Category Archives: BQB’s Time Travel Adventures

BQB’s Time Travel Adventures #2 – BQB vs. Hitler

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So, after I visited the 1970s and busted up a gang of ninjas in a disco, thus making all bushes in the future 25% bushier, I then went back in time to the early 1900s with one goal in mind – I would stop World War II from happening.

I arrived in Austria, where a dopey looking young man named Adolf Hitler was sitting on a park bench, trying to draw a picture of his bratwurst (not the one in his pants but the one he was intending to have for lunch later.)

“That’s a fine piece of art, Herr….”

“Hitler,” Hitler said.  “And nein!  I have applied to every art school around and they all tell me my work is nothing but goosenpoopen.”

“Really?”  I said.  “That’s terrible.  Everyone with creative talent should be able to pursue it.”

“That’s what I said,” Hitler said.  “But if I don’t get into art school I will have to go to my fall back plan.”

“What’s your fall back plan?”  I asked.

“To scheme my way into the German Chancellorship, declare war on the entire world and gas six million Jews to death,” Hitler said.

I was shocked.  I mean, I knew the history but still, to hear him say it out loud.  It was disturbing, to say the least.

“That’s your back up plan?”  I asked.

“Ja,” Hitler said.  “Also I might bang my niece.”

“Bang your…dude!”

“What?”  Hitler asked.

“Well,” I said.  “Is there no happy medium with you dude?  Most people who don’t get into art school say, ‘Well, I guess I’ll go be a janitor’ or ‘I guess I’ll go be a plumber’ or some other noble occupation.  I have literally never heard someone say, ‘Well, if I don’t get to do what I want then I’m just going to become the leader of a country and use my power to gas all the people I don’t like.”

“Undt bang my niece,” Hitler said.

“Yeah,” I said.  “I’ve never heard anyone say they want to do that either.”

“Undt I won’t gas all of them,” Hitler said.

“You won’t?”  I asked.

“Nein,”  Hitler said.  “Some of them I’ll push into ovens, or I might line them up against a wall and have them shot, or send them off to camps where they starve to death, or use them as forced labor and work them until they die of malnutrition and exhaustion.”

“Dude!” I said.

“It’ll be a mixed bag, really,” Hitler said. “I mean, ja, most of them will get the gas chamber or the oven but I’ll play it by ear and see how it goes.”

“Hitler,” I said.  “Not for nothing, but why do you hate Jewish people so much?”

Hitler sat back on the bench and closed his eyes.  “One time, when I was but a little kiddenheimer, I vent to lunch at mein school and a Jewish boy he…”

“Beat you?”  I asked.  “Tortured you?”

“Nein!”  Hitler said.  “He ate mein lunch!”

“Umm…”

“Mein sausage!  It was all gone!”  Hitler said.  “He said it was an accident.  He mixed up his bag with mine.  He apologized profusely but at that very moment I said to myself, ‘Adolf, you must really gas all these people and push them into ovens and only then will you get your revenge for your lost sausage!'”

“Hitler,” I said.  “Honestly, it sounds like the kid just made a mistake.  It happens to the best of us.  Sometimes we accidentally offend someone and all we can do is apologize and move on.  Even if he did it on purpose, it’s one kid.  You can’t denounce an entire group just because one member of the group did something you like.  One member of a group doing something wrong doesn’t mean the entire group is bad.  Seriously, what group in the entire world doesn’t have at least bad apple in it?”

“You sound like undt pussenstein,” Hitler said.

“No, really Hitler,” I said.  “You’ve got to listen and maybe I can help you screw your head on straight here.  If you’re just going to start killing groups of people just because one of them did something you didn’t like then you’re going to have to just kill the entire world.”

“Das est mein intention,” Hitler said.  “First the Jews, then the world.  Mein armies vill spread out across the globe.  All vill either obey me or vill be shoved in the oven.”

“Where are you even going to get a people oven?”  I asked.  “It’s not like there’s a people oven store.”

“I’m going to make a people oven,” Hitler said.  “I have some rudimentary designs.  You want to see?”

“Not really,” I said.  “But Hitler, have you considered the fact that on the whole, Jewish people are good eggs?”

“Nein!” Hitler said.

“Good food, good culture, music, arts, inventions, industry, hard work ethic,” I said.  “Historically, the Jewish people bring a lot to the table.”

Hitler began scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“What are you writing?”  I asked.

“A note to myself to have you pushed in an oven when I’m the chancellor,” Hitler said.

I sighed.  “You’re hopeless, Hitler.  Come on, let’s get you into art school.”

At that point, I found Hitler’s favorite art school.  “Das Skoolen Fer Peepzen What Wantzen to Drawzen Not Like Scheizen.”

I brought a thousand bucks back with me, a lot for me even in 2017 but it was like a small fortune in the 1930s.  I handed it off to the Dean and made him promise that he wouldn’t just accept Hitler, but that he’d also heap massive amounts of false praise on anything Hitler made, no matter how shitty it was.  Further, I made the Dean promise to really promote Hitler’s work, get all his friends in the art community to become Hitler’s patrons.  Set the guy up with a good living off of his art so he wouldn’t have to resort to his fall back plan of world domination and ethnic cleansing.

I arrived back in 2017, only to, you guessed it, learn that I had really cocked things up.

“Heil Hitler!  Video Game Rack Fighter said to me upon my arrival to BQB HQ.

“What the hell?”  I asked.  “Video Game Rack Fighter, my beloved nerdy girlfriend!  Why are you in a Nazi uniform?  I’ve never known you to be anything but sweet and kind to all people!  Are you a Nazi now?”

“Ja!” VGRF said.  “Everyone is a Nazi now, thanks to the leadership of Steve Hitler!”

“Steve Hitler?”  I asked.

“Ja!” VGRF said.  “Heil Steve Hitler!”

“Something’s amiss,” I said.  I turned on the TV and found a documentary.  The announcer summed up what happened:

“All hail our beloved World Chancellor, Steve Hitler, who is alive and well over 140 years old thanks to creepy and disturbing Nazi scientific methods!  Steve was but a modest little boy from Austria who used to sit back and dream of becoming a pig farmer.  He would overhear his brother Adolf talk about his fall back plans of world domination and ethnic cleansing and think that sounded like a real neat-o way to make a living. However, he had doubts about Adolf.  He thought Adolf would probably just cock the whole thing up and eventually lose the impending war.  However, when Adolf was accepted to study at an acclaimed art school, Adolf gave Steve his blessing to pursue his goals of world domination and ethnic cleansing.  In fact, Steve was so good at world domination and ethnic cleansing that Nazi historians are assured that Steve was the best choice to run the Nazi party whereas Adolf was better off behind the scenes.  Also, the art school helped Hitler become such a great artist that Hitler drew all kinds of propaganda posters that inspired the masses to become super racist and evil!  All hail the Nazi party and hail that random asshole that helped Adolf Hitler get into art school.  Because of that guy, everyone in the world is either dead or a super racist evil Nazi now!”

“Aww crap sandwich,” I said.  “I guess I know what I have to do.”

I returned to early 1900s Austria and found the version of myself that had time traveled to that time.  I kicked him in the nuts and instantly felt the pain myself.  I told him how his plan to stop World War II works out and he gasped.

After that, we scrapped the whole plan to stop Hitler and went to get some strudel instead.

The moral of the story?  If you try to fix something, you’ll just make it worse, so just shut up and go get a strudel.

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BQB’s Time Travel Adventures #1 – The 1970s (Or, A Hairy Situation)

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3.5 readers, I don’t want to alarm you, but Dr. Hugo Von Science recently invented a time machine.  He left it at BQB HQ because he didn’t want to pay to put it in storage and made me promise not to use it.

So naturally, I used it…A LOT!

From time to time, I’ll regale you with tales of what I’ve done with this magnificent contraption and how I may have inadvertently changed the course of human history just a wee bit.

First up?  The 1970s.  I was but a mere baby during the very end of this decade, yet I still remember that time I was kicked out of Studio 64.  The conversation went like this:

BABY BQB:  Waah, waah.  Let me in.

BOUNCER:  Scram, baby!

BABY BQB:  Buncha jive ass turkeys.

So, as you can imagine, I was quite pleased to return via time machine to Studio 64 as an adult.  And I was let in this time.  You might wonder how I got in, since they only let in famous, well-to-do people.

Let’s just say I was holding.

“Wow, BQB,” the bouncer said as he opened the door for me.  “These pixy sticks are outta sight, man.”

“I can dig it,” I said as I strolled on in and made my way to the dance floor.

Oh man, 3.5 readers.  The dancing.  The dancing!  People actually danced!  They didn’t just stand around and text emojis to each other on their iPhones like they do today.  Everyone wanted to dance and they’d all just dance with each other.  Fat, thin, ugly, pretty, no one cared.  The music was on.  They all got their groove on.

Plus, it was so much easier to pick up a chick.  You know what happens to me if I try to pick up a chick today?  I get maced in the face.  In the 1970s, they say cool, whatever.

TODAY:

BQB:  Hello, I’m BQB.  Wanna do it?

TODAY’S WOMAN:  Suck mace and prepare for my multi-million dollar lawsuit, buttface!

IN THE 1970s:

BQB:  Hello, I’m BQB.  Wanna do it?

WOMAN:  Sure, I like to do it.

That’s all you had to do.  And people liked beauty.  They tried to look beautiful but you know, they weren’t obsessed with it.  They didn’t spend 24/7 on their looks.  If you had glasses, that didn’t slow you down.  Women would still do it with you because, you know, hey, it’s not your fault God decided you can’t see that well without glasses.

The only caveat?  Women did not shave.  At all.  Like, ever.  Sure, they had a carefree attitude about sex, largely because AIDS had yet to be discovered, but man, getting all up in a 1970s woman’s lady business was like taking a deep journey to the darkest regions of a tropical rainforest.

Seriously.  You didn’t even want to attempt cunnilingus without a weed whacker, possibly a John Deere tractor if she was into that sort of thing.  All I’m saying is before you could plow the field, you had to harvest the crops…so that you could even find the field.

And the smoking?  Man, did people smoke.  I walked around Studio 64 and there would be people just standing around with cigarettes, blowing smoke in each others’ face.  Shit. They’re all probably dead from black lung now but at least they didn’t have to worry about the Surgeon General taking a dump on their parade with his totally accurate yet scary anti-cigarette warnings.

And the drugs.  When the foxy babes weren’t offering you access to their overgrown bushes, they were totally trying to fill you up with all kinds of drugs.  People would just pop pills like they were tic tacs.

I didn’t touch the stuff.  Never have.  Never will.  You shouldn’t either, 3.5.  Pixy sticks are the only high I need.

Anyway, everything was going fine.  The tunes were tight.  The party was far out and groovy.  The giant bushes were everywhere.  But then, some stupid ass ninjas had to go and break in and cause trouble.

“We have come to steal all of the women in here, for if there’s one thing that all ninjas love, it’s ridiculously hairy, unshorn 1970s lady bushes!”  the ninjas all declared in unison.

“Of course that’s what you are after,” I replied.  “I am a man of the world and I know everything, including the fact that ninjas love 1970s women with absurdly untrimmed bushes,” I said.

“We hope that women never start shaving off their bushes,” the ninjas said.  “We like a little mystery whenever we visit her-story.”

“Man,” I said.  “You jive ass ninja turkeys better get all your vagina related activities done by 1995 then because it’s gonna be smooth sailing from thereon.”

Now, I realize I should not have done this.  All those women were destined to be kidnapped.  To save them, I would have to change the course of history.  But I could not help myself.

I jumped into the air and took down all 948 ninjas with one single, solitary roundhouse kick.  My foot connected with all of their faces, knocking them out cold.  The police came, removed the ninja carcasses, and then I partied with all of the incredibly hairy bushed women all night long.

Man, I really had a good time under that disco ball.

Afterwards, I returned to 2017 and consulted with the Fake Institute for Bogus Statistics.  Apparently, bushes are now 25% bushier thanks to my stupid actions.  When I saved those hairy women, women all over the world somehow got the idea that men would be fine if they all just walk around looking like they’ve got Afroman trapped in a leg lock.

So, to you, men of the world, I apologize for all of the bushy bushes I have bestowed upon the world.  But hey, look at it this way…free dental floss.  Am I right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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