It is delicious. Sorry, I am out of ideas to blog about.
It is delicious. Sorry, I am out of ideas to blog about.
It began in 2017 and lasted until 2030. By the end of the gruesome conflict, over a hundred thousand protestors on various sides of the political spectrum and with little more to do than go out and hold signs about their individual causes while their poor oppressed parents footed the bill, would be dead.
Millions more Americans who just wanted to turn on the TV and not see outbreaks of tomfoolery would be severely annoyed.
What, you might ask, was the Second American Civil War over, you might ask?
It was over what to do with the monuments dedicated to the First American Civil War that ended approximately 160 years ago. Yeah. We know. Stop shaking your head.
It all began with General Toke-It-All Jackson, the unemployed and unemployable pot fan/purple haired fifth level otherkin hipster leader of the Social Justice Brigade. “As nothing as my witness, because the idea of a God is oppressive to atheists everywhere, I will never allow a statue of some old racist fuck sit in a park while no one gives a shit while his head gets pooped on by pigeons ever again!”
And so the Social Justice Brigade marched through the South, using their limited upper body strength to pull down one statue of a traitorous rebel racist fucker after another, rather than, you know, maybe just submit a proposal to the local city governments to ask that the statues be removed through the democratic process and be put into museums where nerdy Civil War re-enactors can continue to delay losing their virginity by master bating all over these monuments to a failed effort to double-cross the United States of America.
Meanwhile, the Modern Southerners would not stand for this. Their leader, General Hushpuppy Beauregard, who sounded very similar to Foghorn Leghorn, publicly said, “We Modern Southerners do not see these statues as a tribute to racism, but rather, as a tribute to our ancestors. Why, my Great Great Great Great Great Great Grandpappy Rufus Beauregard was General Lee’s personal horn blower. Why, old Grandpappy blew General Lee’s horn long and hard, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast, always being sure to use plenty of tongue and not any teeth and sometimes for hours on necessary if need be. He looked clean and crisp and respectable in his uniform and we are all proud of Grandpappy’s service.”
When pressed on the fact that the Confederacy was set up to continue the wretched institution of slavery, General Hushpuppy said, “I do declare sir, we Modern Southerners are not racist at all. We love black folk just fine and want to see them do well and get good jobs and be successful and have good lives and I suppose if our daughters bring one of them home we will begrudgingly acknowledge them and then yell at our dumb wives for telling our dumb daughters for this is somehow ok but regardless, we bear black folk no ill will. In our minds, the Civil War has been homogenized in pop culture and the hundreds of Civil War films we have seen just display the conflict as a disagreement between two sides of gentlemen gone awry. Those movies rarely mention the slavery aspect or if they do, they don’t focus too hard on it. I add that I am no racist sir for I have all of Jay-Z’s songs on my iPhone and I masterbate to the sight of Beyoncé’s luxurious rear end at all times.”
When pressed again, General Hushpuppy added, “Look, we love black folk, but we like to brandish our Confederate memorabilia from time to time to remind those uppity Northern folk that if they keep trying to switch our barbecue ribs for kale and our pick-up trucks for Priuses and our shootin’ irons for therapy, we’ll split off from the country and by God, we’ll do it right this time.”
But it wasn’t that easy. There were two more sides. Next, there were the Racist Manboys. These dudes were all kind of chubby. Some were Nazis who, like their hero, Hitler, were trying to compensate for small penises. Some were Ku Klux Klansmen who stole their mothers’ bedsheets and cut eyeholes in them, leaving their mothers to cry, “This is why we can’t have nice things!”
Their leader, General Honkey von Cracker, said, “The white man is better and more smarter and interesting-er than all the other mongrel races and I do be the one who should be knowing this as I took ten years to grad-u-a-mate from night school GED class. I would have done it sooner but one time a black man cut me in line at the Burger Hut and I seethed with rage over it for years. I’m not still quite over it but with therapy I have faith I will be.”
The Racist Manboys really, really, really loved the statues of Confederates because they often fantasized about traveling back in time just so they could join the confederacy and fight in a war to oppress black people. The Racist Manboys divide their time between efforts to build a time machine that will allow them to travel back to the 1860s so they might join the Confederacy and to lobby for laws that will make slavery legal again because the only way they will ever be laid is if it becomes legal to kidnap hot black chicks and hold them against their will.
Finally, there was one last group of non-combatants, the People Who Had Shit to Do. Ironically, their leader was an African American by the name of Fred Wilbur, who said, “How in the Hell do all you people have so much time on your damn hands that you can go out in the middle of a weekday and beat the shit out of each other over a bunch of statues of some racist white folk from the 1800s? I mean, holy shit, as a taxpayer, I don’t like to see my taxes go toward the upkeep of a statue of some ass face who wanted to keep me in chains, but shit, I have a wife and kids. I have bills to pay and mouths to feed. I work a day job, a night job, and a weekend job. I got three Goddamn jobs and you weirdoes don’t have any. Get a job, get Jesus in your life. I mean, shit, I don’t like the statues but if all you dumbass white people are just going to beat the shit out of each other then fuck it, just let the pigeons shit all over those dumb old statues of those racist pricks until the end of time.”
And so the battle raged on for 13 years as the three sides fought one another while people with jobs like Fred would just come home after work, pop open a beer, curse at all the idiots without jobs then rent a movie on pay per view, preferably one with a lot of action and chicks with big ass titties.
Finally, the war ended when a peaceful solution was offered. The Confederate statues would remain, but statues of freed black slaves rogering statues of the white wives of the Confederate soldiers would be erected next to the Confederate statues. All were happy by this compromise which, ironically, was proposed by President Bookshelf Q. Battler, the greatest president America has ever had ever and will also ever have.
Everything was good for awhile until the Third World War broke out in 2034. That one was over whether or not to get rid of statues of George Washington, not because of the fact that he was a slave owner, but because George, as was the custom in his day, wore a gray haired wig to make him look older and wiser as elders were respected for their wisdom at the time. Alas, by 2034, youth took over the world and anyone over 35 was required to sit down on an iceberg and be floated off to sea. No one with gray hair was ever seen again and anyone who used to have gray hair in the past was considered a piece of shit who had to be erased from history.
Finally, in the year 2200, the Fourth American Civil War broke out over the proposed removal of statues of JFK, FDR, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, President Flava Flav and President Bookshelf Q. Battler.
You see, by the year 2200, a pill was invented that made it so people don’t have to shit anymore. Yes, by taking this pill, humans were able to absorb all necessary nutrients from their foods without producing poop. Anyone pre-2200 who never took this pill was considered a dirty pooping Neanderthal.
Thus, a great debate began. Yes, JFK, FDR, Lincoln, Roosevelt, President Flava Flav and President Battler had all done great things. In fact, President BQB provided all men with free sex robots, which made them happy because they were never without sex again and their wives happy because they didn’t have to suffer their smelly husbands flopping on top of them ever again.
However, all these men pooped, and so, the Anti-Poop front declared that any traces of anyone who ever took a shit had to be erased from history as they were dirty pooping savages.
That was the last American Civil War. After that, America, like the rest of Earth, was conquered by an alien race. The population of the entire world was wiped out and the aliens used the planet to store their excess tennis shoes.
Later, a war would break out amongst the aliens over a statue of an alien wearing tennis shoes when it was decided that dock siders were much more stylish.
Hello 3.5 loser faces. It is I, the international war criminal/incredibly boring fuzzy snow monster the Yeti, here to take over Bookshelf Q. Battler’s pitiful blog because he is a whiney sissy boy who has given up on life and has decided to bury himself up to his neck in sand and cover his face in honey so his stupid face can become ant lunch.
Works for me because I hate that guy. He is a doofus and his blog was too stimulating. Yetis love boredom. All must be boring.
Speaking of, what is your favorite type of fungus, 3.5 dummies? Leave your favorite fungus in the comments.
Dear 3.5 Readers,
I quit. It’s been a real blast, but I’m at the point where I’m so old it wouldn’t matter if I sell enough copies of Toilet Gator (the best book ever written about toilets or gators) to buy a Malibu Beach House and fill it full of hot chicks with loose morals.
I mean, had it happened ten years ago, I could have fooled myself into thinking the hot chicks wanted me for my manliness and charm. Now that my balls are all wrinkly and my face looks like I stepped on a rake 5,000 times, what would it matter? I would be fully aware that the women aren’t hanging out with me for me but for all of my Toilet Gator money.
So, I enjoyed writing this blog but I have decided to turn it over to my arch nemesis, the International War Criminal/Incredibly Boring Fuzzy Snow Monster, The Yeti. He will post boring posts until the end of time. Expect many photos of his toe nail clippings.
I had a good run. No, my last post can’t include a lie. It was a terrible run. Literally every bad thing that could have possibly happened did and now I am going to ask Alien Jones to put me in one of his spare space ships and auto pilot me into the sun…that way, a little piece of me will always shine down on you 3.5 readers.
Well…maybe I won’t go that far. I changed my mind. I will move to Tibet and become a monk. Are monks allowed to eat pizza? I hope so. I’ll find out.
Thank you 3.5 readers. You are the Yeti’s 3.5 readers now. Enjoy.
They eat carrots.
I was in college when I went to see this movie on the big screen. I thought it was great and over time, I am convinced that it is Tim Burton’s best. It’s a perfect blend of horror, mystery, and light humor.
I caught it on Netflix tonight and was amazed at how young Johnny Depp looks. I’m not sure how young he is in this movie but he’s got to be late 20s or at least no more than early 30s. I remember being a teenager thinking he was an old man. Sigh. What time does to our perspective.
Christina Ricci plays Katrina, Ichabod’s love interest. Christina is about my age (and was my age at the time I saw the movie for the first time)…I remember at the time thinking she was hot and would love to date her. Now she seems like a baby in this movie.
Depp is great in this as he plays Ichabod as a science geek, someone ahead of his time with all sorts of gadgets and gizmos he uses for detective work. He’s smarter than everyone yet he’s also lacking in common sense and often goes to great lengths with his gadgets to figure out what is obvious anyway.
Further, it takes place in 1799, a time when people were beginning to accept at least the most basic of scientific principles yet were still holding on to thoughts of witchcraft and superstition. Thus, the pitting of Ichabod’s science against the horseman’s supernatural powers.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Rent it on Netflix today.
Hey 3.5 readers. BQB here.
Taylor Swift has won a legal battle in court against a DJ who she alleges grabbed her heiney. A jury awarded her a dollar and one can assume it’s not that she needs the dollar but that she now has an official court ruling that the DJ is a bum grabber.
Sigh. Meanwhile I’ve been offering my bum for ladies to grab for years and there are no takers. They can even keep their dollars.
Depression. It’s the pits. It’s even worse when you’re a werewolf.
I mean, if you’re just a guy, the world isn’t missing much if you lock yourself up and cry over anything.
But if you’re an awesome werewolf and allow those powers to fester over depression, that’s a waste.
Are you a werewolf? That’s cool. Please don’t eat me.
Are you a clinically depressed werewolf, like my blog’s columnist, “Clinically Depressed Werewolf?”
You won’t find out until you read this list. From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be a Clinically Depressed Werewolf:
#10 – You Must Be a Werewolf
If you’re not a werewolf but you’re sad all the time, then you are merely a clinically depressed human. Still, seek professional help, but all you need to worry about is the depression part, not the werewolf part.
#9 – You’ve Lost the Will to Howl at the Moon
Werewolves love to howl at the moon as if the moon will respond to them. Idiots. Still, if you’re not able to muster up even the briefest of “Arwoos!” then you need to consult a werewolf psychiatrist posthaste.
NOTE: This can either be a werewolf who doubles as a psychiatrist or a human who knows how to treat the mental illnesses of werewolves.
#8 – You Don’t Want to Eat People Anymore
I mean, you shouldn’t be doing that anyway but if you were eating people a lot and now you aren’t, that’s a bad sign.
#7 – Your Fur is Falling Out
It could just be werewolf pattern baldness but if you’re worrying about a lot of random stuff, then it could be a sign of werewolf depression.
#6 – You Spend All Your Time Listening to James Blunt’s “Your Beautiful” Song in Your Werewolf Lair
This song is the saddest song ever written. Personally, I think James Blunt consulted with the CIA to produce a song that makes people so sad they want to off themselves just to control the surplus population. My lawyer says I must stress I have no evidence or proof of this so as far as I know, James is just a good singer who apparently likes to use his vocal powers to make people sad as fuck.
Anyway, if you’re a werewolf, you should be enjoying your great strength and powers, using them to do badass shit and bang all that bomass werewolf pussy. So, if you’re just listening to James Blunt instead, them I’m sorry to inform you that you are a clinically depressed werewolf.
#5 – You Keep a Silver Bullet Around Just in Case
If there’s one thing a werewolf hates, it’s a mail man. If there are two things a werewolf hates, it’s a mail man and a silver bullet. Silver bullets are the only thing that can kill a werewolf, so if you’re a werewolf, you want to keep them far away from yourself as possible, unless, of course, you’re thinking about ending it all and you’re keeping that silver bullet for when you are ready.
Please, whether you are a human or a werewolf, if you are having suicidal thoughts, please seek professional help immediately. Suicide is never the answer.
#4 – You Cage Yourself During the Day
You’re only a danger to others at night, so that’s the only time you need to be caged to keep yourself from wolfing out and eating humans. If you’re caging yourself during the day, then you’re cutting yourself off from the world. So sad.
#3 – You’re Preoccupied with Death
We all have to go someday, but with a little luck and some hope, that day is a long, long time away. Don’t focus on it or you’ll think of nothing else, especially if you’re a werewolf, because you’re stronger than most. I mean, nothing can kill you but a silver bullet so, holy shit, just stay away from silver bullets and you’ll be fine, bitch. Stop worrying.
#2 – You Smell Worse Than Usual
Werewolves always smell bad, but if you smell worse than usual, you’ve let your hygiene go because…you are a clinically depressed werewolf.
#1 – You Think You Might Be Depressed
Holy shit dude, if you think you are depressed then you might be. Seek professional help.
An oldie but a goodie, 3.5 readers.
In WW1 era Africa, British Methodist missionaries/brother and sister Sam and Rose Sayer (Robert Morley and Katherine Hepburn) run a religious village in Kungdu. Alas, fighting breaks out between the Germans and British and then Germans will have nothing English in the region they control, so they burn the settlement down.
Sam dies from the shock of it all, leaving Rose with no one to depend on other than Charlie Allnut (Humphrey Bogart), a gruff, gin soaked riverboat captain who occasionally stops by to deliver the settlement’s supplies.
Charlie agrees to deliver Rose to safety on his junky boat, the African Queen. The two are the original odd couple. Charlie swigs booze and uses coarse language, much to the dismay of prim and proper, super religious Rose.
At first, the two hate each other. Charlie looks at Rose as a pampered woman who wants to boss him around and make stupid moves that could get them killed, that she’s basically always been cared for and could never fend for herself so she should pipe down and let hnm be in charge.
Rose looks at Charlie like he’s a shaved baboon, that he can’t stop swigging gin for two seconds and he’s probably a pervert who wants her lady parts even though she’s covered in like twenty layers of clothing despite the hot African sun.
By the mid-point of the movie, the duo braves crocodiles, killer bugs, river rapids, murderous Germans and through it all, they start to grow rather fond of each other.
It is here where the film excels. If the African Queen were to be remade today, there would probably be a five minute softcore scene where Channing Tatum bends Margot Robbie over a railing and has his way with her.
Here, we see Charlie and Rose kiss and then cut to the morning. Maybe they humped. Maybe they didn’t. Honestly, given that it is a 1951 movie about 1914, they probably didn’t hump. The kissing was enough for two people who just met in those days.
The film’s greatness as a love story comes through the fact that they portray love through, whodjthunkit, actual displays of love rather than banging scenes.
Charlie and Rose hated each other. Now they dote upon one another. They call each other “sweetheart” and “darling.” Charlie learns that Rose likes tea so he never lets her cup go empty. Rose learns to trust Charlie more and doesn’t assume that everything he does is a rouse to get under her twenty layers of clothing.
They work together to get the African Queen downriver. They fight over who should do a dangerous duty, each demanding to risk their lives to spare the other, ultimately deciding to do it together when neither will back down.
It all culminates in a strangely touching scene when they are captured by Germans. Sentenced to hang, they make one last request, that the German captain marry them. They seem very happy in this instant, despite the fact that certain death is imminent.
I won’t spoil what happens next. However, I think this film does more to display true love than what we see today, both on screen and perhaps even in our own relationships.
True, sex is the ultimate comfort. It is the best experience that a human body can feel. On screen, we like to see good looking people bone so we can imagine being one of them. Off screen, we look for partners who arouse us.
But it’s the times between sex that determine whether or not a relationship will last. Do you call your other a pet name reserved only for him/her? Do you hold their hand? Tell them you love them? Talk about the life you want to build together? Get them a cup of tea and feel it is a blessing you have someone to get a cup of tea for rather than be made someone is making you get them a cup of tea?
These are all signs of long lasting love. In 1951, the director of this film wasn’t able to show you that Charlie and Rose were in love by having them bone. So instead, they showed all the things we all wish we had in a partner. Ultimately, it all boils down to unconditional love, displayed through affection that is offered freely and never has to be asked for.
Because of this, I can picture Charlie and Rose moving away after their adventure and settling down together. Meanwhile, all of these couples who meet and instantly bang in the throws of passion probably only last until they find someone else to bang.
Somehow, we all lost sight of what day to day love is. Too much sex. Not enough love.
Love and monsters!
BQB here with a review of the pleasant surprise that is “Colossal.”
Gloria (Anne Hathaway) is a mess. She’s partying her life away and worse, she’s partied her boyfriend away. Dumped and homeless, she returns to her home town only to reunite with childhood friend Oscar (Jason Sudeikis).
Gloria and Oscar have a tumultuous relationship with a lot of leftover baggage from their younger days. And worse, for some bizarre, mysterious reason…when their passion turns to violence, their alter egos appear in Seoul, South Korea and wreak havoc.
Yes, that’s right. Everything Gloria does is copied by a giant monster. Everything Oscar does is copied by a giant robot.
My one criticism is the fight scenes between Gloria and Oscar often turn brutal, more brutal than you’d like to see between any couple and especially when we see a man lose control and hit a woman. However, the challenge was that Gloria and Oscar must fight so that their monstrous alter egos fight and unfortunately the only way for that to happen was for the filmmaker to put instances of all too real domestic violence on screen.
The film could have gone a number of ways. When I saw the trailer, I thought this movie was a comedy but it is anything but. Humorous things could have been done but ultimately the monsters destroying the city trope is used to parallel the destruction that a squabbling couple can wreak upon each other as well as the world around them.
My main compliment is the director does a lot with a little. There are brief scenes showing the monsters so as to not break the budget. Otherwise, once the rules are explained (i.e. when Gloria and Oscar go wild, their counterparts destroy a city)…we become shocked by the littlest movements. In other words, for the low cost of Anne Hathaway falling down on the grass, we can imagine a corresponding monster falling down and destroying a city block in the process.
In a time of sequels and reboots, this film is original, mashing up the romance and monster stomping the city genres. And after all, when love fails, don’t we all feel like monsters stomping around the city out of control?