Daily Archives: December 7, 2016

Cover for BQB’s Upcoming Writing Prompts Book

I’m on the way to becoming a self-published author, 3.5 readers.

What do you think of the cover?


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Things That Really Frost My Ass – Uncle Hardass Recites Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” – Part 1

By: Uncle Hardass, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Grumpy Old Man Correspondent

cropped-shutterstock_159396938 copy

Hello degenerate 3.5 readers.

How are your unlikely writing careers going?

I overheard my idiot nephew Bookshelf Q. Battler saying the other day that you all participated in something called “NaNoWriMo” last month.

Interesting.  Let me do my best impression of the agent that you’ll submit your book to: “NANOWRI…NO!!!”

Get a job, clowns.  The salt mines are calling your name and all that salt isn’t going to mine itself.

In the meantime you useless wastes of space, I want to tell you all about a good man whose reputation is always unfairly trashed this time of year.

That would be one Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge.

You think he’s the bad day in Dickens’ classic?  “Bah humbug!” I say.

Let me lay it all out for you so you special snowflake twerps will understand:


If you haven’t read the book yet because you’re too busy working on your writing career (which will go nowhere) then I’ll tell you what happens.

Ebenezer Scrooge is the richest son of a bitch in London and he didn’t get there by writing books and reading stupid ass blogs, let me tell you.  No, he became wealthy through the sweat of his brow and the cut of his jib.

The man was a genius who worked his ass off, saved his money, then, as all rich ass futhermuckers do, he put his money to work for him by becoming a money lender.

Thus, because he’s so friggin’ smart and rich you’d think he’d be the hero of the story and everyone would want to emulate him but noooo.  Instead, every cheap ass, lazy ass do nothing assface in Jolly Old England comes knocking on Scrooge’s door to complain because they’re a bunch of jealous losers who wish they could be half as successful as this pillar of the community.

Do they pick Scrooge’s brain and ask him for tips on how to be successful?  Do they ask him for a job so they can learn the skills they need to make it in the world?

Nope.  They just bitch and moan about what a rich prick Scrooge is rather than look at themselves in the mirror and realize they have made poor life choices and they are failures and if they had an ounce of Scrooge’s work ethic, they wouldn’t be crying poor mouth all the time.

Anyway, so a couple of do gooder charity collectors knock on Scrooge’s door looking for the old man to part with his dough in the name of the less fortunate and Scrooge is all like, “Eat a dick, do gooders, those losers can go to the workhouse or the prison or some shit.”

So then the do gooders are all like, “But shit, yo, the poor people would rather die then do that.

And the Scrooge is all like, “Good then tell them to die, bitch, I ain’t got time for this shit I’m a hard ass working man, son.  Don’t let the door hit you in your do gooders asses on the way out.”

Later, Scrooge’s nephew comes by.  I don’t remember the cat’s name so we’ll just call him Fuckface McGee.  Young Fuckface is all like, “Uncle why don’t you come to my Christmas party!  I love Christmas and I’m all happy and shit!” and then Scrooge tells him, “Yeah, well you would be dick nuts since your parents worked hard and gave you all their cash so you can mince around like a pansy and rub your lack of a need to work in everyone’s face but some of us had to work for what he have so no, go lick a scrote because I don’t have time to go to your Christmas party.”

Then Scrooge’s man secretary Bob Cratchitt gets in Scrooge’s face and he’s all like, “Scrooge can I put some coal on the fire and can I get Christmas Day off?” and Scrooge is all like, “Damn it Cratchitt. Do I look like I’m made of coal?  Does coal just pop out of my ass?  No, that shit costs money.  And you want me to pay you to NOT work on Christmas?  What kind of pinko Commie Marxist bullshit is this?”

But then Scrooge feels bad even though he shouldn’t because let me tell you, that man could have put an ad in the paper for Cratchitt’s man secretary job and have fifty candidates lined up by the end of the week and none of them would want extra coal on the fire or want the day off for Christmas or any of that other crap.

Therefore, Scrooge was all like, “Yeah fine take Christmas off but get your ass here bright and early the next day because all of my important papers and records and shit aren’t going to write themselves, man secretary.”

After working a long ass day because he was such a hardworking man, Scrooge plops his old ass into bed only to hear some chains jingling.  He looks up to find the ghost of his old partner, Jacob Marley.

“Boo, bitch!” cries Marley to wit Scrooge replies, “Goddamn it, Marley!  I’m overworked and old as fuck!  Are you trying to give me a heart attack with your spooky white translucent ghost ass?!”


Just another hippy harassing a hard-working, self-made man.

“No, bitch!” Marley says.  “My ass got sent to Hell because we cheated so many people and  stole all their money and shit and now I’m here to warn you to be nicer and do some do gooder shit and give away all your money to lazy ass incompetent freeloaders who don’t do anything!”

And Scrooge says, “What?  Eff that in the A.  Trump won so I’m not going to do all that hippy shit!”

Marley jingled his chains and was like, “Booo!  Boo!  I’m a ghost and shit and I will leave you with a warning that three more ghosts will come to haunt you this evening!”

Then Scrooge rolled his eyes and said, “Damn it.  A hard working, successful man can’t get some sleep around here.”


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