Daily Archives: May 13, 2017

Toilet Gator – Chapter 42


Rusty perused the letter. “Little Mutumbo remembered your birthday.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Maude asked.

“Yup,” Cole said. “That kid’s thousands of miles away yet he’s like the family I never had.”

Rusty and Maude frowned in unison.

“What are we?” Rusty asked.

“Chopped liver?” Maude added.

“Fine,” Cole said. “He’s like the son I never had.”

Rusty reached across the table, seized one of Cole’s tater tots and popped it into his mouth. “Damn. Steve’s on his A-game tonight.”

“You knew Ruby Sue up and left this place to go see the world?” Cole asked.

“Sure did,” Rusty said.

“Everyone knew that,” Maude said.

“Not everyone,” Cole said. “I didn’t know.”

“Well,” Rusty said.

Maude reached over the table and patted Cole’s hand. “Sometimes you get stuck inside your head and don’t pay attention to the world, hon. It’s ok.”

Mindy stopped by the table. “New guests! What will y’all have?”

“It’s been a rough day,” Rusty said. “I deserve the full course barbecue chicken, ribs, pulled pork platter. All the sides.”

“All the sides?” Mindy asked.

“All of the sides,” Rusty said.

“And for you, ma’am?” Mindy asked.

“Oh,” Maude said. “I deserve the works too but I know I’ll be up all night on the toilet and rumor has it that can be hazardous for your health these days so I’ll just go with a nice bowl of the house soup.”
“Coming right up,” Mindy said as she walked away.

“Hazardous to your health?” Cole asked.

“Yes,” Maude said. “Kiddo, do you know that while you were out having yourself a good old time today, the world basically erupted into a fireball of shit?”

“Might have heard something about it on the television,” Cole said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Maude said. “Everyone and their Uncle is afraid to shit and they’re all calling the police station to ask when it will be safe to shit again…as if anyone actually knows.”

Cole stuffed a fork full of barbecue into his gob, chewed, and swallowed. “Why would anyone be afraid to take a shit?”

“Because there’s a psycho killing people who shit,” Maude said.

“So now everyone thinks they’re going to buy the farm on the bowl,” Rusty said. “I was at the college all day and at least three hundred kids asked me if it’s safe to shit. Honestly, I dodged the question because I didn’t think it was right to tell them it’s safe.”

“All these millennial kids were worried about finding a safe space free of opposing ideas,” Maude said. “Who knew they’d need to find a place where it’s safe to shit?”

“People are idiots,” Cole said. “I doubt the killer is after people just because they shit. He’d have to kill everyone in the world then. There must be some link between the victims.”

“Maybe,” Rusty said. “But you got to admit it, there’s no clear pattern. Most serial killers off people with a similar look or have something in common, some kind of trigger that reminds them of a person they disliked intensely.”

“Maybe the killer was once done wrong by someone who shits,” Maude said.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “But again, that’d be everyone. Everyone shits.”

“But again, other than the fact that they all were shitting the time of their untimely demises, there was nothing else that tied the three victims together,” Rusty said. “A pop star with a famous butt. An old, retired teacher. A dummy that was on his tenth year in pursuit of a two year degree. These people have nothing in common…except that they all shit.”

Cole took a sip of soda. “And everybody shits.”

“Everybody indeed shits,” Rusty said.

Cole was quiet for a moment while he dug into his food. “So Sharon has cracked the case yet?”

Rusty smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to last five minutes without asking about your Smoochy Poo.”

“Shut up,” Cole said.

“Mmm mmm,” Rusty said. “Kissy kissy, you still love her.”

Maude could tell this was not going to end well. “Enough, Rusty.”

“Cole and Sharon sitting in a tree…”

Bam! Cole’s fist pounded the table. “Shut up!”

“Whoa,” Rusty said as he held his hands out. “OK. Chill.”

“Stop picking the scab, Danny Bonaduce,” Maude said.

“Whatever,” Rusty said. “I meant no disrespect.”

Cole glared at Rusty.

“OK,” Rusty said. “I meant a slight, teeny, tiny amount of disrespect. But look, Cole, I gotta say it. This is the case of a lifetime, one that could give you and I a ticket to the big time and you are letting your personal shit with your ex-wife get in the way of pursuing your own glory.”

Ever so calmly, Cole put down his fork. He folded his hands, took a deep breathe and faced Rusty.

“Oh Lord,” Maude said.

“Go on,” Cole said.

“What?” Rusty asked.

“Explain to me, a mere peon, how you, an obviously very wise man, came to conclude that I am allowing, quote ‘my personal shit with my ex-wife get in the way of pursuing my own glory.’”

Rusty smirked. “Honestly, Cole I didn’t get this far in my mind. I thought you’d of thrown some kind of blunt object at me by now.”

Cole’s eyes traveled into the direction of his hands, reminding Rusty they were still folded. “Nope. No harm will come to you, Carrot Top.”

“OK,” Rusty said. “Look. We’ve been working hard all our lives, right?”

“True,” Cole said.

“And we don’t get as much appreciation as we deserve, do we?” Rusty asked.

“Not at all,” Cole replied.

“So,” Rusty said. “Sooner or later, this case is going to bust wide open. The man who killed all three people, including one celebrity, in one night within a two hour span, all while they were on the toilet, will be caught. Whoever does the catching is gonna be golden. That person is gonna be a guest on talk shows. They’re gonna have book deals, movie deals. The money and fame and accolades are going to pour in.”

“And you think that should be us?” Cole asked.

“Well,” Rusty said. “Better us than the woman that left you at the worst possible time of your life, don’t you think?”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“People will tell tales of our bravery long after we’re gone, Cole,” Rusty said. “Come on, man. You’re forty today. I’m gonna be forty this Fall. How many more years of excitement do we have left?”

“Excitement?” Cole asked.

“Oh boy,” Maude said. “Here it comes.”

Rusty winced. “Brace for the speech.”

“Let me tell you a little bit about excitement,” Cole said.

Rusty and Maude had heard this speech many times before. Rusty began it for Cole. “People always think it’s fine and dandy to be the hero…”

Cole was too busy being self-righteous to notice he was being mocked. “People always think it’s fine and dandy to be the hero but you know what being a hero gets you?”

“Nothing and nowhere fast,” Rusty said.

Cole pounded the table. “Nothing and nowhere fast! Like a moron, like an idiot, like a complete, stupid jackass, I ran into the house thinking I was going to be hailed as some kind of special, wonderful hero, the big man who saved the little girl from the evil killer dog but where’d it leave me?”

“No leg,” Rusty said.

“No wife,” Maude added.

“Without a leg,” Cole said. “And without a wife. For the past decade, I’ve been limping around like a lame gimp that should be put out to pasture and shot and my own wife was so disgusted by the idea of being with a one-legged man that she skipped town the second she found out about what happened to me. Sure, I got to be the big hero but all I got out of it was a ruined life.”

“Oh Cole,” Maude said.

“Buddy,” Rusty said. “You think your life is ruined?”

“Damn right it is,” Cole said. “Chief Haskell told me not to go in. He didn’t go in and he’s happily retired.”

“He’s not that happy,” Rusty said. “Lost a bunch of money on Borders stock. Poor old bastard had to take a part-time job as a Price Town greeter. Hell, it’s been so long I can’t remember who gave him that bad stock tip but whoever it was, that guy was a real horse’s ass.”

“Whatever,” Cole said. “He’s fine. And he’s got both legs. And you. You and your friggin’ Jessica Chastain hair. You’ve got both legs. You’re out with a different girl every night.”

“And none of them have dicks,” Rusty said. “Contrary to popular opinion.”

“The point is that you and the Chief played it smart and your lives are fine now,” Cole said. “Me? I had to go and be the big hero and where’d it get me? A fucking fake leg I have to take off when I go to sleep every night. That’s why I keep my head down. I lay low. I don’t rock the boat. I don’t cause any trouble. I don’t have much left, but I don’t intend to lose it on any more hero bullshit. Being the hero is not all that it’s cracked up to me, believe me.”

“Cole,” Rusty said. “You really believe that?”

Mindy interrupted with a bowl of soup for Maude and a big ass plate for Rusty. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” Rusty said. “We’re fine.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Rusty said.

Cole resumed the conversation. “Yeah, I really do believe that. My life ended when I was thirty and I’ve felt like a zombie ever since, just going through the motions and for what? To save some little kid who, let’s face, probably grew up to become a degenerate scumbag like his old man.”

Rusty gasped. “Cole Walker! You take that back right now.”

“I won’t,” Cole said. “You know how the world works just as well as I do. If you’re born into shit, the world will never allow you to become anything other than shit no matter how hard you try. I’m sure that little girl tried her best but she probably became a drug fiend like Wade.”

Rusty pointed at Mindy, who was standing across the room, taking an order from another table. “Maude’s right, Cole. You really don’t pay attention to anything that’s going on around you, do you?”

“What?” Cole asked.

“Do you have any idea who that is?” Rusty asked.

“Who?” Cole asked.

“That waitress,” Rusty said.

“I dunno,” Cole said. “Mindy. Ruby Sue’s niece. What about her?”

Rusty looked around, then leaned over the table and whispered. “She’s Molly Randolph.”

Cole contorted his face in every different direction it could possibly go in. “What?”

“It’s true,” Rusty said.

“Bullshit,” Cole said.

“No word of a lie,” Rusty said.

“She said her name is Mindy,” Cole said.

“Pretty close to Molly, isn’t it?” Rusty asked. “She changed her name so her old man wouldn’t find her. She got herself out of that life, got some help from her Aunt Ruby Sue.”

“No,” Cole said. “No. I shot the shit with Ruby Sue for years and never once did she ever mention any of this to me.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Rusty asked. “The woman was probably embarrassed that her no good brother-in-law turned a pit bull lose that went and bit your damn leg off.”

Cole looked like he’d just been run over by a freight train. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He watched Mindy as she brought a tray of drinks to another table. “So you’re telling me that’s…

“The little girl you saved,” Rusty said. “All grown up and pretty as a picture.”

Cole breathed deeply.

“Still think you wasted your life by being the hero?” Rusty asked.

Cole winced. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know,” Rusty said. “Well, Mr. Doubting Thomas, let me tell you this now. She’s just waiting tables here for the summer to save up some money because she’s going to Harvard this fall.”

“Harvard?” Cole asked.
“Pre-med,” Rusty said. “The girl has her heart set on becoming a big time doctor. She’s going to volunteer to work for Doctors without Borders and everything. Hell, some day she might give a shot to little Mutumbo.”

A tear trickled out of Cole’s eye. “Little Mutumbo?”

“Yeah,” Rusty said. “She’s going to save Little Mutumbo’s life and not just that, I bet throughout her career, she will save the lives of thousands of Little Mutumbos and you know what?”

“What?” Cole asked.

“Every Little Mutumbo that girl right there saves will be because of you,” Rusty said. “It’s all about the Butterfly Effect, man.”

“The Butterfly Effect?” Cole asked.

“Hell yes,” Rusty said. “A butterfly beats his wings. His wings hit the water, causing a reverberation that causes a fish to shit on a frog and the frog jumps out of the water and then the frog jumps on some little kid’s head and that kid gets so pissed off at the frog that he stops playing outside and goes to the library and reads a book and becomes a genius and the next thing you know that kid grows up and becomes the best President of the United States ever, the one that heals the nation and the planet and saves the world and gets everyone to hold hands and sway back and forth while they sing kum-bai-fucking-yah! That makes sense, doesn’t it Maude?”

Maude blew on her spoon. “This soup is way too hot.”

“OK Maude checked out,” Rusty said. “What about you, Cole. You get it?”

“I saved Molly,” Cole said. “Molly will save a bunch of Little Mutumbos. Many of those Little Mutumbos will go on to save the world so…”

“It’s literally like you have already save the world thousands of times over and over again,” Rusty said.

Cole leapt to his feet and smiled. “Hot damn!”

Rusty jumped up. The two buddies embraced in a bear hug.

“So can we will you stop all of this mopey shit and go take your balls back from the hypothetical mason jar and become a couple of big time heroes?” Rusty asked.

“You better believe it!” Cole shouted as he let go of Rusty. “I’ll be in the car.”

“Oh,” Rusty said. “I hadn’t finished eating yet but ok…maybe I can get this to go.”

Cole walked over to Mindy. Without warning, he wrapped the young woman up in his arms and picked her up off the ground.

“Whoa!” Mindy said. “What was that for?”

“For you,” Cole said. “Just for being you.”

Cole opened his wallet and counted out a series of twenty dollar bills. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty…one hundred.”

He tucked them into Mindy’s hand. “I’m sorry. That’s all I’ve got right now.”

“What’s this for?” Mindy asked.

Tears poured down over Cole’s face as he proudly declared. “For Little Mutumbo. For all the Little Mutumbos of the world.”

Cole walked out of the diner. Rusty motioned for Mindy to come over. “Hey, can I get a box for all this?”

“Sure,” Mindy said. “Least I can do since your friend’s such a generous tipper.”

“Oh,” Maude said. “He was just so happy to hear you’re going to school this fall.”

“Wow,” Mindy said. “Word sure gets around this little town fast, though I didn’t think SCC was that big of a deal.”

“SCC?” Maude asked.

“Sitwell Community College,” Mindy said. “I was thinking about majoring in Gender Studies. I hear that’s a very versatile major that can open doors to me in a variety of high paid fields. I’ll go get your box.”

Mindy walked into the kitchen. Maude fired off an icy stare at Rusty. “SCC?”

“OK,” Rusty said. “That girl may or may not be Molly Randolph.”

“I’m going to guess she’s not,” Maude said. “And the real Molly Randolph?”

Rusty hesitated, fearful of Maude’s reaction. “She may or may not be a meth addict stripper at Big Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags.”

The redhead winced in preparation of a jarring whack upside the head, which the old lady indeed delivered. “Pig!”

“What?” Rusty said.

“How do you know this?” Maude said.

“I may or may not have been getting lap dances from her for the past three months,” Rusty said.
Maude whacked Rusty upside the head again.

“What?” Rusty asked. “It gets lonely in the champagne room! People talk!”

Maude glared at Rusty in a disapproving manner.

“What?” Rusty asked yet again. “She’s eighteen! It’s totally legit!”

“You make me sick,” Maude said. “You lied to your best friend.”

“I helped my best friend,” Rusty said.

“With a lie,” Maude said.

“With a helpful lie,” Rusty said. “And it wasn’t a total lie. The Butterfly Effect chain reaction that Cole started when he sacrificed his leg ten years ago has given me many hours of pleasure today because seriously, Chastity is the only bit of talent that Big Ray’s got in that joint.”

“Chastity?” Maude asked.

“Molly’s stripper name,” Rusty proudly declared. “She told me her real name because she likes me. Strippers don’t do that for just anyone you know.”

Maude shook her head and stood up. “I have to go ask Mindy to give Cole’s hundred back.”

Rusty looked aghast. “That ship has sailed, Maude.”


Rusty put his hands on Maude’s shoulders. “Look at me, Maude. Once you start tugging on the thread of a lie, you’re going to eventually unravel the whole thing. Unless you want Cole to return to being a sorry sad sack, you’re going to have to choke this one down and realize that hundo belongs to the Sitwell Community College Gender Studies Department now.”

“But it’s a useless major,” Maude said as she picked up her oxygen tank. “Do you hear me? A useless major!”

“Maude,” Rusty said. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m sure there are many fine professions that a gender studies degree would be applicable to.”

“She’ll be lucky to shake her tits next to Chastity!” Maude said.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rusty said.

Maude stormed off.

“Where are you going?” Rusty asked.
“Somewhere where I don’t have to look at your stupid dayglo red head,” Maude said as she slammed the restaurant’s front door behind her.

Rusty sat down and waited patiently until Mindy returned.

“Your box,” Mindy said as she handed Rusty a styrofoam container.

“Why thank you,” Rusty said as he looked up at Mindy longingly. “I do so like it whenever a woman brings me a nice…box.”

Mindy stepped back. “Ew.”

“What?” Rusty asked.

Mindy walked away. “Not happening, Conan O’Brien.”

Tagged , , , ,

2 Broke Girls Cancelled – Is this the End of Politically Incorrect Comedy?


Dry my tears, 3.5 readers.  Another one of my faves has been slapped onto the chopping block.

For the past six years, Max and Caroline (Kat Dennings and Beth Behrs) have been living a modern day Cinderella story, full of epic crudeness, disgusting-ness, all around raunchiness and epic debauchery.

The show was so bad that it was good.  I think the writers and cast even realized it.  The jokes weren’t just crowbarred in.  They were shoved down your throat with a plumber’s helper.

It was insensitive and super politically incorrect in a time when political correctness matters more than ever.

Gay people on the show weren’t just portrayed as gay but super flamboyant “Hey girl” lisping gay.

The girls’ boss, Asian diner owner Han Lee (Matthew Moy) was ridiculed about his height  (or lack thereof) by the girls to no end.

Hipsters were routinely dumped on.  Shameless trend followers were pooped on with reckless abandon.

In short, the show dove head first into every stereotype imaginable and yet, they managed to pull it off with a, “We’re sorry for doing this, but we really do love everyone and think everyone should get an equal shot at success in this crazy world” kind of vibe.

Comedy, and sitcoms especially,  unfortunately have a habit of reducing people to stereotypes.  It’s not always fair or even right but what else can you expect when there’s only twenty minutes (figuring for commercials) to tell a tale?

Max was born poor.  Caroline was born rich only to lose everything and for six years, Max served as Caroline’s friend and life coach, teaching her how to get by on nothing – literally nothing.

It’s a story young adults could jive with, especially in the post 2008 economy.  You thought you were going to get a big shot job and make a million dollars?  So did Caroline.  Sorry.  Those jobs don’t exist anymore.  Go grab an apron.  You’re a waitress now and no one cares if you have a fancy college degree.  It will look nice on your wall as you struggle to pay back the loan for it until the end of time.

And sure, all the characters on the show were stereotypical cookie cutter cartoon characters.  Oleg the cook was an unapologetic pervert.  Sophie the next door neighbor was built like a linebacker yet told the whole world she was hot and you were not.  Earl the cashier would occasionally pipe in with sassy jokes.

But the girls were cartoon characters too.  Max was a big boobed hustler who reviled in her ability to get men to do her bidding with the power of her boobs.  Caroline would walk around in her pearls as if this whole poverty thing was a setback and she’d be back to living the high life in no time.

I guess the point I’m making is that the girls lived in Brooklyn, a melting pot if there ever was one.  On there quest to become cupcake baking tycoons, they suffered all manner of mistreatment and setbacks but along the way, they made friends with people from all sorts of diverse backgrounds and walks of life.

Yes, everyone was reduced to being a cartoon character because that’s all the sitcom style allows for, but Max and Caroline, for all of their faults, stuck up for people.  Yes they made fun of people, but the people they made fun of would often turn the tables on them.

The moral of the story was that these girls were two wide-eyed dreamers who thought the world should go their way…and sometimes they’d crap on people in their way…and sometimes it would be fun to watch as the crapped on people crapped back on them…these were often people who had suffered more than they had and were willing to let them know that the world isn’t designed to go their way.

Yes, they ridiculed Han without mercy…but yes, they’d also bitch slap you if YOU made fun of him.  Han was like their brother.  They teased them out of love.

Although yeah, at times, I suppose it did come across as just two super hot, stuck up bitches dumping all over an Asian immigrant who was just trying to make a living.

At any rate, when the girls would get out of line, they would be reigned in.  Han used his wits to give them their comeuppance many, many times, often with hilarious results.

To be honest, I have no idea why this show was cancelled.  Maybe it was ratings.  Maybe it was business.

All I know is I invested six years into this show, wondering if the girls would ever become un-broke.  The show would always end with a running tally of how much the girls had saved on their quest to not be broke anymore.  They need to come up with some sort of resolution, as I deserve to know whether or not they become un-broke.

Recently, I also lamented the cancellation of Last Man Standing, another show that, while much, much, much more reserved than 2 Broke Girls, did not fit the PC mold.

Political correctness and comedy.  Comedy and political correctness.  They go together like oil and water.

No one wants to hurt another’s feelings but at the same time, if we all continue to walk around on pins and needles, we may never laugh again.  

2 Broke Girls offered a different approach.  If the stuck up former rich girl makes fun of you, make fun of her back!  Sometimes the most satisfying part of the show came when Caroline thought she’d gotten away with a diss on Han only for Han to turn around and say something in a completely cool, collected manner that would totally wreck her day.

Yes, we should always be nice to each other and not assume the worst of people based on whatever group they are in.  But at the same time, laughter is important and if we keep taking the bite out of laughter, then comedy is going to quickly go out of style.

I’m convinced that by 2050, the world will have become so politically correct that SNL will be nothing but an improv troupe coming out on the stage every week to recite the “Why did the chicken cross the road?” joke a hundred times, followed by a half-hour apology to chickens everywhere and people who are offended by chicken jokes.

Tagged , , , , , ,

Things that Really Frost My Ass – A Message to the Class of 2017 from Your Graduation Speaker, Uncle Hardass


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

Dun da dun dun dun…ok, that’s enough.  Cut it.  Cut the music!  Everybody sit down and shut your filthy sewer holes!  I’m a busy man.  Time is money and you people are not worth my time.  Let’s get this bullshit dog and pony show that you all think is so important now but none of you will be able to remember a damn thing about it in twenty years over with.

Class of 2017, it’s your Grumpy Uncle Hardass, here with some words of wisdom that you won’t listen to because you all think you’re hot shits who know everything even though what you don’t know could fill that government warehouse in Indiana Jones where the Feds keep all of the mysterious shit they don’t want the world to know about.

Here is, in no particular order, the top five pieces of advice I have for you.  Take it or leave it.  If you don’t want to take it, it’s no sweat off of my wrinkly old sack, I’ll tell you that.

#1 – Get Jobs

Immediately.  Right now.  Seriously, why are you idiots standing around in the hot sun wearing heavy robes like a bunch of dumb asses.  You could have spent the time you’re spending today on patting each other on the back on making money.

Always make money, kids.  Always make money.  At all times.  No matter what you are doing.  Have a day job.  Have a night job.  Have side jobs to do when you can steal five minutes away from you day and night jobs.

Have a job while you are sleeping.  Don’t just sleep at home.  Sleep in a lab where scientists want to pay you to study you sleep patterns.

Don’t eat breakfast for free.  Get paid by a cereal company to eat their latest cereal, then fill out a report about what gastrointestinal distress it caused you.

Don’t shit for free.  There’s a scientist somewhere who wants to study your shit.

Are you having sex for free like a bunch of idiots?  Why, when the prostitution market has never been better.  Beer and hookers.  The two products that everyone will need, and even more so when the economy tanks.  When people are out of work, they get depressed…and they need hookers.

And I’m not just talking to the women.  Men, don’t be too proud to sell your bodies for cents on the dollar.  What, you think your old Uncle Hardass never engaged in unpleasant activities just to make ends meet?

Actually, go on thinking that.  I have a reputation to uphold.

#4 – Always Carry Rubbers

You are all very ugly and I can’t imagine anyone would ever want to see any of you naked.  Frankly, I feel like I’m going to be sick and you’re all covered from head to toe in long black gowns.

Even so, you never know when someone will take pity on one of you uggos and want to get freaky.  Do you want that to happen while you don’t have protection?  I think not.

Back in my day, the worst that would happen if you had unprotected sex is you’d get itchy until the doctor would shoot you up with penicillin.  Or worst case scenario, you get a kid that you can browbeat the shit out of until it grows up and gives up all of its dreams and joins you in working in the salt mines.

Today, there are exotic sex diseases that will turn your organs into liquefied shit.  I don’t care how ugly you are and how attractive your partner is.  Ain’t no one got time for that.

Honestly, you should control yourselves and wait for marriage but if you can’t control yourself, then be sure to bag it before you tag it.

#3 – Save Your Money

A fool and his money are soon parted.  However, a penny saved is a penny earned.  Put your pennies in a bank and your interest will grow and compound.  When a rainy day comes, you’ll be surprised at how much your pennies have grown.  It’s as if your pennies have been fucking all this time, getting each other pregnant and giving birth to new pennies who would, in turn, fuck and make more pennies.  While you were out busy living your life, your pennies were having a Caligula-like Roman orgy and now that you’re older, you can reap the benefits of all that hardcore penny fucking.

So save your pennies, because if you spend your pennies on frivolous shit, then your pennies are just going to fuck for some other asshole’s benefit.  You don’t want that.  You want your pennies fucking for you.

#2 – Fart Often

Life is too short to pretend like we all don’t have to fart.  Stop holding them in.  Let them out…right now…then wave the stench in the direction of all of these lowlife college administrators who keep tacking extra charges to your tuition to fund all kinds of frivolous bullshit even though we all know that the degrees you are about to receive have never been more meaningless and though you’re all convinced you’re about to become great captains of industry, you will all most likely go home and ride Mom and Dad’s couch until the end of time.

So, you might as well be happy and fart.

#1 – Don’t Become Bloggers

Seriously.  Don’t do it.  My lousy, incompetent, good for nothing nephew, Bookshelf Q. Battler, has been blogging for literally 3.5 years now and all he has to show for it is a lousy 3.5 readers.

You want to be a writer?  Good for you.  Knock knock.  Who’s there?  The world.  We do not give a shit what you have to say.  We all have our own problems.

There are more productive ways to spend your time, like clipping your toe nails and waxing your bikini zone.

Your Advice

Do you have advice for the Class of 2017?  Share it in the comments.

Tagged , , , , , , ,

The Real McCoy – Do What You Were Meant to Do…NOW!

By:  Leo McCoy, The Man Who Once Delivered a Sandwich to James Van Der Beek


Hello 3.5 readers.

Leo “The Real” McCoy here, back once more to bring this pitiful blog some much needed pizzazz, ambience, and an overall joie de vivre.  That’s some classy French talk I heard some fancy lady say once.  Impressed?  Yeah, I thought so.

Look at you people, going to your jobs, saving your pennies, day dreaming about your goals and aspirations.  You know what I call you people?  Slackers!  Utter failures!  Losers!

Sorry, but someone had to say it and we all know Bookshelf Q. Battler wasn’t going to.  “Oh I’m BQB and I love my 3.5 readers!”  Bleh.  Gag me with a slightly moist argyle sock worn a regular basis by an eighty-nine year old man.

You know I think you’re all chumps?  Because you should have accomplished your life’s work by now.  Stop working towards something and just do that something already.  The earlier the better.

Seriously.  Who knows for sure how much time we have?  You’ve got to treat every day like it’s your last and that means you have to achieve what you have been dreaming of TODAY. Not tomorrow.  Not next week.  Not next year.  TODAY!

Once you achieve what you’re after, you’ll be living on easy street.  Doesn’t matter how poor you are, how downtrodden you are, how crappy your life becomes.  You can hold your head up high and be happy because you did what you needed to do.  You achieved your life’s purpose and so you can now coast for the rest of your life.

But I get it.  Not everyone can be as lucky as me, Leo “The Real McCoy.  Not everyone gets the opportunity, at age 19, to deliver a reuben sandwich, a bag of barbecue chips and a bottle of Dr. Pepper to their idol, one Mr. James Van Der Beek, star of the late 1990s WB hit sensation, Dawson’s Creek.

The Beek on the Creek.  Wow.  I remember that day like it was yesterday.  “Sir, here’s your order and might I say that when I look at you, it’s like I’m staring at the visage of a Greek god who was cast out of Mount Olympus and forced to mingle with us mere mortals for a time.”

His reply?  “Thank you.  Keep the change and go away please.”

Yes.  Go away, I did.  And at that young age, my life was complete.  I didn’t need to go to college, or become a doctor or a lawyer or get married or have kids or get a real job or quote unquote, “do something meaningful and productive with my life.”

Why?  Because before I reached age 20, I did what God intended me to do.  God put me on this planet to make sure that James Van Der Beek would not go hungry or thirsty on one day in particular so he could concentrate on entertaining the viewers of the Creek.

Twenty years later, I’m proud to say I did what you wanted me to do God.  I did all that you intended for me to do.  I’m so proud of myself for doing it.  In fact God, I’d love it if you could let me stay alive and well on this planet for at least another sixty some odd years or so, just so I can inspire others to reach their full potential and do what you put them here to do by regaling them with my inspiration tale of how I delivered James Van Der Beek his lunch.

What’s your sandwich, 3.5 readers?  Who is your James Van Der Beek?  What are you supposed to do?  Figure out why God put you here.  Determine what God was thinking when he put you here.  When he put me here, he said, “I need Leo ‘The Real’ McCoy to exist so that one day James Van Der Beek will not be hungry or parched.”  That’s what God say when he made me.

What did God say when he made you?  You don’t want to disappoint God, 3.5 readers.  When you get to the pearly gates and God asks, “Hey, did you do that thing you were supposed to do?”  You don’t want to throw God all kinds of lame excuses.  You don’t want to be all like, “No, sorry God, I was too busy playing Madden football on my X-Station or whatever it’s called.”

“Sorry God.  I didn’t reach my full potential because I was too busy feeding my cat, brushing my hair, eating tacos, braiding my toe hair, washing my testicles with a scrub brush, sleeping in late because my alarm broke and oh yeah I just didn’t give a shit because I was filled with massive amounts of ennui despite the wonderful, miraculous gift of life you gave me so uh, yeah I’ll just be in the corner now and you’ll have to make another person to do the shit that I was supposed to do.  Thanks.”

That was my impression of you.  That’s what you’ll sound like if you don’t get up off your butt and do what you’re supposed to do.

Think I’m worried about meeting God?  No.  When I meet him I can say, “No sweet, G-man.  Remember way back in 1998 when James Van Der Beek was hungry and thirsty?  I had it covered so uh, let me into heaven, man.  I want to check the scene, maybe tip back a few cold ones with Abraham Lincoln and snort some lines off of Marilyn Monroe’s knockers.”

Well.  Maybe I won’t mention that last part.  I mean, it’s Heaven so technically you ought to get to do what you want but, I’m pretty sure Heaven Marilyn is clean and sober now.

In conclusion, stop wasting time!  Go do what you were meant to do right now…like, RIGHT FREAKING NOW!

You’ll be so glad once you get it done because as soon as you do whatever it is, then you can just totally flog the monkey and watch cartoons and drink brewskis and eat nacho cheese chips for like the next 50-60 years.  Totally sweet.

Good luck doing what you are supposed to do, 3.5 readers and oh, if you see BQB, give him a kick in the old stink berries for me, Leo “The Real” McCoy.

You’re welcome for this amazing advice that you clearly do not deserve.

Tagged , , , ,