do that.
Unfortunately, my fellow Minnesota fans are hellbent on doing just that. Give them any excuse to play the Woe Is Us card and they’ll break out a full deck. This team just went 14-3 in a year where they were universally favored to win six games, but they get beat fair and square in the final game of the regular season—not a playoff game—and I gotta hear all of their tired-ass bullshit for the zillionth time. You could fill out a fucking bingo card with these takes: Told you so, I knew our QB sucked all along, Oh my God we missed a kick! That means we’re haunted! I’m ready for us to blow it in LA, blah blah blah blah blah. Quit getting your drama all over me. Quit looking around for excuses to be miserable. The grandiose self-pity is far more painful to endure than watching Jahmyr Gibbs house touchdowns against our gassed defense.
And I’m not gonna join in on it. I’ve been through too much to live that way. Instead, I’m just gonna get excited whenever my team appears on the teevee, and then hope they win. I’ve had a lot of fun being a Vikings fan, and I’m not gonna throw all of that away because Sam Darnold forgot how to throw touchdown passes on Sunday night. That’d be like writing off my entire professional career because I didn’t write the next Harry Potter. We have been conditioned to believe that if you don’t have everything, you have nothing. Then you live an average existence and curse it as all a waste of time. It’s better to lower your standards a touch, especially if you’re an American. I’ve met you people. You’re not as deserving of excellence as you think you are.
Besides, this particular Minnesota team tends to excel when nothing is expected of them, and how many people are going to lay them and the points against the Rams on Monday night? Three? Also, Kirk Cousins is still gone. AND we still swept Green Bay this season. Feels good. Eat a dick, Wisconsin.
James:
Newish dad here, about to go on paternity leave to take care of my four-month old daughter. Any advice for making the most of it?
I don’t, because I haven’t had to take care of a newborn since 2012, and our third kid spent a full month in the NICU before coming home. The only thing I remember from that stretch was, predictably, worrying about whether or not my son would live or die. For our other two kids, paternity leave has left virtually no imprint on my memory. I was overwhelmed, overworked, tired, confused, and bored in equal measure. I could make like an iPhone ad and be like, These six simple steps will help make your paternity leave a breeze! but no such magic formula exists. You get thrown into a mess, and then you spend the rest of your parenthood trying to arrange that mess into something more manageable.
So my only advice is to spend as much time with your spouse and baby as you can, even if it’s boring as shit. That was one of lessons I learned last year, when my dad passed away. I was grateful for any additional time I got with him, even if that time was shitty. Sometimes, the togetherness is all that matters. Also, you should buy a fuckload of burp cloths.
For a fresher perspective, I’ve asked our own Chris Thompson, a newer dad, for his advice to James. Here now is what Chris had to say:
Do as much of the baby-tending as you can, up to and including all of it. Not just because mom is probably wiped out. When I went back to work, and was suddenly glued to a desk and unavailable to my child for the first time in her life, I missed her so incredibly much and felt awful about all the bonding I wasn’t doing with her. Part of this was shredded nerves—I was more tired than I’d ever been in my life—but there’s also just the fact of the matter: The demands of keeping a roof over your head require that you be away from this tiny vulnerable little person who is suddenly the center of your universe. So while you are on paternity leave, spend every second that you can taking care of your child. Bond like crazy!
One last thing: If I had anything to do over, I would’ve taken more paternity leave. I was allowed six months but I took three, having convinced myself that my family had developed such a happy little rhythm that no one would even notice if I went back to blogging. Wrong as hell! Babies fly through their early developmental phases and each new thing brings its own set of challenges. So my second piece of advice is to stay on paternity leave until someone physically drags you back to the office.
McGregor:
I am currently waiting on my plane to taxi and was wondering: could you be kicked off a plane before takeoff by repeatedly meowing? Let’s assume attempts at intervention are met by more meowing.
I see that someone just watched Super Troopers for the 50th time. You can totally get kicked off a plane for meowing, especially if you do it at the top of your lungs. Take your seat, put your seat belt on, and then just start going, “MEOW! I SAID MEOW, MOTHERFUCKERS! MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW!” Other passengers will notice, as will the flight crew. They’ll politely ask you to stop acting like Barry’s cat, and then you’ll scream, “MEOW!” one last time, and then 50 air marshals will storm the cabin to subdue you and take you to the nearest loony bin.
However, as a veteran flyer myself, I’d ask that you not attempt to do this. I’d rather everyone just chill the fuck out.
Chris:
I'm currently eyeballing local wildfire maps here in Orange County, California, hoping that the latest fire isn't going to threaten my humble abode (likely not, it would have to be a real apocalyptic blaze to do so). Anyway, it got me thinking. I moved here from the Midwest over 20 years ago. I'm originally from southern Ohio, and when native Californians hear this, they express to me how terrifying living in tornado country must have been. Meanwhile, my new home experiences earthquakes, wildfires, mudslides, and the occasional tsunami warning every other year to keep things spicy. What region of the country has the most legitimate weather/natural disaster fear that supersedes the rest of us? I think California has a pretty solid advantage here but dude, tornadoes are legit scary.
I have no doubt about that. We all have Trump-induced contingency plans (these coincide perfectly with natural disaster contingency plans, given that modern conservatism has been a significant factor in producing them), and those plans will only grow more detailed as we get closer to the inauguration. Whenever a huge storm or a bad election strikes around these parts, I start shopping around for new places to live. That new place has to have eternally pleasant weather, low crime, good food, friendly people, gorgeous scenery, a decent cost of living, and it has to be fairly close to my friends and loved ones. This place is called Fantasyland, and it doesn’t exist. But I still enjoy imagining that it does. All we gotta do is airlift New Zealand and drop it right near the Eastern Seaboard. I don’t think it’s THAT hard. Certainly easier than orchestrating a buffalo parade!
HALFTIME!
Michael:
How difficult and/or expensive would it be to organize a buffalo stampede? Needs to be a good amount of buffalo too, like at least 30.
You could just go to Yellowstone National Park, breeze by the PLEASE KEEP AWAY FROM THE BISON signs, and trigger a buffalo stampede by trying to feed one of them a Dorito. Your fellow Yellowstone tourists have a documented history of such hijinks. Buffalo are animals that only seem tranquil. Then you spook one and HEY NOW, there you are, getting gored into a nearby fencepost.
But if you want to leave nothing to chance and organize a controlled stampede (this is an oxymoron), you’re gonna need an army of the worst dregs ever to soil the face of the concession stand. You’ll want rustlers, cutthroats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, train robbers, bank robbers, asskickers, shitkickers and Methodists. Money, in other words. You’re gonna need the full, Kevin Costner production budget to get all that going.
Or, again, you can just walk off the trail and try to ride one like it’s a pony. Trust me, I was sorely tempted when I visited Yellowstone this summer. Their fur looks so soft and fluffy!
Patrick:
What's one feature that's available in most modern vehicles that gets used the least? The cliché answer is the indicator, but I think it might be cruise control. If you're stuck in traffic or driving mostly on city streets every day you're probably not using it, and based on the number of people that reduce speed going uphill on the highway it's not super popular there either. My second pick would be that button that re-circulates the air inside the cabin.
The turn signal! HEY-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
My wife is a big proponent of the recycled air button, by the way. She pushes it anytime she believes that a disagreeable odor from outside—exhaust, manure fields, a skunk, someone farting two cars ahead of us—has infiltrated the vehicle. Or maybe she unpushes it when that happens; I really don’t know what the move is supposed to be there. I just leave that button however it was when I found it. As for cruise control, I use it liberally on long stretches of road to give my back and right foot a little P&Q. I also set the following distance for my cruise control as close to the other car as it allows. I’m not 90. I know when I have to take the gas pedal away from my Tucson. If a lane it too congested for me to stay at 79, I just change lanes and get back to chillin’ the most.
There remains a large portion of this country’s population, some of my family members included, that never uses cruise control. They either fear it, or they find the controls for it too intricate. Not unlike learning ancient Sanskrit. Here we have one of the few instances where the singularity actually works OK, and these people reject it! Well, have fun being unable to nap behind the wheel on YOUR next big road trip, losers!
But I haven’t answered Patrick’s question yet. There are a shitload of new cars with showroom features that attract new buyers while providing little functional value (remote parking assist comes to mind first). But you know what my answer is? The stowaway bins. Did you know that your car might have an extra secret storage space underneath the floor of the trunk? Did you know that if you put something in that space, you’ll forget you put it there until three years later? Pretty exciting shit!
Jon:
Nobody needs more than $10 million. This sounds crazy low in the context of how many large sums of money get casually thrown around, but the rough math on it is this: if you have $10 million and invest it, you can spend $400,000 a year and you'll almost certainly never run out of money. I don't really have a question, I just wanted your readers to commit that to memory.
Yes, but you know what would be nicer than having $10 million? Having $100 million. Then you could spend MILLIONS a year and still not worry about going broke. And what if you want to buy a kickass megayacht? One with a basketball court and VIP sex lounge? You’re probably gonna need a billion for that. That’s the American value system. As much as you have, someone else out there always has more, which means that you need more. Too much is never enough, and no one with money ever wants their nest egg to go down in value. After all, they want their kids and grandkids to be able to live comfortably, too.
A few years ago, David Roth and I were chilling out by a lake and we both agreed that the ideal rich guy number is somewhere between $200 and $500 million. At that number, you can do anything you want, but you’re not as conspicuously over-rich as a billionaire is. No one will hurl paint cans at your security gate when you’re a mere centimillionaire! It’s true! Ask Mike Hampton!
Bryan:
If you woke up tomorrow and football didn’t exist (like, it was never invented), would you switch to a different sport to cover fulltime. If so, which?
Oh yeah I’d have to find a new sports beat, because being a sportswriter is still a pretty sweet gig (especially at Defector and SF Gate, both of which offer sportswriters actual, good jobs). My second favorite sport to watch is basketball, so I guess that would become my field of expertise. I could even write a “book” “of basketball,” in which I sort NBA greats into vaguely described “pantheon” tiers and then talk about which of them are the most like my shitty ex-girlfriend. WHY HAS NO ONE WRITTEN A BOOK ABOUT BASKETBALL LIKE THIS YET?!
Michael:
I am a fan of the Toronto Blue Jays, and this offseason (like most others) has been an exercise in hearing that the Jays were in big on a bunch of free agents and trade pieces, only for them to inevitably become an also-ran. I tried not to get my hopes up about Juan Soto, but I did anyways. Are there teams in other sports that experience this unique misery of desperately wanting to spend big money but not being able to entice the players to join?
Joe Burrow is experiencing this exact malaise as we speak. It will last for the rest of his professional career. So no, you’re not the only sports fan whose enthusiasm is continually hamstrung by their franchise’s penny-pinching. This is especially true in baseball, which has no salary floor. Pick a random MLB team’s name out of a hat and, more likely than not, you’re gonna choose a team that a John Fisher-type is currently running aground. And if you cheer for one of the midlevel EPL teams, you have to pray that the 2016 Leicester season happens to your piddly-shit, not Liverpool club.
THAT’S where fatalism is merited. Any modern team that’s “cursed” is usually one that’s been terminally mismanaged. You can still love your team anyway, but it won’t be as easy as loving the Dodgerses of the world.
Alex:
What are the most and least fun types of bags?
Finally, someone has asked the ultimate meta question. Now, let’s mind our manners and rule out the metaphorical “funbags,” after which this column was originally named, and stick with literal bags that carry things. The least fun type of bag is a potato chip bag that your child has attempted to open. You go to grab a snack, you unfurl the top of the bag, and SURPRISE! All of the chips instantly fall onto the counter because the bag has a tear going all the way down one side. An awful moment in life. And my kids aren’t even little! They should have a handle on this shit by now! I’m gonna have to send them to night school.
As for the most fun bag, it’s any sports equipment bag. Ask any hockey player, or any football player taking a road trip. Nothing feels cooler than walking away from the bus carrying a giant duffel with your jersey number on it, stuffed with all of your warrior shit: pads, helmets, tape, cleats, sticks, balls, a picture of your cheerleader girlfriend … all the cool athlete stuff. If I ever owned an NFL team, I’d set a fan experience where you could walk with a fully loaded duffel from the team bus and into the stadium concourse. We’d film your walk and then charge you a supplemental $35 for the video. Be sure to have your best fit on.
Geoff:
When I’m not looking my 3.5 year old likes to lie on his stomach in the tub and, “make his peeny long.” He also asked me if his peeny will ever touch his nose. And tonight I caught him in the corner with his hand down his pants and he told me he was trying to play with his penis. Are all toddlers perverts? And how do I make sure he doesn’t become an actual deviant?
The easiest way to make sure your kid doesn’t grow up to be a creep is to not be one yourself. As for your kid’s dickplay, that’s normal. It’s not sexual, because he’s three and has no concept of that. He just has this weird thing attached to his body and he thinks it’s funny to play with. I’m 48 and I still think it’s fun to play with mine! Wait, that didn’t sound terribly wholesome. Anyway, tell the boy not to grab his dick in front of other people. He’ll either get the message eventually, or wind up in the county jail. Natural consequences, etc.
Joe:
The ESPN article about Kirk Cousins getting benched had this little nugget about him and Michael Penix: "Cousins and Penix live on the same street in suburban Georgia and sometimes carpool to the team plane for road games." Can we get a "Carpoolin' with Kirk" bit in the Jamboroo to explore the sage wisdom being passed here? "If it's 3rd and 7, my first read is the running back in the flat, short of the sticks. Golly, it's like the defense wants you to take it."
You cannot, because I don’t have to think about Kirk Cousins ever again. The post-Kirk afterglow remains within me, and I’m savoring it like I just got out of sequestered jury duty. Also, Kirk is a professional. That’s why teams rush to overpay him. He probably has some decent advice for Michael Penix on best practices and all of that other, boring shit. The second Kirk hangs it up, he’ll go right into coaching. Not for MY team, mind you. Kevin O’Connell will be coaching my team until I’m dead. Kirk can go coach in New York.
Email of the week!
Pete:
What is the weirdest thing one of your children ever handed to you? During lockdown summer, my daughter and I were out walking, and she handed me a dead bird that was still warm. I often wonder if she, just barely two, killed it.
She didn’t. Ratto did.
