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Jun 17 2015
4 Comments
BQB and the Meaning of Life

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 18 – Video Game Rack Fighter

PREVIOUSLY ON BQB AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…

Our noble hero Bookshelf Q. Battler is on an epic quest in search of the meaning of life.  Along the way, he’s assisted by super detectives Holmes and Watson and even finds a love interest in Victoria Gloria Somersby Stratenhaus, a geeky female video game enthusiast.

Read  Parts 1-5

Read Parts 6-13

Read Part 14     Read Part 15

Read Part 15     Read Part 16

Read Part 18

“You still haven’t told me how you ended up on a trip to Pango-Tango,” I said.

“Oh right,”  Vicky replied.  “Steve told me that I’d discover the path toward the meaning of life in a most annoying manner.”

“Did he now?”  I asked.

“He sure did,”  Vicky said.  “And wouldn’t you know it, a few days later, I’m recovering in my house when all of a sudden, my cat starts meowing at the TV and low and behold, a news story about the Great Guru of Pango-Tango comes on!”

“That’s….that is…I’m speechless.”

“I know, right?”

I opened up my bag and looked at Holmes.  He looked up at me and silently mouthed the words “tell her!”

I shut the bag.

“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” I said.

“I have,” Vicky said.  “And to think, I’d of never experienced any of it had I not been woken up at 3 a.m.”

“What woke you up that early?”  I asked as I took a sip of generic brand cola.

“The tiny video game characters who live on my magic video game rack,”  Vicky said.

I did a spit take.  I thought spit takes were only for cheesey comedies.  I was wrong.

“Are you ok?”  Vicky asked, patting me on the back.

“Yeah,”  I said.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Just went down the wrong pipe.  I’m sorry.  You said something about a magic video game

Victoria Gloria Somersby Stratenhaus CODE NAME: Video Game Rack Fighter (Seen here with her contacts in)

Victoria Gloria Somersby Stratenhaus
CODE NAME: Video Game Rack Fighter
(Seen here with her contacts in)

rack?”

I took another sip of soda.

“Yes,”  Vicky said.  “In fact, I should tell you that Vicky is only my given name.  My chosen name is Video Game Rack Fighter.”

Another spit take.

“Wow,”  Vicky said.  “I think you’re developing a bit of a drinking problem there, buddy.”

“Yeah,”  I said.  “Yeah I think I’m going to lay off the generic brand cola for now.  Video Game what?”

“Video Game Rack Fighter,”  Vicky said.  “I own a magic video game rack.  For some odd reason unbeknownst to me, any time I put a video game on my rack, the characters in the game come to life and battle one another over the limited space on my rack.  I try to tell them there’s plenty of room and they don’t need to worry about me throwing any of their games away, but they refuse to listen.”

“I imagine that can be very stressful,”  I said.

“It is,”  Vicky said.  “They’re always tearing my house apart.  They never listen to a word I say.  Just the other day I had to yell at the War Shooter soldiers to stop shooting at my copy Interplanetary Roleplayer.”

“Must be nice to get away for awhile then,” I said.

“It is,”  Vicky said.  “I’m a little worried they’ll run up a big pay per view bill while I’m gone, but all in all, it should be alright.  I left Video Game Rack Fighter Cat in charge.”

“Video Game Rack Fighter Cat?” I asked.

“My head of security,”  Vicky replied.  “I like to think of my house as a headquarters where I’m safe from my enemies.”

Video Game Rack Fighter Cat, Head of Security VGRF HQ

Video Game Rack Fighter Cat, Head of Security VGRF HQ

“You have enemies?”  I asked.

“Mostly a damn sasquatch I keep locked in my basement,”  Vicky said.  “He keeps trying to stop me from being awesome but I defeat him at every turn.”

I faked a yawn and stretched.  I wasn’t tired, but I was at the end of my ability to listen to all the amazing similarities we shared.  My heart told me to share my story but my brain got in the way.

“Vicky,”  I said.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I need a little nap.”

“That’s a good idea,”  Vicky said as she tucked a pillow underneath her head.  “I’m exhausted from yelling at Giuseppe and Carmine anyway.”

“Yelling at who?”  I asked.

“Giuseppe and Carmine”  Vicky said.  “You know, the small characters that popped out of my copy of Stereotypical Italian Contractors.  They snuck into my bag even though I expressly told them not to come.  That’s what I was doing in the bathroom all the time.  I was chewing them out royally.”

“Oh,”  I said.

“You must think I’m crazy,”  Vicky said as she closed her eyes. 

“No,”  I said.  “Not at all.”

 “I can’t believe I told you all this but you just seem like a real trustworthy guy””

Vicky closed her eyes.

“I hope you’re still here when I wake up, Ed,”  Vicky said.  “It’s been fun talking to you.”

Coming Soon to the Bookshelf Battle Blog – “What’s on Vicky’s Rack?”  An exciting video game review column by Video Game Rack Fighter!  (Yeah, it’s a working title.  We know how it sounds.)

More BQB and the Meaning of Life to come!

Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Video game playing woman, cat, and sasquatch images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

PS…Vicky’s arch nemesis, “The Sasquatch” below:

Stupid Sasquatch

Stupid Sasquatch

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Jun 16 2015
1 Comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

And Now a Message from 1940’s Actress Liddie Laurent

DIRECTOR:  ACTION!

Liddie Laurent, 1940's Starlet of Stage and Screen

Liddie Laurent, 1940’s Starlet of Stage and Screen

LIDDIE:  Darling 3.5 readers!  How lovely for you to be here today!  I’m positively…no, this won’t do at all. Cease production posthaste!

DIRECTOR:  CUT!  What’s wrong, Liddie?

LIDDIE:  I do not understand this scene at all, Mr. Chesterfield.  This role is dreadful!  Someone get my agent on the telephone machine immediately!

DIRECTOR:  It’s just a commercial, Liddie.

LIDDIE:  A commercial?  A COMMERCIAL! Sir, I’ll have you know I was the leading lady in One Kiss Till Midnight and yet you’d think so little of a performer of my talents as to subject me to a life of hawking toothpaste and toiletries to the cheap and tawdry masses?

DIRECTOR: It’s not a commercial for toothpaste and toiletries.

LIDDIE: It might as well be! This is how it starts you know. One minute I’m the star of Tap Dance to Toolaroo and the next minute I’m peddling television dinners for lowly house fraus too lazy to cook for their husbands!

DIRECTOR: Come on Liddie, get it together. All right, people!  Let’s take it from the top.   In 3…

LIDDIE:  Oh I simply cannot work under these conditions! The complaint I shall file on this production with the Thespian’s Society shall be copious and voluminous and another thing…

DIRECTOR: …2…1…ACTION!

LIDDIE: Darling 3.5 readers! How lovely for you to be here today! I’m positively delighted to see you.  Come closer so I might tell you the wonderful news. Pop Culture Mysteries is available on Wattpad. Now, you’ll have a second option to…no.  No!  No!  NO! This simply will not do Mr. Chesterfield!

DIRECTOR: CUT! Liddie, what now?

LIDDIE: “Wattpad?”  What in the name of the Kaiser’s pointy helmet is a Wattpad? This is gibberish sir! I don’t know who the charlatan is who wrote this rubbish but whoever he is he should be put back on the hobo train from whence he came, never to darken my doorstep again!

DIRECTOR: Wattpad.  Wattpad.  It’s uh..

LIDDIE:  You have no idea do you?

DIRECTOR: It’s 1949, Liddie! How am I supposed to know?

LIDDIE: How absolutely wretched!  I’m being asked to sell something and I have no idea what it even is.

DIRECTOR: It’s a wattpad! You know, it’s a pad you rub on your feet when they’re itchy or something.

LIDDIE: Mr. Chesterton! For shame, sir! For shame! You dare drag me…me?! The star of Sunshine is for Lovers, all the way to this abysmal shack you call a set and ask me to sell foot pads! No! Never!

DIRECTOR: Liddie, not for nothing, but I’ve got a line around the block of a bunch of younger, prettier broads who’d step over their grandmothers for this part.

(LIDDIE WALKS ACROSS THE SET AND SLAPS THE DIRECTOR ACROSS THE FACE)

LIDDIE: The nerve! I’ll have you know I’m not a day over twenty-five or I’m a monkey’s uncle!

DIRECTOR: Someone get her a banana.

(ANOTHER SLAP THEN LIDDIE WALKS OFF)

LIDDIE: Bring my car around, Lattimore! I shan’t be treated in this shoddy manner! Wait until the scandal sheets learn that the star of Save Luck for a Rainy Day was treated like common riff raff!

Liddie Laurent. Coming soon to Pop Culture Mysteries…assuming we can get her to chill out and be cool.

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Jun 16 2015
3 Comments
BQB and the Meaning of Life

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 17 – Darn Tootin

PREVIOUSLY ON THE MEANING OF LIFE

Good God, do I have to spoon feed this to you people every day?  Read it!

Read Parts 1-5

Read Parts 6-13

Read Part 14    Part 15

Part 16

“I had all these devices plugged into the same outlet,”  Vicky said.  “And I like my jelly donuts warm so I nuked it for a few seconds.  The next thing I know, a damn hurricane blows into my house, passes through the microwave, and into my jelly donut.”

“Wow,”  I said. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?”  Vicky asked.

“You have no idea how much I believe you,”  I answered.  “Then what happened?”

“The jelly donut grew to about six feet tall,”  Vicky said.  “And it was there, looking all big and delicious so…this is so

According to Dr. Goetleib, crapping out a concentrated hurricane once eaten in the form of a jelly donut is a lesser known condition.

According to Dr. Goetleib, crapping out a concentrated hurricane once eaten in the form of a jelly donut is a lesser known condition.

embarrassing.  I ate the whole thing.”

“We all lose control now and then,”  I said.

“I don’t want to get into the specifics, but let’s just say that hurricane wanted out!”  Vicky said.

“I have a hunch where it came out,” I said.

“Darn tootin’!”  Vicky said. 

Her face turned red. 

“No pun intended.”

“And that’s how you died?”  I asked.

“Right on the crapper,”  Vicky said.  “Just like Elvis.”

“I’m sure that was very traumatic,”  I said.

My mind was racing.  I wanted to tell her about my similar story, how I died on the toilet after passing concentrated lighting I ate in the form of a cherry toaster pastry.  Alas, my bad experience with Blandie had left me too afraid of sharing personal details about myself with the opposite sex.

“So I wake up,”  Vicky continued.  “And I’m dressed like a flapper and I’m standing in a 1930’s speakeasy.”

My head was about to explode.

“Nixon was there,”  Vicky said.  “And the Big Bopper and Gahndi.  Oh, and speaking of Elvis, he was there too!”

“Cleopatra?”  I asked.

“No,”  Vicky said.  “I didn’t see her.  But the waitress was a deceased female celebrity from my generation who died too soon.  It was really nice to see her again.”

“Interesting,”  I said.

“And Steve Jobs was there,”  Vicky said.  “He was assigned to be my spiritual adviser.  He told me that as a computer expert, he believed my video games showed great promise and I never should have quit.”

I just sat there in stunned silence.

“And then, get this,”  Vicky said.  “Steve tells me that I’m getting a second chance,  that I need to find the meaning of life and if I do, I’ll get a brief moment of contentment.”

“Just a brief moment?”  I asked.

“Yes,” Vicky said.  “According to Steve, humans are very selfish.  We’re never happy.  We always want more.  A brief moment of contentment is all we can ever hope for before our internal desires kick in again.”

“Heavy stuff,”  I said.

“Tell me about it,”  Vicky said.  “I’m just happy to be alive again.”

Suddenly, it dawned on me how I was sent back to the land of the living.

“Dumb question,”  I said.  “But that waitress…she uh…she didn’t kiss you, did she?”

“No,”  Vicky said.  “I don’t swing that way.”

“Oh,”  I said.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

“But I totally got to make out with Elvis!”

Will the nerds ever make it to Pango Tango?  Keep reading BQB and the Meaning of life (because someone has to).

Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler (2015)  All Rights Reserved.

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Jun 15 2015
1 Comment
BQB and the Meaning of Life

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 16 – Blandie All Over Again?

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE

Dead on the can.  Back to life in search of the meaning of life.

Read Parts 1-5 here.

BQB talks to his bookshelf characters.

Read Parts 6-13

BQB leaves on a jet plane to Pango Tango in search of the Great Guru.

Read Part 14

BQB learns he has a ridiculous amount in common with his new female acquaintance.  Also, we learn BQB’s real name.  What a bombshell.  The press have been calling nonstop.  Or is it nonstart?  Oh, and Holmes and Watson are stowaways.

Read Part 15

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I asked in a whisper to the pair of sleuths.

I let them out of the bag and they hopped out onto my tray table.

“I wonder if someone will make this character I’ve worked so hard on become a Pootie Tang fan.” – Thought that never crossed poor Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s mind

“Mr. Battler,”  Holmes said.  “You’re undertaking a dangerous journey, one that Watson and I had a hand in pushing you on.  We could not in good conscience allow you to go alone.”

The stewardess tapped me on the shoulder.  The detectives froze into position.

“Complimentary beverage sir?”

“Yes,”  I said.  “Generic brand cola please.”

She poured me one and then smiled at my stiff gumshoes.

“Cute toys,”  the stewardess said.  “You should really leave them in the box though.  That’s the only way they’ll appreciate in value.”

“That’s good to know,”  I said, hoping she’d move on.

“My son’s a big toy collector,”  the stewardess continued.  “Never plays with them.  Just keeps them in the boxes.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun,”  I said.

“Not really,”  the stewardess said.  “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Can I get one for my neighbor?”  I asked.

“Sure.”  The stewardess poured another generic brand cola and set it on Vicky’s table.  She pushed her cart down the aisle.

Holmes and Watson gasped for air.

“You two didn’t think of that, did you?”  I asked.  “We’re in public, geniuses.  You’re going to be gasping for air every two seconds.”

“Forget that,”  Holmes said.  “Mr. Battler, do you realize you’re screwing the proverbial pooch with your new female friend?”

“Excuse me?”  I asked.

“Ms. Stratenhaus!”  Holmes said.  “You have so much in common with her it is bloody well uncanny!”

“I concur,”  Watson said.

“You both were interested in pie in the sky occupations,”  Holmes said.  “You and your desire to become a writer, her and her love of video game design.  You both sold out your dreams only to find mediocre positions at boring companies.  In fact, you both literally hold the same exact position at your respective places of business!”

“And you both have long, peculiar names,”  Watson said.

“Precisely!”  Holmes said.  “But other than your name, and a brief reference to wanting to be a writer, you have not shared with Ms. Stratenhaus the many similarities you share with her.  Tell her that you too quit your dream for a boring life and you now regret your decision!  Tell her that a woman left you under similar circumstances!  It will bring you both closer together!”

“I can’t do that,”  I said.  “It would be Blandie all over again.”

“Who?”  Watson asked.

“Ms. Bland Life Settler,”  Holmes said.  “Consult your copious notes, Watson.  Doing so will refresh your memory.”

Watson pulled out his notepad and flipped through the pages.

“Ahh yes!”  Watson said.  “The woman who broke Mr. Battler’s heart.”

In case you forgot about BQB's Ex-Girlfriend, Blandie

In case you forgot about BQB’s Ex-Girlfriend, Blandie

“There’s no mystery here,”  Holmes said as he paced about the tray.  “Mr. Battler poured his heart and soul out to Ms.Settler.  He told her about his hopes, his dreams, his fears, his aspirations.  He told her how he wanted to be a writer and rather than be loving and supportive, she turned around and used that fact against him, calling him an idle daydreamer before flying the proverbial coup.”

“She also made many assertions regarding his lack of prowess in the boudoir,”  Watson said as he looked over his notes.

“Read them, Watson,”  Holmes said as he chewed on the end of his pipe.

Total deja-vu.

“No,”  I said.  “We’ve already been through this, dummies.   And put that pipe away.  You know how many laws you’ll break if you smoke on an international flight?”

“Good Lord,”  Holmes said as he tucked his pipe into his cloak.  “This highly regulated police state you live in, Mr. Battler.  It’s like Moriarty won.”

“Get back in the bag,”  I said.  “Vicky will be back any second and you guys can’t hold your breathe that long.”

My charges/pains in the butt complied and scurried into my bag just in time to avoid my new friend’s return.

“Aww!”  Vicky said.  “I love generic brand cola!”

“Me too,” I said. “I think it’s the extra generic-ness.”

“So, Ed!  Tell me, if you don’t like air travel, why are you on a plane?”

“Oh,” I said.  “You know.  Just business.”

“Going somewhere special?”  Vicky asked.

I coughed to clear my throat.

“Pango-Tango,”  I said.

Vicky raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I know,”  I said.  “The war going on there.  All over the news.  Kind of a stupid place to visit I guess.”

“No,”  Vicky said.  “Not at all!  I’m going there too!”

I didn’t even bother to ask, “Seriously?” 

I just nodded.

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”  Vicky asked.

“I promise,”  I said.

“Pinky swear,”  Vicky said.

We locked pinky fingers.

“Because you know you’ll rot in eternal hellfire and damnation if you break a pinky swear,”  Vicky said.

I liked her.  She was quirky, like me. 

“So I hear,”  I said.

“I died a few days ago,”  Vicky said.

I couldn’t help myself.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously,”  Vicky replied.  “I…oh, I can’t tell you this story.  It’s so gross.”

“No judgments here,”  I said.

“I’m still surprised this was even scientifically possible,”  Victoria said.  “But I ate a concentrated hurricane in the form of a jelly donut.”

Find out how Vicky died after eating a concentrated hurricane in the form of a jelly donut on the next episode of BQB and the Meaning of Life!

Sherlock and angry woman images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  (All Rights Reserved).  (With my usual apology to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

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Jun 14 2015
5 Comments
Ask the Alien

Ask the Alien – 6/14/15 – Intelligent Plant Life

By: Alien Jones, Intergalactic Correspondent

Greetings, Earth Losers!  ‘Tis I, Alien Jones, here to once again shed some light on the questions that vex your dump of a planet.

No offense.  I meant that in a nice way.

Alien Jones took in a movie as

Alien Jones took in a movie as “research” for this column.

This week’s question comes from Connie Flanagan of the blog, “Everything Indie.”  She writes:

“Bookshelf Q. Battler, how very flattered you must feel to have been selected to be the human emissary of Alien Jones and the Mighty Potentate.”

Ah, of course BQB is touched to have been selected as the chosen one by the Mighty Potentate, aren’t you BQB?

BQB:  You know, I was at first, but now it’s just like, “What have these guys done for me lately?”  I mean, holy crap, I have the power of space aliens behind me and my blog is still less popular than that “Peanut Butter Jelly Time” video.  Back to you, AJ.

“It’s peanut butter jelly time!  Peanut butter jelly time!  Peanut butter jelly…peanut butter jelly!”  Wait?  What?  Blast! Now that infernal song is stuck in my head!

And don’t blame me for your failures, Bookshelf Q. Battler.  You know you could have skipped watching Spy last night and done some writing!

BQB:  It was for the blog!

Yeah yeah.  It’s always for the blog, isn’t it?  Anyway, Connie goes on:

My question is admittedly mundane, but it’s one I’ve been curious about for some time: As a vegetarian, I’ve become concerned that plant-life may also have intelligence and emotional lives. If so, do they resent being cultivated for human consumption and having the genetics of their offspring/offshoots altered?

Not a mundane question at all.  In fact, it’s a very astute one.

Bookshelf Q. Battler!  Do you recall the 2008 film The Happening by director M. Night Shyamalan?

BQB:  Oh my God!  So awful!  I’ve been complaining about it for years!  So basically, this was yet another attempt by Shyamalan to wow the audience with a twist at the end, but as usual, he just fails to recreate the success of his first film, The Sixth Sense.

What happens?  Should we be concerned about SPOILERS?

BQB:  You should be concerned with getting your money back if you waste your time on this piece of crap.  So here’s what happens.  Mark Wahlberg stars as a man protecting his family in the wake of a toxin that’s been released into the air that’s making people commit suicide.  The twist at the end of the film?  The toxin has been released by plants!  Yes, plants! They’re tired of mankind’s mistreatment of the planet and as it turns out, they’re the culprits who have poisoned humanity.

Well, here’s the deal.  The Happening isn’t just a horrible movie.  It’s also a documentary of what could potentially happen to your planet one day if people don’t start taking better care of the environment.

You see, M. Night Shyamalan is in fact, a space alien.  He hails from Planet Shamalama, a world once inhabited by humans until the plants got tired and released a toxin that convinced everyone to off themselves.  Shyamalan was one of a select few who were able to escape in time.

(Fun side note: Otis Day and the Knights are also from the same planet. They cashed in by becoming musical performers.  Their hit, “Shama Lama Ding Dong” is actually the national anthem of their homeland.)

Shamalama was once a pinnacle of technology and industry, with factories blowing smoke and churning out various products from an ever consuming populace.  When the plants got tired of it, they staged a revolution.

Today, the hierarchy of ruling classes on Shamalama are as follows:

SQUASH – The Gold Class – They make all important decisions.

STRAWBERRIES – The Silver Class – They work behind the scenes to manipulate all plant and vegetable matter to carry out the bidding of the Supreme Squash.

LEGUMES – The Bronze Class – The worker bees of the planet who carry out the lesser tasks.

Rose bushes, pine cones, cucumbers, rododendrons, grass – they all have their own tasks that I won’t bother with.  Suffice to say, the plants have that world running like a well oiled machine now and frankly, are doing a better job than the Shama Lama Ding Dongs ever did.

(That’s the actual name of the former residents of Shamalama.)

BQB:  AJ, Attorney Donnelly just called and she says she’s too busy to fend off any potential lawsuits that might be generated by referring to M. Knight Shyamalan and Otis Day and the Knights as Shama Lama Ding Dong aliens from Planet Shamalama.

Oh, will you stop?  Great Garbanax, this place has gotten less fun since that woman showed up.  “You can’t say this!  You can’t say that!”

You’re probably just trying to shamelessly plug your new series, “Pop Culture Mysteries.”

“Oh look at me!  I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler!  Five more people read one of my stories than usual so I’m ready for my payday, Hollywood!”

Get over yourself, BQB.

And besides…M. “Knight” Shyamalan.  Otis Day and the “Knights.”  It’s not like they’re hiding it.  It’s fairly obvious that only the knights of Shamalama would have had access to escape pods when the plants took over.

Finally, Connie also writes:

Also–and please beg for tolerance from Alien Jones and the Mighty Potentate for my positing two questions rather than just one–is there anything digestible by humans that doesn’t resent being eaten and/or genetically modified?

I’m afraid not.  Garbanzo beans.  Wheat germ.  Carrots.  Rutabagas.  Turnips.  There literally is not one piece of food without a mind and a soul that isn’t shouting, “Ouch!” on the inside as soon as you bite into it.

But try not to let that get you down.  You’ve got to eat, right?

Try to focus on string beans.  Those guys are notorious a-holes and won’t be missed.

Alien Jones is the Intergalactic Correspondent for the Bookshelf Battle Blog, on a mission to raise Earth’s collective intelligence levels one question at a time. Do you have a question for the Esteemed Brainy One? Tweet it to @bookshelfbattle on Twitter, leave it in the comments on bookshelfbattle.com, or stop by Bookshelf Battle on Google Plus. If he likes your question, he might even promote your book, blog, other project in his answer.

Alien image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

Attorney Donnelly feels the need to reiterate that M. Knight Shyamalan and Otis Day and the Knights are not space aliens.  

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Jun 14 2015
4 Comments
BQB and the Meaning of Life

BREAKING NEWS: Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Real Name Revealed!

Bookshelf Q. Battler's real name is Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein. Don't tell his enemies.

Bookshelf Q. Battler’s real name is Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein. Don’t tell his enemies.

EAST RANDOMTOWN, USA – Bookshelf Q. Battler’s 3.5 readers are plotzing like there’s no tomorrow over a major reveal on the Bookshelf Battle Blog, the real name of our illustrious blog host – Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein.

“It wasn’t that big a reveal to me,” said Aunt Gertie, one of the 3.5.  “I’ve known my little Eduardo since I was changing his stinky diapers but if he prefers being referred to as Bookshelf Q. Battler, then who am I to argue?”

Alien Jones, a space traveler from a far away galaxy assigned by his ruler, the Mighty Potentate, to aid Bookshelf Q. Battler in his efforts to get a writing career off the ground in any way possible, said, “Well, that’s just ridiculous.  There’s no possible friggin’ way that I’m going to be able to get people to read a book written by a guy named, ‘Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein.'”

When asked if that comment meant he that he was in disagreement with the Mighty Potentate, who has steadfastly maintained that BQB’s fabulous writing skills are the only thing keeping a new age of entertainment where reality television dominates over scripted media from sweeping across the universe, the Esteemed Brainy one replied, “Foolish Earth Loser!  That was just a joke!  Of course I concur with the wisdom of the Mightiest of Potentates, may his exuberance be known throughout the cosmos.  Eduardo Ricardo Papasomething or other…yes.  That’s a fine name.”

What are the chances of a man named Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein being published?  This reporter consulted with none other than Beatrix Carmoody of Carmoody and Associates Literary Agency.

“Look,” Ms. Carmoody said.  “I don’t care if the guy’s written a book that makes Shakespeare look like a circus monkey, with all the intrigue of Game of Thrones and all the epic wonder of Star Wars and Harry Potter combined.  If it’s got, “Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein” on the cover, then there’s no way anyone is buying that shit.”

Alien Jones was notified of this information.

Alien Jones in a rare display of emotion upon realizing his job just got 1,000 times harder.

Alien Jones in a rare display of emotion upon realizing his job just got 1,000 times harder.

“Ahh,”  said Mr. Jones.  “Well, I’ve read BQB’s work toward a novel and so far all he’s done is write out the lyrics to Baby’s Got Back a hundred times.  Oh and once in awhile he’ll type out, ‘I have no idea what to say so I’m going to go get a donut.’  He has about fifty pages of that.  Sooo, Shakespeare plus Star Wars plus Harry Potter and he still doesn’t have a chance because of his name?”

Alien Jones then excused himself and banged his head against a wall for fifteen minutes straight.  Upon his return, he stated to this reporter, “It’s no big deal.  If the Mighty Potentate says that BQB is the chosen one then who am I to argue with his Fabulous Potentositude? And I’m saying that because I truly believe in my mission and not out of an intense fear that the Mighty Potentate might vaporize me for disagreeing, as he has done with so, so many others.  All hail the Mighty Potentate.”

Bookshelf Q. Battledog, Head of Security for the Bookshelf Battle Compound, provided this insightful comment:

Woof.

Woof indeed, BQBD.  Woof indeed.  That says it all, doesn’t it?  But as Head of Security, is this cunning canine worried that his boss’s true moniker is out in the open?

Woof woof.

As always, a stoic security professional of few words.

One hundred pounds of badass in a five pound bag.

One hundred pounds of badass in a five pound bag.

What’s the significance of this big reveal?  This reporter went straight to the source.

“It’s not that big a deal,”  Bookshelf Q. Battler said.  “Sure, I comprised the security of the Bookshelf Battle Compound but, you know, it was for a hot nerd chick so whatever.  It’s not like anyone really reads this thing and I’m sure my 3.5 readers will be cool.  Things shouldn’t change at all and people should continue to call me by my codename, Bookshelf Q. Battler.  My real name can’t fall into the hands of my arch nemesis, the Yeti.”

The Yeti was unavailable for comment, as he was too busy being trained by Fit Nerd as part of a new series, Fit Nerd Trains the Yeti.

Stupid Yeti

Stupid Yeti

3.5 readers are directed to not share BQB’s real name with anyone, especially any smelly yetis they may encounter.

“So I shouldn’t have told everyone at the bingo hall?”  Aunt Gertie asked.

No comment, Gertie.  No comment.

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Jun 14 2015
2 Comments
BQB and the Meaning of Life

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 15 – BQB’s Real Name

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE

BQB dies.  Lives.  He must search for the meaning of life.

Read Parts 1-5

BQB and his bookshelf characters talk.  Holmes and Watson want to help.

Read Parts 6-13

BQB flies Air Third World on a mission to visit the war torn nation of Pango Tango, where the Great Guru lives. BQB hopes to ask him about the meaning of life  On the plane, BQB meets a nerdy female video game enthusiast.

Read Part 14

“And so, in Monster Nightmare, if you chop up a thousand monsters with your chainsaw, you get a distinguished chainsaw valor award,” the pretty she-nerd explained.

“Naturally,”  I replied.  “I wouldn’t want to chop up all of those monsters for nothing.”

Vicky shows Ed her video game awards.

Vicky shows Ed her video game awards.

We talked for an hour.  Actually, she talked.  I listened.  Occasionally, I tossed out a witty comment, but she had the floor.

“Listen to me babble on and on about video games,” the woman said.  “I haven’t even bothered to ask you your name.”

She reached out her hand.  I shook it.

“Book…”

I stopped myself.  She was a stranger.  Best to use my given name, not my chosen name.  The magic bookshelf was a source of great power.  Knowledge of its existence was not to be shared with just anyone.

“Eduardo,”  I said.

“Nice to meet you, Eduardo,”  the woman replied.  “I’m Victoria.”

Victoria popped a piece of gum into her mouth and offered me a piece.  I took it and chewed it.  I wasn’t a big gum chewer but it had been so long since I’d been in the company of a beautiful woman that I was ready to do anything she asked me.

“Is that your full name?”  Victoria asked.

I laughed.

“No,”  I said.  “My full name is a bit of a tongue twister.”

“Let’s hear it,”  Victoria said.

“I’d rather not.”

“Come on,”  Victoria said.  “It can’t be that bad.”

“Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finklestein.”

Victoria giggled.

“Yeah,”  I said.  “Book agents I queried laughed too.  ‘Good luck selling books with that moniker pasted on the cover!’ they said.”

“You’re a writer?”  Victoria asked.

“I was,”  I replied.  “I used to be.  I stopped.  I’d like to try it again.  It’s complicated.”

“Well, pleased to meet you Eduardo Ricardo Papageorgio Von Finkelstein,”  Victoria said.  “I’m Victoria Gloria Somersby  Stratenhaus.”

“Seriously?”  I asked.

“Seriously,”  she replied.  “But you can call me Vicky.”

“OK,”  I said.  “And you can call me Ed.”

“So tell me, Ed, why did you stop writing?”

“Um,” I said.  “I’d rather hear about this video game fixation of yours.”

“Oh,” Vicky said.  “Long story short, I used to design video games.”

I felt my heart skip a beat – in a good way.  I was in the company of a fellow artist.

“That’s amazing,”  I said.

“Yeah,”  Vicky replied.  “Have you ever heard of Sweet Destroyer?”

“Of course,”  I said.  “I used to have a mild addiction to it.”

“Most people do,”  Vicky said.  “I had an entry level job inputting the code that made the sweets shift around.  It didn’t pay much, but at least I was working in the field I loved.”

“Why’d you leave?”  I asked.

“The guy I was dating at the time dumped me,” Vicky said.  “Said he wanted a woman who was more grounded, down to earth, not living with her head in the clouds.”

“He wanted a girl who preferred a bland life over daydreams about video games?”  I asked.

“Yeah,”  Vicky said.  “How’d you know?”

“Just a wild guess,”  I said.

“So I gave up on video games and went to business school,”  Victoria said.

I broke out in a cold sweat.  Vicky’s story was hitting too close to home.

“Got an MBA,”  Vicky continued.  “I figured there was so much competition in the video game industry that I might as well try my hand at a more practical career.”

“How’d that work out?”  I asked.

“The best I could do was a job at Drying Paint Media,”  Vicky said.  “America’s Number One Producer of Drying Paint Videos.”

This episode of BQB and the Meaning of Life brought to you by Drying Paint Media

This episode of BQB and the Meaning of Life brought to you by Drying Paint Media

“Drying Paint Videos are in high demand?”  I asked.

“Sure,”  Vicky replied.  “People who buy paint want to know how its going to look on their walls when it dries.  Pretty boring work though.”

“At least you’re producing videos,” I said.  “That has to involve some creativity, right?”

“No,”  Vicky said.  “I don’t even get to do that.  I’m just the assistant to the assistant of the vice-president for corporate assistance.”

I felt like I was going to faint.

“Are you alright, Ed?”  Vicky asked.

“Yes.”

“Your face just turned as white as a ghost,”  Vicky said.

“Yeah,”  I said.  “I’m….I’m not really a fan of air travel.”

“Me neither,”  Vicky said as she stood up.  “In fact, excuse me for a moment, I have to go powder my nose.”

I sat back in my seat.  I smiled.  I felt my heart burst.  

Finally, I met someone who could relate to what it was like to be me.

I was feeling euphoric.

And then that feeling came to a grinding halt when I heard two muffled British voices coming from inside my bag.

“Holmes, I don’t think this is a very good idea,”  one of the voices said.

“Watson, stop being such a ninny!”  the other voice replied.  “Simply grab a pair of headphones when Mr. Battler is not looking and then we can revel in the comedic genius that is Pootie-Tang!”

Wow.  A big reveal – Bookshelf Q. Battler’s real name.  A juicy piece of information that our hero’s enemies would love to get their hands on.  Thank God only 3.5 people read this damn thing.

Join us next time on BQB and the Meaning of Life!

Copyright (c) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Jun 13 2015
3 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #001 – Here’s a Story

Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Eye

Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Eye

A husband.  A wife.  Six kids, three from the man’s first marriage, three from the wife’s.

And a housekeeper who’s as loyal as a highly trained doberman is to its master.

The Brady Bunch aired on ABC from 1969 to 1974.  They’re often looked back on as a bastion of wholesomeness, a tame group who got along a lot better than most families do today.

Still, for the time, the subject matter was a bit risqué.  Men and women with kids from past marriages (or hell, past flings even) get married all the time, but in those days, it was a taboo topic for television.

Kids just don’t pop out of thin air.  There had to have been two other people involved in this story.

What happened to Mike Brady’s first wife?

What happened to Carol Brady’s first husband?

My employer, Bookshelf Q. Battler, was dying to know and thus began my first Pop Culture Mystery.

Want to know what happened to the original Brady Bunch spouses?

Well, you could throw a football to your brother, but you might break your sister’s schnozola in the process.

Better play it safe and read these fine tales instead:

Part 1 – Delilah walks her getaway sticks to a coffee shop, where I’m having a helluva time adjusting to modern sensibilities.  Can’t get a black coffee for less than a King’s ransom.  Can’t smoke without the whole joint coming down on you like a ton of bricks.  Did the Nazis have a comeback while I was asleep?

Part 2 – Agnes the Librarian comes to my aid, helping navigate the complicated world of the modern beep boop machine.  I miss the old days when a computer was the size of a warehouse and only the government had them.

Part 3 – I twist the lid off this mystery like it’s a jar of three week old pickles.  If you want to find out what happened to Mike’s first wife and Carol’s first husband, read on.

(I’m told you can watch the Brady’s antics now on something called Hulu.  I have no idea what that is because I’m from 1955.  I assume it’s something you’ll need a beep boop machine for.)

Do you have a Pop Culture Mystery? Put Hatcher on the case! Tweet your questions about movies, television, music, books and entertainment to @bookshelfbattle or leave them in the comments on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.

Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.

Images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Jun 13 2015
5 Comments
BQB and the Meaning of Life

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 14 – Enter the She-Nerd

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE

Bookshelf Q. Battler, owner of a magical bookshelf where small versions of literary characters pop out of the books on said shelf and run amuck, dies on the toilet while crapping lightning, a condition which, as we learn, is very common.

In fact, you should do your part to help find a cure.

Our hero croaks, finds himself in God’s Waiting Room, where he’s told by his spirit guide, William Shakespeare, to seek the meaning of life.

READ PARTS 1-5

BQB is given a second chance at life.  Upon his return to BQB HQ, his book character charges are sorry for driving him crazy to the point where the aforementioned lightning incident occurred.  Holmes and Watson are particularly interested in helping.

A TV news story reveals that The Great Guru, a wise man who has consumed the knowledge of every book ever written, is cut off from the world in his sanctuary atop a mountain located in the middle of the war torn island of Pango-Tango.  Ironically, Pangonians and the Tangonians have been hacking each other to pieces and blowing each other up for twenty years as the result of a dispute over which side is the most peaceful.

READ PARTS 6-13

AND NOW BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE CONTINUES…

Ding.

The Captain’s authoritative voice came through the intercom.

“Thank you for flying Air Third World.  Our motto?  ‘If you wanna go there, who are we to talk you out of it?  We are cruising at an altitude of 35,000 feet above sea level and we invite you to watch our in-flight feature film, Pootie Tang.”

“Pootie Tang?”  I asked out loud.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously,”  the Captain responded, apparently expecting someone to question the airline’s choice of in-flight movie.

Pootie Tang at 35,000 feet

Pootie Tang at 35,000 feet

For once in my life, I lucked out.  The seat next to me was empty, so I kept my carry on bag on it.  I sprawled myself out and was about to take a nap, when the voice of a pleasant sounding woman sitting behind me caught my attention.

“So this is the award I got for wasting the most aliens on Space Killer,” the woman said.  “Oh!  And this is the award I got for killing the most terrorists on War Shooter!”

“Uh huh,” responded a male voice.

“This is the award I received for selling the most crack on Car Thief Mayhem,”  the woman said.  “I’m not actually all that proud of that one.  Maybe I should delete it off my record.”

“OK then,”  the man said.

“Oh!”  the woman said.  “This is the special victory medal I got when I finished Interplanetary Roleplayer as a female and as a male Sgt. Sequoia!”

The man behind me reached up and tapped me on the shoulder.  I leaned over to look back at him.  He was a macho manly man, about my age, who looked like he might have been a frat boy in his youth.

“Dude,” the man said.  “Can you switch seats with me?  This chick is boring the hell outta’ me!”

I peaked up over the seat.  Next to the man sat a beautiful she-nerd.  Big blue eyes, bright red hair, green glasses, and in her hands, a tablet that displayed all of her video game victories.

I hated to give up the extra room, but damn she was cute.  I grabbed my bag and switched seats with the man.  The woman didn’t notice.

“They give you an award for every hundred thousand zombies you dismember on Shuffling Living: The Video Game Experience,”  the woman said.  “Not to brag, but I have ten of those bad boys.”

“That’s cool,”  I replied.

The woman looked up.

“Where did the other guy go?”

“We switched seats,”  I replied. 

“Oh,”  she said with a frown as she folded a cover over her tablet  “I guess sometimes I get carried away.”

“I don’t think so,”  I said.  “I’d like to hear more about your video game achievements.”

“Seriously?”  she asked, flashing me the brightest grin I’d ever seen.

“Seriously,”  I replied.

Is love in the air for Bookshelf Q. Battler?  Tune in tomorrow!  

P.S – in the next part, we’ll learn Bookshelf Q. Battler’s real name!  You don’t want to miss it!

Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler.  All Rights Reserved.

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Jun 12 2015
4 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Enter the Blonde – Parts 1-6

By:  Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Private Eye

Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Private Eye

Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Private Eye

Dames.  They’re a dime a dozen until one day one passes by and makes your jaw drop faster than a 1929 stock ticker.

Delilah K. Donnelly. Now that’s one attorney I wouldn’t mind handling my pro bono.

Get your mind out of the gutter, degenerates.  All I’m saying is when it comes to dinero I’m broker than a piñata full of candy at a kids’ birthday party, and I could use the gal’s advice on all the mysteries coming my way.

After all, she’s the one bringing them to me.

My new employer, one Bookshelf Q. Battler, is some kind of whacko who spends all his time thinking about popular culture.  Movies, television, music, books, entertainment – he can’t get enough of it.

But his obsession means he’s full of questions.

Delilah serves as a go-between, an intermediary, if you will.  The nerd thinks up the mysteries, the dame delivers them and who solves them?

Yours truly.

Want to know how this whole arrangement began?  You’re going to have to pop on your spectacles and do some reading, Jack.

Delilah K. Donnelly, In-House Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog

Delilah K. Donnelly, In-House Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog

Part 1 – I return to my office on a dark and stormy night only to find a blonde dame sitting in my deskchair.  She knows so much about me that it makes me uncomfortable.  Hell, the broad even knows everything about my ex-wives.

Part 2 – The gal reads me my whole life’s story. Odd, since I knew it already. It’s almost like she was doing it for the benefit of 3.5 readers. Also, I dish details about a top secret mission I was involved in during World War II.

Part 3 – The blonde introduces herself as Delilah K. Donnelly.  She’s a lawyer, which is too bad, because I’ve never met a member of the bar that didn’t make me clutch my wallet tighter.  Come to think of it, this lawyer makes me want to clutch something else…

Part 4 – Delilah provides me a letter from an odd fella who wants me to work for him.

Part 5 – Cunning counselor that she is, Delilah presents an iron clad contract to me.

Part 6 – Do I sign it?  Feast your peepers and find out.

No blondes were entered during the production of this story.  One did enter a room though, hence the title.  

Do you have a Pop Culture Mystery?  Put Hatcher on the case!  Tweet your questions about movies, television, music, books and entertainment to @bookshelfbattle or leave them in the comments on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.

Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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