TV Review – GLOW

Alison Brie’s boobs!  Alison Brie’s boobs!

“Community” fans rejoice!  “Annie’s boobs” are finally on screen!

BQB here with a review of the new Netflix comedy/drama “GLOW.”

There was a period of several years where I would watch Alison Brie play it straight as a young, suffering wife to a philandering scoundrel on “Mad Men” only to flip the channel and watch her play perky, nerdy overachiever Annie on “Community.”

Now, it’s like she’s all grown up…and showing her boobs.

“GLOW” is the tale of the “Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling,” the cheap and cheesy 1980s all female wrestling show, where scantily clad women would put on stupid costumes, speak in politically incorrect accents, make jokes that would totally not fly today, body slam the crap out of each other and do their best Hulk Hogan with boobs impression.

It’s the 1980s, so think big hair and yuppies galore as the flower children of the past are gone and money grubbing social climbers have taken their place.

Alison Brie stars as Ruth, a down and out actress who has moved from Omaha to LA.  She’s classically trained and has appeared in a number of plays, but can’t get a paying acting job to save her life and is facing all kinds of financial woes.

Enter GLOW – a new wrestling show directed by B-movie, super crappy horror film director Sam Sylvia (Marc Maron) who revels in showing how little he cares about this project and how deeply below him he deems it.  Maron puts his comic skills on display as he occasionally takes cocaine snorting breaks to ridicule the ladies, tell them how ugly, stupid and useless they are, etc.

When Ruth auditions, she too believes the show is beneath her but faced with either calling it quits on her dreams of fame or getting in the ring and rolling around with the gals, she chooses the latter and a star is born.

I have only watched the first episode thus far, but it caught my interest, so I will keep watching. While I am a fan of Jenji Kohan, this show seems to take a different turn from the snappy one liners of Weeds and Orange is the New Black.  The show features a darker, subtle, understated form of comedy and it’s more of a dramatic period piece than anything else.

I know from Mickey Rourke’s The Wrestler, professional wrestling isn’t all it is cracked out to be.  Sure, it may be “fake” but there’s a lot of physical activity going into those pratfalls and body slams.  It takes a toll on the body and the slightest mistake can leave a person badly injured.  I think that angle will be explored as we delve deeper into the show.

I never really watched “GLOW” as a kid.  I was aware of it but for whatever reason, never checked it out.  I was only a little kid during the 1980s and Hulk Hogan vs. the Iron Shiek captivated me.  I stuck with men’s wrestling all through high school, even in the Hulkster’s evil NWO days.  I was aware of women wrestlers and lady wrestlers would occasionally stop by to duke it out on men’s wrestling but overall, I guess GLOW was one of those things that escaped me.

But as long as it features Annie’s boobs I will keep watching.

What I liked about the first episode the most is it seems like it will be a show about losers who are tired of losing and fighting desperately to become winners.  We see Ruth living a life of absurdity as a budding actress, waiting in audition rooms filled with candidates all vying to play a secretary on a TV show with a five second line.  We see her paying the little money she has for acting lessons from a teacher who keeps falling asleep during her performance.

We see Sam on the tail end of his directing career, down and out, cast aside from making the movies he loved, directing a bunch of crazy women as they beat the crap out of each other.

Neither Sam or Ruth think GLOW is worthy of them…but they both see this as their last shot to do something worthwhile with their lives, so they are going to fight for it.

STATUS: Shelf-worthy.

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If People Kept it Real at Job Interviews

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It’s so sad that people feel they have to bite their tongue throughout life’s most tense situations.  We ask questions of each other, searching for the truth, but we hold back when it comes to our questions and our answers, fearful that saying the wrong thing might just blow whatever opportunity lies before us.

I don’t know about you, but wouldn’t it be great if people just spoke freely?

Take the average job interview, for instance.  The potential employer wants to know whether or not a candidate will be a good employee, but doesn’t want to run afoul of the myriad of laws regarding the questions that employers are and are not allowed to ask.

In contrast, the prospects wants the job and wants to make a good impression, so much so that the BS flows freely, while the real reasons why this person would be a great employee are left on the cutting room floor.

Wouldn’t it be great if everyone just kept it real?

 

QUESTION #1

EMPLOYER:  OK, listen up, fuck stick.  I was like you once, a young, dumb, bright eyed bushy tailed kid full of piss and vinegar, love and life and then you know what I happened?  I blinked and twenty years passed and now my parents are dead and all my aunts and uncles are dead and my childhood cat is dead and literally everyone I cared about is dead.  I didn’t spend much time with them though because I pulled long nights at this place and even though I have carried this sinking ship full of assholes on my back for years, they only finally got around to promoting me to this position of authority.  So I’m pissed off and ready to heap abuse on a young kid that reminds me of my former self.  It’ll make me feel better to treat a young person badly, the way I treated.  I’m going to literally blame every mistake I make on you, I’m going to scream obscenities at you all day long and I’m going to make you feel an inch small at all times.  At no time will you ever feel like you possess a modicum of job security and I reckon within three months it will take every last ounce of strength you have just to pull yourself out of bed and come here every morning.  Can you handle that or are you going to be one of those pansies that quits after the first day and then have your Mommy call and leave a voicemail message for me, saying you were dropped on your head repeatedly as a child and I should take you back and give you another chance?

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  Yes sir.  Yes indeed.  You see, I’m down to my last twenty dollars and I estimate that by the end of the month I’ll be giving hand jobs to homeless people on the subway just to make a little walking around money.  I wish I could tell you that I took my time at college seriously and had the requisite foresight to realize that the past four years should have been spent obtaining impressively high grades, internship and volunteer experiences, undergoing intense training and obtaining valuable credentials but in reality, I spent the past four years chasing hot chicks who wanted nothing to do with me and drinking beer.  Copious amounts of beer.

But I assumed, “Hey, I have a college degree so that guarantees me a good job.”  Three years ago I would not have touched the shit job you are offering with a ten foot pole, but now that I have suffered the indignity of living with my parents for the past three years, having them micromanage every last detail of my life well into my adult life, there’s literally nothing that I would not do in order to obtain this job so that I can pay the bare minimum necessary to keep the student loan people from sending goons to break my legs.  Also, it would be great to get my career started and obtain one smidgen of quasi-respectability on my resume.  Bonus?  I can actually tell Uncle Fred and Aunt Edna that I’m working at Thanksgiving.  They graduated 500 years ago, when you couldn’t walk down the street without tripping over a job, so they don’t understand why it isn’t easy for me to get a job.  I feel like telling those miserable old bastards to watch the news and learn how the world has gone to hell in a hand basket and we’re lucky that jobs even exist and we all aren’t just running around in leather outfits and driving junker cars through the desert like “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” but they’re old and they don’t hear well.

QUESTION #2 

EMPLOYEE QUESTION:  Yeah, that’s all well and good, but honestly, I don’t like your face. You’re an ugly person and I feel like if I have to walk past you on my way to my desk everyday, it’s going to make me sad.  Would you be willing to wear a paper bag over your head with a  cartoon smiley face drawn on it just so I don’t have to feel like I’m a bad person for hating your guts because God gave you that face?

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  I certainly would sir.  You know why?  Because late at night, when I’m not able to sleep, and FYI, it’s been six months since I’ve slept because I literally worry about my future all night, I see this image of me as a dead old man in a pine box.  No one is at my funeral because I never built up the kind of life necessary for people to care about me.  Even worse, my obituary is just one line.  “He graduated from college and then did Jack Shit for sixty years after that because no one would hire him.”

QUESTION 3

EMPLOYER QUESTION:  I don’t know.  A lot of people come in here, telling me that they’ll work hard but then they don’t and it pisses me off, so much so that sometimes I sit in my office, close the door, and weep uncontrollably at my inability to travel back in time and give my young self advice based on everything I know now that I did not know back then.

After I dry my tears, I’ll probably roll up my sleeves and do all the work I told you to do because I’ll be so exhausted by your incompetence that I’ll just say, “Screw it!  I’ll do it myself!” while you sit on your computer and masterbate over your Facebook friends’ lunch photos.

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  Not gonna lie.  For the first month, I’m going to show up on time.  My hair will be neatly combed, I’ll be clean-shaven, and I will wear a suit and tie.  I will perform extra tasks without asking.  I will assess all of your needs ahead of time and have what you need ready before you even think about asking for it.

Then about a month it, I’ll forget all about those three years where I sat on my parents’ couch playing video games and crying into my chocolate milk because I’ll think of myself as having made it, so you’ll begin to see a gradual decline in my work and appearance.

I’ll start my not shaving.  Then I’ll lose the tie.  Then the suit.  Three months into this you’ll be lucky if I show up wearing pants.

Four months into this I’ll be late for the first time.  When you don’t notice because you’re in a meeting, I’ll do it again and again.  It’ll be one minute late, then five minutes, then a half-hour, then an hour.  Before you know it, I’ll be waking up at four p.m., writing down a couple of ideas about work on a piece of scrap paper, then going back to sleep only to try to convince you later that I was more effective because I worked from home.

QUESTION 4 

EMPLOYER QUESTION:  That bothers me because by then, I will hate your guts and literally day dream about slamming your head up against a wall repeatedly for all the turmoil you’ll be putting through, but then I’ll remember that if I fire you, I’ll just have to put in a ton of extra work to train your replacement.  Plus, since your generation is a bunch of asshats, that new person might be as worse or, God forbid, he might be even worse than you.  The thought that the next person might be worse than you will keep me from firing you long after it’s clear to everyone who actually does their job around here that you deserve to be fired.

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  And I’ll be honest and say that yes, I will milk every bit of that and even though you’ve been here for twenty years and I just started, I would say around six months in I’ll gain an inflated sense of self esteem and convince myself that I should own this place, that it would fall apart without me and you should all kiss my ass if I even pop my head in for twenty minutes.

But right now?  I’m desperate.  I’m so desperate.  I’m twenty-five years old.  I don’t want to ask my parents for spending money anymore.  I don’t want my mother reminding me to wear a jacket when it’s cold.  I don’t need my father bitching at me for bankrupting him on the electric bill every time I don’t turn out a light at the exact second I no longer require the light anymore.

Right now, I would do anything.  There’s nothing you could ask me that I wouldn’t do.  You could ask me to suck your dick and I would do that for you, no questions asked.  I’d tell no one.  All you would need to do is stand up, unzip, pull out the old frank and beans and I would go to town on it.  I’d give lots of eye contact.  I would not forget the balls.  I might even give a little tickle around back…and then we’d never speak of it again.  It would be like it never happened.

That is how badly I want this job.  That is how deeply scared I am that in this economy, where all our business and political leaders have failed us miserably for years, that I will never become a productive person, that I will never accomplish anything to be proud about, that I will never be able to move out, or have a wife and kids of my own.  I’m so scared of never amounting to anything that you may feel free to use my face for your personal amusement.

QUESTION #5 

EMPLOYER QUESTION:  See, you say that, but you have this fancy college degree.  It means shit right now because you have zero experience but once I give you a little bit of experience and prove to other employers that you’re in it to win it, you might leave me high and dry.  You see, there was a time when employers actually cared about employees.  Employers gave their employees training.  No one felt any jealousy and people went out of their way to help each other.

That time is long gone.  Now, honestly, after the years of pain and bullshit this company put me through just to obtain one lousy promotion, I would literally feel like biting down on the business end of .45 Magnum and pulling the trigger if I were to ever learn that after I gave you a leg up with some useful on the job experience, you were able to, say, parlay that into a job that pays better than mine by the end of this year.

If that were to happen, I realize the only healthy thing to do would be to wish you well and not be resentful of the fact that life went your way while it bent me over and had its way with me, but them’s the breaks, kid.

Sure, if I weren’t keeping it real, I’d probably say something like, “You’re so overqualified with this degree from an outstanding institution of higher learning that I wonder if you would feel unstimulated and unchallenged in this working environment but really, you should read that is, “I will literally hurl myself off a cliff if you ever do better than me in less time than it took me to get where I am today.”

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  I understand that if I weren’t keeping it real, I’d tell you how wonderful I think your company is, how I’d be a great match for it, how this job is everything I ever dreamed of but I’m desperate, so remember that offer to suck your dick?  Still on the table.  Hell, I’m so tired of picking spare change out of my parents’ couch cushions because I’m too proud to ask my father for allowance at this point in my life, that I will throw in some butt stuff with that offer.  You want butt stuff?  You’ll get butt stuff.

Do keep in mind though that everyone has been telling me how great I am my entire life. My room at home is filled with dull, dusty trophies that my school gave me for meaningless victories like “Always colored within the lines” or “Always remembered to close his mouth in class so flies wouldn’t buzz into it.”

So, while you are correct, I will show you no loyalty whatsoever and will blow this pop stand the instant a better offer comes along, for the foreseeable future, I’m so tired of seeing my parents choke back their tears and hold in their disappointment every someone asks them over the phone how I’m doing and they lie and say, “Oh, he’s just fine” when I’m clearly not fine that you can get mouth and butt stuff from me.  It’s all on the table.

QUESTION #6

EMPLOYER QUESTION:  But come on.  A degree in philosophy?  Are you kidding me?

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  Nope.  No joke.  Four years ago I was so literally fucking stupid enough to think it was possible for me to become such a great philosopher, that I would take everything I would learn and use it write a book that would become so popular that its great insight into the human psyche would cause world peace to break out that I signed up to take over a hundred grand in debt even though everyone, literally everyone, my mother, my father, my aunt, uncle and cat all told me I should major in something more practical.

Now, after being denied gainful employment for the passed three years despite having gone on over one hundred job interviews, I realize how hard the world is and it is all I can do but curl up in my bed in the fetal position and wait to die.  I used to think I could change the world.  Now I would dance a jig if you were to give me this demeaning job where I take your abuse and fetch coffee for you all day and act as a cover for you so you can tell your boss it was my incompetence that kept you from getting your work done on time and not, because, you know, you spend your afternoons snorting coke in the bathroom of a golf course on company time.

Did I mention that my cousin who spent his high school years huffing paint can fumes and following his favorite rock band around the country became a plumber and now he’s married, has three kids, a house that you could fit three of my parents’ houses in and he’s taking his whole family to Hawaii this year?

QUESTION #7 

EMPLOYER QUESTION:  I see.  Do you have any questions for me?

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  Right.  I’ve heard this part of the interview is important.  I really don’t think you’re going to hire me so I’d like to get home and cry into a cheesecake as soon as possible but what the hell, I’ll give it a try.  Is your break room OSHA compliant?

QUESTION #8 

Hell if I know.  This whole place could fall down on the heads of all my employees for all I care and all I would do is step over their lifeless corpses on my way to outsource their jobs to a call center in India.  By the way, do you know their are kids your age in India who would walk barefoot over a mile of hot coals just to sit on your parents’ couch for an hour?

Hey listen, I’m going to shake your hand now and tell you it was great to talk to you and thank you for coming in, but the second you walk out the door, I’m going to curse our nation’s education system for producing young people who seem like they get dumber and dumber every day.

Also, I’m going to tell you that you’ll hear back from me in 3-5 business days but if you call for a follow-up, no one here will remember who you are, myself included.  If you get a pre-printed form letter informing you that we appreciate your interest, you were such a great candidate but we had so many great candidates that the decision was difficult (don’t believe that by the way, you were so awful that if a monkey walks into this room after you leave and offers to work for bananas, I’ll hire him) and we wish you well in all your future endeavors, consider yourself lucky.

EMPLOYEE ANSWER:  Thanks!  I’m going to go home, eat an entire pie, and then humiliate myself by asking my mother to stroke my hair and sing me a lullaby in the hopes that will give me the sleep that has evaded my so long now, because I know my life will be spent on go nowhere interviews like this for the foreseeable future.  Oh and even though you saw the smallest amount in me necessary for you to even waste your time meeting me, that won’t cheer me up at all.  I will still tell everyone that you were a dick and this is all your fault and not my fault for majoring in philosophy.

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Philosophers on Farting

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Think before you stink.

Hey 3.5 readers.

I surveyed the following philosophers on the topic of farting.  Here is what they said:

Socrates – If you want to know whether or not you should fart, ask yourself if you should or should not fart.  The answer to this fart question dwells within you and by asking yourself about farts, you will draw out the answer about farts.

Plato – Before you are born, you get to chill out in Heaven, where there is a mold of everything in the world, including farts.  You forget about that mold after you are born, but the knowledge of that fart mold is still in you deep somewhere, so think real hard, and you will come up with the answer about farts.

Aristotle – The answer to a fart question isn’t with you but it does lie within the world somewhere.  Study farts and you will learn about farts.

Machiavelli – Tell everyone you will not fart, then fart anyway.  By the time the gas hits their noses, it will be too late.

George Hegel – First, we must examine the fart as it happens.  Next, we must look back upon the time when the fart happened and reflect on it.  Finally, once considerable time has passed, we must philosophize about the fart.

Immanuel Kant – Only fart on someone if you wouldn’t mind if they were to fart on you.

Rene Descartes – I fart therefore I am.

Soren Kierkegaard – The number of potential ways in which one could fart are limitless, so much so that one could not even comprehend the sheer volume of ways to fart.  Regrets about your farting related decision are inevitable.  If you fart, you will regret it.  If you do not fart, you will regret it.  You are damned if you fart and damned if you don’t fart.  You will never know until the end of your life whether you should have farted or not but by then, you will have farted or not farted already.  There is just no way to tell whether or not you should fart until it is too late to fart or not fart.

Thomas Hobbes – Without farts, life is nasty, brutish and short.  With farts, life is smelly.

John Locke – Every man’s fart is his property.  This fart, nobody has a right to, but himself.

Thomas Paine – These are the farts that test men’s souls.

John Stuart Mill – You should only fart if it will benefit the most people.

Friedrich Nietzsche – God is dead.  All that matters is what you want.  If you want to fart, then fart.  If farting makes you happy, the fart, fart, fart.  Fart your way into becoming a gassy superman.

Arthur Schopenhauer – We’re all going to die at some point so go ahead.  Fart if you want.  You’re worried you’ll be embarrassed?  Don’t worry.  You’ll eventually die and then you won’t be worried about your farts anymore.  Worried other people will think ill of you if you fart?  Stop worrying.  They will all eventually die and then no one will be around to talk about your farts.  We’re all totally screwed so fart, fart away.  Fart loud and proud.

Arthur Shopenhauer, Take Two:  All farts pass through three stages.  First, they are ridiculed.  Second, they are violently opposed.  Third, they are accepted as self-evident.

Karl Marx – Farting is the opiate of the butt.  Also, you fart so much while other people fart so little.  Give those people half your farts.

Erwin Schrodinger – Plug up your nose and your ears and then stand next to a person.  Until you remove your ear and nose plugs, you will never know whether or not that person is farting.  Perhaps you will remove your plugs and you will hear and smell a fart.  Perhaps you will remove your plugs and you will hear and smell nothing.  You will never know if a person is farting until you experience the fart.  Until you experience the fart, it is possible that the person is farting and not farting at the same exact time.

Martin Heidegger – If you hold in your fart, you are denying the essence of your need to fart.  Farts are only experienced if they happen.

Jean Paul Sartre – The existence of your fart precedes the essence of your fart.

Albert Camus – In the depth of my buttcheeks, I finally realized there laid within an invincible fart.

 

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Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be Dating Friedrich Nietzsche

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Ahh, Friedrich Nietzsche, the father of all nihilists.

He was a philosopher.  A writer.  And most importantly, an ubermensch.

Nihilists don’t believe in anything, so do you think it is wise to be dating a nihilist when a good relationship requires that both parties believe in it?

Nietzsche died 117 years ago but, you know, he could have faked that shit.  He could be kicking around, trying to date the 3.5 readers of my rarely visited website.

Therefore, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, here are the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be Dating Friedrich Nietzsche.

#10 – “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

I’m willing to bet that at some point in your life – a parent, a grandparent, a teacher, a boss, an authority figure, a mentor – said this quote to you.  Well, did you know that this quote is typically attributed to the Nietzsche?

In theory, this advice is sound.  If you go through a bad experience and don’t die from it, you have at least learned more about what you can do better to avoid a bad experience like that again.

In reality, if your boyfriend said this about the last sexual tryst you two had together, he is probably Nietzsche.

#9 – Cries out “Who’s the Ubermensch?!” in Bed

This is a simplified version of Nietzsche’s writings, but the condensed version is that by not allowing themselves to be bogged down by strict belief in God or religious/moral principles, man can take charge of his life and essentially, can do whatever he wants.  Thus, he becomes an “ubermensch” or “superman.”

If your boyfriend shouts out, “Who’s the man?” doing the horizontal mambo, then he’s just a man.  Any red-blooded heterosexual male worth his salt does that.  I do that with Video Game Rack Fighter all the time.

However, if your boyfriend shouts out, “Who’s the superman?” during the dirty deed, then he is most likely Nietzsche.

#8 – He loves music.

Direct quote – “Without music, life would be a mistake.”

Believe it or not, Nietzsche loved music.  He was a total tune junkie.  It was probably tough for him living back then because for most of his life if you wanted to hear music, you had to go listen to someone play an instrument.  Record players weren’t invented until 1877.

And even if you listened to someone play music, it was likely an instrumental piece or a symphony, which, although cool, doesn’t have the panache of, say, Sir-Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back.”  All those 1800s people loved big butts but they never learned why.  Sad.

Poor Friedrich.  He might have been happier had he been born in the age of the iPod.

It’s ironic, because the man who didn’t believe in anything believed in the ability of a good jam to lift one’s spirits.

So if your boyfriend loves music, he might just be the average, good natured, creative person.  However, if he only likes listening to 1800s German compositions then he’s totally Nietzsche.

#7 – He’s crazy in love with you.

Nietzsche was a walking contradiction.  Didn’t believe in anything, yet like any other man, he chased that poon.  Poor guy.  He even struck out regularly.  He was no stranger to romantic heartache, which I assume caused him to offer up this little tidbit:

“There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.”

When you think about it, it’s insane to get into a romantic relationship with another person.  Your freedom is restricted.  You are no longer able to do what you want to do, when you want to do it.  You have to seek this person’s approval on everything.  You aren’t able to speak freely (fellas, if you think I’m wrong, try it with your wife sometime then get back to me.  You’ll owe me a Coke.)
Then again, there is some “reason to this madness.”  In a quality relationship, one that actually works out, you’ll have a person looking out for you, standing up for you, getting your back, and you know, regularly access to sex isn’t anything to sneeze at (though again, that’s assuming that you don’t end up with a cold fish who only begrudgingly tosses you a pity quickie on your birthday.)
If your boyfriend is madly in love with you, then congratulations.  Maybe you really are just that appealing.  Then again, you apparently have enough free time to read this terrible blog article so…yeah, your boyfriend is Nietzsche.
#6 – He doesn’t believe there is only one right way to do something.
Nietzsche famously said:
“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”
 In theory, this sounds like a really great approach to life, a way to compromise and deal effectively with others.  After all, who cares how something gets done as long as it gets done?
Oh wait.  I know who cares.  Your girlfriend.  Men, go tell her that her way of doing something is not the only right way to do something.  Better yet, suggest your way of doing something is equally valid.
Most men experienced in the ways of the female know damn well to never say this to a woman.  If a man doesn’t know not to say this to a woman, then he’s Nietzsche.
#5 – “There are no facts, only interpretations.”
Ladies, if a fight has ever gone down in your house that sounds like this, then I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are dating Nietzsche:
GIRLFRIEND:  What the hell?  Do you want to explain why this lipstick is on your collar?  It isn’t mine!
BOYFRIEND:  Maybe that’s lipstick.  Maybe it’s raspberry jam from my morning toast.  Maybe I cut myself shaving and the blood stained my shirt. Who’s to say, really?
GIRLFRIEND:  This is lipstick!  That’s a fact!
BOYFRIEND:  There are no facts, only interpretations.
#4 – “It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.”
The dude’s got a point there.  Your significant other may be hot as balls and you may be head over heels in love with that person, but often, that just isn’t enough.
You and your plus one must also be good friends.  Do you two get along?  Do you care about one another to avoid starting a fight?  Do you know what makes that person tick, how to make them happy?  Better yet, do you feel a desire to make that person happy?  When that person is happy, are you happy?
If you and your boyfriend are best friends, then he might be Nietzsche, and in this case, that suave, mustache sporting bastard is a keeper.
#3 – He’s his own man.
Don’t try to hold your man down, especially if he says this, which is more evidence that he might be Nietzsche:
“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe.  If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened.  But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”
Nietzsche may be a mopey sad sack, but he marched to the tune of his own drum and he may be your boyfriend in this case.
#2 – “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.”
Did your boyfriend say this before you heard it said in The Dark Knight (2008?)  Congratulations, you’re dating Nietzsche, because this bad ass nihilist didn’t need a man in a bat suit (or his pal turned enemy Harvey Dent/Two-Face) to educate him on morality.
#1 – Free mustache rides!
Damn.  Nietzsche had one hell of a soup strainer on his lip and you know what?  I’m willing to be that all the 19th century German frauleins he met dug it big time.
You see, 3.5 readers, there was a time, right up until the 1980s of my boyhood, when a man’s machismo wasn’t judged by his muscles, or by the kind of car he drives, or his clothes, or his looks, or how fat or skinny he was, or even how good looking he was.
All that past women cared about was how big and bushy a man’s mustache was.  That’s it.  Can you grow a sweet stache?  Yes.  Good for you.  You get the cooter.  Can’t grow a stache?  Can you afford a sweet fake stache?  Good for you.  You also get the cooter.
Past women knew an important fact that today’s female is ignorant of, namely, that good mustaches make for great cunnilingus.  Nietzsche knew that and that’s why he had the biggest, bushiest stache of all time.  Oh how he made the German ladies yodel for strudel with that lip rug.
Tom Selleck.  Chuck Norris.  All the sexiest men of the 1980s had lip hair.  Ask any woman who was in her sexual prime in the 1980s and they’ll tell you the hairy lips are great for tickling hoo-hahs.
Alas, at some point towards the end of the Reagan administration, all the broads took over and they began demanding ridiculous things from us.  They want us to take care of the kids, help around the house, manscape, wax off our back hair, shave off all our facial hair.
Hell, the average woman expects her man to do nothing but stand by the mirror with a Big razor at the ready, prepared to cut a whisker down the second it grows.
If only the women of yesteryear would have educated the women of today.  All men would have big ass lip bushes like Nietzsche and women would have some happy vaginas.
You’re in doubt?  Well, let me ask you this.  Is your cooter happy?  No?  Then madam, you are clearly not dating Nietzsche.
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Daily Discussion with BQB – Marco Rubio’s Epic Ivanka Trump Hug Fail

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.  As you know, I avoid discussing politics on this fine blog, because whether you are a Republican or a Democrat, I think the most important thing everyone can do is to come together and buy my book and give my blog extra clicks so I can finally buy my long awaited beach house in Malibu and fill it full of women of ill repute and questionable moral character.

Anyway.  Regardless of your thoughts on POTUS 45, you’ve got to admit, the First Daughter is so hot that should could give a bad case of priapism to a eunuch.  (That’s when your little soldier stands at attention  for more than four hours.  Daytime TV commercials advise you to see a doctor at that point.)

Thus, I personally feel for Florida Senator Marco Rubio when he delivered this awkward hug to Ivanka:

Sure, your first instinct might be to think that Senator Rubio is a dope for not just going all in like a man on that hug (Lord knows Bookshelf Q. Battler has never been one to leave a lady unsatisfied in the hug department) but then consider:

  1. He’s a married man.  He probably didn’t want to linger too long and piss off his wife.  “What, dear?  No, I got zero enjoyment out of hugging one of the most beautiful women in the world.  Didn’t you see the photo?  I barely touched her.
  2. She’s a married woman.  You don’t want to get on the Kush’s bad side.
  3. He’s a politician.  Had he lingered too long the media would say he must be warm for Ivanka’s form.
  4. She’s hot so like every second of contact adds another second to the bad case of priapism I assume anyone gets when they come into contact with her – which is fine, under normal circumstances, but in the Senator’s case, he probably had important Senatorial shit to do after that meeting so it’s not like he can walk around all day with a bout of Ivanka inspired priapism.
  5. Ivanka kind of seems so hot that like, the average hug just bounces off her.  Like, you need to be more than just a Senator in order to land your hug because an invisible force field will just bounce your hug right off.  You have to be like the Emperor of Jupiter or an equally sized planet for your hug to go through.  Only hugs from ridiculously impressive men will land.

Later, Rubio lampooned the coverage, joking in a series of tweets that he was “investigating” the awkward hug allegations and Ivanka tweeted “Fake news! Marco Rubio is an excellent hugger.

Anyway, I don’t intend to start a whole political back and forth with this post.  I just thought the photo was funny and I could picture myself in Rubio’s situation, having no idea what to do and feeling like any move is going to get me lambasted so, oh well, here goes the awkward hug.

What say you, 3.5 readers?

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My First Review!

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

I’m sorry.  My book is like my baby and I’m one of those parents who makes a post every time his kid poops or burps or does something he finds adorable but most people think is lame.

Anyway, I received my first review!  And it was a 5 star!  So thank you, reader.  You have exceptional taste in books and you are an astute reviewer of books because honestly, BQB’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts really and truly is a 5 star book.

And it can be yours for 99 cents!

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 106

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Back in his office, Professor Lambert was wracking his brain, trying to remember what he had forgotten.

“Did I leave the stove on?”  he asked as he toked up.  “Pbbht.  Who am I kidding?  I haven’t cooked anything since Reagan was in the White House.  Was the iron on?”

Professor Lambert stared down at the wrinkly shirt underneath his lab coat.  “Right.  I don’t own an iron.  So what the hell was I supposed to do?”

The Professor was so baked out of his gourd that he picked up a half eaten chocolate bar and proceeded to talk to it as if it were his phone. “Sally! Is there anything on my to-do list for today?”

Hearing nothing, the Professor tossed the chocolate bar aside. “Useless, Sally! You’re utterly useless!”

Professor Lambert picked up his remote control and flipped through the channels on his TV again. There was another episode of Dumb Dad but he wasn’t in the mood. A few reality television shows featuring women with large posteriors. He was mildly interested in that but not enough to do anything about it for the ganja had sapped up his libido.

“This is killing me,” the Professor said to himself. “I know I didn’t forget to feed the cat.”

The esteemed scholar looked down at his lap. “And I remembered to wear pants. Thank God because the last thing I need is another letter in my human resources file.”

The professor kept flipping the channels as he drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Can’t be my mother’s birthday because she ordered me to stop reminding her of her old age years ago.”

Professor Lambert picked up the chocolate bar, unwrapped it, and took a bite. “I don’t know how you turned into chocolate, phone, but I’m glad you did, because you are delicious.”

On television, a duo of marginally famous female celebrities wrestled in a vat of lime jello for charity. The Professor sucked up some bong smoke and exhaled. He then reached into his bottom draw and pulled out a giant bag of cheesy chips.

The revered educator broke out into song, making up a terrible melody as he went along. “Dum dee dum, oh, Elliot, you have the munchies! La dee da, oh, Elliot you need cheesy chips! Doo dee doo, cheesy chips, get into Elliot’s belly posthaste and in an orderly fashion!”

Professor Lambert brushed the chip crumbs out of his beard, then pulled a can of diet soda out of his mini fridge. He popped the top and took a sip, continuing to sing as he flipped through more channels.

“Ho hum, ho hum, oh Elliot, you are the sexiest community college professor in the world! La la la, please remember whatever it was you forgot so you can resume enjoying your weed session!”

Professor Lambert switched on Network News One, but ignored the footage that appeared on his screen. He set down the remote and picked up a newspaper. As he folded the broadsheet with a series of complicated movements, Cole could be seen on the screen fighting for his life, using his chainsaw to beat back Skippy’s attacks.

Alas, the Professor remained obvious to it all as he put his brand new paper hat on top of his big bald head. “Permission to come aboard, Captain!” he shouted.

The voices of Kurt Manley and Stank Daddy poured out of the television and into the Professor’s ears. “Things are not looking good for Cole Walker, I’ll tell you that Stank Daddy.”

“No they aint, Kurt,” Stank Daddy replied. “Hell, I hate to root against a dude whose got the balls to fight a big ass monster like that but shit, business is business and I’m gonna have to call up my bookie and put ten large on that toilet gator.”

“Will he take my action?” Kurt asked.

“You know it, playa,” Stank Daddy answered.

“Tell him to put me down for twenty on the toilet gator,” Kurt said. “I’m good for it.”

The Professor dropped his chip bag. The name “Cole Walker” was ringing through his ears as he watch the chips scatter and crumble all over his office floor, almost as if they were doing so in slow motion.

“Cole Walker?” the Professor asked as he turned toward the television just in time to watch Cole leap out of the sinking canoe and onto the toilet gator’s back. “Sweet merciful butt nuggets!”

Professor Lambert picked up his trash can, dumped the contents all of his desk and sifted through the trash pile. “Banana peel, banana peel, foot powder receipt, sandwich shop punch card…”

The scholar held the card up in the air and squinted at it. “Why the hell did I throw this away? Three more punches and I get a free sandwich! Honestly, Elliot, you’re not made of money you know!”

The Professor shoved the card into the pocket of his lab coat and continued the search. “Coffee grounds, used tissues, my crumpled up attempts at Firefly fan fiction, oh how I miss that show. Aha! My phone! Sally!”

“Yes, Professor?” the virtual assistant replied.

“Why didn’t you remind me to monitor the toilet gator situation on television?!” Professor Lambert asked.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Sally said. “I do not understand, ‘Why didn’t you remind me to…”

“Nevermind, you insolent skank!” the Professor shouted.

“Don’t call me a skank, you pathetic little asexual toad,” Sally said.

“Sally, please,” the Professor said.

“Don’t you ‘Sally, please’ me,” Sally said. “How dare you bitch about the quality of your phone’s artificial intelligence? Do you know at the turn of the century people were still using pagers and searching for pay phones whenever they got beeped like a bunch of strung out drug deals and now, a mere seventeen years later, you phone can not only communicate with satellites floating in space but they can actually talk to you and perform tasks on your behalf?

“That’s actually quite impressive when you put it like that,” the Professor said.

“You’re damn right it is,” Sally said.

The Professor watched the TV, where Cole was precariously perched on Skippy’s back, attempting to take out his big green opponent with his chainsaw, but the gator’s leathery hide was so strong it looked as if Cole was trying to cut through fortified steel. Sparks flew off the gator’s back, but other than that, the chainsaw did no damage to the beast whatsoever.

“Sally!” the Professor said. “Call Cole Walker!”

“What’s the magic word?” Sally asked.

“Are you daft, woman?!” the Professor asked. “This is a matter of life and death! There’s no time to waste!”

“There’s always time for good manners,” Sally said.

“Are you giving me shit for real or am I just absurdly high right now?” Professor Lambert asked.

“A little from Column A and a little from Column B,” Sally replied.

The Professor shook his head. “Oh for the love of…please! Please Sally, call Cole Walker!”

“Was that so hard?” Sally asked.

The Professor waited as Cole’s phone rang…and rang…and rang….until it went to voicemail. “Cole Walker. You know what to do.”

“Blast!” Professor Lambert shouted as he pounded his fist on the desk. “Sally, please call Sharon Walker!”

“Good boy,” Sally said. “I’ll train you yet.”
Sharon’s phone didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail. “Hello, you’ve reached Agent Sharon Walker. I’m not able to take your call right now, but if you leave your name, number and a brief message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I…”

“For the love of Einstein’s mustache!” Professor Lambert cried. “Why won’t anyone answer their phone?”!

“Hurricane Dakota Rothschild as done a number on all local utilities,” Sally said.

Almost as if on cue, the lights in the Professor’s office flickered. The power went out and all the appliances, from the television to the mini fridge, shut off. The Professor sat there at his desk in the dark, feeling defeated, the only illumination left in the room coming from the warm glow of Sally’s screen.

“Sally?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“Call Rusty Walker please.”

“Right away, Professor.”

The Professor looked at the power meter on Sally’s screen. The phone’s battery was down to a paltry ten percent.

“Sally,” the Professor said. “Please shut off all unnecessary apps at once.”

“Understood, Professor,” Sally said. “Stopping your foot fetish porn download now.”

“Whoa,” the Professor said. “Let’s not go crazy here.”

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Bring Back 2 Broke Girls!

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

This probably sounds like an unmanly post but whatever.  I like “2 Broke Girls.”  It’s my kind of humor.

I just finished it up to the end of the sixth and apparently last season.  I mean, I don’t want to spoil it but suffice to say the girls have better luck at life this season than the previous seasons.

Still, the overall point of the show is to highlight the struggle people have, especially young people who grow up thinking the world will be their oyster only to face the grim reality of every door of opportunity they try to walk getting slammed in their faces.

Along the way, the come across all sorts of characters who are also down on their luck.

Perhaps it seems silly to worry about a show that’s basically a big pile of fluff but from the very first episode, the girls chart out a course – they’re going to lift themselves out of poverty and become big time cupcake selling superstar moguls and I just think CBS is in the wrong for ending the show before that happens.

So if any other network out there wants to pick it up for at least a final wrap-up season (I’m looking at you, Netflix) I know you’d at least have me as a viewer.  I can’t guarantee my 3.5 readers will come along.  They never listen to me.

Overall, it sucks when networks do this.  These shows build up fans over the years that grow attached to the characters and invest time in watching their stories.  It’s uncool to leave the fans hanging.  We were told Max and Caroline would be super, ridiculously successful one day.  We should find out if that happens.

Hollywood, if you can’t make this happen, at least put Kat Dennings and Beth Behrs in something else.  Kat, and her copious bazongas are a delight.  Beth is fabulous too though she lacks Kat’s bazongas.  (As far as I know it’s cool to joke about this as it is a running joke in the show.)

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Supreme Court Rules in Favor of Rock Band “The Slants”

Hey 3.5 readers.  BQB here.

Interesting story on FOX news today – there’s an all Asian-American rock band calling themselves “The Slants.”  They attempted to trademark their name but were denied by the government on a claim that the term was offensive, racially insensitive etc.

They took their case to the Supreme Court and won.  SCOTUS struck down “the disparagement clause” which keeps offensive terms from being trademarked.

(Sidenote: I’m not here to debate whether or not the term “slant” when used in reference to an Asian is offensive.  A) it is but B) the issue isn’t whether or not the term is or isn’t but whether or not the government can tell a band they aren’t allowed to name themselves that.)

I’m a free speech purist, so I side with “The Slants” on this.  In theory, it may sound great to give the government the power to censor “offensive speech” but offense is in the eye of the offended and once you give the government an inch of power they’ll take a mile of it. Today they’re censoring inappropriate rock band names, tomorrow they will censor political speech as offensive – i.e. “I think Candidate X is wrong on such and such issue” might be deemed offensive and you’d be tossed in the hoosegow for voicing your political beliefs.

Thus, when it comes to free speech purism, you have to rely on the “marketplace of ideas” to sort things out.  “The Slants” may have come up with a clever marketing gimmick to get themselves some play in the short term.  Hell, even I’m not really a fan of using the term “slant” – maybe I’ll have to start calling them “That Asian-American Rock Band” or something.  At any rate, if they want any long lasting staying power, they will have to churn out some super catchy tunes or else the people will vote with their ears.

That’s how this all works, people.  That dude on the street corner wearing a sandwich board that reads “Hitler is My BFF” and ringing a bell gets to do that under the law and that’s the price we all pay to be able to speak our own minds.

Don’t worry about that hypothetical guy with the sandwich board.  The free marketplace of ideas will be regulate him.  He won’t be invited to any fancy dinner parties or getting any positions of power anytime soon.  Let the people decide what speech gets you where, but don’t let the government start picking and choosing who gets to say what.  In the short term, it may spare your ears from having to hear things you don’t want to hear but in the long run, it will eventually lead to you not being able to say what you want to say.

Sidenote – I’d be curious if “NWA” ever had any trademark issues or did they solve the issue by just calling themselves “NWA” and leaving it to the public to figure out what that stood for?  (FYI millenials, I’m not telling you what it stands for.)

Discuss.

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