Friends Who Are Funny, Athletes With Money and Lying About Sonny

Justin May 19, 2013 1

I’ve been spending a ridiculous amount of time with my imaginary friend lately.

Well, the friend isn’t imaginary as much as the friendship is. His name is Marc Maron and he is dominating my entire life.

To be clear, I have never met  Marc Maron, though we did once exchange emails. (I asked about a live show he was doing. He replied. I responded with a joke. He did not continue the correspondence. It was not a good joke.) Our one way relationship began when I started listening to his WTF podcast a couple of years ago.  WTF is such a personal show, and he exposes so much of himself, that you honestly feel like its a three way conversation between Maron, his guest and you.

From there, I started following him on Twitter, looking for him on talk shows and, eventually,  listening to other podcasts on which he appeared as a guest.

Recently, though, things have gotten out of hand. The show, Maron, debuted on IFC and Marc’s book, “Attempting Normal,” came out with a few days of each other. That meant he did the rounds on tv and radio to promote both projects. In the past few weeks I have watched Maron on Jimmy Fallon, Conan, and Leno, listened to a great hour long sit down with Howard Stern (That one was amazing. It felt like the greatest pop culture interviewer in history was giving his seal of approval to the first real potential successor to his throne,) and downloaded podcast appearances with Chris Hardwick and the Sklar Brothers. All of this, while also listening to 3 episodes of WTF a week, watching “Maron” on IFC and reading the book.

It came to a head Friday evening. I listened to WTF on the way home from work, (an interview about life and career and death with TV vet Sam Simon, who’s dealing with terminal cancer.) At 10pm, I watched “Maron” (episode 3 of the series. I think, in order of quality so far, I go episode 2 then episode 3 then episode 1.) After the show was over I got into bed and read a book for a couple of hours. That book was “Attempting Normal.”   In all, I spent 3 and a half hours with Marc Maron Friday night and he didn’t even know about it.

Is that weird?

Are we good?

Sports Illustrated: May 20th, 2013


Brian Cazanueve profiles hockey’s next big thing, a 16 year old from Canada named Connor McDavid. I love “next big things in hockey” because they always end up living up to the hype. Bobby Orr, Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, Eric Lindros and Sidney Crosby are all no-brainer hall of famers. In three years, I’m confident McDavid will take the first steps down that same path.


Hangin’ With The Grizz by Lee Jenkins

I’m starting to get a little tired of these “week in the life” pieces in Sports Illustrated. In the past few weeks, we’ve tracked an NFL team as it prepared for the draft, a college team as they got ready for the tournament, and now an NBA team, the Memphis Grizzlies, as they play a post season series.   It doesn’t take much for a creative writing form to become a tired hackneyed device. SI is getting close to crossing that line.

What Still Ails Penn State by David Epstein

It’s a testament to my own fortitude that I made it half way thru this article before I stopped reading.  It’s internal politics at Penn State.  They dropped one team doctor and hired another one. And it’s sooo long! WHO CARES?

Fortunate 50 by Daniel Roberts

The most surprising names on this list of highest earning athletes in the US last year:

#13 Johan Santana

#15 Vincent Jackson

#21 Carl Nicks (I literally had never heard of this guy until I saw his name on the list. He’s a guard for the Tampa Bay Bucs, in case you too have no idea who he is.)

50 Words with Money by L. Jon Wertheim

Floyd Mayweather is the highest earning athlete in the US. He comes off like a dick.

The Dark Knight of Gotham by Tom Verducci

I’m glad that Matt Harvey is getting profiled in Sports Illustrated. His parents are liars though. The article opens with a story of Harvey, not yet 2 years old, telling his mother that he likes to hear the sound of a ball popping in a mitt. These days, I spend a lot of time with boys who are not yet two years old. They are the children of my friends. None of them are capable of expressing a thought so cogently as is presented here.

Point After by Joe Sheehan

I hate this guy







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