Daily Archives: September 4, 2016

TV Review – Sons of Anarchy (2008-2014)

“Riding through this world…something something…a crow flies straight, look at us we’re all in leather…”

Guns. Bikes. Unlikely plots.

BQB here with a review of FX’s Sons of Anarchy.

It has been off the air a couple years now, but surely you can find this show somewhere out there in the stream-a-verse.  In fact, at the time of this writing, Netflix has all seven seasons available.

Travel back with me to 2008, 3.5 readers. A show called The Sopranos had just wrapped up a year before and was groundbreaking in its ability to bring viewers to cable movie channels.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to copy the Sopranos by putting out a TV show featuring a crime family. “It’s the Sopranos on a boat! It’s the Sopranos in space!”

Who knew that a show that was “Sopranos on motorcycles” would last for seven seasons?

Ironically, “Hamlet with Bikers” would be a better alternate title as the conflict between Jax Teller (Charlie Hunnam), his mother, Gemma Teller (Katey Sagal) and his step-father, Clay Morrow (Ron Perlman) was the overall main plot point of the series.

The set-up?  Years prior to the start of the show, Jax’s after, John and Clay started the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club.  John died under mysterious circumstances, Clay marries Gemma and as a grown man, Jax reads his father’s letters (because if it is one thing bikers are known for it is their prolific writings) detailing his hopes that “SAMCRO” would one day become a legitimate organization for gear heads to bond together in the spirit of camaraderie and brotherhood, yadda yadda yadda.

Not happening under Clay’s watch.

And thus, the Sons of Anarchy formula is born:

  • The Sons agree to push drugs, run guns, or engage in some other illegal activity in league with another criminal organization.
  • Shit hits the fan and the Sons are shocked, absolutely SHOCKED to learn that pushing drugs, running guns, or conducting other illegal activities causes all manner of dangerous consequences.
  • The Sons want out of the aforementioned illegal activity, but to get out of it, they must somehow do some sort of illegal task for the criminal organization they aligned themselves with, or engage in more illegal activity on the behalf of a new criminal organization in order to get them to take on the job they signed up to do for the original criminal organization.
  • When all is said and done, the Sons expend massive amounts of time, energy, money, manpower, and yes, even life as members of their ranks are killed all the time and yet they never, ever turn a profit on any of the illegal activity they engage in. They are, by far, the worst criminals in the history of crime and one wonders why they don’t just take half the time, money and energy they use on crime and put it towards legitimate enterprise.

In fact, every week when this show was on the air, I yearned for the following scene that never happened:

:::Jax and the boys gather around the table.:::

JAX: OK. We need money. Any ideas?

TIG: Let’s sell drugs!

JUICE: Let’s run guns!

RANDOM MEMBER: Let’s take our profits from the Teller-Morrow Garage, utilize the assistance of a reputable asset management planner to invest in stocks and bonds that yield positive dividends and then use the proceeds to start more garages, gas stations, and tow truck companies, thereby taking our love of automobile repair and using it to become respectable members of society.

:::Gang looks at each other:::

JAX: Take a walk, Random Member. You’re out of the club! Surrender your cut!

FYI – “surrendering your cut” means taking away your spiffy Sons of Anarchy vest, by far the worst and most humiliating punishment one can suffer in the SAMCRO organization.

Every TV show requires you to suspend a certain amount of disbelief, this one more than others.

The fact that no one in the club ever thinks, “Gee whiz, I could make more money flipping burgers at McDonald’s than I do as Jax’s lackey” is something that you’re never supposed to think about, nor are you supposed to consider the fact that if the Sons would take all the planning skills they use to concoct their elaborate schemes, they could probably put those skills to work in legit fields.

I know whenever I see someone in the Fast and Furious hacking twenty computers at the same time I end up wondering why they just don’t get a job in Silicon Valley and the same logic applies here.

Above all else, you are also not supposed to ask yourself why Jax’s girlfriend, the beautiful Dr. Tara Knowles (Maggie Siff) gives Jax the time of day.

Jax and Tara had once been teenage sweethearts.  At the start of the show, Tara has become a doctor and returns to town to take a position as a surgeon (yes, she is a surgeon dating a motorcycle gang leader but you aren’t supposed to scratch your head over that one at all.)

Look I get it. Love makes people do strange things. The heart wants what it wants.

All I’m saying is that if I’m Jax and I’ve got a super hot doctor girlfriend, I’m going to be all like, “OK you shitheads have fun running those guns, I’m going to chill at home and change the kids’ diapers while my wife brings home the bacon. Shit, maybe I’ll get a part-time job at Auto Zone and get my two year associate’s degree to make the little woman proud.”

Sigh. Lady doctors, you’re all so unappreciated by your motorcycle gang leader boyfriends.

Funny thing about the show though is that as unlikely as the story arcs were, they got the fans talking about the show and if people are talking about your show, then you’ve struck gold.

And to show creator Kurt Sutter’s credit, that gold lasted seven seasons.

Charlie Hunnam is great as the morally conflicted Jax who yearns to go legit yet always has one more criminal misdeed to carry out to save his family and/or friends (again, put the “why doesn’t he just let his doctor girlfriend handle the money” question out of your mind).

Dayton Callie also provides an excellent performance as Wayne Unser, the equally morally conflicted police chief of Charming, California who begrudgingly works with the Sons out of a fear that they protect the town from worse evils.

Worth checking out but…suspend disbelief and uh…have a strong stomach as the bikers and various criminals aren’t exactly kind to each other throughout the show, as you might imagine.

STATUS: Shelf-worthy.

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 4


“Will you look at this?” Odysseus said as he walked towards the royal family. “The most powerful people in Sparta all lined up to greet me and….ughhh!”

The traveler went crosseyed and orgasmed upon spotting Helen.

“Helen!” Odysseus said as he averted his eyes. “You’re looking even more fly than when I last saw you but jeez, Louise! By the spear of Ares, someone put a bell on this babe before I waste more seed.”

“Oh Odysseus,” Helen said as she hugged the traveler. “You haven’t lost your quick wit.”

“Ack!” Odysseus yelled as he went crosseyed and doubled over. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? I…I…and…nope…I’m empty. Its nothing but cobwebs and sadness coming out down there until I reload. Dioscuri!”

Castor and Pollux embraced their good friend.

“Oh the shit we got into back in the day,” Odysseus said. “What in the underworld have you two dong sniffers been up to?”

“Rescuing Helen from perverts,” Castor said.

“Crusty old fucks, most recently,” Pollux added.

“Yeesh,” Odysseus said. “That sounds like a real grind.”

The traveler playfully pretended to shadowbox the king. “Old Man Tyndareus!”

“Odysseus,” the king said as he embraced the young man. “You grace us with your presence.”

“Oh stop it you old softy,” Odysseus said. The traveler clutched his chest as he looked at the queen.

“Well poke my eye out and call me a cyclops!” Odysseus said. “Tyndareus, you didn’t tell me you had such a young and attractive sister.”

Leda smirked and hugged the visitor. “You know very well who I am, young man.”

“How could forget the sexiest MILF in the Mediterranean?” Odysseus asked.

“You’re looking well, Odysseus,” the queen said. “How is your father?.”

“Ugh!” Odysseus said. “Don’t get me started! He depends on me more and more these days. And I get it. I’m a dashing prince. Accomplished adventurer. Skilled sailor. Renowned explorer. Legendary monster slayer. Highly trained soldier. All this shit on my resume while I’m still in my early twenties and you’d think these experiences would have prepared me to become Ithaca’s greatest champion but I’m telling you, its a real drag.”

“Your father chose his champion well, Odysseus,” Tyndareus said.

“Yes he did, if I do say so myself,” Odysseus replied. “But check it. I have gots to gets me some R and R, some Z’s, a little ‘me’ time if you please, you dig?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Tyndareus said.

“I have been championing the shit out of Ithaca for a couple years now and I am spent,” Odysseus said. “So much so that I started longing for the summers I spent here in Sparta as a boy with my good friends, the Dioscuri, and decided to seek a few weeks’ refuge with you fine folks, my veritable second family.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay,” the queen said.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Odysseus asked. “I’m not asking for much. Just a little food to gnosh, a bed to crash on, maybe take the boys off your hands for a night or two of drunken debauchery when they aren’t busy rescuing Helen Hotpants over there.”

“Odysseus,” Helen said. “You’re positively terrible!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Odysseus said as he turned his head away from Helen. “That’s enough of that! You’re going to turn me into a walking prune, girl!”

“We are glad to have you,” Tyndareus said. “In fact, a rather sensitive matter has come up that I must speak to my sons about and I would appreciate your wise counsel.”

“No problem, Pops,” Odysseus said. “What, are the Dioscuri playing with themselves too much? I told you guys that would turn you insane!”

“Oh, like you’ve never done it,” Castor said.

The royal family dispersed and Odysseus found himself face to face with Penelope. The traveler’s mood went from playful to somber.

“Penny,” Odysseus said.

“Odysseus,” Penelope said as she rested her hands on her hips and tapped her foot on the dock.

“Damn girl,” Odysseus said. “You’re really filling out that toga these days.”

Wack! Penelope’s dainty hand left a red mark on Odysseus’s cheek.

“What’d I do?” the traveler asked.

“The next time you tell a girl you love her, send her a scroll once in awhile.”

Penelope stormed off as Odysseus gave chase.

“Aww come on, baby,” Odysseus said. “Don’t do me like that! Whoa mama, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

“Shut up!” Penelope said.

“You could build an acropolis on that thing!” Odysseus remarked.

The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 3


The sound of a blaring ram’s horn tore across Sparta before it finally made its way to the king’s ears.

“What?” the king asked.

Leda stirred. “Could it be?”

The gold plated doors to the throne room opened to reveal a rather stern looking muscle bound, long haired warrior. He entered in the company six other warriors, three on each side.

Their uniforms consisted of little more than leather thongs and flowing capes.

A frazzled Tyndareus sprang to his feet. “Oh, thank the gods, ’tis Talos, general of the mighty Spartan army. What news do you bring?”

The Spartans marched in a stoic manner until they reached the throne. Then, they shouted a very guttural “oohrah” before falling to their knees before the king.

“My good king,” Talos said. “My good queen. Castor and Pollux approach the port in their ship.”

“And? Tyndareus asked.

“Umm,” the general said. “The wind is in their sails and their pace is steady?”

The king slapped his forehead. “For the love of Hera’s tucas, man! Is Helen with them?”

“Oh!” Talos said. “Yes! Indeed she is. I spotted the princess standing on deck.”

“Not trying to tell you how to do your job, general,” Tyndareus said. “But you might have led off with that.”

The warriors arose. “On your word, we shall escort you to the port, your highness.”

Leda stood up. “I must fetch our niece.”

“Yes,” a relieved Tyndareus said. “Collect dear Penelope so that our family will finally be together again.”

Three Spartans left the throne room with the Queen.

Meanwhile, the king, Talos, and the other three warriors departed.

As the king’s party moved through the hustle and bustle of the city, the king couldn’t help but notice the skimpy attire the warriors were wearing.


“Yes, my liege?”

“Is it me or have the uniforms of the mighty Spartan army grown absurdly scant?”

“’Tis not you, my king,” Talos said. “A reduction in clothing is one of many changes I have made as of late to give the mighty Spartan army an edge over all challengers.”

“I never thought one could could go wrong with a good tunic,” Tyndareus said.

“All due respect, my king,” Talos replied. “But tunics are bulky and get in the way. Leather thongs allow for much freer movement.”

“And the capes?” Tyndareus inquired.

“Oh the capes are just badass,” Talos replied. “When our enemies spy the mighty Spartan army rolling up on them, they’ll be all like, ‘Damn, those bad ass Spartan muthafuckas be wearin’ the shit out of them capes!’”

“I see,” the king said. “And what other changes have you made?”

A miserable wretch covered in boils hobbled up to the party on his cane with a live chicken tucked under his arm.

“Huzzah!” the wretch said. “’Tis Good King Tyndareus! May the gods smile upon you, your majesty!”

“Step aside, peasant!” Talos said as he knocked the wretch over with his pinky finger and kept walking.

“A bit harsh, weren’t you?” the king asked.

“I don’t know where that lowly dog has been, my king,” Talos said. “He coughs on you, you get sick and before you know it I’m slitting my own throat to atone for my failure to protect the man the gods have selected to rule over Sparta. Now where was I?”

“The changes,” the king said.

“Ah yes,” Talos said. “I’ve given the men a robust schedule. Up before dawn for swordplay practice, followed by an afternoon of rubbing scented oils and lotions into one another’s rippling muscles, followed by an evening of slippery wrestling until we fall asleep.”

“That seems rather uh, homoerotic,” the king said. “Not that I’m judging.”

“Scented oils and lotions are good for the muscles, your highness,” Talos said. “It brings the gallons upon gallons of testosterone coursing through our veins to the surface and makes us stronger. I swear it has nothing to do with us enjoying putting our greasy hands all over each others’ firm, supple bodies.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” the king said.

“Also, I have trained the men to shout incredibly macho statements about themselves upon command.”

Talos snapped his fingers. “Spartans! Flatter yourselves!”

“I possess gigantic testicles forged from wrought iron by the hand of Hephaestus, God of All Blacksmiths, himself!” the first warrior shouted. “Ooorah!”

“Is that true?” the king asked.

“I don’t know that it is not true,” Talos said. “Spartans! Continue!”

“I can snap the neck of a griffin with nothing but the tight muscles of my buttocks!” the second Spartan shouted. “Ooorah!”

“That’s true,” Talos said. “I’ve seen him do it. Third Spartan, report!”

“I crave man ass all night and day!” the third Spartan shouted. “Oohrah!”

Talos rolled his eyes. “Third Spartan, that’s not really a macho statement about yourself so much as an interest in an, um, extracurricular activity that the good king doesn’t need to know about.”

“I’m sorry, General!” the third Spartan said. “I’ll think about it and get back to you! Oorah!”

“How does making them shout macho statements about themselves make them better warriors?” the king asked.

“Would you want to go up against an army of Spartans with such massive egos to compliment their oiled up muscles?” Talos asked.

“I should say…” The king stopped to cough in his fist. “I should say not.”

“My king,” Talos said as he stretched out his hand. “Please, let me assist you.”

“No,” Tyndarecus scoffed. “I may be old but I’m not dead.”

“I understand,” Talos said.

The party reached the port and waited as the royal ship drew nigh.

“My king,” the general said. “Far be it from me to question your wisdom, but I hope you know that the mighty Spartan army and I are infinitely loyal to the royal family. Should you ever desire to give the Dioscuri a break, we shall relish the chance to rescue Princess Helen the next time she is kidnapped by a pervert, which, given the way things have been going, will no doubt be sometime around next Tuesday, or Wednesday at the latest.”

The king smiled and patted the general on the shoulder.

“Noble Talos. Never would I question your loyalty to my family or to Sparta, especially when you and the mighty Spartan army have proven yourselves time and time again on the field of battle, but Helen is by far the hottest chick in the world and I’m sure you will understand that I just feel more comfortable when she is in the company of her brothers as opposed to an army of outrageously strong egomaniacs with oiled up muscles and gallons upon gallons of testosterone coursing through their veins.”

“Oh, you need not worry, your majesty,” Talos said. “We are not interested in Helen in that way.”

The king was taken aback. “Seriously?”

“No doubt,” Talos said.

“But aside from her kin, Helen is desired by every being with a penis,” the king said.

Tyndareus raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I thought you said you dudes weren’t into other dudes.”

“I did not say we were not, not into dudes,” Talos replied. “Besides, I thought you said you weren’t judging?”

“I’m not,” Tyndareus said.

“Mighty Spartan army requirements are very strict about interpersonal relationships,” the general explained. “If we were into dudes, which I’m not saying we are, we couldn’t very well run around advertising the fact that we are into dudes now could we?”

“Ah,” Tyndareus said. “So you’re saying that you’re all into dudes?”

The general threw his hands up. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well,” the king said as he watched the ship come in. “I appreciate the offer, Talos, but I can’t take the risk that one of your men might be a switch hitter.”

“Not gonna lie,” Talos said. “The ninth Spartan warrior isn’t so much into dudes or chicks as he is into anything with a warm hole of any kind.”

“TMI, Talos,” the king said. “TMI.”

The ship docked. A contingent of sailors attached a gangplank to allow the occupants to exit the vessel.

“Princess Helen approaches!” shouted the first sailor from the ship’s deck. “Avert your eyes!”

“Shut your eyes!” the second sailor shouted as he walked down the gangplank. “Princess Helen comes this way!”

“What’s everyone on about?” the third sailor asked from his position the dock.

It was too late. All but the third sailor closed their eyes. That sailor, upon spotting the glorious beauty of Helen as she strolled down the gangplank with her brothers in tow, immediately went cross-eyed, became consumed by an orgasmic fit, then dropped to the deck.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me the Princess was disembarking?” the third sailor asked. “I soiled my tunic!”

“We did,” the first sailor shouted from the deck with his eyes still shut. “Clean the shit out of your ears!”

Helen spotted Tyndareus.

“Father!” the princess cried as she ran over and hugged the old man.

“Oh my darling daughter Helen!” Tyndareus said as he wept tears of joy. “I am so delighted that you survived this week’s kidnapping.”

“The Dioscuri rescued me from the crusty old fucks!” Helen proudly declared.

“Castor and Pollux!” the king said.

The Dioscuri took turns hugging their old man.

“Father,” Castor said.

“Father,” Pollux repeated.

“My heart swells with pride that you have saved your sister from yet another weekly kidnapping!” the king said.

“Yeah,” Castor said. “Not like there was anything else we’d rather be doing.”

“Right,” Pollux said. “Now let’s go nap for five minutes before some pervert nabs Helen and we do this shit all over again.”

Tyndareus frowned. “What…what is that? Are you boys using sarcasm on your father?”

“No,” Castor said.

“We’d never do that,” Pollux said.

Seconds later, the queen arrived with the royal niece and her contingent of Spartan warriors.

“I can block out the sun with my monstrous phallus!” the fourth Spartan warrior shouted. “Ooorah!”

“Yes, yes,” the queen said. “We all know you are all super gay. No one cares.”

Penelope was a curvaceous young woman. Tight in the waist, splatow in the other place if you catch my drift.

“Mother!” Helen said as she hugged the queen.

“Oh Helen!” the queen said. “We were so frightened that you’d been done in by those crusty old fucks!”

Helen let go of her mother and embraced Penelope. “Sweet cousin!”

Penelope spoke in a monotone that belied a demeanor similar to what you modern readers might refer to as “depressed brainy goth chick.”

“Whoopee,” Penelope said as she let her arms hang at her sides, refusing to return the hug. “Helen’s back, y’all. Let’s all drop what we’re doing and talk about this for three or four hours. Hooray.”

Talos squinted as he looked out across the sea’s horizon. “My king!”

Tyndareus looked up and joined his general in staring at a small blip that eventually turned into a ship.

“Is it a friend or foe?” the king asked.

“It…it bears the markings of a ship of Ithaca!” Audax proclaimed. “Surely it carries a friend.”

Castor and Pollux looked at each other.

“Oh come on,” the first brother said.

“It has to be…” the second brother replied.

Penelope flashed a rare smile. “Ithaca, you say?”

The royal family and the mighty Spartan rmy waited patiently until the ship reached the port.

A strapping young man with a full beard stepped out onto the deck and grinned.

“Whassup, beatches? Odysseus all up in Sparta’s ass! Woot woot!”

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 2


Tyndareus, King of Sparta, sat sullenly upon his throne, ensconced in a crippling bout of depression so severe that even his three most ample slave girls were unable to break him out of it.

“More grapes, your majesty?” the first slave girl asked.

The king did not respond.

“Perhaps some wine?” the second slave girl inquired.

Tyndareus continued to wallow in his perpetual woe.

The third slave girl started to untie the string that held the top of her gown up when she was rudely interrupted by a pair of clapping hands.

“Begone, wenches,” commanded the most lovely and regal Queen Leda as she strutted through the chamber. “The king is in a state that only a queen can fix.”

The slave girls departed and Leda sat down upon Tyndareus’s lap. She ran her hand over her husband’s face, tickling his beard.

“Why do you suffer so, my king?” the queen asked.

“’Tis Helen,” Tyndareus answered. “Kidnapped once again under my watch and no doubt being forced to touch the super old wrinkly balls of Theseus and Peirithous as we speak.”

“Ugh,” Leda said. “Damn those crusty old fucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Tyndareus said.

“You need not concern yourself,” Leda said. “Castor and Pollux have never failed you.”

“Indeed they have not,” Tyndareus said. “Never has a father been blessed with a pair of twin sons as daring and brave as the Dioscuri. But I fear we ask too much of them, wife.”

“How so?”

“This week its the crusty old fucks,” Tyndarecus said. “Last week it was the Kraken. The week before that it was the minotaur. Leda, Helen is getting ridiculously hotter everyday and accordingly, no man or beast in all of Greece with a penis can control himself in her presence. If we continue to importune Castor and Pollux to save their sister every time she is kidnapped by a filthy degenerate pervert, they will never have lives of their own. They’ll never find wives. They’ll never have children. They will simply spend all of their time fighting perverts.”

Leda sighed. “I admit I never thought about it that way.”

“That’s because you never think of anyone but yourself,” Tyndareus said.

The queen stood up. “How dare you?!”

“How dare I?” Tyndareus asked.

“My betrayal was so long ago, dear husband!” Leda shouted. “Surely by now I have earned your forgiveness!”

Tyndareus took his wife’s hand. “So many nights I have laid awake begging myself to forgive you but alas…I don’t know if I will ever be able to.”

Leda stomped her foot on the marble floor. “It was Zeus! Fucking Zeus!”

The king stood up. He gritted his teeth and his face turned red. “In the form of a swan! How did you fuck a swan?”

“I don’t know!” Leda said. “I just did!”

“The logistics alone boggle my mind!” Tyndareus cried.

“Why must you insist on dredging up the past?” Leda asked.

“How did you even find yourself attracted to a damn swan?” Tyndarecus asked.

“Because it was Zeus in the form of a swan!” Leda said. “My darling, shouldn’t a woman be allowed a pass if she is seduced into adultery through the allure of a god?”

“Absolutely not,” Tyndareus said.

Leda folded her arms. “You’re going to stand there and tell me that if Aphrodite swooped down from Mount Olympus and begged you to go to town on her lady bits, you’d refuse?”

The king shook his head. “If we’re talking about Aphrodite in all her super hot goddess glory with her ginormous goddess titties, then yes, I’d most certainly lose control. But if we’re talking Aphrodite in the form of a duck, then no dearest, I would abstain. I love you enough to avoid fucking a duck. Alas, you did not afford me the same loyalty when it came to a swan. Call me crazy, but I believe we owe it to each other to avoid dalliances with water fowl.”

“It was still Zeus!” Leda protested.

“Ahhh, fi on thee woman,” Tyndarecus said. “I shall hear no more excuses for your swan fuckery.”

The king eased his weary bones back into his throne and let out an “oof!” upon landing.

“Besides,” Tyndareus said. “Your sordid infatuation with swan penis…”

“It was an infatuation with the greatest of all the gods!” Leda snapped.

“It does not matter,” Tyndareus said. “All that matters now is that is that I have failed our children and failed them miserably.”

Leda returned to the king’s lap and gently stroked her hand through her husband’s hair. “Oh my love, you are not a failure. How could Castor and Pollux have become such gallant fighters were it not for the training you provided them?”

“A fine point,” the king said.

“And who kept Helen safe for so many years until your advanced age forced you to turn the burden over to the Dioscuri?” Leda asked.

“I did,” the Tyndareus said. “But that is the point, my queen. Sooner or later, we all find ourselves dragged into the underworld. I can burden our sons no longer and yet, who will ensure our beloved Helen is safe when I die?”

Leda held Tyndareus in her arms. “A most vexing question, but one you will surely answer. You are a noble man, Tyndareus. Few men in your position would have found it in their hearts to raise Helen as their own.”

“She must never know that I am not her father,” Tyndarecus said. “You must never tell her.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Leda said. “And as far as I am concerned, you are her father, for that sleaze bag Zeus never once called, or wrote me a letter, or even offered to pick up a bill or two.”

“Fucking gods,” Tyndareus said.

“Alas,” Leda said. “I fear the more Helen learns about science, the more likely it will be that she will do the math in her head and reach the conclusion that her astounding beauty could only be the result of an illicit union between a woman and the greatest of all gods in the form of a swan. That’s just science.”

Tyndareus slammed his fist down on the arm rest of his throne. “Blasted science!”

“You can’t argue with science,” Leda said.

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 1


There has never been, nor will there ever be, a woman as beautiful as Helen of Sparta.

I’m totally serious, you guys. One look at that foxy mama and it was all Boner City: Population You.

I’m talking an enchanting face that you could stare at for hours, eyes you could get lost in, long luxurious blonde hair you’d kill just to touch its sublime softness and those tittays?

Don’t even get me started about those tittays. There were like two giant, perky chest rockets standing at attention.

No joke, I’m Homer, the greatest poet in all of Ancient Greece and it was all that even a scholar such as I could do to keep myself from dreaming about motor boating those puppies all day long.

“Vrrooom vrrroooom ung nung nung nung nah!”

But I digress. Given Helen’s epic splooge inducing hotness, it was no surprise that those crusty old fucks Theseus and Peirithous, the kings of Athens and Larissa, respectively, kidnapped our beloved Helen and took her back to a dank, dark undisclosed lair.

“Come, Peirithous!” Theseus did say as he dropped his robe to the floor to reveal his oily hide. “Let us put our super wrinkly, disgustingly gray pubic hair infested nut sacks on full display!”

“Yes,” Peirithous did reply. “For we are very, very old and I do not know about you, my good friend Theseus, but I would surely enjoy having my way with the most beautiful woman in the world before I drop dead from a heart attack or ass cancer or some other bullshit disease that we are susceptible to for as you are no doubt aware, we are both ridiculously old!”

And so, Helen did cringe and cry and bemoan her fate as two lecherous, old, decrepit and dilapidated perverts closed in upon her. As they did so, both men held out their hands, opening and shutting them in the internationally understood “I want to honk some hooters” sign that men of poor moral character are known to engage in when approaching a woman with a copious bosom.

“Oh cruel fate!” Helen shouted. “Surely I am not doomed to be accosted by two crusty old fucks with super wrinkly balls, am I?”

At that precise moment, the business end of a sharp sword tore its way through Theseus’s belly, spritzing the lair with a thick douse of crimson red blood. A second blade made short work of Peirithous’s gut in similar fashion.

Both of the crusty old fucks fell to the floor, gyrating and convulsing. It was a horrific yet hilarious sight. If only video technology had been invented at the time. That shit would have gone viral on GreekTube.

The swords belonged to two young warriors, fair haired lads with chiseled jaws and rippling physiques.

“Brothers!” Helen said with glee as she hugged her rescuers.

“What treachery is this?” cried the crusty old fuck Theseus as his blood drained out into the dirt.

“Egads!” hollered the crusty old fuck Peirithous, “’Tis the Dioscuri! Castor and Pollux making with a cock block most foul!”

“Fi on thee, Dioscuri!” Theseus said. “Hast thou not heard of the ancient law known as, ‘bros before hoes?’”

“We have,” Castor said.

“But it pales in comparison to the law of ‘sisters before misters,’” Pollux added.

“Ha, ha!” Helen laughed as she looked down upon the geezers. “Enjoy your most deserved deaths, crusty old fucks!”

“Uncool, Helen,” Castor said.

“Indeed,” Pollux said. “They’re already dying and…they’re dead. Yes. Its official. The crusty old fucks are dead now.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Helen said. “Couldn’t you boys have saved me sooner? I was unacceptably close to having to touch their wrinkly balls.”

“We do have lives, Helen,” Castor said.

“Right,” Pollux said. “We do our best.”

“I know you do,” Helen said as she pecked each brother on the cheek. “Now come! We must return to father immediately. He shall be very worried I’m sure of it.”

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The Illiad Rebooted – First Meeting Transcript


The following is the transcript of the first production meeting held between Homer, legendary ancient poet of Greece, and Bookshelf Q. Battler, proprietor of a website with 3.5 readers.


Sir, while I appreciate the lengths your diminutive friend, the odd looking short being your refer to as “Alien Jones,” took to restore me back to life, I must protest the absurd changes you have made to my seminal work, The Illiad.

You took my most eloquently selected words, hacked them to pieces, and replaced them with profanity, vulgarity, and worse, references to the so-called pop culture of your time that those from my time would nary understand.

You are a charlatan and I demand that you cancel the publication of this work entirely.


Homie…bubie…baby…are you kidding me? You’re kidding me, right?

Look, you’ve been stone cold dead since before Jesus was born. I appreciate you are history’s most accomplished poet but with all due respect, no one wants to learn shit about the past anymore.

Readers want T, A, and TNT. Its all about the TANT, baby. Titties + Ass + Explosive Action = peeps buy the shit out of this book and Jeff Bezos flies one of his funky ass drones over to drop off a fat ass check, son.


Well, as long as its fat…


You know it, Home Slice. Look, Hollywood’s already filmed all of the original ideas twice, even three or four times in some cases. Sequels and reboots are the name of the game now.


What is a reboot?


Its like a do-over. The Illiad is the same old bland tuna casserole people have been served for centuries now.  In order to sell people the same thing they’ve bought before, we need to add a little spice, a little razzle dazzle.


It’s the razzle dazzle that worries me.


Will you stop? Just go put your feet up, take a nap, use that sweet fifty dollar advance I gave you to score some babes and I’ll take care of the rest.


I have your word that additional profits will be forthcoming?


Of course. Fifty bucks a year from now on. You will be rolling in portraits of Ulysses S. Grant.


You are too kind sir. Fifty dollars continues to remain an exorbitant sum of money in your time?


It’ll get you fifty trips to the main stage at a nudey bar or approximately twenty-five candy bars, take your pick. That’s more than most writers get these days.

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Who Wins a Fight Between…

…a unicorn and a shark?

…a cornered honey badger and a zombie?

…a werewolf and a direwolf?

…a ninja and a guy that just works out a lot?

…your mother or your mother-in-law?

…a pegasus and a weasel?

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