Monthly Archives: June 2017

Mark Twain on Zombies – Part 5

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The Mississippi Rive will always have its own way; no engineering skill can persuade it to do otherwise.  Zombies are equally stubborn and foolhardy.  Only a ball peen hammer applied liberally to their rotting craniums can persuade them to do anything else but eat your brain.

In the beginning of a change the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned.  When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.  In like fashion, few men are made of the stern stuff necessary to attack a marauding zombie head on.  Instead, they cower in corners, concerned only with their personal safety.  Once a man of great bravery steps up and murders all impending zombies in the vicinity, then, and only then, will a sniveling reprobate remove himself from his corner of cowardice and boldly declare, “I supported zombie killing this entire time!”

None of us can have as many virtues as the fountain-pen, or half its cussedness; but we can try.  A fountain-pen can help a man translate his thoughts onto the page and also, it works well when plunged into the brain of a zombie.

Zeal and sincerity can carry a new religion further than any other missionary except fire and sword.  Fire and swords are also good weapons against filthy zombies.  I’ve always found that if a zombie won’t burn, it’s best to chop its vile head off with a sword.  Don’t forget to plunge the sword in the beast’s brain for good measure.

 

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Mark Twain on Zombies – Part 4

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Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.  Whenever you find yourself on the side of a zombie, it is time to jam a sharp object into its ear canal, as that is the quickest way to destroy its brain before it eats yours.

If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything…except to stay away from zombies.  Always remember to stay away from zombies.  Write a note that says, “STAY AWAY FROM ZOMBIES!” and pin it to your shirt collar if need be, but in any event, dear reader, do stay away from zombies.

I have never let my schooling about zombie anatomy interfere with my education of zombie slaying tactics.

Total abstinence is so excellent a thing that it cannot be carried to too great an extent.  In my passion for it I even carry it so far as to totally abstain from total abstinence itself.  Hell, sometimes the only way a man can come down off a high after spending a night’s worth of vigorous zombie fighting is to get all up in some Mississippi boo-tay.

What ought to be done to the man who invented the celebrating of anniversaries? Mere killing would be too light. It is doubtful that would even be effective as most likely this man would revert to the undead state of a wretched zombie.  Anniversaries are very well up to a certain point, while one’s babies are in the process of growing up: they are joy-flags that make gay the road and prove progress; and one looks down the fluttering rank with pride. Then presently one notices that the flagstaffs are in process of a mysterious change of some sort–change of shape. Yes, they are turning into milestones. They are marking something lost now, not gained. From that time on it were best to suppress taking notice of anniversaries, especially the anniversary of the first time you ever witnessed a close friend getting his brains devoured by a zombie.  No one needs to remember that shit.

To ask a doctor or builder or sculptor for his autograph would be in no way rude. To ask one of those for a specimen of his work, however, is quite another thing, and the request might be justifiably refused. It would never be fair to ask a doctor for one of his corpses to remember him by, seeing as how that corpse is likely to turn into a zombie, leaving you with no choice but to make an utter shambles of the doctor’s office when you bash the zombies brains in using little more than the closest blunt objects in your general vicinity.

I don’t like this thing of being stripped naked & washed. I like to be stripped & warmed at the stove–that is real bully–but I do despise this washing business. I believe it to be a gratuitous & unnecessary piece of meanness. I never see them wash the cat.  However, I wash myself anyway, for many medical doctors in good standing with the board of medicine have assured me that regular baths are the only way to rid one’s self of the various germs that can infect a man with a zombifying virus.  Wash your bum or become an abomination, as my old spinster aunt used to say, and she wasn’t kidding.

There’s nobody for me to attack in this matter even with soft and gentle ridicule–and I shouldn’t ever think of using a grown up weapon in this kind of a nursery. Above all, I couldn’t venture to attack the clergymen whom you mention, for I have their habits and live in the same glass house which they are occupying. I am always reading immoral books on the sly, and then selfishly trying to prevent other people from having the same wicked good time.  In summation, good readers, I can only assume that my most revered book, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, has been banned from your local lending library as it contains a wealth of information vis a vis anti-zombie warfare.  Also, it features use of the “N” word like 9,454 times.

Among human beings jealousy ranks distinctly as a weakness; a trademark of small minds; a property of all small minds, yet a property which even the smallest is ashamed of; and when accused of its possession will lyingly deny it and resent the accusation as an insult.  Jealousy can even be found among dirty disgusting zombies.  Why, I have seen many a zombie pick a fight with an associate zombie over the size of a pilfered brain,

 

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 105

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Rung…nung…nung…

Cole focused all of his attention on getting the chainsaw started. He yanked furiously on the starter cord. Occasionally, this would give the saw a little jolt. It was brand new, but it was wet, so it would sputter for a bit then shut down again.

“Come on!” Cole shouted as he yanked the starter cord. “Start, damn you!”

FOOM!

Cole looked up to see a missile shoot out of Felix’s Javelin, up into the school and then ever so gracefully, it locked onto the toilet gator, following the beast as it moved through the water until….KABOOM! There was an all consuming fireball, followed by a twenty foot wall of water that rose up into the air before quickly dissipating.

Felix gave a “thumbs up” sign to Cole. Cole looked around, searching for any signs of gator life.

“Did you get him?” Cole asked.

“Errm,” Felix replied.

One by one, members of the gang poked their heads over the side of the roof. Walter had never stopped filming and caught superb footage of the explosion.

Cole looked at Sharon. “Do you see him?”

Sharon struggled to look through the rain at the flooded street below. “I don’t see anything.”

Rusty threw up his hands and cried, “Woo! Victory baby! Time to go home and crack open some frosty brews!”

Cole grabbed the paddle and moved the canoe a few feet towards where the explosion had occurred moments earlier.

“Something isn’t right,” Cole said.

“You think so?” Sharon shouted out.

“That was just way too…easy.”

“You’re over thinking it, bro!” Rusty hollered. “That sucker’s dead, ya hear? Deader than the night life in Amish country, he’s deader than Elvis!”

“I don’t know,” Cole said.

“Forget about it!” Rusty yelled. “Let’s go kick back and as soon as this storm is over we’ll find his carcass and use it to make some belts, some shoes, maybe some alligator handbags for the ladies.”

“I could go for an alligator handbag,” Maude said.

“No thanks,” Sharon said. “I only do designer.”

Cole sat in the canoe in silence for another minute or so. “Huh,” he said as he picked up the paddle. “Maybe he really is…

“RAARGA!”

Skippy erupted out of the water and grabbed the side of the canoe with his sharp claws. He snapped his jaws up and down in Cole’s direction, wanting nothing more than to get the great hunter between his teeth, down his throat and into his belt.

Cole thought fast and jammed the oar vertically between Skippy’s jaws, preventing the monster from closing its mouth. This slowed Skippy down, though Cole quickly noticed that the oar was beginning to crack and bend under the pressure.

Rung….nah….nah…nah…

Cole yanked the chainsaw’s starter cord again. Rung-nah-nah-nah-nah…..

“Come on, God!” Cole shouted at the sky. “If you ever cared about me, please! Make this thing start!”

He pulled the cord again. Rung-nah-nah-nah….

SNAP! The oar broke in two. Skippy spit the pieces out and lunged forward. The canoe was starting to go down. Cole could feel water spilling into his shoes, water that was entering the canoe as Skippy pressed down on it with his formidable bulk.

He gave the cord one last try. Rung-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-NUNG-NUNG-NUNG-NUNG-NUNG!

The chainsaw motor was humming now. The chain turned at a rapid pace, and not a second too soon, for Cole barely prevented himself from becoming gator chow by ramming the blade right into Skippy’s mouth. Sparks flew off of Skippy’s teeth as they connected with the blade.

Up top, the gang watched in horror as their beloved hero staved off the creature.

“You got another missile, Felix?” Rusty asked.

“Errm, errm,” Felix said.

“Shit,” Rusty said.

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Top Ten TV Dads of All Time

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Happy Father’s Day, 3.5 readers.  Today’s the day to grab the family patriarch a cigar, a beer, and a steak and treat him like a king, to make up for the other 364 days a year where you walk all over him.  Come on.  You know you do.

In honor of this illustrious day, from BQB HQ in fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten TV Dads of All Time:

#10 – Ward Cleaver (Hugh Beaumont) “Leave it to Beaver”

The man worked hard and he rested hard.  Came home every day to a clean house and a nice home cooked meal.  June would have his slippers and newspaper waiting for him so he could chill by the fireplace.  He’d dispense some words of wisdom to his sons, Wally and the Beaver, but then June would take care of all the washing their clothes and cleaning behind their ears bullshit.  Yup, you might assume June went out of her way to keep her man happy because it was the 1950s but I submit that maybe, just maybe, Ward’s pimp game was strong and June bent over backwards for Ward because his bedroom game was strong.  (I assume off camera Ward and June pushed their twin beds together and knocked boots.  Where else did Wally and the Beaver come from?)

#9 – Ben Cartwright (Lorne Greene) – Bonanza

Based on modern standards, you might assume that Ben Cartwright was a very long suffering, put upon, taken advantage of father seeing as how his three adult sons, Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe all stayed on the family ranch well into adulthood and oddly enough, despite coming from a super rich family, none of the boys ever found a long lasting relationship with a woman.

But then you have to remember that the family homestead, “the Ponderosa” was said to have taken up a large chunk of Nevada so…yeah, if your Dad owned Nevada then you can be given a pass for still living at home when you’re forty.

Ben would lead the boys on all sorts of adventures every week – robbers, cattle rustlers, scammers, schemers and the like.  Also, did I mention the Cartwrights were rich?  So literally ever other villain was like, “Those dirty rich ass Cartwrights screwed me over so now I must have my revenge!”

Shit.  Everyone dumped all their problems on the one percent even in the 1800s.

Still.  I feel bad that Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe had such little game with the ladies.  I mean, seriously, if you can’t get your hands on some poon with a pickup line like, “Hey baby, my pops owns Nevada” then you are hopeless.

#8 – Dan Conner (John Goodman) Roseanne 

This show gave the nation a glimpse into how the other half lived, and if Roseanne was the anti-June cleaver, then Dan was the anti-Ward.  Chronically unemployed, audiences got to see the toil that struggling to be a good provider for his family can take on the male ego.  Dan was practically laid off every other week, but after taking a hit to his self-esteem, he’d pick himself up, find a new job, or create one if he couldn’t find one, doing all sorts of menial labor.

Along the way, he’d put up with bickering daughters, a bickering wife and sister-in-law, dopey young men who didn’t seem like they’d amount to much of anything chasing after his daughters, he’d be left unappreciated often but he muddled through.

Most men wish they could be Ward with June fetching the paper and slippers but alas, most men are like Dan, coming home tired after a long day at work only to be chewed out by an angry wife and have to put up with a bunch of nonsense from smart aleck kids.

#7 – Fred G. Sanford (Red Foxx) – Sanford and Son

Sigh.  It’s inevitable.  If parents live long enough, they eventually become the kids and the kids become the parents.

Fred and his son, Lamont own an LA junk dealership in the Watts neighborhood of LA.  Lamont, well into adulthood, dreams of going out into the world on his own and being his own man.  Alas, he’s so worried about his troublemaking father that he sticks around, afraid that the old man will ruin himself with one of us ill advised get rich quick schemes.

And did Fred appreciate his son?  Not outwardly, seeing as how he openly referred to Lamont as “dummy.”  But he loved him, as he loved his long deceased wife Elizabeth, so much so that the slightest symptom of illness would cause him to grab his chest, look to the sky and shout out, “This is the big one!  I’m coming to join you, Elizabeth!”

We have a mother’s day and a father’s day.  There should probably be a “Caretaker of a Very Difficult Elderly Parent Day” to honor people like Lamont.

#6 – Andy Taylor (Andy Griffith)  “The Andy Griffith Show”

That opening scene says it all.  Even though Sheriff Andy Griffith is an officer of the law, he always has time to sneak off of work and take his son Opie (little Ron Howard) fishing.  It probably helped that they lived in a small town where the only criminal was town drunk Otis who would report to the station whenever he had one too many and lock himself in.  Plus, Deputy Barney Fife (Don Knotts) usually had shit on lockdown.

#5 – Tony Micelli (Tony Danza) – “Who’s the Boss?”

You got to love a man willing to go the extra mile for his daughter.  Down and out ex-baseball player Tony Micelli, a true manly man, takes a job as housekeeper for big shot businesswoman Angela.  You’d think that would be a surefire way for most men to feel like their balls have been snipped off and put in a mason jar, but Tony never lost his manly machismo no matter how many beds he made or meals he cooked.

#4 – Dr. Jason Seaver (Alan Thicke) – “Growing Pains”

Yes, it was the 1980s, the country was getting a little less “traditional” and women were working more.  Thus, Dr. Jason Seaver sets up his psychiatry practice in his house (hopefully he had a separate entrance for all the crazies) thus giving him more time at home to watch over the kids while wife Maggie went to work as a journalist.

Yes, like Tony Micelli, he was another man who pushed through this non-traditional situation while retaining his manliness and keeping his nut sack intact.

RIP Adam Thicke.  You are missed.

#3 – Danny Tanner, Jesse Katsopolis, Joey Gladstone (Bob Saget, John Stamos, Dave Coulier) – “Full House” 

Oh, the best laid plans of mice and men.  When Danny Tanner’s wife kicks the bucket far too soon, he recruits his brother in law Jesse and friend Joey to move in and help him raise three precocious daughters.  Danny would be epically lame, Jesse would still find time to jam with his rock band, and literally no one thought it was creepy that Joey lived in the basement and talked to his puppets.

“Men can be mothers too!” Hollywood cried and alas, we menfolk have been fetching our own newspapers and our own slippers ever since.  I doubt there will be another Ward every again.  I hope Ward knew how good he had it.

#2 – John Walton, Sr.  (Ralph Waite) – The Waltons

It was depression era Virginia and John Walton Sr. literally had like nine trillion kids.  Seriously.  The family was a big ensemble cast and I can’t count how many kids were living in that house.  The man was severely put upon, running a struggling saw mill and doing other odd jobs just to make ends meet, taking care of his voluminous family as well as his elderly parents.

Somehow, he did it all with a grimace on his face that often turned into a smile.  Plus, even though he and his family were poor as hell, he didn’t give his son John Boy shit about being a writer.  John Boy’s struggles to become a famous writer was the main plot point of the show and if you’re a struggling writer, you know that even in families that aren’t struggling through the depression where everyone’s walking around barefoot because they can’t afford shoes, the family patriarch is usually screaming at the kids to drop ideas about pie-in-the-sky dreams and focus on something practical.

Hell, my Uncle Hardass commands me to stop writing and get a real job every day even now.

But nope.  John Sr. never slapped John Boy upside the head once and told him to drop his stupid books and get a real job.  He didn’t even slap son Jason upside the head and tell him to drop that stupid banjo, stop trying to become a musician and get a real job.

The man just continued to suffer, sawing extra wood and taking extra jobs all the while his dumb sons kept writing and playing music.  If you are a creative person just starting out in the world, pray for a father like John Walton Sr.

#1 – A TIE!

Homer J. Simpson (Dan Castellanetta) “The Simpsons” and Al Bundy (Ed O’Neill) – “Married with Children)

Homer J. Simpson is literally dumber than a box of rocks.  He’s also extremely lazy, often found asleep at the switch at his job at the nuclear power plant or enjoying a tasty donut.  “Mmm donut.”

Yet, somehow he always finds the time to make Marge suffer with one of his ridiculous schemes, or to strangle son Bart (yet avoid capture by child protection services) and to be made to feel stupid by brainy daughter Lisa.

He may be bald, but otherwise, he hasn’t aged since 1989.  Oh, the benefits of being a cartoon.

Meanwhile, Al Bundy would come home every night from his job at a Chicago shoe store were obese women would give him shit for not being able to find shoes that would fit their enormous feet.  His wife, Peggy and kids, Bud and Kelly, would treat him like a human ATM machine, fighting over who gets to snatch what little money was left in his wallet.

Yes, the Ward days were gone, as Peggy refused to cook, or clean, or literally do anything to contribute to the family’s well-being other than to sit on the couch and eat bon bons all day.  Meanwhile, Kelly was the town tramp who would bring home a series of idiot boyfriends whose asses Al would have to kick while Bud was something of a boy genius yet shared in his father’s inability to get any respect from anyone.

Yes, Al was miserable but he didn’t take it lying down. With his next door neighbor/friend Jefferson, he established the organization known as “No Ma’am” (the National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood) where he and likeminded, put upon men would meet and complain about how their wives didn’t appreciate them.  Also, they would drink beer.  Lots of beer.  In my opinion, the No Ma’am episodes were among the best of that show.  Why that organization didn’t get off the ground with a chapter in every city and town I’ll never know.

In retrospect, it seems kind of odd to me that Al was so pissed off every time wife Peggy demanded sex.  I mean, Peggy was no Marilyn Monroe but she was still pretty hot, and if anything, a lack of sex is usually a husband’s burden.  But I assume the joke was that married people find themselves stuck in a rut, putting up with the same ole, same ole, day in and day out.

Sure, Al may have lusted over his copies of “Bigguns” and taken the occasional trip to the nudey bar with Jefferson, but he always came home to Peg.

Plus, you have to hand it to a man who is able to make a single moment last a lifetime.  No matter how bad things got, Al always reminded people of his life’s single greatest accomplishment – he once scored four touchdowns in a single game.

YOUR FAVORITE TV FATHERS

Is your favorite not on the list?  Discuss in the comments.

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Seventeen Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Wow, so much time and so much novel written.  It’s gone by fast.

Cole and Skippy the Toilet Gator are finally locked in their epic battle royal.  I think there’s a strong possibility that I could finish the rough draft this week.  If not this week then by the end of the month for sure.

Finish the rough draft of Zom Fu will be next and that was mostly done except for some final wrap up chapters.

I have other ideas in the works including ideas for long, complicated multi book series but for now I felt like this had to be the year of “one and done” books that are self contained so I can get them off to Amazon.  I think there could be sequels to Zom Fu and Toilet Gator but that will depend on how people respond.

I’ve noticed a lot of people are reading and liking Toilet Gator but I don’t see any comments.  If you have some criticism to share, please do.

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Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript #11

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KURT MANLEY: We’re sticking with our coverage of the epic showdown between Cole Walker, the ex-police chief from Sitwell, Florida with an allegedly small penis and the toilet gator responsible for a recent spate of bathroom homicides in the Southern Florida. I’d also like to thank infamous rapper Stank Daddy for sticking with me throughout this coverage.

STANK DADDY: Aint no thang.

(Grainy footage plays. It is from Walter’s point of view on top of the hardware store, looking down into the street below).

KURT MANLEY: As if the stakes weren’t high enough, it would appear that Southern Florida is getting pounded by Hurricane Dakota Rothschild harder than a Tijuana street hooker on payday and…I’m sorry. Stank Daddy, is that racist?

STANK DADDY: What?

KURT MANLEY: Is it racist for me to liken the damage done to a community by a hurricane to the damage down to an impoverished Mexican prostitute’s cooter by the old John Thomas of a man reeking of bourbon and bad decisions, willing to spend his hard earned pay on the sexual gratification that so eludes him elsewhere in his sad, tired, pathetic life?

STANK DADDY: Shit, I dunno. Why you asking me that for?

KURT MANLEY: Because…um…you know…

STANK DADDY: I know what?

KURT MANLEY: Come on man. Don’t do this to me on air.

STANK DADDY: What? ‘Cuz I’m black?

KURT MANLEY: Well…

STANK DADDY: What, ‘cuz I’m black that means I’m the grand arbiter and official decider of what is and isn’t racist? Man, you need to get yo’ ass to some sensitivity training or something.

KURT MANLEY: I’m so sorry. I just…

STANK DADDY: (laughs) Nah, I’m just messin’ with you man. Yeah, that’s racist as hell but shit, of all the offenses you cracka have pulled on all the colored peoples of the world, that one’s so low on our priority list it probably won’t even register.

(Kurt breathes a sigh of relief and adjusts his tie.)

KURT MANLEY: Phew! Off the hook. Back to the coverage, we can see on this feed that Cole Walker is paddling his canoe down the street, apparently trying to get away from something…

STANK DADDY: There it is!

KURT MANLEY: Where?

STANK DADDY: You don’t see that alligator’s two eyes and his big ass head poppin’ out of the water?

KURT MANLEY: (squints at monitor) I think so…I…

STANK DADDY: Damn Kurt Manley. You need to get yo ass to an eye doctor or drink some carrot juice or some shit.

KURT MANLEY: Oh, I see it now! Yes, it would appear the toilet gator’s body is mostly submerged underwater and he is approximately twenty feet away from Walker’s canoe. The alligator is closing in aggressively though.

STANK DADDY: That dude’s about to get his ass ate, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Interesting sidenote, Vegas oddsmakers put Cole Walker’s chances of defeating the toilet gator at 100,000 to 1.

STANK DADDY: Those are some whack ass odds, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: That they are, Stank Daddy. That they are.

(Camera view shifts from the flooded street to the rooftop, where Natalie Brock is standing next Felix, who is aiming his Javelin at the toilet gator. Both individuals are wet, their hair blowing through the vicious winds.)

KURT MANLEY: What in the name of Walter Cronkite’s left nut is going on here?! I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen. This is a disgrace and below the dignity of this fine network. Natalie! Are you there?

(Natalie presses two fingers against her earpiece. The footage cuts in and out and Natalie’s voice is garbled due to weather interference.)

NATALIE BROCK: I’m…bzzzt…here….bssshhht….Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Natalie, would you care to explain to our loyal viewers why you’re appearing on national television without being hot, or blonde, or having big titties?

NATALIE BROCK: Up…bsshhht….your….butt….bzzzttt….with a….bssskkk…coconut.

KURT MANLEY: I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Natalie Brock is truly an incompetent reporter. First she tells lies and doctors up phony recordings of me, America’s favorite anchorman and now she can’t even bring us a quality feed.

STANK DADDY: Man, you ought to lay off the girl. She’s out there bustin’ her ass in a damn hurricane bringing the world footage of a dope ass man vs. toilet gator battle royale.
KURT MANLEY: But look at her! She’s hideous!

STANK DADDY: Eh, she ain’t no Countess Cucamonga or even a Lady Cyanide but shit, slap a little makeup on her and I could probably turn her out on the street and make a few bills off her ass easy.

KURT MANLEY: Whatever. This is ridiculous. Natalie, please, order your cameraman to take the camera off you and don’t appear on screen again until you’ve put a paper bag over your wretched horse face.

STANK DADDY: That’s cold, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Seriously. Every time I look at her I don’t know whether to say “hello” or click make a clicking sound and offer her an apple. Now, getting back to…wait…what is happening?

STANK DADDY: Oh shit, she’s giving you the middle finger, Kurt. That Natalie Brock is one feisty ass bitch, I’ll give her that.

KURT MANLEY: No. What is that man doing?

STANK DADDY: Oh. Looks like he’s about to fire off a big ass bazooka or some shit, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: A bazooka? Where would the average man even find such a weapon?

STANK DADDY: Aw shit, it aint that hard. My boy Darius from back around the way will trade you six bazookas for a carton of cigarettes and a box of old porno mags. He prefers anything circa 1970s, the bushier the better.

KURT MANLEY: This is about to get interesting ladies and gentlemen. Is this the end for the nefarious toilet gator? Drop that remote and stick around because Network News One will be covering this showdown to end all showdowns in its entirety. Man or beast? Who will win?

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Movie Review – Rough Night (2017)

Sex!  Drugs!  Crazy women!

BQB here with a review of Rough Night.

Sigh.  I really wanted this movie to be great.  The commercials made it look like it was going to be an all female version of The Hangover but it just didn’t get there for me.

There were many parts that were mildly humorous and oddly, even amidst all the debauchery there were some touching moments but overall, when I judge a comedy I go with how many times did I laugh?  Laughter, after all, is the most honest emotional reaction.  If something is funny, you can’t help but laugh, whereas you can always feign happiness, sadness, etc.

But honestly, I didn’t laugh that many times and ironically, in a “Women can be funny too!” style movie, the most laughs the movie got out of me involve the parts where ScarJo/Jess’ fiance Peter (Paul W. Downs) goes on a mad cap, cross country trip to investigate what his bride-to-be and her gal pals are up to.

It’s not that I’m saying “Oh, blah blah blah, women aren’t funny and only men can be funny.”  I’m just saying, this movie kind of fizzled for me.  I know women can be funny.  I’ve seen Bridesmaids.  I’ve seen Spy.  Shit.  Now that I think of it, this movie probably could have benefited from a little Melissa McCarthy action.  Oh well, you live and you learn.

Oh right, the plot.  Jess (Scarlett Johansson) is getting married, so her college friends Alice (Jillian Bell of “Workaholics” fame), Frankie (Ilana Glazer of “Broad City” fame), Pippa (Kate McKinnon of SNL fame) and Blair (Zoe Kravitz of Lenny Kravitz’ daughter fame) get together and throw her a bachelorette party in Miami.

Things go south when a freak accident kills a male stripper.  Rather than come clean, the girls proceed to make a series of choices that makes things so much worse.

Overall, the plot is reminiscent Very Bad Things (1998).  As a youngster, I thought that movie was super funny and received less credit than it deserved.  Basically a group of dudes (Christian Slater, Jon Favreau, Jeremy Piven, Leland Orser, and Daniel Stern) throw a wild bachelor party in a hotel suite in Las Vegas, during which a stripper is accidentally killed.  Rather than come clean, the dudes make a series of bad choices that, you guessed it, make things worse.

I was actually thinking about starting this review by channeling David Spade (he was on SNL in the 1990s, millennials) and saying “I liked ‘Rough Night’ better when it was called ‘ Very Bad Things’ but that seemed kind of bitchy.  Plus, I have no way of knowing whether the people behind this film were trying to copy the film.  Hell, maybe I’m the only old bastard who even remembers that movie.  All I know is that the the boys did the “accidental dead stripper during a pre-wedding party” better than the girls.

Again, that’s not me being sexist.  The twist is that I know several of these women are funny.  I have laughed many times at Ilana Glazer’s antics on “Broad City.”  I have guffawed at Kate McKinnon’s SNL sketches and ultimately, I think she and Leslie Jones saved the Ghostbusters reboot from being a crap show.  I have laughed at Jillian Bell’s shenanigans on “Workaholics.”

And yet, somehow, when all these funny women were put in the same room like a comedic dream team, the movie turned out to be a swing and a miss.  Maybe I can’t even blame them.  Maybe it was just bad writing.  Maybe it’s me and I’m becoming like my Uncle Hardass and not laughing as much as I used to.  I don’t know.

I just know that I didn’t laugh that much and you know, you’re supposed to, because it’s a comedy.

I give ScarJo some credit.  This is the first time she stepped out of her comic book/summer blockbuster popcorn movie and attempted to exercise her comedy chops.  She is, for the most part, the film’s straight woman (or in comedy terms, “the straight man” or the person whose normalcy and shocked reactions to the wacky antics of everyone around her are meant to make the film funnier.  Spoiler alert – it doesn’t happen, but ScarJo tried.)

A final thought on the whole female raunchy comedy idea.  My general thought when it comes to movie ideas is this – if it works, then it was a good idea.  I’m not saying a female raunchy comedy where women act just as gross and low class as a bunch of boozed up male perverts at a bachelor party can’t be funny…I’m just saying this movie isn’t it.  Maybe someone else will try that idea and score a win someday.

Aside from film, what about women acting like a bunch of boozed up male perverts in life?  All I can say is, it’s a free country and women’s rights have come a long way, so if women want to do that, then they should.  I know women don’t want a man telling them what to do so this isn’t advice so much as it is a thought but here goes – men aren’t always right about everything.

Know how I know that?  Because I’ve yet to meet a woman who was the slightest bit shy about telling me I’m not right about everything.  When men get boozed up and do wild, crazy, piggish and perverted things at parties…they’re wrong!  Sure, it’s fun in the moment but more often than not that kind of fun can lead to an arrest, or an unbeatable addiction, an STD that can’t be cured by pennicillin or best case scenario, the breaking up of a friendship when someone does something shitty to someone else because they’re drunk.

I guess what I’m trying to say is women, you may look at men doing messed up things at bachelor parties and think that looks fun, but trust me, in the long run, it isn’t.  So if you think you want to do that, then do it because you want to, not because you think that men are great when they act that way, because when you think about it, they aren’t.

Men aren’t always right about everything, and nights fueled with perverted drunken debauchery are one of the ways men aren’t wrong.

We’re always right when it comes to driving though.  Our penises always point true north so we have no need to pull over and ask for directions.

STATUS:  Borderline shelf-worthy.  Don’t bother running out to the theater but it’s worth a rental later.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 104

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An old tarp flapped in the breeze on the roof of the hardware store. Whatever was stowed away underneath it, it was of considerable size. Rain pelted it and ran off onto the gravel that covered the top of the building.

“Will you get that camera out of my face?” Sharon asked.

Walter kept rolling.

“We have to document this!” Natalie snapped. “This is the biggest story since…since…I don’t think there’s ever been anything this big!”

Burt and Rusty set the canoe down.

“The hell do you think he wanted this for?” Burt asked.

“Beats me,” Rusty replied.

The door leading to the roof swung open and Cole rushed through it, chainsaw in one hand, Angry Barracuda in the other. “He’s coming! He’s coming!”

Skippy’s terrifying “ROAR!” bellowed up through the stairwell and up into the open air.

“Get back!” Cole cried as he pushed everyone aside. He jumped into the canoe and looked up at Rusty. “Throw me off!”

Rusty was puzzled. “What?”

“RAARGA!” Skippy bashed through the door and bared his teeth.

“He just wants me!” Cole shouted. “Throw me off!”

Burt grabbed one end of the canoe while Rusty grabbed the other. They carried the canoe and passenger over to the side of the roof and then started to swing the load back and forth as they counted. “1…2…”

Sharon cocked her shotgun and fired at Skippy. The gator charged right through the blast, hellbent on grinding Cole between his jaws.

“Cole,” Sharon said. “I hope you know what you’re doing!”

“I don’t but I’ve got to do something!” Cole replied.

“I love you!” Sharon shouted.

“I love you too!” Cole replied.

“Gag!” Rusty said.

“Pussy!” Maude added.

“Throw me already!” Cole demanded.

Rusty and Burt cried out in unison, “3!” They let go of the canoe on the final outward swing and watched as Cole and the canoe separated on the way down. Skippy bypassed everyone on the roof and jumped after Cole. The gang crowded around the roof as Cole, the canoe, and the gator each landed in the water with a splash.

The rain and wind made it difficult to see much of anything below.

“Did he make it?” Sharon asked frantically. “Rusty! Did he make it!”

“I don’t know,” Rusty said.

“Oh God,” Sharon said. “He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.”

Rusty looked away. “This is hopeless. Maybe we should just give up.”

The tarp was pushed to the sign and a shadowy silhouette emerged out from under it, carrying a very large object in his hands. The gang did not notice this newcomer until he was standing right next to them.

He began to speak. “At times like these, I’m reminded of the words that the great Winston Churchill once uttered in an effort to give his people hope at a time when the Nazi scourge made the cause of freedom in Europe seem hopeless.”

Rusty stared at the man in shock. “What the?”

“Those words, applied to our present day situation would be, ‘Even though large tracts of our town have fallen under the grip of the toilet gator and all the odious apparatus of toilet gator rule, we shall not flag or fail.”

Burt looked at the man. “I’ll be damned.”

The mystery man continued. “We shall go on to the end, we shall fight the toilet gator in Sitwell. We shall fight the toilet gator on the seas and oceans. We shall fight the toilet gator with growing confidence and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our town against the toilet gator, whatever the cost may be.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Maude said.

“We shall fight the toilet gator on the beaches. We shall fight the toilet gator on the landing grounds. We shall fight the toilet gator in the fields and in the streets. We shall fight the toilet gator in the hills. We shall never surrender against the toilet gator.”

The man looked over the side of the roof and pointed out Cole, who was, at that very moment, pulling himself out of the water and into the canoe. Despite the rain and wind battering their faces, the gang cheered and applauded.

“And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this town or a large part of it were subjugated and starving under toilet gator rule, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by our noble fleet, would carry on the struggle against the toilet gator, until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old against toilet gator oppression.”

Sharon put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Felix. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Errm,” Felix said.

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Toilet Gator Mistake

Yeah, it just dawned on me that Walter and Natalie should have been filming the whole toilet gator showdown in downtown Sitwell but I forgot about them for the past few chapters.  I’ll fix it in the second draft.  For now, they suddenly appear out of nowhere again.  Sigh.  A writer’s work is never done.

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Search Engine Optimized Poet – An Ode to Bookshelf Q. Battler’s 35 Cents

:::Bongo Drum Beats:::

Hey there all you hep cats and hep kittens. Come on down to the East Randomtown Java Bean, where the poets always stink and the cups are never clean.

Next on the mic is the one and only Search Engine Optimized Poet…the only rhyme-smith whose beats bring in the web searchers’ feets, ya dig?

BQB’s latest royalty earnings report for BQB’s Writing Prompts.

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35 cents!  Whoa, 35 cents!

BQB’s book sales profits are incredibly immense!

What will he buy, with 35 cents?

The possibilities are long and intense!

A fence?  To put around BQB HQ to keep out his legions of fans?

Sands, tropical sands, and the best laid plans of mouses and mans.

Jams!  BQB, make your jelly shake…

At the thought of the 35 cents you just did make.

You can now bake…35% of a cake.

Or sleep in a motel room for 35% of the time until you do wake.

Snake.  You could probably buy a serpent.

Or a few flakes of off brand laundry detergent.

Insurgent.  The lady who wrote that made much more than you.

But don’t feel bad, for 35 cents is better than a pile of poo.

That’ll do pig, that’ll do.  It’s what the farmer said to Babe.  I thought you knew.

Didn’t you?  Didn’t you already spend your 35 cents on a stick of gum?

Maybe you should just spread good will and give your 35 cents to a bum.

 

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