Let’s face it, poop and farts are funny. But I’ve created a culture in my household where it’s become a contest to see who can do the most outrageous thing.
Yes, the Banana is a Dad. Of two wonderful boys who I treat like best friends. However, the most important part about this story is that treating them like best friends means talking about childish humor, which is my strong suit.
No, I don’t go around asking them why they have such a small penis or calling them a faggot every 10 seconds, but, we’re embarking on the ten year journey of poop and fart jokes and how they’re the highest form of humor.
First off, at a young age, both children were taught the following:
He kindly picked up the log with a towel and off it went into the toilet.
Second child chimes in and exclaims that the very same day, (they go to the same school) he found a shit floating in the bowl and flushed, to no avail. He wanted to be the Good Samaritan and dispose of said log, but it was just so massive. No toilet paper, no wipes. Just a log that wouldn’t cooperate.
Guess what? It was his brother’s shit. My younger has some olympic sized logs – and I’m not exaggerating. These things don’t go down. They need to be broken up with a fucking pencil or something. I laughed so hard on the drive home I almost cried and lost control of the car.
Bonus content: the entire family was in Khol’s one morning looking for God knows what. Older child tuned and said to me, “watch this” and proceeded to rip ass in the middle of a crowded section where people were shopping. It was audible. Like disturbingly loud. He then yelled out, “Momma, that’s so gross.” Their Mother immediately bolted from the section and turned beet red.
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A deeper look into the Patriots’ logo that never was, and how we arrived at the “Flying Elvis” being featured in its 8th Super Bowl.
Besides thinking about football, I think about design, marketing, and how brands are presented. Of course, by now, every New England fan knows Pat Patriot and the “Flying Elvis,” but most people don’t know what us fans almost had instead.
There it is, in all of it’s glory. The inspiration of the current Flying Elvis which came via the NFL’s graphics department, sourced out to an intern at a graphic design facility in California, run by Stan Evenson.
The process of the entire logo re-design prior to the 1993 change wasn’t something former owner Billy Sullivan really even supported, but he figured he’d set up his son-in-law, the then marking director for the team, with an opportunity – to let the fans decide. At halftime, in 1979 during a home game, the above logo was presented to the fans on poster boards and received with an enormous negative response. So Pat Patriot stayed around until 1993. In came new owner Robert Kraft, and with him the “Flying Elvis.”
In my youth, I was always told the Flying Elvis was the product of a Boston Globe “logo redesign” contest held by incoming owner Robert Kraft. Instead, the truth revealed that the Globe had been the only paper that documented the helmet in the middle, and reported on how poorly it was received by the fans during the halftime reveal in the late 70’s.
The only actual fan logo submission accepted by the Patriots was the original revolutionary war hat, which served as the logo for one season during 1960, which is on display at the Patriots Hall of Fame in Foxborough, MA.
There you have it, the abridged version of how we got to the Flying Elvis, which will be worn for the 8th time in Super Bowl LII next Sunday in Atlanta, GA. If you’re further interested in the sketching related to the evolution from 1979 and NFL Properties: here’s the link.
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An introduction to one of the most irrelevant and low-profile apparel, gambling, and pop culture humor writers on the web. #BetWithTheBanana #49Cent
You’re probably wondering why my name is 49CentBanana. Honestly, there’s a simple explanation: I used to sell banana’s for $0.49/pound when I operated a small indoor farmer’s market. Turns out, that price was pretty competitive.
Fast forward to 2017 – I started attempting to sell t-shirts at 49centbanana.com. My feeble attempt at selling the actual shirts were a few piggy-back posts on Facebook, Twitter, and once in a while on Instagram. Sometimes you’ll find a kid wearing one around town, or at a Patriots game. We’re not superstars at design, nor do we claim to be. Just a kid with a little side gig to escape from the doldrums of actually working.
The business model is simple – make content, be relevant and funny on Social Media, and supplement the content with ads and merchandise sales. Barstool perfected it, but now it’s time ThePackie and 49Cent join forces to make something better than the Stool. So here I am, providing content. Enjoy. Especially with the bullshit of Barstool Gold and paying $52/year for content that’s driven by sales and heavy ads, we do the same shit – for free!
In the final part of my rant, besides writing, I give out gambling advice for $5.00/Sunday. NFL season gives you 6 picks for the spreads. Yes, if tempting enough, we have a small book if you’d like to join too. If you don’t know what that means, please don’t ask.
I’ll be giving out my Super Bowl 53 pick this year. Coupled with an O/U, Moneyline, and 4 props. No, the cost of that isn’t $5.00. Pick will be out on Friday, February 1, 2019 exclusively on here and here on ThePackie.com.
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First off, I was in High School when this show was in its prime, so, my parents weren't about to pay an extra $20/month because we weren't made of money. Second, I wasn't into that shit then. It either had to make me laugh, or it was sports. Young teens just didn't watch this shit, and there were virtually no streaming services in existence, yet. So get off my balls about being late to the party.
Also, let's cut right to the point. Streaming is amazing. I can watch anything, anytime, on my phone, while I fold mountains of laundry, or wash the seemingly endless piles of dishes that my entire family chooses to leave ALL over the fucking house. Plates in the bathroom? YUP! Mugs in the bathroom? YUP! What a disgusting bunch of pigs. I digress. I literally can't do anything (besides vacuuming) without noise or a podcast. But if you choose to watch the Sopranos again, here are my suggestions:
Tip #1: Fast forward through ALL of the psychologist/therapy scenes.
This is a massive theme in the show. Tony Soprano begins seeing a therapist for his fainting spells, which, turn out to be caused by anger and repressed rage (and possibly salty, cured meats) over a number of different topics. Why fast forward? They're LITERALLY verbal recaps of everything you've already watched - or shit that you're about to see unfold. It's total bullshit. There's some weird sexual dynamic too between Dr. Melfi and Tony that I can't understand. Seeing as she is a DISGUSTING 4 out of 10, I don't care for it. (Lorranie Bracco is the actress - I'm sorry but no thanks).
Tip #2: Tony's sexual partners are unrealistically pleased in bed.
There's no way in hell, even with the amount of perceived cash this man has, that ANY of the 20-something sexual partners this fat, greasy, meat-sucking slob are getting off; while he sticks his tiny Italian toothpick inside of them. The sheer weight of this man alone on top of most of these women would at best partially block their airways, restricting them from letting out such a ruckus moan.
Note: the show has an amazing amount of unsolicited tits. Tony owns a strip club, tons of scenes are shot inside this place where the boulders are present and 100% fake. The nudity isn't close to porno-quality, but it's good for a few minutes to keep me interested.
Tip #3: If you hate heavy breathing during meals, just don't watch the show. Ever.
It's mostly Tony from what I've gathered, but the show features A FUCK TON of scenes in which he's eating. I get it. All Italian men, including myself, love to eat. It's like some family tradition to have a "sit down" meal as much as possible, but man, can these fuckers EAT. And to put the icing on the cake, the amount of LOUD, uncontrollable, unbearable nasal breathing is borderline comical.
Tip #4: The amount of psychological problems ALL of these characters have, are completely unnecessary.
I for one absolutely HATE shows that deal with the deep, dark secrets of everyday life. Don't get me wrong, the show deals with problems you most certainly would have if involved with the mob life. The sheer illegality of these problems and business dealings alone, coupled with the aspect of having a family whilst all of this bullshit is going on is mind-boggling. But, when I'm watching TV, I'm watching for the escape of my own bullshit, and the entertainment of it all. I'm not watching to feel worse. Just drop all this sensitive, emotional shit and keep it all in the dark, bottled up, like the rest of us.
So, those are my tips. Are they informative? Probably not. Does the cash that illegal dealings bring in seem attractive, even with all of the risks involved? Yes. Am I going to join the Mafia now? Absolutely. So, in closing, please join my small book of business. Bring cash. I'll kill your bookmaker. Patriots by 3.
Wow. It's already 2019. Said everyone, in every conversation, from now until about March or so.
Every year, we as humans do the same shit. First - in the modern era of social media, we paste, post, like, comment, or hashtag some stupid-ass year in review. Mostly where everyone tries to paint the most perfect image of themselves behind a facade of engagement rings, baby pictures, pregnancy poses, dogs, trips to Dubai, and "getting fit" videos. It's all the same, it's all bullshit. It's fucking pointless.
As the female unit says, people who post every day, seemingly in the most perfect marriage, are the first people to get divorced. I tend to subscribe to this notion. We have the rule at home to avoid posting pictures of ourselves unless it's been about a year and a lot of people think that we're dead. It's literally the most stress-relieving activity that has changed my life. I'm not a celebrity, I don't need to post as if I am.
More importantly, it's more work than it's worth to sit there and believe in all honesty that you NEED to post pictures of your life so a bunch of far off family and acquaintances can hit the "like" button about 17 times. That's it. 17. No more, no less.
After the picture year in review, it's time for resolutions! Ooh yeah baby! Let's get that "bread." Let's get #fitfam! Let's get after it! Have the best year ever! Ooh my god, I'm going to get my life together and stop smoking on that crack pipe!
Ok, first of all, crack is not all that whack when used in the proper setting. Second of all, research says you're going to do these two things:
1). Engage in purchasing a gym membership. This will be used a total of 10-12 times. You will then pay for it during the entire 2019 cycle before you notice you've been spending $10-$20/month to run a business that you don't patronize. You'll continue to be your shitty fat self for the remaining 11 months. You'll use excuses to eat fatty foods and drink excessively for November thru December 2019. The summer will be spent looking "ok" at the beach, whilst you fill yourself with deep regret as you look at memes on Instagram about being fat in said Summer season.
2). Join a dating website. (For single folk). All you single ladies (and men - can we say men anymore? Or is that offensive?) will join some dick/vag-laiden website to explore the possibility of being less of a hoe, and more of a homemaker. You'll do this on January 6th, right after going to the gym for the 3rd time. Sounds good, right? Wrong.
Breaking news: If you're 18-34, you'll continue to be a traveling sex-driven pile of shit. At about age, 35-38, it's been said that you'll try and settle down and stop offering your holes and poles to strangers that you met online only mere moments before they've seen your goodies.
Every year, the same group of dickbags put out a "list" of resolutions they'd like to focus on. Heck, my "real job" boss even asked me to read a book last year: The 12 Week Year. It's literally a bunch of strategies to compartmentalize a year's worth of tasks in 12 week increments. It's putting the SAME SHIT into a basket, only organizing and completing it with different wrapping paper.
Same thing with weight loss programs.
Same thing with workout programs.
Same thing with resolutions.
None of it matters, it's all just presented to you in a different manner, which tricks your brain into thinking it's going to be "different this time." It's going to be the same, dumbass.
The only way to "resolve" your problems is to constantly address them and come up with your own method for success. Heck, it took me 10 years to learn my body and how I process foods. The larger I became, the more money I had to spend on clothing. That's not fucking equitable. I devised that if I stayed smaller, having been fully grown since 18 (fuck my life), I would save money. How do I do that? By staying relatively carbohydrate-free. No breads, only Michelob for beer (Chickleob), clear spirits, only red wine, lots of high-fat and high-protein foods. That's it. Indulge two days each month.
What about dating? Well, I've been out of the scene for a long-ass time now. Relatively speaking, don't use apps. My recently single buddy has dug up one of my old tricks, LITERALLY TALK TO WOMEN (or men, can we say that? Men? Is that ok to say?) in person at the bar. Use a cheesy one liner. Ask them about the game on TV. Compliment them. Worst case is they bail after 5 minutes. Boo fucking hoo. Next woman.
Bottom line, don't play yourself with a resolution. Make changes for yourself. Don't just post shit on social media for the "fans" to see (all 17 of them). Either address your problems, or ignore your shortcomings. Don't sit there and play the blame game. Sack up and do something - without making a spectacle out of the whole experience.
Happy 2019. Now buy a t-shirt. Or a crewneck sweat. I don't care. Just buy one.