Michael Phelps Never Should Have Been Able To Compete Against People

There’s been a lot of talk this week about women’s boxing at the Olympics. An Algerian boxer dominated an Italian boxer and people are now trying to say that maybe she was born a man. People are claiming that maybe she transitioned into a woman. Let’s go back a bit further to another story that did not get as much coverage. When a fish transitioned into a man. When a marine animal became human. Michael Phelps, the unreal tall, double ankle jointed phenom has much more in common with the very noble porpoise than he does any of us tiny wingspan mortals.

Michael Phelps, this double lung capacity mutant, was out there just crushing regular, single lung capacity dorks. Couple of losers with regular, human, breakable, combustable useless SINGLE lung capacity lungs? How is this fair? Where’s the challenge for him? How does he sleep at night? DOUBLE the capacity. Not even the same species.

‘I have 23 gold medals!’

‘How’d you get them?’

‘I drove a Ferrari on the 100 metre dash. Crushed everyone!’

This man never should have competed against people. Get him out of the pool and into the ocean. Toss him in the Atlantic and find some competition. How much better would that be anyway? Want to watch a bunch of people compete for second place against this tuna? Or see him neck and neck with a great white shark? Photo finish with a swordfish? Interview after would be great.

‘Wow! That was close. What were you thinking in the final moments?’

‘What was I thinking? I was thinking ‘I’m a dolphin. A full dolphin. I do this EVERY DAY and this MAN is right beside me?! Keeping up?! What the hell is going on here?! is what I was thinking. I mean look at me. I have fins. A blowhole. This should be easy but wow… I’ve never been tested like this… (Dolphin noise)’

Only man he should be able to compete against is Aquaman. Poseidon. Anybody with a trident and the ability to surf whales. Not just some guy born in Cleveland with regular human lungs. Not just some dweebie with regular human ankles and a wingspan that can barely reach the Wheaties on the top shelf. You have to swim against men who have the power to control waves. Your natural, Water God given talents exclude you from human men.

Some athletes are going to have some advantages for sure. Parents who care, a house with a family room, indoor plumbing, but wingspan not seen by just about anybody? Double jointed ankles that basically act as rudders? Yes there are genetics but these are X-Men levels. Can Professor X be on Jeopardy? Can Juggernaut compete in a strongman competition?

‘Look he won the Discus Throw fair and square'.’

‘He’s a 9’6” man with Superhuman strength! Buddy can pick up the Chrysler Building!’

‘But he IS a man, so….’

Maybe we should stop placing athletes together by gender at all at the olympics and change it to genetics. We measure people’s genetics and pair them up accordingly. Maybe you’ll compete with women. Maybe you’ll compete with men. Your great great grandfathers blood line will determine this. Except Phelps. His great great grand father was a Seahorse. HIs mom is Flipper and his dad is Jaws. Admit it, Phelps. Give these medals to the poor men who you dominated with your powers, who have now become dock workers, and get into the sea to earn them back. (Dolphin noise)

Tabasco Is Offensive

The health department should hand out violations to any restaurant that only has Tabasco for hot sauce. ANY restaurant that brings you Tabasco when you say, ‘Do you have hot sauce?’ should be given a B rating. EVERY restaurant that thinks TABASCO is an acceptable HOT SAUCE should have their rent tripled. ALL restaurants that only have Tabasco for hot sauce should be filled with cement. Restaurants should feel ashamed to have this as the only option. Tabasco is not hot sauce. It is not vinegar. It is basically peppered, puddle water that’s been heated by the sun.

Servers who work at a restaurant that only has Tabacco know what they are bringing to the table. They hold their head down, with zero confidence, toss it on the table before you even catch what’s happened, then probably go in the back and plead to a manager.

‘You have to buy new hot sauce. I CAN’T bring this to tables anymore.’

‘Gotta keep costs low, that’s why I walk under bridges and catch the water that drips from them into a bottle.’

‘They want HOT SAUCE, not bridge drippings!’

‘They don’t know what they want! That’s why the menu here is 76 pages.’

‘78!’

‘78! Even better.’

No server puts Tabasco on the table with confidence. They don’t go, ‘And here you are. TABASCO! That’s the REAL stuff. Tabasco! Can you BELIEVE that we have this?!’

I can’t. This place should be closed. There are a SELECT GROUP OF HUMANS who could even POSSIBLY find Tabasco passable.

1. POWs

Were you captured during war times? Did you spend time in a hole where you had to drink your own piss to stay alive? Did a Vietnamese guard stand over top of you yelling ‘didi mao!’ holding a chicken while you tried to figure out WHAT the hell he wanted? Then Tabasco is for you. You might even enjoy it JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE than tossing your legs behind your head and using your own mouth for a urinal. Being held in a bamboo cage while you’re poked with hot steel prepares for you something like Tabasco being the only option for your meal.

2. Anyone who lived through The Great Depression

One day you’re riding high, betting on the big James J. Braddock vs Ulysses FarmBurner fight, next day you’re selling your spoons for bread. For YEARS you walk to the docks every day trying to get work to no avail. You fill the holes in your shoes with newspaper that everyday reads ‘Guess what? We’re still depressed!’ and the bank will only let you take out one dollar a week, then Tabasco is for you.

‘Here’s what we can do for dinner. I can bake socks or pour Tabasco into your hand.’

‘Can I have Tabasco ON the socks?’

‘Then WHAT will we eat for the rest of the week, James?’

Tabasco should be the face of the Great Depression.

‘Hey, could be worse,. You could be living in Central Park drinking beer made in a wash basin out of a boot. Or a bottle with a red top… Tabasco.’

If you lived through the dirty 30s, you won’t mind a splash of Tabasco on your monte cristo.

3. Anyone who enjoys being kicked in the balls

Do you like someone kicking you directly in the mangos? Are you a fan of placing your bare sack on a hardwood floor while a woman in heels steps on it and calls you a cuck? Then you COULD be in the market for Tabasco. Tabasco does for you mouth what that human in work boots whose leg is cocked back does to your testicles. Hurts it. Destroys it. Not. One. Favour. If having your marbles rocked gets you off, then Tabasco on your burger is for you.

@nathanmacintosh

'If you die, fine, but I have to text while driving!'

Every time I drive to a show out of town, I see people texting and driving. I'm not talking about in the city, people will check their phone at a red light. I'm talking that I constantly see people on the HIGHWAY, Checking their phones, slightly moving into a new lane until they catch themselves and switch back, doing SIXTY FIVE.

'Maybe you're only driving on highways that very important doctors drive on, Nathan?'

Thought of that. Looked at the signs, and found out that's not the case.

'Maybe you're driving on the private highways that are used exclusively by surgeons and EMT's?' Nope, just the regular old highways where a dude who works at Ruby Tuesdays doesn't think he needs to give all of his attention to the speeding ton of metal he's driving. The same highways as you, and the same highways that we should all be paying attention too while DRIVING ON THEM. 

Other people on the road have to be put at risk because you have to respond to a 'what you doing?' text? Others have to maybe become toast because you're typing 'Nothing. Just driving. You?' THAT'S important enough to put people's lives on the line, including your own? THAT'S important enough to take your eyes off of controlling a huge piece of metal that you're SITTING IN? 

There are fines for texting while driving. I've seen some as high as $300. Do I think that's enough? Nope. No way. You should be taken right off the road for texting and driving. PIT maneuver by the police. Swerved into a ditch the way you were going to swerve another family off the road if you kept texting. That too far? Fine. The punishment should be being locked away for two weeks. Two weeks in jail, WITH your phone. Keep it, BUT, no charger. That is the ULTIMATE punishment for people who can't get off their phone. Having to ration use? They can't deal with that. 

'Ah man, I can only like two pictures on Instagram a day. How am I going to survive?! You can't treat people like this! Take me out back and shoot me! SHOOT ME!' 

Everyone knows this is bad, but some people just don't care. Now though, car companies are putting wifi in their cars. WIFI, IN THEIR CARS. Nobody will be putting their phone down.

'Do you know whey I pulled you over? You were texting while driving.'

'Yeah, but officer, I have WIFI?'

'... Huh.... Well give me your license and network password. I have sports scores to check while I run your plates.'

Worst is, some people aren't even texting! Some people are NOT even responding to 'important' texts. Some people are just scrolling through twitter or instagram. Some monsters are out there scrolling through pictures of asses while switching lanes on a highway. Kids to the right of them, mothers to the left, and they are pressing the heart icon on a grilled cheese sandwich. Liking status updates while DRIVING AN AUTOMOBILE. 

'I agree, Timmy. It IS cold out here today. Cold out here as it is in my heart, where I believe I'm the only one on this two lane speed fest.'

Some people are for SURE sexting while driving. Some guy is rock hard, pressing send on eggplant and fire combination emojis while switching lanes. 

'If I get to you before I cause a four car pile up, my GOD the dick I'm gonna lay down.'

The numbers of accidents caused while someone's driving drunk and the numbers for accidents caused while someone is texting while driving have to be pretty close. HAVE to be. Texting while driving is worse. It's worse because when you're drunk, you barely know what's up. You wake up wondering what happened the night before. 'Did I drive? Oh Christ.' You don't wake up that way after texting. 'Did I respond to ALL of those texts? Jesus. I hate myself.' 

ONLY time texting while driving is okay is if you're drunk. If you are drunk, you are not of sound mind. Other than that, get it together, man. Put your phone down. Stop sending '100' emojis. Focus your blurred over, vodka'd up head on the road.

Commercials for drunk driving say 'hey, get a cab, and you can throw up in someone else's car.' They don't attack texting and driving like that. They never say, 'Get an Uber and text your face off on your way home, AND throw up in someone else's car.' Why not? Should be.

'Look, you're an ape who can't put down the shiny thing even while operating a motor vehicle? Great. Call this person, sit in the back of their motor vehicle, and use your ape hands to text other apes about nothing. Be responsible.' 

Twitter @nathanmacintosh