Daily Archives: October 9, 2016

Stranger Things on SNL – Lucas’ Parents

SNL noticed that Lucas’ parents where nowhere to be found in Season One (although come to think of it, I don’t think we saw that lispy kid’s parents either.)

Anyway, hi jinx ensue and this is funny if you’ve seen the show on Netflix:

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Zomcation – Chapter 22

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Mack and Dylan stood on a moving walkway amidst a group of twenty people, a mix of adults and children. The belt stopped and the pre-recorded voice of an announcer explained the display that the tourists were viewing through a pane of thick glass.

“Welcome to Shock Rocket,” the announcer said. “Built over fifty years ago, this attraction provides you with a firsthand look into what people from the 1960s thought the future would be like.”

In the display, the robotic joints of a little animatronic boy moved about as his animatronic father sat in a chair and read a newspaper. Their voices were also pre-recorded.

“Papa?” the boy asked. “What will the world be like in nineteen-ninety-five?”

The father’s joints creaked as he lowered his paper. “Gosh, Timmy. What a question. Why by the year nineteen ninety five, resources will be plentiful so there will be no more suffering or economic strife. Politicians will be of excellent moral character and music, movies and culture of all kinds will be of superb quality.  No sir, you’ll never leave a picture show thinking you just wasted two hours of your life. Moreover, all the negroes will be shipped off to Jupiter, so they’ll be happy over there and we’ll be happy here, separate but equal as they say.”

“Wow,” Mack said.

“This really needs to be updated,” Dylan said.

“Humans will live in the lap of luxury as robots cater to their every need,” the father continued. “And since our new metal friends will do all the cooking, cleaning and various and sundry house chores, there will no longer be a need for me to take off my belt and give your mother the old coupe de grace across the backside for fetching my dinner late.”

Timmy’s tiny hand patted a stuffed dog on the head. “I hope they’ll have dogs in the future.”

“Oh don’t worry, Timmy,” Papa said. “Women will always treat men like dogs. Sure, they’re happy to spend all your money on geegaws, knick knacks and useless folderol. You try your best to be nice but they won’t stop giving the milkman the old ‘come hither’ look. And while men are slaving away at the salt mines, women are stuffing their pie holes with bonbons, watching soap operas and doing anything but ironing your shirt. Doesn’t a hard working man deserve a crisp, starched shirt, Timmy? Is that too much to ask? For Christ’s sake, these hairy arm pitted, bra burning women’s libbers will be the death of us all.”
The conveyor belt moved, taking the crowd further down the hallway.

“Mack?” Dylan asked.

“Yeah?”

“Is my father like that?”

Mack sighed.

“I don’t know what to tell you here, buddy.”

“It’s cool dawg,” Dylan said. “As Stank Daddy would say, ‘On these mean streets, the only thing a hustler’s got is his tech-nine and the truth.”

“God I wish you’d read a book or something,” Mack said.

“Well?” Dylan asked.

“No,” Mack said. “He’s not beating your mother up with a belt over a later dinner or anything but…”

“What?” Dylan asked.

“There are rules to this, kid,” Mack said. “The adults aren’t supposed to bad mouth each other in front of the kids.”

“There’s nothing you can’t tell me that I haven’t seen on the Internet since I was just a lil’ shawty,” Dylan said.

“Damn Internet,” Mack said. “OK, fine. Your Dad ran off but instead of divorcing your mother, he keeps stringing her along, telling her he’ll come back any minute as soon as he quote unquote ‘finds himself’ but he’s not really doing any deep, meaningful soul searching at all. He’s just bilking her for as much money as he can until she calls it quits.”

“Whoa,” Dylan said. “Sorry I asked.”

“Me too,” Mack said. “Stop rushing to become an adult. Believe me, by the time you become one, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“I ought to bust a cap in my pop’s ass,” Dylan said. “Bla-ka-ka-kat.”

“Do you know you’re a white kid from the suburbs?” Mack asked.

“Yeah, if you want to saddle me with the label that the man slaps on my ass just so I can fit the preconceived notions inside his cracker ass mind,” Dylan said. “But I self-identify as an OG. My ass is down with the gangsta set.”

“Whatever,” Mack said. “I’m not sure what to say about your father other than I’m sure he loves you in his own way. Some people just spend their lives looking for some kind of high from life without realizing what they have right in front of them.”

The conveyor belt stopped.

“We’re cool, though, right?” Dylan said.

Mack held out his fist. Dylan bumped it.

“Maybe,” Mack said. “Just try to self-identify as a kid that does his homework and gets good grades.”

“What?” Dylan asked. “A street hustler can’t also get good grades?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mack said. “I’m saying that you specifically don’t get good grades.”

“Check your privilege, bro,” Dylan replied.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Mack said.

“It’s cool,” Dylan said. “Just slap a trigger warning on unsafe speech like that next time.”

Mack sighed. “I need to remind myself to stop having conversations with people born before nineteen-ninety.”

A pair of double-doors opened and the crowd made its way into a room made up to look like a space craft.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” came the announcer’s voice. “The year is nineteen-ninety-five.…”

“Oh thank God,” Mack muttered.

“…as envisioned by people from nineteen sixty-five.”

“Damn it,” Mack said.

“Yes, thirty whole years into the future,” the announcer continued. “Please find your seats and buckle in, as your ride on the Shock Rocket is about to begin.”

Mack and Dylan strapped in to their seats. The other tourists buckled up. Down the row, a mother and father were struggling with their rambunctious seven-year old.

“Cody,” the father said. “Calm down. No! Get in your seat!”

“Why did you give him that soda?” the mother asked. “He’s going to be bouncing off the walls now.”

“I didn’t give it to him,” the father said. “He helped himself.”

“Well maybe you should set a better example and don’t drink sugary drinks in front of him,” the mother opined.

“Jesus Karen,” the father said. “I need it just to stay awake through all this bullshit. I can’t believe we wasted so much money on a park dedicated to a cartoon wombat where all the rides are from the sixties and they charge you four bucks for a lousy Funky Cola that probably, at best, has ten cents worth of soda syrup and water in it.”

“Fine,” Karen said. “Just bitch and moan your way through the whole vacation then, Norm.”

“Maybe I will,” Norm said. “Maybe we should have gone to Maui like I wanted to.”

“Like there’s anything for Cody to do in Maui,” Karen said.

“Oh please,” Norm replied. “This kid’s got a squirrel brain. You think he gets any of this? Put him on a beach with a bucket to make sand castles with and he’d be just as happy and you and I could be sunning ourselves and drinking fruity drinks with umbrellas in them.”

Dylan leaned over to whisper to his uncle. “Maybe its better for parents to get divorced than to end up like that?”

“Eh,” Mack said. “Put any two people together long enough and they’re bound to gripe at each other. The key is whether or not they keep coming back. I sense behind all that bickering, there’s a lot of love between those two.”

“Oh God,” Karen yelled. “My mother was right. I should have married Bob Kovach.”

“Oh here we go with the Bob Kovach routine,” Norm said.

“Bob Kovach owns a successful dry cleaning business,” Karen said. “Bob Kovach volunteers to read to at risk youth. Bob Kovach never has a snippy attitude.”

Norm sighed. “I only have a snippy attitude when you talk about Bob Kovach who, by the way, has one eye that’s way bigger than the other.”

“Its hardly noticeable,” Karen said.

“Hardly noticeable?” Norm asked. “The man looks like a walking science experiment.”

Mack looked at his nephew. “Then again, I suppose if all a couple ever does is fight then there’s not much of a point to keep it going.”

“For a dude who isn’t married, you sure know a lot about relationships,” Dylan said.

Mack scoffed. “Nah. Honestly, I’m just pulling this all out of my ass. I’m the last one to talk to about love.”

Dylan slapped his hands and rubbed them together as though he’d just caught a great big secret. “I knew it! You got a fly ass honey stashed somewhere.”

“Had,” Mack said.

“Oh,” Dylan said. “She take a walk?”

“That’s classified,” Mack said.

The young couple’s argument grew louder.

“Cody,” Karen shouted. “Give Mommy that soda so she can throw it out.”

“You’re going to throw away four bucks like I’m made of money?” Norm asked.

“When this thing starts up it will go everywhere,” Karen said.

“So what?” Norm said.

“So its common courtesy,” Karen said.

“Common my ass,” Norm replied. “For a hundred and sixty eight bucks a ticket, they can afford to clean up a spill.”

Karen looked exasperated. “Bob Kovach would back me up on this.”

“Aww Bob Kovach my ass,” Norm said.

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Top Ten Witch Pickup Lines

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Witches.

Oh those sexy practitioners of the dark arts.

Halloween is just around the corner, so if you’re looking to score a hot date with a fine ass witch, you best school yourself on these witch pickup lines, player:

#10 – “Bubble bubble, toil and trouble, damn girl, you make my heart burn and my pants bubble.”

PRO: It’s classy and Shakespearean.

CON: She might think you’re saying that she gives you heart burn as in acid reflux and not as in her setting your heart ablaze with passion.

#9 – “Hey baby, wanna ride my broomstick?”

PRO: Direct and to the point.

CON: This is a rather uncouth line and thus will only work on the most promiscuous witches with low morals.  Sure, they’ll rock your world but beware witch STDs. There’s no spell to get rid of that.

Not that I’d know.

No, I haven’t been scratching myself for the past three hours straight. Mind your business.

Also, she might get confused and tell you that she already owns a broomstick that provides her with adequate transportation, but thank you just the same.

#8 – “Wanna see my eye of newt?”

PRO: Again, little time wasted.

CON: She’ll be expecting an actual eyeball that you yanked off of a damn newt.  Is your love life really worth blinding a lizard? I think not.

FYI – Don’t use “eye of newt” as a euphemism for your junk. Whatever your pull out is going into her boiling pot.

#7 – “You cast a spell on me.”

PRO: Maybe she’ll think you’re clever and charming.

CON: She might also take it as a challenge and turn you into a damn toad. Ribbit, ribbit. Enjoy those flies, bitch.

#6 – “That is the sexiest pointy hat with a damn belt buckle I have ever seen.”

PRO: She’ll appreciate that you realize she’s been practicing witchcraft since colonial times.

CON: She’s going to keep wearing that hat no matter what and the point is going to flop around all over the place while you two dance the horizontal cha cha.

Then again, some freaks are into that sort of thing.

#5 – “I’m keen on the green.”

PRO: You’ll make her realize that her being the color of grass, broccoli and Kermit doesn’t matter to you.

CON:  Whatever part of you that touches her will turn green, so uh…you know, keep that in mind if you’re cheating on your vampire girlfriend with a witch.

#4 – “Damn baby, I gots to make my magic wand disappear.”

PRO: She’ll be glad you share her interest in magic.

CON: She may be turned off by the double entendre and use her power to uh…actually make it disappear.

#3 – “Witch betta have my money.”

PRO: She might be a Rihanna fan and appreciate the reference.

CON: You basically just called her a witch hooker, which may or may not be true but still, discretion dude.

#2 – “Move, witch! Get out the way!”

PRO: She might be a Ludacris fan and appreciate the reference.

CON: She might get out of your way, then never come back.

#1 – “Which witch is which?”

PRO: Good to use on a group of witches. May lead to a witch threesome.

CON: They might just politely answer your question by telling you the names of each witch in the group and then dismiss you.

Do you have a good pickup line to use on a witch?

Share it in the comments.

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#31ZombieAuthors Rewind – Day 9 – Devan Sagliani – Bringing Zombies to the Big Screen

With Your Host: Schecky Blargfeld, Zombie Comedian

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I was in a movie once.

Wait.  Come to think of it, it was more like a news report of a zombie outbreak.

Mmm was that cameraman delicious.

So scratch that. I have no info about the movie industry knowledge to share with you.

You should check out the interview BQB conducted with Devan Sagliani last year instead.

Devan talked about the screenplay he wrote for Humans vs. Zombies as well as his prolific career as a novelist.

Don’t forget to check out Devan’s latest works, including Zombie Attack, on Amazon.

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#31WaysToDefeataVampire – Way #9 – Powder

By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire

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“This is either a bountiful serving of booger sugar or my cousin Fred. I can’t tell.”

Bleh!

If you never watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, then allow me to bring you up to speed.

When you kill a vampire, said vamp turns into dust.

Thus, whenever we see powder of any kind, be it baking soda, flour, dust from your poorly kept home because you are lazy, or hell, even a line of coke, we immediately fear it may be one of our vampire friends.

So if you see a vampire coming, just toss some powder at them.  Keep some baby powder handy.  Its good for fooling a vampire into thinking you killed his best vampire friend, plus a good dousing of that stuff on your tushy once a day keeps the rashes at bay.

Have you ever defeated a vampire with baking soda? Discuss in the comments.

 

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Zomcation – Chapter 21

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At the Wombat World Zoo, Paige stood in front of the hyena enclosure and live streamed away on her tablet.

Soon, A.J. slowly rose up into the frame and sang, “Heather Haskill sucks….”

B.J. poked his head into the shot. “…Heather Haskill sucks…

Next came C.J. “…Heather Haskill sucks…”

Davey put his arm around Paige. “…Heather Haskill sucks!”

Then the boys wrapped up their tune with, “And Tommy doesn’t know what the hell-uh-ell he’s missing!”

Paige stopped the live stream. “OMG guys. Hashtag best song ever. Thank you.”

“No problem,” A.J. said.

“So Paige,” B.J. added. “Now that we’ve checked out the zoo and humiliated your ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend, what do you want to do next?”

“OMG,” Paige said. “So many options.”

“We could take you to lunch if you want,” C.J. said. “Only we’re not allowed to do anything but watch you eat.”

“You’re not allowed to eat?” Paige asked.

“Afraid not,” Davey said as he patted his flat stomach. “Diet soda and biweekly almonds only according to our contract. I almost got fired for eating candy this morning.”

“That’s terrible,” Paige said. “I had no idea you guys suffered so much.”

“Gotta do it for the fans,” A.J. said.

“No one’s going to scream and clap for a fatty,” B.J. noted.

Paige frowned. “Guys, I feel bad about something.”

“The video we just recorded to humiliate your enemies?” C.J. asked.

“No,” Paige said. “Wait…no. They both suck. No, at the concert this girl I just met gave me a seat and blah, blah, blah I’ll spare you the details but she was saving the seat in honor of her sister who died from cancer and now I feel bad for not letting her spend the day at Wombat World with you.”

The boys went quiet. They looked at each other, then at their new friend.

“Wow, Paige.” Davey said.

“That’s pretty low,” A.J. said.

“Despicable,” B.J said.

“Underhanded,” C.J. said.

Davey waited a few seconds then put his hand up in the air.

“What?” Paige asked.

“High five!” Davey said.

Paige slapped Davey’s hand.

“I don’t get it,” Paige said.

“Paigester,” Davey said. “How do you think we got where we are?”

“I don’t know,” Paige said. “Hard work, talent, and charisma?”

The boys doubled over with laughter.

“Oh…oh my God,” A.J. said.

“She’s serious!” B.J. said.

“Then how?” Paige asked.

“We slipped Boysplosion and Boyapalooza the old laxative special when they made it to the final round of America’s Hottest New Boy Band,” C.J. said.

“We won the gold,” Davey said.

“And they won the brown,” B.J. said.

“OMG,” Paige said.

“Mums the word, of course,” C.J. said.

“Oh right,” Paige said. “Of course. I won’t tell anyone. Hashtag totally mum. I just don’t know what to think of this.”

“The world only has so much room for so many winners, Paige,” Davey said. “And victory rarely comes wrapped in a neat, pretty bow.”

“Sometimes its messy,” A.J. said.

“Like two rival boy bands blasting ass all over a public restroom messy,” B.J. said.

“Still,” Paige said. “I feel awful.”

“What’s this girl’s name?” C.J. asked.

“Laura.”

“Call her up,” Davey said. “Invite her to join us.”

“Oh,” Paige said. “I’d love to but I didn’t get her number. I only talked to her for a few minutes. I didn’t even get her last name.”

A.J. took Paige’s tablet. “Funny thing about social media. It has a way of making a big world a whole lot smaller.”

The boys lined up behind Paige and looked at the tablet in A.J.’s hand.

“What are you guys doing?” Paige asked.

“If Laura’s on Lifebox,” B.J. said. “This will make its way to her.”

A.J. hit the record button and started a live stream. The boys snapped their fingers as if they had morphed into a 1950s doo-wop group.

They sang together.

“Whoa Laura, whoa Laura…Paige…she done you bad.”

Davey belted out an “Ooo…uh…ooo!”

“But Laura, whoa Laura, now Paige is so sad-uh-ad.”

A.J. launched into a solo. “Will you please join us before the day is over? As soon as you get this message, write to Paige and she’ll tell you where to come over.”

Davey was up. “A budding new friendship is too important to tear apart.”

“Hey guys,” C.J. sang as he looked at the hyena enclosure. “I think one of those hyenas just made a stinky fart.”

A.J. hit the stop button. “Dude! Stinky fart?!”

“What?” C.J. said. “You had a better word that rhymes with apart?”

“Cart, smart, art,” Davey said.

“Boys, boys,” Paige said. “Come on. Hashtag heartwarming. I hope she sees it.”

“In the meantime, Paigester,” Davey said. “No visit to Wombat World is complete without a ride on the Infernacoaster.”

“Infernacoaster?” Paige asked.

Davey put his arm around Paige again.

“Five hundred feet of steel, flaming hoops, and death metal,” Davey said.

“There’s a rumor that three kids have died on it over the years,” A.J. said.

“You have to sign a waiver absolving Carruthers Brothers Amalgamated Studios of all responsibility in case you drop dead from fright,” B.J. said.

“OMG,” Paige said. “I don’t know.”

“That’s just a formality,” C.J. said. “They do that just to cover their butts.

“We’ve been on it dozens of times,” Davey said. “It’s awesome.”

“Well,” Paige said as she looked around at each of the boys. “OK.”

A.J. burst into song. “Awesome…totally awesome. Paige is going on the Infern-oh-uh-oh Coaster.”

B.J. spotted a concession stand shaped like a giant wombat. He walked towards it. “Guys, I am parched. Wanna get a caffeine fix?”

“Sounds good to me,” C.J. said. “Paige, you want anything?”

“Oh,” Paige said. “No. This is embarrassing but my mom usually pays for everything.”

Everyone in line at the stand stepped aside as the boys approached.

“Stick with us, Paige,” Davey said as he bellied up to the counter. “And you’ll never wait in line or pay for anything.”

The sunburnt young man working the counter was surprised. “Wow! Boyz Aplenty.”

“Sup?” Davey said.

“I’ve heard all of your songs,” the worker said. “But only because my sister loves you guys and not because I’m gay or anything.”

“Not necessary to say, dude,” A.J. said.

“Our beats transcend all sexual predilections,” B.J. said.

“Four of your best diet colas, my good man,” C.J. said.

“And for the lady?” the worker asked.

Paige smiled. “I’ll just have a water.”

“Coming right up.”

The worker popped into the back of the stand, where he found a young female worker napping.

“Kelly!” the male worker said.

“Huh?” Kelly said as she perked up.

“Boyz Aplenty!”

“What about them, Eric?” Kelly asked.

“They’re here!” Eric said.

“So?” Kelly said. “They’re so overrated. Boytastic has a superior sound.”

“Whatever,” Eric said. “You were supposed to install a new syrup bag yesteday. We can’t serve the boys skunk fizz.”

“Alright, alright,” Kelly said as she opened up a cardboard box sitting on the counter. “Sheesh, if you love them so much why don’t you marry them?”

“Like I told them its not a gay love,” Eric said. “Its a love of their angelic voices combined with the way their carefully selected words speak to my soul….but I mean, when I overhear my sister playing them on her phone because I’d never listen to that shit myself.”

“Carruthers Brothers Amalgamated Studios owns like five hundred boy bands,” Kelly said as she unhooked an old, empty bag from the machine.

“They’re not worthy to rinse out Boyz Aplenty’s socks,” Eric said. “Again, so my sister tells me.”

“I don’t have time to psychoanalyze your boy band love,” Kelly said as she hoisted a bag full of brown, sticky soda syrup and attached it to the machine.

“Is that fresh?” Eric asked.

“Sure is,” Kelly said. “Delivered this morning.”

“Thank God,” Eric replied. “Those boys deserve the best.”

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