Bubb Rubb's LeBron James post, and let me tell you, that motherfucker can write. Really enjoyable stuff. I think he may have underestimated how close death always is for a 24-year old black male from a poor economic background, and also how the most interesting part of LeBron's career isn't going to be his championships but his free agency next summer, but all in all, great job. As Judge Smails would say, "Top notch! Top notch!" (That's right, bitches. Caddyshack. Deal with it.)
You know who else can write his motherfucking ass off? Wilt Stilts. Did you read his K-State v. Iowa State post? If you didn't, quit reading this right now and go fuck yourself while watching Asian men rub against each other in full-body spandex suits (that's how much you're missing the boat on this, assholes). Dude nails satire, while also giving us a glimpse at the culture in his home state that he obviously loves/hates. Oh, and he photoshopped, too! You know who can't photoshop? Me. You know who can write, though (supposedly, a little bit)? ME.
So who the fuck am I? Canaan Christ, a fellow Deadspin Learning Curve participant who has been writing a blog called Diminishing Skills since 2006. (If you haven't heard of it, you must be a person not named Matt, Tim, or Kenny.) After I was featured on the Learning Curve, I was contacted by Wilt Stilts to come join the Herm's Perm crew. If you actually click on the link to my blog and read any of it, you'll notice that my style is kind of the exact opposite of what is going on here, but I think that may be what they want (I honestly don't know. I haven't communicated with either of them since Tuesday, and I'm not even sure I'm supposed to be posting this right now. Embrace the RENEGADE in your soul with me [which is actually a death metal cover of a They Might Be Giants song].) From what I have been told, they're counting on me to cover some NFL for them, so of course I said, "Fuck yes, I love the NFL."
Honestly, I'm a little nervous about the whole endeavor, because these guys are legitimately funny. But then, it's easy to be funny when you're only just entering your twenties, are deeply ensconced in the insulated campus life of universities brimming with Song Girls and Playboy's Girls of the Big 12, and have probably never had to pay for an abortion. On the brink of my 27th birthday, living in a backwards-ass town where I don't know anybody, and working towards a more-than-likely useless Associate's degree in Health Information Management online, I know what life is, and it damn sure isn't funny. Even the good times are weighted down by some catch, some stipulation, some life-ruiner. I have been told on more occasions than I'd prefer that my girlfriend is way too hot for me, but do you know the price of having a lady so high above my proverbial pay grade? In order to be with her, I had to follow her to this shitty town, 4 hours away from anyone else I know, and at least 50 minutes from anywhere fun.
For example, when I told my girlfriend that I got a gig (listen to me, using big shot lingo like I'm Frankie Freelance himself) writing for another sports site, she was elated (mostly because she was holding out hope I would be getting paid for the 5 hours I waste on the computer every night). Her optimistic worldview was shattered, however, when I informed her I would be writing on a blog run by two assholes from Kansas named after some inside joke that I still don't understand.
That being said, I'm happy to be aboard. See you guys on Tuesday with the first edition of what is sure to be a really swell NFL post. God Bless!