Brandon Marshall - Supporting Boob and Brain Health

Brandon Marshall is a wideout for the Chicago Bears and he’s very, very good. He also has Borderline Personality Disorder.

In lieu of Frontline’s amazing and scathing report on the NFL’s work to cover up it’s own mental health issues, it happens to be mental health week. So, instead of the traditional pink that NFL players wear for the entire month of October, for one game Brandon Marshall will wear green shoes to support mental health week, which is an incredibly undervalued, ignored, and oftentimes shamed part of sports. But, because of his support for something so important to him, yet so taboo in high-level sports, he’s violating a wardrobe rule - or whatever - and is being fined over $5,000.

I was involved in athletics my whole life, including national-level and Division 1 swimming in college, and I can tell you that mental health is seldom spoken about in nearly all sports at all levels. Depression. Bipolar. Anxiety. All of these are alive and well in top-level sports, not to mention the CTE and dementia prevalent in so many of our favorite football stars.

I think the NFL has done a wonderful job raising breast cancer awareness, but it’s about time people start to look at what makes the difference between a great athlete and a good one - his brain. I’m supporting Brandon Marshall on this.

Also, Marshall is matching the leagues fine and donating the amount to a cancer awareness charity.

Good Guy Brandon Marshall (via Reddit)


"Over the last many years, this plant has proven to be the biggest attractor, not only of carrion beetles but of human beings that we’ve had,” Novy said. “It’s just got everything for a good mystery. It’s cryptic. It’s exotic. The timing is off. It’s inconsistent. It’s inconsiderate. It’s got all those great things. It’s from far away, and it smells bad, and people get interested."


This is how a flower was described - “It smells bad, and people get interested.” A flower. 

The corpse flower, to be more specific, which blooms whenever the Hell it wants to, smells like rotting human flesh, and, when the flower finally blooms, it only lasts for two days before it collapses on itself. 

It’s like a giant, smelly, emotional, super nova. 


HOLLYWOOD - Los Angeles police were combing through cell phones and security footage Wednesday trying to identify dozens of young people who’d rampaged through Hollywood the night before, knocking down people, stealing their cellphones, and grabbing souvenir trinkets from shops before a police sweep and arrests ensued.

Calls reporting packs of as many as 40 marauding young people began coming in at around 8:30 p.m. Tuesday from stores near the famed Hollywood and Vine intersection. The youths - possibly organized through social media - ran through the streets, stole T-shirts and other goods, including food, from businesses mainly on Hollywood Boulevard.

No serious injuries were reported



"Marauding teenagers using social media to congregate in major intersections and steal street meat and cell phones?! THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS!

We must put an end to social media!” - Old Timey Mayor in a Pin-Striped Suit, Fedora, and Cigar. 



The technological sequel to 



You ain’t shit.

That’s the lesson I took from this case.

You ain’t shit.

These words are deep because these are words I’ve heard my whole life: I heard from adults in my childhood that I needed to be “about something” other than all that banging and clanging and music I play all the time. As I got older, I heard I wasn’t as good as so-and-so is at music. All the “you ain’t shit” stories I got — Jesus, it’s a wonder I made it.

Rich asks, “Wait, you’re not surprised, are you?” I’m not surprised at all, but that doesn’t mean it stings any less.

I should be angry, right? I remember when the Sean Bell verdict came out and I just knew, “Oh, God, New York is gonna go up in flames.” And yet no one was fuming. It was like, “[Shrug] … No surprises here. That’s life.”

Rich asks again, “Are you surprised … that you ain’t shit?”

It hurts to hear it, and I say, “I’m not surprised, but who wants to be reminded?” What fat person wants to hear that they aren’t pleasing to the eye? Or what addict wants to hear they are a constant F-up? Who wants to be reminded that — shrug — that’s just the way it is?


— Questlove in — http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2013/07/questlove-trayvon-martin-and-i-aint-shit.html


Syphilis and gonorrhea, infections spread through sexual contact, were almost as dangerous to Civil War soldiers as combat. At least 8.2 percent of Union troops would be infected with one or the other before war’s end—nearly half the battle-injury rate of 17.5 percent, even without accounting for those who contracted a disease and didn’t know it or didn’t mention it—and the treatments (most involved mercury), when they worked, could sideline a man for weeks.

Union officials in Nashville, certain the city’s ladies of the night were responsible for the sexual plague, hit upon what seemed like the simplest solution: If they couldn’t stop soldiers from visiting local prostitutes, local prostitutes could simply be made non-local.

In the first days of July 1863, Rosecrans issued an order to George Spalding, provost marshal of Nashville, to “without loss of time seize and transport to Louisville all prostitutes found in the city or known to be here.”



Thus began the Exodus of Whores from Nashville to Louisville, a new documentary by Ken Burns, coming to PBS this Fall, recanting the hardships faced by these women in being transported from Nashville to Louisville.

"Nostalgia has been shown to counteract loneliness, boredom and anxiety. It makes people more generous to strangers and more tolerant of outsiders. Couples feel closer and look happier when they’re sharing nostalgic memories. On cold days, or in cold rooms, people use nostalgia to literally feel warmer."


To which I respond with Mr. Draper:

Don Draper: Well, technology is a glittering lure. But there’s the rare occasion when the public can be engaged on a level beyond flash, if they have a sentimental bond with the product. My first job, I was in-house at a fur company, with this old pro copywriter. Greek, named Teddy. And Teddy told me the most important idea in advertising is “new”. Creates an itch. You simply put your product in there as a kind of… calamine lotion. But he also talked about a deeper bond with the product: nostalgia. It’s delicate… but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means, “the pain from an old wound”. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship. It’s a time machine. It goes backwards, forwards. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the Wheel. It’s called a Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around, and back home again… to a place where we know we are loved.”

"But that feature is less desirable during times of everyday stress. If a stressor does not involve a life-or-death decision and require immediate physical action, then having lots of excitable neurons firing all at once can be counterproductive, inducing anxiety."


Hey cool. Creating new brain cells, typically, considered a great thing to help you learn and become more cognizant, can also create anxiety. 

Go brain!


From this list, stories about human rights that feature compelling stories of real people standing up for what they believe is right (i.e. the BBC and The New York Times stories on Brazil) are inherently shareable, because they tap into these emotions. People love to share powerful stories about protests or citizen uprisings because they follow the hero-villain narrative. Stories about underdogs (or a group of powerless citizens) rising up against a bully (or dictatorial government) make people feel good about the world – and drive sharing. People love to share when they are getting an inside scoop or a rare look at an issue. The Guardian’s live chat with Snowden was so successful because it taps into the emotion of intrigue and makes people feel like they are getting an exclusive perspective they can’t find elsewhere.

Finally, headlines are absolutely critical to determining what goes viral. Those that incorporate the element of surprise and pique our curiosity are always social. That’s why Politico’s story on Syria performed so well. It offered a quantitative statistic, and offered a surprising conclusion: that most Americans don’t want the United States to supply the Syrian rebels with arms. And why NPR’s headline on Miss Utah did well. When’s the last time you saw Miss Utah and income inequality in the same sentence? It’s surprising. Upworthy’s headline for its Wal-Mart article plays on a curiousity gap, giving just enough information to get the reader interested without giving the entire story away, thus compelling you to click.





Consider (and let’s put a big “allegedly” before all of these allegations):

While in prison in his late 20s, Whitey was repeatedly dosed with LSD as part of a nefarious government study. This was before he was transferred to Alcatraz.

During the ’70s busing crisis in Boston, Whitey protested the desegregation of Southie schools by firebombing JFK’s birthplace (he spray-painted “Bus Teddy” on the nearby sidewalk) and attempting to have Plymouth Rock detonated.

In 1981, he had a businessman murdered in Tulsa, Okla. as part of a scheme to take over the World Jai Alai association.

In 1984, he sent a small fishing boat full of weapons across the Atlantic Ocean in a doomed attempt to arm the IRA.

His brother Billy—raised by the same parents, in the same home—went to law school, ran for office, and became one of the most powerful politicians in Massachusetts history. Billy was president of the state Senate for nearly two decades, and later president of the University of Massachusetts. Whitey buried three of his murder victims in the basement of a house he called “The Haunty”—a house that was down the street from Billy’s. And Billy was eventually pressured to resign over allegations that he’d protected Whitey from the law.

Most amazingly (and most familiarly if you’ve ever watched The Departed), Whitey had his own man inside the FBI. As the legend goes, a teenaged Whitey bought a Southie kid named John Connolly a vanilla ice cream cone when Connolly was 8. Connolly never forgot. After he became an agent in the FBI bureau in Boston, Connolly immediately signed up Whitey as an informant—though Whitey considered himself a “strategist” or “liaison.” We’d always wondered how Whitey always got away with it, and this was how: Connolly turned a blind eye, quashed investigations, and in the end tipped Whitey off before the fuzz could close in. Connolly is now in prison on a murder rap related to his partnership with Whitey.



I want to buy Whitey Bulger a drink and have him tell me all his favorite stories.

"I haven’t made a first impression on anyone in 20 years."

Ethan Hawke