Category Archives: Tomfoolery

Dec 26 2016
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Tomfoolery

Don’t Buy a Bunch of Presents For Your Kids and Then Complain About Your Kids Having Them

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Hello.  I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler, a world renowned poindexter, reviewer of pop cultural happenings, epic nerdventurer and a champion yeti fighter.

Additionally, I’m an accomplished philanthropist and activist.  My causes include “Stop Lightning Infused Toaster Pastry Toilet Death” (a rare condition that occurs when the subject eats a toaster pastry that has been struck by a bolt of lightning, then dies on the toilet while trying to expel the aforementioned lightning bolt) and #OscarsSoPretty (a movement dedicated to giving more golden statues to people who look like bronzed gargoyles).

Today, I announce a new cause – “Don’t Buy Your Kids a Bunch of Presents on Christmas Only to Then Turn Around and Complain That Your Kids Got a Lot of Presents.”

How it Starts

Mom and Dad work hard all year and spend a bunch of money on toys to make kids happy. They put a lot of work into it – shopping, hiding the toys so the kids don’t find them early, wrapping them, putting them under the tree and so on.

Grandma, Grandpa, Aunts and Uncles often get into the act.  They love the kids so they get the kids presents, wrap them…the adults in the family will coordinate and ask each other what the kids like, what toys do they already have so they don’t get the wrong thing and so on.

And then after they do all this work, they just ruin it by turning Christmas morning into one long, drawn out bitch and moan session about how these kids have it so good and they had it so terrible.

:::Kid opens present:::

ADULT #1: Oh look at that!  Aren’t you special?

ADULT #2:  Yeah, when I was a kid I didn’t get anything like that.

ADULT #3:  My parents made me get a rock from the back yard, draw a smiley face on it with a magic marker, then bring it inside, wrap it, and put it under the tree myself.

ADULT #4:  You had a magic marker?  Ha! My parents couldn’t even afford markers.  I just had to pretend my rock had a smiley face.

KID’S BRAIN: Umm…I’m sorry?

The Two Types of Kid’s Christmas Present Complaints Made By Adults

#1 – That didn’t exist when I was a kid and I wish it did.

This one is a little more understandable.  Time marches on.  Inventors invent.  Scientists science up some shit.  New products are created.

You wish you had better toys to play with when you were young.  Even aside from toys, you think your life might have been better had this product or that product been around when you were younger.

I feel your pain.  I am unwaveringly convinced that had YouTube existed when I was twenty, I would have gotten a spot on Saturday Night Live and be well into my movie career by now.

But hey, just because today a creative person can buy everything they need to put on a web show at Best Buy for a reasonable price doesn’t mean I should hate on youngsters who do that, or hate on myself because of…what?  I was born in a time when video cameras where giant contraptions you had to hold on your shoulder and even when you did record something there was no way for the average person to share it with the world?

Be happy that science is constantly creating new inventions.  Hopefully, science will eventually find ways to save the world and bring about peace and so on.

Don’t be sad whatever you are interested in now wasn’t around when you are a kid.  If you are healthy enough to complain, then you are healthy enough to go get whatever it is now and use it.

Hell, if I weren’t so wretchedly ugly, I’d make my own YouTube show.  Sure, I was wretchedly ugly when I was a twenty year old but people would have been like, “Good for him.  That wretchedly ugly twenty year old is doing something with his life.”

Today, if I did it, people would be like, “Eww…that wretchedly ugly man is trying too hard to look cool.”

And who knows?  Maybe all these new inventions aren’t great.  Maybe we were better off without them when we were younger.  Maybe we talked more.  Maybe we were more willing to listening to different points of view instead of retreating into Internet bubbles that rehash our viewpoints.

Maybe life was better in the 1990s when people would have thought you were an asshole for taking pictures of your lunch to show people what your lunch looks like.

#2 – My parents couldn’t afford something like that.

Sorry to hear that, but when you make this complaint, you’re missing the big picture.

You’re making this complaint because secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, you are jealous of your kids.  Your parents struggled and didn’t have much money.  Thus, you had to go without.  You would have enjoyed fancy toys and so on as a kid.

Yeah, your childhood was hard, but if you are complaining that your kid got something you didn’t get, then don’t be sad your kid got something you didn’t get.  Be happy that you overcame your past and put yourself into a position where can afford to buy your kids things that you weren’t able to get as a kid.

And you know what?  If you are healthy enough to complain, then you are healthy enough to play with that toy now.  It isn’t too late.  Grab it while your kid isn’t looking and play with it or hell, you’ve got the money now, buy yourself one of your very own.

CONSIDER THIS…

Christmas is supposed to be great for everyone, but really, it is the best for kids.  They don’t have money.  They have no ability to get any.  They have minds full of mush. They still think the world is a magical place where a wonderful flying fat man can make all of their dreams come true.

Don’t worry about knocking them down a peg.  As soon as they grow up and venture into the real world, there will be a long line of people (employers, boyfriends/girlfriends etc.) who will be more than willing to tell them that they aren’t good enough, so let them enjoy the toy that wasn’t around or that was unaffordable when you were a kid, because once a kid grows up and realizes dreams don’t just magically happen, even when you do try real hard, the holiday season begins to lose its luster.

IN CONCLUSION…

Don’t put a lot of time, money, and effort into buying your kids presents only to turn Christmas morning into a bitch and moan session about how lousy you had it and how great your kids have it.

Kids hear more than you think, and while they may not understand certain things you say today, they might look back as adults and realize what you were saying, that you were mad at them for having something you didn’t have.

If you really, truly, honestly can’t help but hate on your kids for having a better Christmas than the ones you had growing up, then just save your time, money, and effort and don’t buy any presents.  Tell the kid to go into the back yard and pick a rock and imagine that it has a smiley face.

Sure, the kid will be sad now, but when he is an adult, he won’t have to deal with all of the emotional stress that comes with feeling bad because he got better presents than his parents did.

So how should Christmas morning go from now on?

ADULT #1 – Hooray, you got that toy!

ADULT #2 – Good for you!  Have a lot of fun with it.

But seriously, in private, when the kids aren’t around, feel free to bitch and moan to each other all you want and hell, if you can think of a nice way to say it, maybe remind the kids now and then that money doesn’t grow on trees so they should take care of their toys and don’t break them and shit because there are starving, toyless children in Africa otherwise they might grow up to become self-absorbed douches.

Ahh hell…what do I know?  Do whatever you want.  I’m not a child psychologist.  Merry Christmas.

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Dec 16 2016
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Tomfoolery

Who Was Mommy Kissing in the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” Song?

3.5 readers, drop everything you are doing.  Seriously, I don’t care if you’re in the middle of brain surgery, either performing it or having it performed on you.

Today, we are, once and for all, going to figure out who Mommy was kissing in the song, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

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The year was 1952.  The baby boomers were booming and everyone liked Ike.  Sock hops and malt shoppes were frequented by youngsters and every woman’s middle name was “Sue.”  Becky Sue.  Peggy Sue.  Annie Sue.  You get the picture.

A young lad by the name of Jimmy Boyd records a song written by Tommie Connor.  The song is a hit and an instant Christmas classic.  It is unlikely you’ll get through the holiday season without hearing it at least one time.

But forget all that.  Is Mommy having an affair with Kris Kringle?

I’ve got to know.

The lyrics:

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
She didn’t see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep
She thought that I was tucked up
In my bedroom, fast asleep
Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.

POSSIBLE THEORIES:

#1 – Mommy Kissed the Kid’s Father, Who Was Dressed Like Santa Claus

Once in awhile a father will go the extra mile and don a Santa suit to surprise his stupid little children.  So perhaps this kiss was innocent.  Perhaps Mommy was kissing Daddy.

EVIDENCE:

  • “Then I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus, underneath his beard so snowy white.”

Hmm…inconclusive.  Maybe it was a fake white beard and Mommy tossed it up to give Daddy the old tickle action.  Or then again, one would have to move Santa’s beard in order to tickle his belly.  Who knows?

  • “Oh, what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.”

This line is typically cited as evidence that that Daddy was just dressed up like Santa.  The songwriter may be trying to give the listener a clue where the listener goes, “Oh OK this was just a stupid kid who saw something he didn’t understand and then basically accused his mother of being a whore under false pretenses.”

Personally, I can buy this, but I would like to know whether the husband was known to work late or be out late and whether or not the couple was having problems.

Were other holiday icons known to frequent the house late at night?  Did the kid ever see his mother kissing the Easter Bunny or engage in lesbian kissing with the Tooth Fairy?

The song just doesn’t give me enough info.

#2 – Mommy Cheated on Daddy With Santa

So, the kid is pretty convinced this is Santa.  Kids are stupid.  I can’t condemn Mommy just on the word of a little kid.  Yet, it is noteworthy that the kid does seem pretty sure. Yet, due to his youthfulness, he doesn’t appear to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Oh what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Clause last night.”

Ahh.  So sad.  The words of a little mush brained child who doesn’t understand how the world works.  No, Daddy would not have laughed to learn that his wife was unfaithful.

I’d like to know if the kid told Daddy about this.  If Daddy laughed then, ok.  Daddy’s in on the joke.  Daddy dressed up like Santa and he laughs because the kid didn’t realize what was going on.

If Daddy doesn’t laugh upon being told this information, then he’ll surely question Mommy as to who she was kissing.

#3 – Mommy Was Kissing a Random Obese Bearded Man (Or, Mommy Might Be a Biker Bitch)

The kid doesn’t say he saw a red suit or any reindeer.  Sure, a long white beard and a fat stomach is Santa’s signature look, but it is also the look of your average, run-of-the mill, unfriendly neighborhood motorcycle gang.

Do we know for sure that while Daddy is out working to support the family, Mommy isn’t making out with random bikers who look like Santa in exchange for her meth fix?

I’m not saying this is happening, but I’d like to know more.

#4 – Mommy and Daddy Were Role Playing

Daddy dressed up as Santa, not to spread holiday cheer, but because Mommy and Daddy are perverts who work costumes into their perversions.  Today Daddy dresses up like Santa and asks Mommy to sit on his lap.  Tomorrow Mommy dresses up like an Amazon warrior princess and gives Daddy a spanking.

Huh.  Now I know why the 1953 sequel, “I Saw Daddy Getting a Spanking From an Amazonian Warrior Princess” was a total flop.

#5 – The Kid’s a Liar

Maybe he’s just a little turd that was naughty so Mommy sent him to bed without supper and so the kid got his revenge by recording a hot track in which he falsely accuses his mother of infidelity.

#6 – Daddy’s a Cuckold

Daddy knows Mommy kisses Santa Claus.  Daddy likes to hide in the closet and watch.

#7 – The Kid Dreamed It

Maybe the kid isn’t a liar per se but maybe he has a wild imagination.  Maybe he ate too many cookies before bedtime and the sugar rotted his brain.

#8 – Mommy Kissed a Bearded Woman

I’d have to know if the circus was in town at the time to be sure, but Mommy may very well have been kissing a portly bearded woman.

#9 – Daddy Looks Like Santa Claus

Maybe Daddy is also fat and has a white beard.  Maybe this is an older couple who had kids late in life or maybe Daddy is like Trump and Mommy is like Melania where you have a couple with a large age difference.

And finally…

#10 – Mommy is Straight Up Kissing Santa Claus Behind Daddy’s Back

Maybe Mommy’s a shameless floozy.  Maybe Daddy is a jerk and has been denying Mommy his affections so Mommy sought comfort elsewhere in the form of an obese, bearded holiday icon.  Perhaps Daddy has been giving it to Mrs. Claus on the regular so Santa and Mommy conspired to seek revenge and this is the best they came up with.

All I know is the kid seems pretty sure about what he saw.  That’s all I’m saying.

Who was Mommy kissing in the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” song 3.5 readers?

Discuss in the comments!

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Dec 11 2016
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Tomfoolery

Man Breaks Up Fight On Subway With Potato Chips (Or, Snack Man)

Hey 3.5 readers.

So, I’m about four years late in hearing about this which, I know, shocker, I’m such a pop culture guru.

But this one flew under my radar until I saw it recently.

In 2012, a fight broke out between a man and a woman on a subway train.  As you can see in this CNN video, they go after each other pretty good.  You can hear bystanders yell things like, “Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa!” to no avail.

But then a man just nonchalantly walks between them and starts eating potato chips.

Somehow, this act deescalated the situation.  I’m no expert but my assumption is that when two people are angry at each other, emotion takes over and they focus on their anger and tune out the outside world.  The people telling them to stop become background noise and I have to assume that had someone tried to pull one of them away, he may have gotten hurt.

But “Snack Man” just walked through the scene, acting kind of obtuse, like he didn’t really know what the two were doing (so they couldn’t necessarily be mad at him) but also became a reminder to the two people that there were other people on the train that were witnessing them so they should chill out.

Eh, I mean, me personally, I wouldn’t advise anyone to put themselves at risk and even though the tactic worked in this instance, another attempt at being “Snack Man” could very well lead to a valiant potato chip eater getting the chips slapped out of his face, but otherwise, the video is an interesting social science experiment caught on film:

What say you, 3.5 readers?

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Dec 09 2016
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Tomfoolery

Giraffe Sex Song

Hey 3.5 readers. BQB here.

I was filled with dismay to read on CNN that giraffes are in danger of going extinct.

Giraffes are such wonderful creatures that I felt an immediate need to do something.

So, I made some calls to some of the music business peeps I met in my Funky Hunks days and to my delight, I am now going to turn this post over to Barry Yellowspots, the only giraffe in the world capable of singing 1970s Barry White style love ballads.

Barry, take it away.

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BARRY:

Aww, yeah thank you BQB.

:::Cue 1970s love ballad music:::

Do you readers know what time it is?

ALL FEMALE CHORUS:

What time is it?

BARRY:

It’s time to get freaky!

CHORUS:

Oooh, freaky!

BARRY:

It’s time to get nasty!

CHORUS:

Nasty!

BARRY:

It’s time….for giraffes to fuck!

CHROUS:

Start fuckin’ giraffes!

BARRY:

Girl, I see you across the savannah.

It’s like I’m in heaven and you are my manna.

We’re just a couple of spotted sheep-horse creatures.

And everyone knows our long ass necks are our greatest feature.

CHORUS:

Greatest feature!

BARRY:

We’re living proof that Darwin was right!

Because all those short ass little necked giraffes who couldn’t reach the highest leaves on the tree sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ tonight!

CHORUS:

Dead giraffes don’t fuck!

BARRY:

Now girl, no means no and if that’s your answer I’ll take it.

But if you’ve sworn a vow of chastity, please, oh please won’t you break it?

We’re the closest thing the world has to a unicorn.

And once we’re gone, the world will surely mourn.

CHORUS:

The world will mourn!

BARRY:

So girl, let me turn you on with my manly neck muscle flex.

‘Cuz it’s time for us to have…some hot and sweaty giraffe sex.

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Whoa, uh oh Giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

You thought we giraffes were all shit out of luck.

But don’t worry world, cuz we’re totally gonna fuck!

Whoa, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Girl, don’t you know this is what the world needs?

CHORUS:

The world needs it!

BARRY:

For all of us giraffes to get together and breed!

CHORUS:

Giraffe breeding!

BARRY:

Now girl, just be cool as I get into position.

For giraffes are endangered and I’m on a reproductive mission.

This ain’t about you or me baby it’s about the world.

And all the baby giraffes we’re about to unfurl.

Whoa, uh oh giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Don’t you know it’s the only way?

A bunch of horny ass giraffes must save the day!

CHORUS:

Save the day!

BARRY:

Damn baby, you wouldn’t know it because I got my neck leaned so far backwards it’s in the next county.

But if you could see my face, you’d see me smiling because of all of that sweet lady giraffe booty bounty.

CHORUS:

Giraffe booty bounty!

BARRY:

Don’t even worry about giraffe fellatio.

I’d have to climb up onto a damn tree just to make that a go.

Oh and girl, don’t even get me started on giraffe cunnilingus.

CHORUS:

Giraffe cunnilingus!

BARRY:

That would require an entire football field between us.

CHORUS:

So much between us!

BARRY:

Whoah, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Look, I swear this isn’t an elaborate scheme to get all up in that giraffe cooter!

CHORUS:

Giraffe cooter!

BARRY:

Whoa, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Giraffe extinction is real, just look it up on your giraffe computer!

BQB:  Thank you Barry and thank you 3.5 readers for educating yourselves on the need for giraffes to start fucking.  If you know a giraffe couple, please, I urge you, encourage them to fuck.

Put on a slow jam.  Set the mood lighting.  Pour them some wine and then politely tell them that they shouldn’t wait around for “the perfect giraffe” to come along because, hey, there’s a giraffe right there to fuck.

You know me, 3.5 readers.  I’m all about charity.  I’m against Lightning Infused Toilet Pastry Toilet Death.  I’m a proponent of #OscarSoPretty and now, I’m taking on a new cause…giraffe sex!

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Dec 09 2016
5 Comments
Tomfoolery

Baby It’s Cold Outside (Politically Correct Millennial Version)

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”  It’s the go-to Christmas song whenever male and female celebrities want to cut a Yuletide single.

Good for its time but today, let’s be honest, it’s a tad rapey.

Fear not, for I, BQB, have rewritten it for modern times.  Enjoy!

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:::A couple enjoys a drink by the fireside as snowflakes can be seen coming down through the window:::

WOMAN: I really can’t stay.

MAN: Baby…er, I mean fellow person it’s cold outside.

WOMAN: I’ve got to go away.

MAN:  Fellow person it’s cold outside.

WOMAN:  This evening has been…

MAN:  I had been hoping that you’d drop in, but I say that only in a pleasant, non-threatening manner and with no ulterior motive whatsoever.

WOMAN:…so very nice.

MAN:  Will you sign this form indicating your consent to allow me to hold your hands in order to determine if they are cold as ice?

WOMAN:  My mother will start to worry.

MAN:  Beautiful, uh I mean, person whose looks I did not notice whatsoever because beauty is a social construct of the mind, I’d like to ask what is your hurry though please be aware you are in no way, shape or form required to tell me.

WOMAN:  My father will be pacing the floor.

MAN:  Listen to that fireplace roar.  Perhaps we can sit a spell and talk about how your father is a cog in the patriarchy’s vast anti-female machine.

WOMAN:  So really I’d better scurry.

MAN:  Person, please don’t hurry.  Really, your preferred level of speed is your business.

WOMAN:  Maybe just a half a drink more.

MAN:  Turn on Pandora while I pour.

WOMAN:  The neighbor’s might think.

MAN:  Person, it’s bad out there…and I only say that because I have your safety in mind and not because this is an elaborate rouse to engage in inappropriate activities with you, though I understand why you would suspect me of that because I am a disgusting man.  Please take the bed and I will chain myself in a cage to make sure I don’t succumb to my vile mannish ways.

WOMAN:  Say, what’s in this drink?

MAN:  I don’t know but I got it at the same liquor store Bill Cosby goes to.

WOMAN:  I wish I knew how…

MAN:  Now, I wish to point out that your eyes are like starlight now, but I only say that in an artistic sense and not in a romantic sense because you are not a piece of meat to be ogled.  I am so ashamed of myself.

WOMAN:…to break this spell.

MAN:  I’ll take your hat, not because of some outdated idea of chivalry because I fully understand that you are capable of putting your own hat away, but because I would just appreciate the opportunity to assist you with your hat, though if that isn’t cool, just say the word and I will step away from your hat.  Also, I was thinking about mentioning that your hair looks swell but I won’t because “swell” is another social construct.

WOMAN:  I ought to say, “No, no, no, sir!”

MAN:  Oh no, the patriarchy strikes again!  Person, you are not required to call me “sir” and please, by all means, say no.  Say the word and it is out in the freezing cold blizzard you go.  I’m not even going to ask if you would mind if I were to move in closer.  In fact, I’m going to get a tape measure so I can make sure we are separated by ten feet at all times.

WOMAN:  At least I’m gonna say that I tried.

MAN:  Please, you would not hurt my pride if you left.  Male pride is a social construct.  I wish I could find my pride and rip it out of me to teach the patriarchy a lesson.

WOMAN:  I really can’t stay…

MAN:  Person, you must get out!

BOTH:  Ah, but it’s cold outside!

WOMAN:  The snow is so high I can’t get home!

MAN:  Better that you freeze out there than another man gets his way!

WOMAN:  Say, lend me your coat.

MAN:  Here, now please leave and do not delay!

WOMAN: You’ve really been grand…

MAN:  Men are the worst in this land.

WOMAN:  Why don’t you see?

MAN:  They really should round up and jail everyone with a pee-pee.

WOMAN:  There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.

MAN:  Slut shaming is a source of national sorrow.

WOMAN:  At least there will be plenty implied.

MAN:  I’m going to tell everyone I curled up in the corner and cried.

WOMAN:  I really can’t stay…

MAN:…then you totally shouldn’t!

BOTH:  Ah, but it’s cold outside!

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Dec 08 2016
4 Comments
Tomfoolery

Kid Fat Shamed By Santa

Did you hear about the kid that went to see Santa and was told by the Jolly Old Elf to “layoff the cheeseburgers and fries?”

Check out the CNN story for more.

So many things at play here, 3.5 readers.

First of all, isn’t it kind of ironic for Santa to call anyone fat?  That’s the pot calling the kettle black, right?  The man is literally famous for being a super fat fatty.

Really, Santa?  You want to tell a chubby kid to lay off the burgers?  OK.  Howsabout you don’t eat a plate of cookies and drink a glass of milk AT EVERY HOUSE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD every Christmas Eve?

Sheesh.

But ok, so this story opened up the can of worms that is the ongoing fat shaming debate.

Here’s my two cents.

It isn’t healthy to be overweight.  However, overweight people should be free to go about their lives without being insulted, name-called, treated like crap.

That’s pretty reasonable.  Like most issues, the debate collapses when both sides huddle to their extreme corners.

On the one hand, you have people who say fat shaming helps fat people so feel free to say nasty things to them and treat them like crap.  It’ll motivate them to lose weight.

Yeah, no.  It’ll just make their lives more difficult and the harder their lives are, the harder it is to lose weight.  If you wouldn’t want someone pointing out your problems every time you step foot out into public, then don’t do it to other people.  Mind your business and stop bothering people.  Pretty simple.

Then on the other side of the debate, you have some people who are fat and they say dumb things like being fat doesn’t cause health problems, its ok, people who don’t find me attractive and don’t want to date me are shitty, whatever.  That’s the other side and that’s equally silly.

Is this kid chubby?  Yes.  Is he still a little kid?  Yes.  Should his parents help him out and get him involved in sports and get him eating right and exercising while he is young and his body can easily bounce back and he’s got the energy to lose weight and build muscle and turn it around so he can live a happy, healthy life?

Yes.

Is that easier said than done?

Yes.

Should a little kid be able to sit on Santa’s lap and not be criticized?

Yes.

Here’s why:  Because this kid probably has no shortage of kids at school who will gladly call him fat and make fun of him, so maybe, just maybe, while his mind is still young and he’s able to still feel a childlike sense of wonder and enthusiasm about the world, he should be able to sit on Santa’s lap and not be told that he’s fat, especially when Santa is also fat.

I mean, come on, being a Rent-a-Santa is like the only job where being fat and having gray hair and a beard gives the candidate a leg up for the position.

In conclusion, my advice to the world:

  • Fatty Haters – keep it to yourself.  If the the portly person is minding his own business, you don’t need to make fun of him.  Don’t be a dick and then try to pass it off as you are a nice guy trying to help him realize he has a problem.  He knows.  It isn’t a matter of him not knowing and needing someone to point it out.  It is a whole perfect storm of DNA, environment, emotions, self-control, addiction and so on.  This person feels bad 24/7, so don’t worry, he’s not going to feel great if you give him a pass on the shitty insult you’ve cooked up in your head.
  • Fat Activists – No, fat people shouldn’t be treated like crap, but don’t put out misinformation and try to convince people that weight issues don’t cause health problems.
  • Santa – You’re fat.  Stop calling kids fat and lay off the cookies.

 

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Dec 05 2016
4 Comments
Tomfoolery

An Interview with Krampus, the World’s Most Notorious Ancient Germanic Yuletide Demon

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

So, as you know, I’m a hostage of the yeti, but he is allowing me to interview my next guest because he is such a fan of his work.

I’m not a fan per se but, you know, the blog must come first and I need the clicks.

Without further ado…Krampus.

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Krampus: Vile Ancient Yuletide Demon/Denier of the Power of Facial Scrubs

BQB: Your Evil Hornyness, welcome.

KRAMPUS: Thank you, BQB. I’d say it’s good to be here but I’ve been thrown out of places much classier than your pitiful blog.  Hell, I had way more than 3.5 followers in the olden days when computers hadn’t even been invented.

BQB:  Right.  So, can you tell my 3.5 followers who you are?  I don’t mean to be rude.  I’m just not sure that they have heard of you.

KRAMPUS: That’s cool, bitch.  First of all, I am hella old.  I date back before pre-Christian times.  Second, I’m the antithesis of everyone’s favorite fat man, that rotund wishy washy do-gooder Santa Clause, or as I call him, “Old Saint Dick.”  See what I did there?

BQB: Yes.

KRAMPUS:  Because he’s really Old Saint Nick but I called him Old Saint Dick because I think he’s a dick.

BQB: Punny.  But we all know what Santa does.  He brings toys to all the good little girls and boys of the world.  What do you do?

KRAMPUS: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone and stop the presses, Cochise.  Santa does not bring toys to good girls and boys, so let me just straighten out your bent propaganda there.

BQB: He doesn’t?

KRAMPUS:  No, he doesn’t.  Oh sure, he’s got you all hoodwinked with all the, “He sees you when you’re sleeping” and the naughty/nice list but really, honestly, truly, we all know that shit is a scam.  That fat bastard will bring a toy to a kid no matter what and he does not give a shit whether or not that kid has been naughty or nice.

BQB:  Really?

KRAMPUS:  You know it, bitch.  Look, parents love to get their misbehaving little turds to straighten up by warning them that they will get jack shit when Santa finds out all the heinous shit they’ve done, but Santa doesn’t care enough to actually cross-reference a naughty/nice list of every damn child in the entire world.  And you think the elves are going to help him do it?  Those little freaks are union.  They have like nineteen smoke breaks a day and the fat man is lucky if he can get those pointy eared butt goblins to do a half-hour’s worth of work in a day where he pays them for eight hours at a rate of fifty bucks an hour.

BQB:  Wow.

KRAMPUS: I know.  If I were that fat ass crushed red velvet suit wearing diabetes patient, the first thing I would do is send all of those Keebler cookie rejects packing and ship the entire North Pole operation to China.

BQB:  I think we’ve gotten off topic.  You still haven’t told my 3.5 readers what you do.

KRAMPUS:  Well, nothing right now, but back in ancient times, I did Santa’s job.

BQB:  Oh.  So you delivered toys to good little girls and boys?

KRAMPUS: Say what?  Bitch, please.  If a kid was good, I walked my demon ass right on by that kid’s house without giving him a reward.  You’re supposed to be good and to channel my inner Chris Rock, you’re not supposed to get a “cookie” for doing something “you’re supposed to do.”

BQB:  Oh.  And the bad kids?

KRAMPUS:  Beaten with chains.

BQB: Umm…

KRAMPUS:  Yup.  “Hey Gunter and Greta,” all the ancient Germanic parents would say.  “Be good and do your chores and clean up the cave and wipe all the moss off the rocks and don’t talk back or else Krampus will throw you in his sack, beat you with his chains, then drag you off to Hell.”

BQB:  This interview has taken a turn for the worse.

KRAMPUS: Oh please, don’t feed me that namby-pamby bleeding heart shit.  The ancient holiday season was fun.  Ancient folk would even sing songs.  “Krampus Carols” we used to call ’em.

BQB: Please don’t sing one.

KRAMPUS: “Jingle chains, jingle chains, Krampus has got his chains…”

BQB: Stop.

KRAMPUS: “Over the river and through the woods and into Krampus’ sack we go…”

BQB:  Stop.

KRAMPUS: “…it’s slung over his back and down through the cracks of the earth and into the underworld we go-ah-oh!”

BQB:  We get the picture.  So obviously, you don’t do that anymore.

KRAMPUS:  A shame really.  So many children deserve a good in-sack, chain beating.

BQB:  Wow.  OK, just for the record and not just because my lawyer is advising me to say this…I do not condone or approve of violence against children in any way, shape or form.

KRAMPUS:  Fine, fine.  We can nix the chains and the sacks and the dragging naughty children off to Hell now that we live in quote unquote modern “enlightened” times.  But at the very least, that little shit that keeps pulling his sister’s hair and treats his parents like cash machines and personal servants should not get a present from the fat man, don’t you agree?

BQB:  Eh…kids are kids.  Sometimes the worst kids grow up, realize the difference between right and wrong and live good lives despite youthful naughtiness.

KRAMPUS:  Yeah, and like I said, no more sacks, chains, and/or draggings off to the underworld, but maybe instead of a new bicycle, Tommy can pay his penance for bullying all those nerdy kids at school by being forced to watch a week’s worth of incredibly dry documentaries.  “No Tommy.  No presents for you.  No trip to Grandma’s house to play with toys and stuff your face with cookies.  You will now watch programs about how wicker furniture is made until New Year’s Eve.

BQB:  I’m not really for it but I guess it is way better than the chains and the sack and so on.

KRAMPUS:  I’m a hip demon.  I get with the times.  I can find all kinds of new age punishments that twenty-first century hipster millennial parents will be down with.  “What?  You didn’t do your homework?  No presents for you until you eat this bowl of vegan, gluten-free tofu.”

BQB:  I think I know the answer already but I have to ask.  Why aren’t you as well-known as Santa?

KRAMPUS:  Ah.  Where do I start?  Rumor has it that Hitler had me banned.  I can’t confirm or deny that because we evil demons have to stick together, but between you, me and your 3.5 readers, I was such a shit heel that even the dude who was all like, “Hey, maybe shipping off six million people to their doom isn’t such a bad idea” heard about me and was all like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Krampus!  Enough with the chains and the sack beatings already!”

BQB:  So it was Hitler?

KRAMPUS:  Eh, you could say that but really it was commercialization.  The gift and card industry.  Those advertising pricks on Madison Avenue.  I mean, really, around this time of year, whose face do you want to see on your box of cookies, or on your soda-pop bottle or on your television?  Me and my jagged razor sharp teeth of Fatty McGoody-Two-Shoes, what with his chubby angelic cheeks and his professor glasses and his red suit and his warm smile and his overall aura of, “Hey, you all do your best, so here’s some free toys and shit and you know what?  I’ll even let you naughty kids fool yourselves into thinking you were nice all year long because that’s just what the Grandpa of the World does.”

BQB:  Well, when you put it like that…

KRAMPUS:  There’s just no way I can compete with that adorable walking “Before Jenny Craig” model.  I might be getting soft in my old age because there are times when even I want to let bygones and bygones and give old Fatty McManTits a big hug.

BQB: Why don’t you?

KRAMPUS:  Eh, Mrs. Claus and I used to date.  Santa is kind of a dick about it.  It’s all very awkward. I’ve said too much.

BQB:  It’s cool.  Only 3.5 people read this blog anyway.  So what do you do with all your free time now that you have hung up your sack and chains?

KRAMPUS:  Oh, let’s see.  What don’t I do?  Yoga.  Knitting.  A little bit of crocheting.  Spin class.  Pottery Barn.  I can’t even get within five feet of a Pottery Barn without destroying my credit rating, let me tell you.

BQB:  They do have some nice stuff at Pottery Barn.  Krampus, that’s all the time we have and I’d like to thank you for this interview, but I won’t, because it was truly awful and will no doubt give my 3.5 readers nightmares, which they don’t deserve because they are all nice people.  Before you go, do you have any last words?

KRAMPUS:  Don’t be good because an obese, raging pizza addict at the top of the world will give you a free video game if you do, because he will give it to you even if you’re a total asshat anyway.  Instead, be good because you’re supposed to be good.  And if you’re good for the right reason, then good things will come to you throughout your life.

BQB:  Wisdom found in a surprising place.  Thank you for reading, 3.5 readers.  Good night and Merry Christmas.

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Dec 04 2016
2 Comments
Tomfoolery

The Best Gift You Can Give BQB This Year

Hey 3.5 readers.

Did I mention I’m still a yeti hostage?

I’ve been forgetting to mention that.

The Yeti is still in control of BQB HQ, but that’s not important at the moment.

What’s important is that fact that this exemplary blog is at 1,988 followers.

That means if twelve more people follow me, I’ll be in the big leagues of having 2000 followers.

Even then, I only have 3.5 readers.  A lot of people follow but for some reason, only 3.5 people ever read.

So follow me nerds, as I would love to have 2,000 followers by Christmas.

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Nov 24 2016
6 Comments
Tomfoolery

BQB’s Top Ten Thanksgiving Foods to Shove in His Facehole

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Happy Thanksgiving, 3.5 readers.

What food stuffs are you going to be stuffing into your face hole today?

From BQB HQ in fabulous East Randomtown, here are BQB’s favorites in no particular order:

10. STUFFING – My favorite and really the thing I look forward to the most. Why we don’t have it all year round I don’t know. I suppose I could if I knew how to cook. I’d make a joke that Video Game Rack Fighter could pause her latest game of Car Thief Mayhem and make me some, but then I’d get sued by Gloria Allred.

Where was I? Right. Stuffing. The only thing, and apparently I’m one of few who thing this way, I like just the regular good old plain stuffing. I don’t want celery or vegetable or sausage in it. Disgusting. I just want heaping forkfuls of seasoned mushy bread.

Alien Jones, zap me up some stuffing, will you?

9. TURKEY – Duh. A no brainer. Plus, it makes me sleepy so I have a built in excuse to fall asleep and not have to listen to the Yeti’s latest nonsensical super angry snow beast rants.

8. CRANBERRY SAUCE – Oddly, I was against this for many years. I never understood how it fit in with the rest of the dishes. Then I took the plunge and mixed some in with my stuffing and I was sold.  Like Vinny Baggadouchio’s advice, it does not suck.

7.  MASHED POTATOES – Much like my writing, they’re dry and bland. And for some reason, I don’t really want them any time of the year other than this time. Tradition I suppose.

6.  BISCUITS – Not just any biscuits. You have to get the kind that come in the vacuum sealed cardboard tube that have been packed in there so tight that when you open it up it rips a hole in the space-time continuum.  Such amazing technology could have only been invented by Dr. Hugo Von Science.

5. SWEET POTATO CASSEROLE – You wouldn’t know it to look at the furry little schmuck, but Bookshelf Q. Battledog is actually quite the chef. Every year he whips up a delicious sweet potato casserole.  He tosses in some marshmallow goo and some brown sugar.  I think he also tosses in some drool but I try not to think about that.

4.  CHOCOLATE CHIP COCONUT COOKIES – Search Engine Optimized Poet did a web search for these tasty treats and he’s been making them ever since.  It isn’t that hard. You just make chocolate chip cookies and add coconut. Then you write a poem about your baking experience.

3.  POTATOES AU GRATIN – So much starch, so little time. The Astounding Nerdstradamus loves cheesy French taters so much that he predicts that they will be the only thing that people eat in the year 7000.  I hope I make it until then but if not I’ll have to take his word for it.

2.  BANANA PUDDING – Of course Professor Nannerpants makes this dish but he is offended that you think of him in such stereotypical terms.

  1.  PIE – So much pie.  Any kind of pie. Pecan and apple are my favorites.

What say you, 3.5 readers? What will you be stuffing in your face hole this Thanksgiving?

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Nov 18 2016
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Tomfoolery

The Old People Are Getting Younger

I have a new habit, 3.5 readers and it is a terrible one that I need to break immediately.

Whenever I meet, see and/or think about an older person I subtract sixteen in order to figure out how old they were in 2000, realize they were young during then and since 2000 seems like it was just yesterday to me, it feels like that older person should not be old, like they were just young two seconds ago so why are they old now?

Did they catch an oldifying disease?

No, they’re just old.  Time, you dirty, dirty bitch, you.

I feel the same way about myself. I literally feel like my life was like:

  • 2000 – Oh boy, the world is my oyster!
  • Time passes – Huh, I sure am having a hard time making my dreams come true.
  • 2016 – Holy shit I blinked and now I have gray pubes.  2000, where did you go?

I blame the pop culture.

For the most part, give or take a few style trends, people in 2000 didn’t look much different than they do now.

The music isn’t that much different.  The movies have better effects now but 2000 movies were no slouches.

So that’s my complaint.  We’re in the second decade since 2000 but neither decade has had any real defining style.

Think about…

…the 1960s – Tie dye and hippies, bell bottom jeans and people saying “far out” and groovy.”

...the 1970s – Disco, leisure suits and eight tracks.

…the 1980s – Hair bands, Michael Jackson, Madonna.  “Greed is good” according to Gordon Gecko.

…the 1990s – Everyone dresses up like a lumber jack and listens to depressing alt rock.  Gangsta rap takes over the rap game.

…the 2000s till now – Eh, I mean, I could be wrong. Maybe you’ll see it differently, but it just seems like time time since 2000 has just been all about computers and the Internet getting better, social media taking over, music seems to fall into either pop or rap.  There are no new styles coming along and guitar based rock or other types of songs seems like a a lost art form.

My overall point – I used to be able to look at a black and white movie or a photo of a man in a fedora and know it was from the 1950s.  But now, its getting harder to tell what post-2000s time period a piece of pop culture is from.

At least my parents got a cue in the 1990s.  “What? Everyone is dressing like a lumberjack and listening to songs sung by super depressing marble mouthed mumblers from Seattle? Guess we’re old now!”

It just seems like pop culture is losing its decade dividing lines.

What say you, 3.5?

 

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