Daily Archives: February 25, 2018

This Blog is Meaningless So I Must Start a New One

3.5 readers, are you aware that in March, it will be the fourth anniversary of this exceptional blog?

That’s more years than I have readers.

Although you are all wonderful, I must admit that four years to gain such a paltry sum of readers wasn’t worth it.

I could continue this blog but lately, the issues of the day really weigh heavily on my mind and soul.  So much fighting.  So much disharmony and discord.  So many problems in the world, so much unrest.  So many people struggling, looking for hope and finding none.

I can no longer waste my time on writing fart jokes.  Fart jokes are crass and they help no one.  I must, instead, make a difference, so I have decided to start a new blog, one in which I will discuss the many important issues of the day.  Further, I will reach out to experts from a variety of backgrounds to get their take on how the world might improve.

I’d love it if you all follow me to this new blog and hopefully it will have more than 3.5 readers.  If you would check it out and give me your feedback, I’d appreciate it.

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The History of Not Giving a Shit

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By: Brother Waldo, BQB’s Spiritual Advisor and Member of the Church of Not Giving a Shit

Greetings and no shits be upon you, 3.5 readers.  When BQB asked me to be a columnist for this blog, I didn’t really give a shit about that.  But then I thought about it and decided that to not write on this blog would be to say that I give a shit about not appearing on this blog.  Ergo, I decided to write on this blog, but to not give a shit about whether or not anyone would read it.

Why should you not give a shit?  Personally, I don’t give a shit if you do give a shit, but if you are asking why should you not give a shit, my first response is to ask you what has giving a shit ever gotten you?  Probably just a bunch of shit, which you’ll have to give many of your precious shits about.  Never give a shit about any shit.

More importantly, since the dawn of time, man has given shits and those shits have always gotten the shit givers into a whole mess of trouble.

Let’s examine this further.  Wars are started by people who give a shit about something.  They are waged against people who give a different type of shit about something.  Both sides give so much shit that they kill each other just to prove who gives more of a shit.  In the aftermath, the world just turns to shit.

Violence, famine, turmoil, strife – all started by people who gave a shit and all actions to make others give a shit just shitting up the place.

But, 3.5 readers, for as long as there have been people shitting up the world through the shits they give, there have been fine, upstanding members of the Church of Not Giving a Shit who stood up to not give a shit.  Those non-shit givers typically always made it through the most difficult of historical times by simply keeping their shits close to the vest rather than give them away with reckless abandon.

Take Brother Alistair, who was once asked by an ancient British king to join the army and run at a bunch of marauders and get his legs chopped off.  All the other shit givers gave a shit and they were hacked to pieces.  Brother Alistair, on the other hand, just shrugged his shoulders, said, “I don’t give a shit,” and walked off the battlefield.  He lived to be 102 which was fairly unheard of in those days, yet it was made possible for not giving a shit spared his body so much stress.

Yes, for as long as people have made the world shitty by giving a shit, there have been proud members of this fine church who didn’t give a shit and lived to tell the tale.  From the earliest wars in human history, all throughout the dark ages, the renaissance, the Revolutionary War, Civil War, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and more have all saved themselves from destruction simply by not giving a shit.

Ah, but here’s where our movement gets interesting.  Many did not give a shit about wars so they were saved by walking away from battle.  Others who gave a shit joined the army and fought because, when asked whether they were scared to fight, they simply said, “I don’t give a shit.”

Yes.  You see, it’s possible for two different people to not give shits and yet the shits not given lead to different paths, war and abstention from war, respectively.  Shits can be given in different ways, from those who don’t give enough of a shit to fight, to those who don’t give enough of a shit about the fear of death that they sign up.  Ironically, those who don’t give a shit about dying tend to be the most valiant fighters who live to tell tales of battle, or at least they would tell them, if they gave enough of a shit about you to tell you.

Ultimately, as long as there has been time, there have been people who do not give a shit.  Not giving a shit is one, if not the, oldest movement of all time.  Why, if you give a shit to find out, you’d know archaeologists have found ancient cave paintings featuring cavemen falling asleep whilst being chewed out by their cave wives for not picking up enough rocks on the way home from caveman work.

It’s up to you and if you give a shit about joining our church, you’d be taking part in a longstanding tradition of not giving a shit, a movement filled with a vast, vibrant history of not giving any shits at all.

Ironically, if you don’t give a shit about joining, then you’ve already joined.  We’d add your name to the roll of the great non-shit givers, but we don’t give a shit whether or not your name is recorded for posterity.

Thank you for giving a shit about this column, but also know that if you did give a shit, our church is not for you.

You don’t give a shit about that?  Welcome back.

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Introducing Brother Waldo of the Church of Not Giving a Shit

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Hey 3.5 heathens.  BQB here.  I must confess, the utter failure of this blog has caused my to realize something very important, namely, that I need religion in my life.  After all, we all need something to believe in to get us through the day, a source of spiritual healing and guidance just to get us through the journey of life.

To that end, I looked high and low.  I spoke to the Christians and they told me that Jesus died for my sins.  I preyed to Jesus to thank him and told him if he died just for my sins, then the whole cross thing was an overkill.  My sins aren’t voluminous and I don’t think anyone should have to die just because I eat an extra slice of pizza and cry while I masturbate myself to sleep every night.  Gluttony and lust, right there.

Next, I talked to the Jews.  I told them that I’m a failure as a blogger.  They told me that Moses parted the Red Sea and wandered the desert with his people for forty years, so fear not, becoming a great blogger, like any other goal, takes time.

I spoke to the buddhists and they said don’t worry if you’re a terrible blogger because your blog, like anything else, was never meant to last forever.

I searched high and low and all representatives of religions were helpful, but none really spoke to me until I met Brother Waldo in a supermarket in East Randomtown.

“Damn,” I said.  “This store is all out of milk.”

“So?”  Brother Waldo said.  “Who gives a shit?”

“I do.”

“Why do you give a shit?” Waldo asked.

“Because I want strong bones,” I replied.

“Why do you give a shit about strong bones?”  Brother Waldo asked.

“Because I want to be able to walk well into my old age,” I said.

“Who gives a shit about that?” Brother Waldo asked.

“I do,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I…”

And so, the conversation continued like that for an hour until Brother Waldo let me in on a secret.

“I’m Brother Waldo,” the man said.  “I’m a member of the Church of Not Giving a Shit and what you’ve just witnessed is the infinite cycle of circular shit giving.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“It’s possible for you to give a shit about something into perpetuity while also giving your reason for giving a shit as little more than a constant refrain of the lie that somehow, you must give a shit because you feel you are required to,” Brother Waldo explained.  “But you aren’t.”

Wow.  That changed my life.  I AM NOT REQUIRED TO GIVE A SHIT!

Blah, blah, blah, long story short, I moved Brother Waldo into BQB HQ, named him my spiritual advisor, joined the Church of Not Giving a Shit, and gave the good brother a column on my fine blog sooooo….enjoy.

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Movie Review – Battle of the Sexes (2017)

Men vs. Women…and a naked man holding a tennis racquet!

BQB here with a review of “Battle of the Sexes.”

It’s the 1970s and women’s lib is all the rage.  Women are burning their bras as tools of oppression against their jugs and telling men to make their own sandwiches.  Really, it was anarchy.

Amidst this backdrop, tennis legend Billie Jean King (Emma Stone) becomes a feminist folk hero when she defies tennis great Jack Kramer (Bill Pullman) by leaving the already established women’s tennis league and leading fellow female players to create their own, all over a pay dispute as women players were paid much less than their male counterparts.

Meanwhile, washed up, formerly great tennis pro Bobby Riggs is now in his mid-fifties.  He’s found a new life with a beautiful and rich wife Priscilla (Elizabeth Shue who, sidenote, gave this reviewer one of his first boners and continues to do so even though she’s getting up there in years).

You’d think that would be enough, but Bobby is bored.  He misses his heyday, a time where he drank, partied, lived it up and gambled…so much gambling.  Unlucky for Bobby, Priscilla does not approve of his gambling and has made it known that he needs to either settle down or lose her.

Long story short, Bobby, seeking a second chance at fame and fortune, challenges Billie Jean to a “battle of the sexes” – man vs. woman on the tennis court.  He hams it up for screen, telling women they need to get back in the kitchen, make his dinner, etc.

I won’t spoil it any further but suffice to say, good writing usually makes the audience root for both opponents.  Billie Jean feels she can’t stand idly by as this dummy makes a mockery of the women’s lib movement.  As for Bobby, what begins as a chance to grab the attention he craves turns into a quest to prove this his wife that it’s ok for him to gamble and live large and engage in get rich quick schemes because he’s really, really good at them.  Bobby makes this point known at a Gambler’s Anonymous meeting where he tells a bunch of down and out degenerates that their problem isn’t that they’re gamblers but that they are bad gamblers.  Bobby’s schemes make money and therefore he thinks he should be acclaimed as a hustler, not a mere gambler.

SIDENOTE: Sarah Silverman turned my head as Billie Jean’s manager, Gladys.  If Sarah could drop the whole “I say dirty things in a sweet voice” act (as she does here), there might be bigger roles in more serious films for her.

STATUS: Shelf-worthy.  Between Billie Jean wanting to be accepted by the public without having to keep her sexual preference a secret and Bobby wanting to be accepted by his wife as the larger than life big mouthed baller that he is, the movie has a lot to say about the boxes life places us in, how we have to do backflips to prove ourselves and get out of them and overall, wouldn’t it be great if the world we just let us all live as we choose?

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