Tag Archives: New York Knicks

Baseball Caps: Durable Tool of Athletes and Douchebags

“Baseball caps MUST BE WORN BACKWARDS.”

~You, 1992, after seeing “3 Ninjas”

“Why is every douchebag in this bar wearing a backwards baseball cap?”

~You, last Saturday

America is all about putting shit on the tops of their head.  While the notions of hats date back to the 15th century, when French noblemen began putting cloth and feathers in a piece shaped to fit the top of their skulls in their generations old tradition of, “How ridiculous can we make ourselves look in oil paintings,” hats are an essential clothing item for most everyone in the world, be it practical like a ski-cap, or offensive to a lot of people to hear it described as a “hat” like those water jugs African villagers carry on their heads.

“Let’s call it ‘Tribal Chic’ and sell it to impressionable socialites!”

But of all the hats, can you think of one that is truly American?  Sure, we have hats such as the Top Hat, the Sombrero, the….beret.  But what is the most American hat?  The one hat out there that grabs you by the ears and screams, “LOOK AT ME!  I AM AMERICA!”

The Coonskin cap?  Oh…fuck, yeah that’s actually a really good one.  Like really good.  Goddamn it, no that’s not the one we’re writing about today, but we sort of wish we were.  We had forgotten about all the badass traits associated with the Coonskin cap.  Goddamn it.  That meets both the “fuck nature” quotient we try to cram into every AFFotD, plus it would let us go on just a crazy wild tangent about Davy “Kills With a Smile” Crockett.  Davy fucking Crockett! We could have told you how Davy Crockett’s Coonskin cap alone could have sex with more women than a 2008 Tiger Woods at a Club Promoter’s Convention.  We could have talked about how Coonskin cap gave Davy Crockett the power to use fucking alligators as jet skis.

Do you think this just fucking happens!?

Shit.  Anyway, no, we were not thinking about the Coonskin cap.  Dammit.  But, no, dig deep, really try to figure out what, as a hat, do you define as being…American?

OH SON OF A BITCH!  Goddamn it to hell!  FineYes.  A Cowboy hat is a fucking awesome America hat too.  Yes, it is a hat that basically reeks of sex-at-a-19th-century-brothel.  Yes, it is the hat best designed to cover a man’s junk.  Yes, it is a hat so associated with gunfights that even new cowboy hats reek of gunpowder and fear.  Yes, cowboy hats are so damn manly that if you have sex while wearing one, it’s technically considered a Devil’s Three-Way, no matter who’s wearing it.  Fine.  Fine.  Goddamn it.

Okay, one more time, what is the most American hat you can think of?

JUST FUCKING STOP OKAY!?  We’re talking about fucking baseball caps, alright?  THOSE are pretty damn American too, you assholes.  BASEBALL CAPS.  And besides, that last one is cheating because you can totally find a baseball cap that looks like an American flag.  So yeah, eat it.  You guys suck.

Anyway, before we fire our research guru who managed to totally ignore the above examples when we asked him, “What’s the most American hat you can think of?” let’s at least discuss the actually-pretty-fucking-American background of the baseball cap, or as it used to be known, the “Brooklyn Style” cap, which was invented here in America in 1860.  And for you Coonskin cap and Cowboy hat lobbyists, technically Coonskin caps were first created by Native Americans, and the style for a Cowboy hat first was invented by Mongolians.  So there.

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The Cure For a Night at a Vegan Restaurant

“…is…is this a trick?”

~REDACTED

Last week, we sent an Undercover Investigative journalist into the most evil place we could imagine- a Vegan restaurant.  We redacted the staff member’s name, because we knew that consuming Vegan food would leave an irreparable mark on his permanent record.  But what we saw…it, well it haunted us.  We saw a man reduced to rubble, not even afforded the decency of being allowed to chug a glass of bacon grease after his tofu crab cakes.  He was given bowls full of warmed, liquid vegetables, normally only reserved for prisoners at Guantanamo Bay.

Our senior staff members watched the hidden camera footage of poor REDACTED as he suffered through a five course meal of nothing but vegetables, tofu, and succubi.  It was painful to watch.  “Oh God, he’s losing his mind out there,” Harrison Ford, our aviation editor, sighed.

“He’s eating it!  Oh God, HE’S EATING IT!” Bruce Willis, our Barefoot Security Chief, began screaming.

“He’s going down in flames!” JFK III, the unknown-to-the-public grandson of JFK, exclaimed (it might sound like he was being insensitive, but man, you should hear how many airplane jokes the kid makes, it’s a bit fucked up).

“What have we done?  What have we become?” Johnny Roosevelt asked, bowing his head sadly.  We thought that REDACTED was done for.  He was drooling on himself, he started weeping for minutes at a time, he didn’t even crack a smile when he started slapping the waiter while screaming, “YOUR NAME IS BRIAN!  SAY IT!  FUCKING SAY IT!”

Vegans dress ridiculously.

We thought we might have lost him, and would have to chisel his name on our wall of fallen staff members, along such illustrious names as Hunter S. Thompson and Interns #1 through 354 (Interns are sort of the Spinal Tap drummers of our operation).  But there was a minor miracle, as REDACTED ran for freedom, fighting every vegetable-laden impulse telling his body to just give up, and he found the Mecca that is White Castle.  After a dozen sliders, our medical staff was on the scene, pumping him full of liquefied beef and various animal souls.  It was touch and go for a while, but REDACTED made it through.  When he recovered, we decided, one week after they day of his darkest hour, to give him a token of our appreciation.  Because we at AFFotD take care of our own.

So here, we present, REDACTED‘s night of American redemption.

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