Just checking in. Are there still 3.5 of you?
Just checking in. Are there still 3.5 of you?
Grab your banjo and hide your butts, 3.5 readers.
BQB here with a review of Burt Reynolds’ most critically acclaimed drama (as opposed to his many car chase movies), Deliverance.
It’s every straight man’s worst nightmare – getting forcibly butt blasted against his well by a pair of drunken redneck perverts.
Yes indeed, Hollywood has created a number of monsters over the years. However, if you’re a straight, red blooded American male who dreams of titties and vag 24/7, the scariest, most unimaginable nightmare you can possibly think of is to be forced to “squeal like a pig” as what happened to Ned Beatty in a scene that is, frankly, hard to watch. Honestly, you might want to fast forward through it. I watched this movie years ago and would watch it again but for that scene that I never want to see again.
Four friends and city slickers (Burt Reynolds, Jon Voigt, Ronny Cox and Ned Beatty) go on a canoe trip to explore the great outdoors. When they reach town, they have a banjo duel with a creepy local boy, setting the eerie tone of what is about to transpire.
At first, it’s fun. Beer, canoeing and fishing. Burt’s character, Lewis, is actually an experienced outdoorsman who carries the rest of the crew on his back and his scenes where he shoots bad dudes with his bow and arrow are iconic.
Long story short, one canoe gets lost. Ned and Jon are accosted by dirty mountain man perverts who attack Ned’s tucas while Jon is forced to watch. Lewis saves the day by shooting one of the rapists in the heart with an arrow.
Alas, the other perv escapes and stocksthe rest of the canoers as they try to make it down the river to civilization. Ergo, the city slickers must band together to protect their lives and more importantly, their butts. Yes. These are manly men who will fight to the death to protect their butts from illicit invasions.
I doubt Hollywood would make this movie today. First, it implies the South is an awful place….eh, that’s probably a debate for another post, though Hollywood has never been shy about dumping on the South. But the main reason they wouldn’t make it again is because they’d be afraid people would assume that all homosexuals are looking to rape straight men’s butts which really is far from the truth. Just because these particular homosexuals were butt attackers doesn’t mean all are and surely audiences can be trusted to direct their disdain at these two outliers who deviated from the field containing the vast majority of homosexuals who only engage in consensual butt related activities.
Anyway, it’s a loaded subject matter. No, straight dudes shouldn’t fear gay dudes. But yes, straight dudes are going to fight like hell to protect their butts when in the presence of the very occasional, not representative of the norm, gay rapist because to a straight man, getting your butt invaded by another dude is a fate worse than death.
Hollywood, if they were to remake it today, would probably have Ned Beatty’s character be scared of butt activity only for him to decide he quite enjoys it and then he celebrates the butt invasion and then he moves to the country and opens up a bed and breakfast with his attackers.
Not gonna lie. Even by 1970s standards, the film’s a little freaky. They probably could have just made the rednecks a couple of crazed, homicidal murderers who like to kill people and the audience would have been given the requisite sense of dread without adding the butt attack scene which really, you’ll feel like you have to bleach your brain just to forget that terrible, terrible scene.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy, but I’ll never watch it again. Cool as Burt is with his bow and arrow, I just can’t watch Ned get butt attacked again. Frankly, Ned should have gotten an Academy Award just for having the courage to play, as far as I know, the first male on male rape victim caught on film. That’s some shit that even Daniel Day Lewis won’t do.
BQB: Hello, welcome to the BQB Network’s hurricane news coverage. First, because everyone at home is too dumb to imagine what heavy winds and rain look like, here’s some asshole reporter we lashed to a post in the middle of the storm. Asshole reporter, are you there?
ASSHOLE REPORTER LASHED TO A POST: I’m here, BQB! Boy, this hurricane sure does suck big hairy donkey balls! As you can see, the water is rising, rising, rising but I’m at the top of this post so I should be fine for awhile and…aw shit, the water’s at my waist, isn’t it?
BQB: You’ll be fine, Asshole Reporter. Moving on, here’s an interview with Some Dipshit Who Didn’t Listen to the Evacuation Order.
SOME DIPSHIT WHO DIDN’T LISTEN TO THE EVACUATION ORDER: Boy howdy, them government boys told me I got to leave but I said, no sirree, bob. I am staying put in this house because my great-grandpappy built this house with his bare hands and also I will be damned if I will allow looters to abscond with my precious collection of potato chips that bear a striking resemblance to Harry S. Truman. But I do thank the 50 emergency rescue team members who risked their lives to save me once the water got so high that I had to tap dance on top of my roof with my dog under my arm.
BQB: And here’s some Bubba who, well, we’re not making fun of him. I mean, it sounds like we are but he’s cool so we won’t.
BUBBA: My name is Bubba Bosephus Jones and I am from Kentucky and I done come here on my own accord so I could assist authorities in saving folks with my own rowboat and I done already saved 78 old ladies, 4 cats, 3 dogs and 1 hamster.
BQB: It’s like, I want to make fun of you, because the idea of volunteering to go to help people in a disaster is silly to me, but then when I say it out loud, I realize that you’re the good person and I’m the asshole. Anyway, let’s talk a Democrat to see the political fall out of the storm.
DEMOCRAT: Trump is a demon warlock who causes hurricanes!
BQB: And the president had this to say.
TRUMP: I will knock out the hurricane with my own penis. That’s right, people. My dong is so huge that it can knock out bad weather, believe me. The fake news media will tell you that it can’t but it totally can, believe me.
Hey 3.5 readers.
You didn’t get to be this site’s first 3.5 readers. That’s fine. Few recognize genius in its early stages.
Toilet Gator: The Blog! already has 3 readers. It’s not too late to become the .5th reader of that fine site.
Meanwhile, check out The Last Driver Garage
You can be the first 3.5 readers of that site. It’s to promote my upcoming serial. For the near future, I don’t expect to do much on either of the new blogs, but I think it will be good to establish a little web presence.
“What I wouldn’t have given to smell his finger.” – Noted Blogger Bookshelf Q. Battler on the crushing loss of the notorious ladies’ man, Burt Reynolds.
Hey 3.5 readers.
As all 3.5 of you know, I am in a funk most of the time. But one of the things that legitimately has me bummed lately is the death of noted tough guy actor and legendary poonsmith Burt Reynolds, tragically dead too young at the age of 81. Oh, what more great movies he could have made. Oh, what more foxy ladies he could have pleasured. Why God, why? Surely he deserved to live to be 100.
Now, I don’t know the exact figures, but here are some rough estimates of some BR related figures:
Number of Ladies He Pleasured: 9,091 (that’s just with his mustache when he gave free stache rides. Most mathematicians are in agreement that the amount of vag he got busy with is incalculable by modern metrics.)
Number of Honest to God Legit Roles That Could Have Gotten Him An Oscar That He Turned Down to Do More Car Race Movies – 10,025. Well, probably not that many. OK, that’s a little high. I only know of one. He turned down the Jack Nicholson role to do “Stroker Ace” about a NASCAR driver and Jack went on to win the Oscar but damn it, Burt loved him some car chase movies.
Number of Car Chase Movies He Made – Roughly 40 million.
Anyway, like most artists, you don’t realize what you had until it’s gone and damn it, Burt was a macho, manly son of a bitch that you just don’t see around anymore, thank you, feminists. Thanks a lot. Shit. I’m going to grow out a feather duster on my lip right now in protest of Amazonian masterhood.
Whenever I get a chance, I’m going to wow you with some Burt posts and when I have some free time to relax, I’m going to watch some of Burt’s greatest hits and review them for you, because, and listen men, I really men this, we have got to get our balls out of the mason jars that the womenfolk have put them in and be manly men again.
Do you have a favorite Burt movie? Discuss in the comments.
Have you ever experienced deja vu, 3.5 readers?
Oh, and by the way, have you ever experienced deja vu?
BQB here with a review of the classic comedy, “Groundhog Day.” SPOILERS ABOUND.
Bill Murray plays Phil, an arrogant, self-absorbed Pittsburg weatherman who can’t contain his disdain for local television, phoning it in until, he hopes, a job at a national channel will save him. He openly mocks his job, his life, and all around him, never taking a moment to appreciate what he does have.
On one fateful day, Phil is assigned to cover the Punxatawney Phil ceremony, where a groundhog is pulled out of its hole and according to legend, if it sees its shadow, then there will be six more weeks of winter. This is the ultimate contemptible assignment for Weatherman Phil, who despises the idea of thousands of yokels dancing around in the cold to see a rat get yanked out of a cave.
Accompanying Phil are his goofy cameraman, Chris Elliot, and his producer/love interest, Andie MacDowell, a perpetually happy woman who always sees the bright side in everything, truly Phil’s foil.
Phil can’t wait to get out of this hick town but alas, every day he wakes up and it is Groundhog Day over and over and over again. Why? It’s never explained. He’s just stuck in an infinite loop, destined to live the same day for eternity.
How many Groundhog days does Phil experience? One can never be sure, but it has got to be in the thousands at least. This is truly an experimental film that was ahead of its time as the timeline is manipulated to comedic effect.
Phil’s reaction to his plight ranges from depression (he kills himself repeatedly only to wake up safe and sound with Sonny and Cher on the radio again and again), to greed (robbing an armored car without consequence) to lust (he questions babes about the most intimate details of their lives, then meets them fresh the next day and presents their interests as his, making them believe they’ve found their soul mate so they’ll offer instant nookie.)
Are there any lessons to be learned? Yes. When you are stuck in a rut, you have to do a lot of work to dig yourself out of that hole. Phil lives the same day over and over, really, for years. He makes mistakes. He learns lessons. Ultimately, when he uses his repeated day to better himself (take piano lessons) and to be kind to others (he starts spending his days finding out about the townsfolk’s problems) he finally lives one great, amazing day, spent helping the local yokels all day, only to tickle the ivories at night, impressing his lady love with his musical talent while the locals regale her with stories of Phil’s kindness.
Improve yourself. Be kind to others and they will tell tales of your goodness, tales that will reach someone you want to impress. This seems to be the name of the game and if only we could compact that work into one day that we get to live for years before we learn the lessons and then get to start fresh the next day. Unfortunately, when we are stuck in a rut, we must learn those lessons, obtain those skills, do those acts of kindness for years before they pay off, we may get old and croak before any of our hard work goes noticed.
So, the name of the game is start early. Funny, I saw this movie as a kid and didn’t heed its warnings. Today, I feel like Phil, stuck in a rut, turning people off with my constant mockery of everything, unable to find the time needed to improve my life and impress people.
I need a Groundhog Day! Come on, Sonny and Cher. Get on my radio!