Tag Archives: Comedy

The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 11

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And so, Tyndareus sent his finest messengers to spread word all throughout Greece that his daughter, the voluptuous and vivacious Helen of Sparta, inspirer of boners the world over, was available for marriage and all interested suitors must make their way to the king’s palace in order to plead their case.

After a few weeks, the old king, his sons, and his smooth talking houseguest found themselves standing on the steps of the palace, looking out at a sea of eligible bachelors that stretched out for miles.

“Perhaps we should put a cap on this,” Castor said.

“Only the first one thousand suitors to get to through the door will be considered?” Pollux asked.

“Gods no,” Castor said. “That would turn into a bloodbath quick.”

“Great Zeus’s beard, Odysseus,” Tyndareus said. “I couldn’t possibly interview all of these perverts.”

Odysseus observed the crowd. Sure, there were plenty of kings, princes, warriors and other men of noble stock or great accomplishment, and of course, they’d all brought their own contingents of servants and underlings with them.

A man decked out in a velvety red robe shouted over everyone around him.

“Pick me, King Tyndareus, for I am Amphimachus, the greatest mac daddy in all of Greece!”

Amphimachus snapped his fingers and his servant held up an open chest filled with gold coins.

“I bring you riches to compliment your wisdom, good king, and there’s more where that came from!”

The Daddy of All Greek Macs was about to continue his plea when he was cut off by a man in a clean, white toga.

“Nay, my king! Select me, Polyxenus the Proud, and I shall deliver unto you a hundred fertile brood mares to supply the mighty Spartan army with as many horses as they need.”

“Shit,” Castor said. “Gold and horses.”

“We might get rich off this,” Pollux said.

Tyndareus grew tired of the spectacle and stared at Odysseus with exhausted eyes. “Do something.”

Odysseus nodded then raised his hands up in the air. “Hey!”

No one was paying attention. Everyone was too busy shouting their bribes offered in exchange for the right to acquire Helen’s splendiferous vag.

“A thousand goats!”

“Fuck those goats! I’ll give you all the sapphires you can carry!”

“Fuck those goats and those sapphires! I’ll give you your own island!”

Odysseus stuck his pointer into the right side of his mouth and his middle finger into the left. This allowed him to make an ear splitting whistle.

“Yo!” the adventurer said. “Shut your suck holes, ass bags! This is a classy affair!”

The sea of suitors calmed down and paid the speaker their full, rapt attention.

“That’s better,” Odysseus said. “Alright, check it. Thank you all for turning out to court Helen of Sparta, the most beautiful princess in all the world.”

And that ended the calm. Cat calls. Whistles. Hooting. Hollering.

“Shut it!” Odysseus barked.

The crowd was silent again.

“Now, we’ve got some rules here,” Odysseus said. “First of all, everyone needs to chill the fuck out and stop acting like a bunch of animals. You’re trying to impress the King of Sparta, idiots, so behave yourselves and stop tossing your bribes out willy nilly as if Tyndareus is some type of common reprobate.”

Tyndareus leaned over to whisper into Odysseus’s ear. “I mean, I’m not totally against it if they’re offering…”

Odysseus nodded. “Instead, be gentlemen about it and slip the king your bribes when no one is looking. Really, people, this is all common sense.”

The adventurer strutted about the steps as he selected his words. “On that note, if you are a broke ass loser, a pathetic weakling, or a man who has accomplished nothing of import in his life, begone!”

The rabble grew restless as angry words were thrown Odysseus’s way.

“Oh get off it,” Odysseus said. “I’m not saying that Helen is a gold digging freak, but she ain’t messin’ with no broke ass Greeks, ya feel me? If you can’t take care of yourself, then you surely cannot take care of the most beautiful woman in the world.”

An old man with three teeth in his mouth hobbled up on his cane. “I agree! Kick out all these peasants and pick me, Hercules!”

A look of befuddlement came over Odysseus’s face. He squinted at the old man. “You’re not Hercules!”

“Yes I am!” the old man said as he flexed his arm and made the teeniest, tiniest muscle.

“You’re Hercules?” Odysseus asked.

“I sure am,” the old man said.

“The legendary warrior favored by the gods?” Odysseus asked.

“You know it, bitch,” the old man answered.

“The strongest man in all of Greece?” Odysseus asked.

“Damn skippy, son,” the old man said. “Now make with the poon already.”

Castor looked at the old man. “Impostor! This is not Hercules!”

Pollux also looked at the old man. “This is Lycus the Lecher, the most delinquent louse in all of Sparta!”

“And a pauper,” Castor said.

“Bah!” the old man said. “Eat a dick, Dioscuri!”

“OK the jig’s up you old bastard,” Odysseus said. “Take a hike.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” the old man said as he hobbled away. “Shit. Old ass man tries to get himself some magic cooch and y’all gotta make a federal case about it, bunch of wack ass punk ass trick ass marks.”

“And that goes for the rest of you,” Odysseus said. “If you’ve got no dough, then it is time to go!”

The ranks thinned as the penniless departed. Still, it was not enough.

“Next,” Odysseus said. “If you are a damn cyclops, a minotaur, or a monster of any kind, get to steppin’ because Helen don’t do no beasts, ya’ dig?”

Lagos, King of the Cyclopses, happened to be in attendance with five hundred of his one-eyed warriors.

“Bullshit, Odysseus!” Lagos said. “The cyclopses were here long before humans and we will be here long after your bones turn to dust!”

“Oh spare me the drama, Lagos,” Odysseus said. “Time for you and your one-eye to go bye-bye.”

Lagos beat his chest with his fist. “This is an outrage! I dragged out my one-eyed warriors, polished their helmets, and even made them stand at attention!”

Castor, Pollux, and Odysseus turned red face as they stifled their laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Odysseus said. “What did you say?”

“I said that I dragged out my one-eyed warriors and polished their helmets and…what? Why are you laughing?!”

Odysseus was doubled over. “Your…your…one-eyed warriors…look very stiff…and rigid! Bah ha ha!”

“Oh, damn you humans!” Lagos said as he turned his back and marched away. “One-eyed warriors, retreat!”

A loud hissing sound reverberated through everyone’s ears. The crowd separated to allow a gigantic beast through. It was well over ten feet tall, had the body of a long, slimy, snake, but instead of one reptilian head, it had nine.

“Hisssss,” the first head said.

“Fuck you and your no beast proclamation,” the second head said.

“We will have Helen’s glorious snapper!” the third head declared.

“Oh shut all of your stupid mouths, Hydra!” Odysseus said.

“No!” the fourth head said. “YOU shut YOUR mouth, dick cheese!”

Odysseus thumped his chest. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Hisssss,” the fifth head said. “Don’t think that we won’t!”

“Honestly Hydra,” Odysseus said. “What is this? A mid-millennium crisis?”

“What are you talking about?” the sixth head asked.

“We are confident as ever!” the seventh head cried.

“Are you now?” Odysseus asked. “Because it seems to me if you guys could still get it up, you’d be back in your cave going to town on a foxy ass she-hydra.”

“Hisssss,” the eighth head said. “We are the last hydra!”

“Yeah,” the ninth head said. “Way to open up old wounds, you insensitive prick!”

“Well,” Odysseus said. “Maybe if you’d been taking care of business your species wouldn’t be nearly extinct now and you’d be knee deep in hydra snatch, wouldn’t you?”

All nine heads hanged low as they started to cry.

The first head sniffed. “You’re…you’re right.”

“We didn’t believe in ourselves!” the second head said.

“We didn’t make the she-hydras happy!” the third head said.

“And now we are doomed to jerk off in our cave until the end of days!” the fourth head said.

“Yeesh,” Odysseus said. “Well, good luck with that.”

The heads lifted up.

“Give us the woman!” the fifth head said.

“Or meet your doom!” the sixth head said.

Odysseus drew his sword, threw himself into the crowd and lopped off the first hydra head before making a perfect landing.

The crowd looked on in amazement. The remaining hydra hands cried out in pain, then smiled and laughed as another head grew in the first head’s place.

The seventh head looked at the adventurer. “Cut off one of our heads…”

“…and another will grow in its place,” the eighth head said.

The ninth head looked glum as it stared down at the dead head lying on the ground.

“Yeah…but…I kind of fancied Steve.”

“Right, right,” the second head said. “Steve was a right friendly old bloke.”

“Who knows what this new dingus will be like?” the third head asked.

The new head, or rather, the replacement first head, look at his compatriots.

“Hey guys,” the new head said. “Want to go get some gluten free, non-dairy soy milk lattes and artisanal vegan scones?”

“Aww fuck me in the hydra ass,” the fourth head said.

“A bloody hipster!” the fifth head said.

“Damn you, Odysseus!” the sixth head griped. “You’ve saddled us with a lousy hipster!”

“I didn’t saddle you with a hipster,” Odysseus said. “You dipshits saddled yourselves with a hipster when you refused to leave.”

“Come on, guys,” the new head said. “Let’s go see a play. I bet I’ve already read the scroll its based on so I’ll whisper to you all throughout the performance how the scroll is so much better and how much smarter I am than all of you because I read the scroll and you all didn’t.”

“Ugh!” the seventh head said. “Do us a solid and cut him off, Odysseus!”

“Yes,” the eighth head said. “Maybe the next head will not be such an unmitigated chode gargler.”

“Well,” Odysseus said as he raised his sword. “If you insist…”

“Stop!” the ninth head said.

Odysseus backed off.

“What are you doing?” the second head asked.

“We cannot allow our heads to be chopped off simply because we don’t like one of them,” the ninth head said. “He is ours till he is lost in battle. ’Tis the hydra way.”

“Bollocks!” the third hydra said.

“He’s insufferable,” the fourth hydra said.

“Maybe he won’t be so bad once we get to know him,” the fifth hydra head said.

“Check your hydra privilege, bros,” the new head said. “These micro-aggressions are really triggering my anxiety and making me feel like I need to retreat into my safe space.”

Eight of of nine heads winced.

“Lets just go,” the fifth head said.

“Yeah,” the sixth head said. “Before we lose another head and it gets replaced with something even worse than a hipster.”

The hydra shifted its massive weight around and slithered away from the palace.

“What could be worse than a hipster?” the seventh head asked.

“I don’t know,” the eighth head said. “Door-to-door salesman trying to sell us shit that we’d just pay for with our own money?”

“Seems counterproductive,” the ninth head said.

“And he’d always try to sell us shit during dinner too I bet,” the second head said.

“Hey guys,” the new head said. “I think I’m going to grow a dirt beard and get a fedora.”

The other heads groaned.

“Shut up, new guy!” the third head said.

“Yeah!” the fourth head added. “Shut your gob!”

“Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of a Chinese symbol,” the new head said. “Something like ‘faith’ or ‘believe’ you know? People will see it and think I’m deep.”

“Oh gods,” the fifth head said. “Someone cut my head off so I don’t have to listen to this drivel any longer!”

Odysseus waited a minute for the hydra to slither away then continued his spiel.

“Right, now that all the monsters are gone…”

The adventurer spotted a nine-foot tall hulking figure wearing a cloak that was pulled down over its face.

“Hey…you there!”

“Raargh?” the figure asked.

“Yes, rarrgh!” Odysseus said. “Who are you?”

The figure shook its head and looked down. “Blarga raargh.”

Odysseus walked right up to the figure, leaned up his tippy toes and yanked its hood off to reveal noneother than the bullish head of the minotaur himself.

“Raaarga raarga rahhhh!”

“Don’t you ‘raarga raarrga rahh me, minotaur!” Odysseus said as he wagged his finger at the beast’s gold ring pierced snout.

“Arrgh flargha jaarga jaarga barrga barrga pppbbbhhht!”

“What?” Odysseus asked incredulously.

“Arrga slarga!” the minotaur shouted.

“That’s preposterous,” Odysseus said. “You don’t even know my mother.

The Dioscuri joined their friend.

“I knew it was a mistake letting you live, minotaur!” Castor said.

“Yes,” Pollux said. “Go back to your maze at once!”

The minotaur stomped his hoof. “Errgsa florgas!”

Odysseus gasped. “Minotaur! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The half-man/half-bull trudged away, defeated.

“Yeah!” Castor shouted.

“You better walk away!” Pollux added.

Without turning around, the minotaur flipped the Dioscuri the bird then continued to trudge off.

“Right then,” Odysseus said. “Now that the riffraff is gone, let’s get down to business.”

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 10

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Night fell and a weary Odysseus strolled through the halls of the Spartan palace until he reached Penny’s door.

Though typically decisive in combat, the adventurer stood there for awhile, his hand trembling as he contemplated whether or not to enter.

Finally, Penny made it easy for him.

“Are you going to stand out there all night?” came Penny’s voice from inside the room.

Odysseus swung the door open. He swallowed hard when he saw the woman he loved in her nightgown, her long hair flowing down over her shoulders.

“How did you know it was me?” Odysseus asked.

“Any other pervert would have skulked about in front of Helen’s door,” Penny answered.

Odysseus smiled. “Perhaps you speak of perverts with poor taste.”

Penny ran her hands down the length of her curves. “Perhaps you are a pervert who has let all this go to waste.”

The bountiful brunette sat down on the edge of her bed, picked up a brush and ran it through her hair. The adventurer set his torch down in a sconce attached to the wall and took a seat next to the lady.

“How scandalous,” Penny said.

“What?” Odysseus asked.

“A man and a woman who aren’t married in the same bed together at this time of night,” Penny said.

“Are we not childhood friends?” Odysseus asked.

“Those days are long over, friend,” Penny said.

The pair sat in silence for awhile as Odysseus searched for the right words, or at the very least, any words.

“I still love you,” Odysseus said.

Penny sighed. “Yes. Oh how loved I feel by a dumb ass who ran away and never contacted me again.”

“Adventure called, Penny,” Odysseus said. “All those monsters weren’t going to slay themselves.”

Penny stopped brushing. She reached a hand out and cupped it against Odysseus’s cheek. He leaned into it, as if doing so nourished him. The couple stared into each other’s eyes.

“I never asked you to stop adventuring,” Penny said. “All I have ever asked is that you come back to me when your adventures are done.”

Penny leaned in and kissed Odysseus. Together, they fell back on the bed, engaged in a sultry, slobbery lip lock until Penny sat up.

“Blast!” Odysseus cried. “What in the name of Apollo’s arrow have I done to be punished with the bluest of balls?”

“You broke my heart,” Penny responded, matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Odysseus said. “Right.”

The adventurer stood up, then fell to his knees. In a most pathetic display, he grabbed the lady’s hand and resorted to groveling.

“Dearest Penelope,” Odysseus said. “Tell me how to make this right.”

Penny’s face scrunched up to one side as she tapped her finger on her right cheek. “Hmmm…”

“What?” Odysseus asked. “What is it?”

“You and I had some great conversations in the past, haven’t we?” Penny asked.

“Of course,” Odysseus said.

“But I don’t know,” Penny said. “Ever since your jaw dropped ten feet when you saw me at the dock I think you’d say anything just to get your hands on my…”

“It is truly a majestic badonka donk, my sweet,” Odysseus said. “’Tis as if Aphrodite molded two pressed hams out of clay herself and attached them to your backside just so that you could bring joy to the hearts of men through the very sight of your…”

Penny frowned. “Ugh. I was just joking but now its obvious you just love me for my ass, you pig.”

Odysseus recoiled. “Whaaaat? Noooooo…”

The brunette took her hand back and pouted.

“My dear your ass could be as flat as the surface of the earth and I would still adore you,” Odysseus said.

“Yeah,” Penny said. “Right.”

Odysseus’s took back his love’s hand. “Tell me how to prove it to you.”

“I don’t know,” Penny said.

“Anything,” Odysseus said.

“Anything?” Penny asked.

“Anything at all,” Odysseus answered. “Why, I’d strangle the Kraken with his own tentacles, gauge out the eyes of a thousand cyclopses..or, wait is it ‘cyclopses’ or ‘cyclopti?’”

“‘Cyclopses,’” Penny said as she wiped away a tear. “Read a book, dumb ass.”

“Whatever,” Odysseus said. “I’d blind a thousand of them. I’d challenge the minotaur to a fist fight. I’d steal Icarus’s wings and fly even closer to the sun than that lightweight ever did. I’d sail to the ends of the earth and back again. I’d climb to the top of Mount Olympus and…”

“Marry me,” Penny said.

Odysseus recoiled once again. “Whaaaat???”

Penny burst into tears.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Odysseus said.

Penny buried her face into her hands and cried. Odysseus sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder only to have it pushed away.

“Just fuck off, Odysseus!”

“Babe,” Odysseus said. “Can we just, you know, dial this down a notch? Is the art of dialog dead now? Can we talk about this?”

“No,” Penny said. “I’m not some whore, Odysseus.”

“I know…”

“You should be thrilled by the idea,” Penny said.

“I…I am…its just…I had no idea this is what you wanted.”

Penny wiped away her tears and returned to Odysseus’s arms. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Odysseus replied.

“We love the same things,” Penny said.

“You’re the only other person I know that I’d share my love of pegasuses with,” Odysseus said. “Or is it pegasi?”

“It’s just ‘Pegasus,’ asshat!” Penny said as she playfully hammer punched Odysseus in the shoulder. “There’s only one of them.”

“And I need him,” Odysseus said.

“We need him!” Penny said.

“We need to fly away together on a horse with its own damn wings,” Odysseus said.

Penny smiled. “And we hate the same things.”

“Oh, fuck centaurs!” Odysseus said. “Remember that time we met one?”

“Oh my gods,” Penny said. “And he was all like, ‘Look at me! I have a man’s torso and a horse’s ass. I’m so special!’”

“I still can’t believe there are people who find centaurs attractive,” Odysseus.

“Fucking centaur fuckers!” Penny said.

“Fucking centaur fuckers,” Odysseus repeated.

“We compliment each other in every conceivable way,” Penny said.

“And you have an ass that could feed a family of five,” Odysseus said.

Penny slinked back. “I thought you said that wasn’t what you were after?”

“It isn’t,” Odysseus said. “But uh…you know…if its there…”

“Pervert,” Penny said.

“Penny,” Odysseus said. “Maybe we should just…”

Penny put one finger up against Odysseus’ lips to shut him up. “No. If you love me then you’ll ask my uncle for my hand…

“But Penny,” Odysseus interrupted.

“…and I swear to you, Odysseus, Champion of Ithaca, if you sail away from Sparta without me you can forget about ever speaking to me again and…”

The brunette stood up, turned around, and gave one of her two astounding ass cheeks a good, hard slap. Odysseus was thoroughly shocked, not to mention aroused.

“…you can forget about ever getting your hands on all of this.”

“By the trident of Poseidon, woman!” Odysseus said. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I’m worth it, aren’t I?” Penny asked.

Odysseus gulped. “You are.”

Penny picked up her brush, ran it through her hands a few times, then dropped it.

“Whoopsie,” Penny said. “I’m such a klutz.”

“Bahh!” Odysseus said. “Why do you torture me?!”

“What?” Penny asked innocently.

Odysseus drooled and stared as his love bent over to pick up her brush. Oh how full that moon was.

“That’s enough visiting for one night,” Penny said as she grabbed Odysseus’s hand.

“But…but…but…”

“That’s right,” Penny said as she pushed Odysseus out the door. “No butt for you until our wedding night.”

“But…but…but…”

Slam!

Penny’s door was now closed and Odysseus just stood there like an imbecile, trying to figure out what had just happened.

“Women,” the adventurer said.

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TV Review – It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

“Dayman!  Uh ahh ahh!  Fighter of the Nightman! Uh ahh ahh!  Champion of the Sun!  You’re a master of karate and friendship for everyone…Dayman!”

I can’t believe this show has been on the air for ten going on eleven damn years.

BQB here with a review of FX’s long running comedy series, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

I can’t quite put my finger on the exact date but at some point in the early to mid 2000s, the traditional sitcom format died.

Don’t get me wrong.  Surf the channels enough and you can still find that sappy “the dad is so dumb and the kids are so smart and mom’s the best” show somewhere, but by and large, people started gravitating towards non-traditional sitcoms.

Always Sunny does involve a situation – four friends and their elderly friend/step-father (depending on the character) own and operate a dive bar in Philadelphia.

In their spare time, which they have oodles of because they avoid hard work and contributing to society at all costs, they undertake a series of schemes, scams, and cons in a never ending quest to get rich overnight without having to do anything for it.

Situation? Check. Comedy? Check. Traditional? No.

Our characters are:

  • Charlie Kelly (Charlie Day) – the bar’s janitor and rat killer, naive dummy, epically disgusting dumpster diver, eternally obsessed with a woman we are only introduced to as “the waitress.”
  • Ronald “Mac” McDonald (Rob McElhenney) – Obsessed with 1980s action films, physical fitness and martial arts.  Always wears sleeveless shirts to show off his guns.  He’s not really that cut but believes himself to be.  Constantly checking out other men’s physiques, claiming purely as an appreciator of muscles but the running joke is he is clearly gay and overcompensates to avoid admitting it.
  • Dennis Reynolds (Glenn Howerton) – Narcissistic sociopath.  Obsessed with himself, literally no lie he isn’t willing to tell or bad act he isn’t willing to carry out to get himself ahead or to get into a woman’s pants.  Inventor of the D.E.N.N.I.S. system to pick up chicks.
  • Deandra “Sweet Dee” Reynolds – Dennis’ twin sister.  Good looking woman but suffers low self esteem due to constantly being called a “bird” but her brother and dumb friends.  Dreams of becoming an actress.  Has no talent and sadly, unable to recognize this fact.
  • Frank Reynolds (Danny DeVito) – Dennis and Dee’s step-father.  Has amassed great wealth due to a variety of illegal activity over the years.  Could live in style but prefers to slum it as Charlie’s roommate. Big time scumbag who teaches the youngsters how to be scumbags.

I’ve watched this show since the beginning and wow has the time flew.

I’ll say this – there are times where I have laughed hysterically, times when I thought it was pretty creative and yes, even a few times where I thought, “well, they might being going a tad too far there.”

How they have remained friends so long, I don’t know. Its nothing but a sea of them calling each other names, backstabbing and trash talking one another and so on.

Every week, they try a new scheme or get themselves into a bind.

Here are some of the most memorable off the top of my head, in no particular order:

  • Dayman/Nightman Song aka “The Nightman Cometh” – Charlie writes a musical and is too stupid to realize that it is filled with sexually explicit innuendo.
  • Kitten Mittens – Just how it sounds. Charlie puts mittens on kittens.
  • “World Series Defense” – the gang explains to a judge a terrible ordeal they had while trying to attend the World Series. Charlie dawns his “green man costume” and a generation of drunk frat boys running around in face-less green suits is born.
  • “Dennis and Dee Go on Welfare” – and to convince the welfare office they’re destitute and hopeless, they acquire and smoke crack….and become hooked. You wouldn’t think crack is a funny subject but darned if they didn’t find a way.
  • “Who Pooped the Bed?” – a poop is found in a bad. The gang, in classic whodunnit mystery style, becomes determined to solve the crime.
  • “Storm of the Century” – a massive storm heads Philly’s way.  Dennis becomes obsessed a well endowed TV weather girl, so much so much so that whenever he spots her ample bosom, he hears the lyrics to the 1980s hit song “Alone” by Heart.  He spots the boobs, he hears and apparently thinks, “Till know…I always got by own my own…” Priceless.

I don’t know. I could go on forever with my favorite episodes. If I do, I’ll ruin them. You should just go on Netflix and watch them.

Above all else, what I love about this show is that it was created by a group of friends who were trying to make a go of it in Hollywood and after struggling for years, got together, made their show, sold it to FX and were even able to get a well-known star like Danny DeVito to not only sign on in the second season but to be willing to completely debase himself over and over again for a decade.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way, 3.5 readers.  If things aren’t working out, take a page from the Always Sunny crew and make things happen (but uh, try to not be so alcoholic…or gross…or engage in any of their 9 million bad habits.)

STATUS: Shelf-worthy.

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 8

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Odysseus stood up and paced around one side of the table.

“Tyndareus,” the king’s guest said. “There are two conflicting forces at play here. On the one hand, you, as Helen’s father, are gatekeeper to the most awe-inspiring cooter in the world. In truth, your responsibility to decide the fate of this magnificent cooter provides you with tremendous power. ”

The king stroked his beard. “Not sure it is necessary to be that vulgar, Odysseus, but go on.”

The guest wagged his finger in the air. “What you must also realize is there isn’t a king, lord, warrior, or other man of great stature around who is not convinced that he is, by virtue of all his accomplishments, the man most worthy of the most jaw droppingly bodacious cooter in all the land.”

Tyndareus frowned. “Must you continue to use the word ‘cooter’ in reference to my daughter?”

“Snootch, box, penis fly trap, honey pot, muffin, bearded clam,” Odysseus said. “It doesn’t matter. These are all words. What matters, pops, is that any honorable man will always respect the right of a father to choose his daughter’s husband but…”

Father and sons waited patiently for Odysseus to finish his thought.

“…you need to give everyone interested a chance to make their pitch first.”

The king drummed his fingers on the table. “Pitch?”

“You’ve got to invite every swinging dick who has the hots for Helen to come and plead their case to you why they are the best choice to become your son-in-law,” Odysseus explained.

“Could be interesting,” Castor said.

“There could be games,” Pollux added. “Feats of strength.”

“Trials by combat,” Castor said.

“Whatever,” Odysseus said. “Make these clowns jump through as many hoops as you want but the point is you need to give everyone at least five minutes to tell you why they deserve to marry your daughter.”

“Perhaps a finer man than Menelaus will even be able to convince you to listen to reason, father,” Pollux said.

Tyndareus tapped his chin and thought for a spell. “No. My mind is made up. Menelaus is the only choice that guarantees peace.”

“That’s fine,” Odysseus said. “Then the whole spectacle will be one great big sham, then. But you need to have the sham before you announce that you’ve chosen the younger butt hole brother or else all the great men in the land will take your failure to consider them as a slight and declare war over Helen’s resplendent vag.”

The king nodded. “Agreed. You have developed quite a silver tongue, Odysseus.”

“Its a gift,” the guest replied.

Pollux raised his hand. “Father?”

“Yes, my son?”

“I was thinking,” Pollux said. “What if we were to allow Helen to simply meet and court a number of fine, upstanding men and when she is ready, let her choose the one who she determines of her own free will to be the most suitable?”

Castor, Pollux, and Tyndareus all traded glances for a full minute before Odysseus finally broke out into laughter.

“Oh Pollux!” Odysseus said with tears streaming from his eyes. “I love you man, but you can be such a dumbass!”

“What?” Pollux asked. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Do try to keep imbecilic thoughts like that to yourself, brother,” Castor said as he slapped his knee.

“Come on,” Pollux said as he looked to the king. “Father, that’s reasonable.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life,” Tyndareus said. “Women making their own decisions. Honest to gods, Pollux.”

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A Day in the Life of Douche Shark

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Douche Shark

Hey 3.5 bros.

Wassup? Wass good?  All up on the Bookshelf Battle Blog, my broheims.

Douche Shark here.  Yup. That’s right.  Dr. Hugo Von Science took the DNA of a shark and the DNA of a douche, spliced it all together and boom, you got yourselves a douche-shark-a-rino.

Not so bad being a douche shark though.  I usually wake up about noon, noon and a half, one p.m. at the latest.

I text my she-shark girlfriend that I’m dumping her cuz she got fat then I text a photo of my douche shark junk to a new fine honey she shark I got my eyes on.

Not gonna lie, brosef, lady sharks love a good pic of your shark junk.  I don’t make the rules. Don’t hate the douche shark playa, hate the douche shark game.

Oh and you know what else is good when you text your she-shark? Call her “bae” then drop like 9,229 emojis in there. I like to go all “smiley face, smiley face, smiley face, water pistol, poop with sunglasses.”  She-sharks love that.

Bonus points if you call your she-shark by the wrong name when you text her, bro.

Sure, she’ll be all mad when you’re like, “Wat up, Becky Shark?” and she’s all, “Eff U I’m Susie Shark” but that’s cool you just smooth it over with your talking skills and tell her she must have read it wrong or her phone is busted and shit or something.

So anyway, after I get off the phone with the lady sharks, its time for some nummy nums.  When I get hungry, I like to get myself a green smoothie. It’s good for the earth and my bowels.

Oh and then I follow that smoothie up by devouring at least twenty to thirty beach goers.  Maybe a surfer, maybe a sailor, whatever is there bro, no need to get picky cuz it all goes down the same hole and all comes out the other one if you know what I mean.

Am I right?  Am I right? Come on. Gimmie a high five. Come on bro. Don’t leave a douche shark hanging.

Aw but then after I eat, I gots to set my fantasy football lineup and spent at least three to seven hours telling everyone about how my fantasy football lineup is the best and their fantasy football lineup is the worst.

I can’t help it.  I am just a fabulously sexy douche shark who was blessed by Jesus with the ability to set quality fantasy football lineups.

After the lineup is set, I gots to take fifty nine selfies of myself in a whimsical manner. I take all the photos myself, but I stare my shark eyeballs off to the side so as to fool the dummies looking at my Sharkbook that someone else took the pictures and that I was very busy thinking deep, intellectual thoughts.

Oh speaking of Sharkbook, did I mention that I like to post photos of my green smoothies? Seven or eight will do.  Remember – always post photos of everything you eat or drink on Sharkbook.  Sharks will be very disappointed if you don’t.  Everyone must know about everything you eat at all times.

What else? What else?

Right, so after the selfies I like to head over to the shark gym, do a few curls, work on my bis, my tris, my lats, my delts, my fin.  Remember, its very important to grunt as loud as possible to let everyone in the gym know that you are the one lifting the most weight and therefore your workout is more important than everyone else’s workout.  It just is bro diddly, it just is.  And everyone needs to know it.

After that its off to the shark bar.  I like to smack the she-shark waitress on her tail fin because they like that, you know?  Really, they get disappointed if you don’t do it.

Then I order a frosty brew or two, tip the waitress with any pocket change I happen to have left over, and then I sing obscure karaoke songs until I pass the eff out and have to get dragged out of the bar by the shark police.

Good times, bro. Good times.

So that was a day in the life of a douche shark. Hope you enjoyed it, 3.5 bros. Of course you did.

You’re welcome.  High five!  Whoops, too slow, bro, too slow.

 

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BQB’s Bucket List – Part the First

An ongoing list of things that I, Bookshelf Q. Battler, want to do before I croak:

#1 – Discover the secret to not croaking.  Hide it from the world so that I am the only one who knows how to not croak. Laugh at everyone as they croak.

#2 – Climb a regular sized mountain. Lie and tell everyone I climbed Mt. Everest. How would anyone know the difference? Everyone is a dummy who has never climbed a mountain.

#3 – Fart in the presence of the Queen of England. I don’t know why. It is nothing against the Queen and/or England. It is something to do with offending someone super classy. Actually, I should probably substitute the Queen with just someone who is super classy so as to avoid a smelly international incident.

#4 – Attach a Go Pro camera to my head then do absolutely nothing athletic ever. Bore my 3.5 readers with action footage of me stuffing cake into my face hole then taking a nap.

#5 – Punch a shark in the face. This shark, in particular:

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Don’t feel bad for him. This shark is a douche and I suspect that he once ate a manatee…and the manatee had just discovered the cure to crotch fungus.

Now the cure for crotch fungus is lost forever thanks to this schmuck shark.  Everyone will be itchy forever.

#6 – Rappel.  Women have always told me that I am repellant so I should be good at it. Although I’m not sure if being repellant means that you would be any good at rappelling down the side of a wall like an action hero star.

#7 – Run for the Presidency of Barbados.  Everyone wants to be the President of the U.S., right? Who needs it? Too much work. No one wants to run Barbados. So let me do it. Fun. Sun.  You just wake up and tell everyone to run around the beach and be happy and sell trinkets to fat stupid tourists. I would president the shit out of Barbados and all the Barbadoonians would love me and hail me as a god.

#8 – Win the gold in an obscure Olympic event, just so I could be all fat and ugly and walk around in my USA track suit with and stand next to pro javelin throwers and race runners and show off my gold medal for Olympic paper airplane making.

#9 – Go everywhere in a helicopter.  Land my helicopter at the grocery store. Land it at the dentist office. Land it wherever I need to go.  People will be all like, “you can’t land that helicopter here, jerk face!” and I’ll be all like “Shut up ass clown, I own a helicopter so I can do whatever I want!”

#10 – Oh. I suppose I should add some nice shit to this list. And I’d like to say that I thought about doing nice shit right up front and in no way should you assume that being nice was an afterthought because it is the last item on this list.  So I would probably adopt some orphans and teach them all how to start their own blogs to bring in their own 3.5 readers.

Thank you, 3.5 readers.  Let me know what is on your bucket list.

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 7

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Tyndareus cradled his aching head in his hands as his sons and their buddy loudly and obnoxiously voiced their dismay.

“Agamemnon and Menelaus are the biggest butt holes in Greece!” Castor shouted.

Odysseus stared at a hangnail. Soon, he found it so annoying that he nibbled it away.

“Can’t get on board with shipping Helen off to the butt hole brothers, Pops,” Odysseus said between nibbles.

“They are cruel,” Castor said.

“Vile,” Pollux added.

“Ill-tempered,” Castor said.

“Ill-mannered,” Pollux added.

“Lustful of power,” Castor said.

“Lustful of anything else,” Pollux said.

“The two biggest dingleberries to ever wiggle their way out of Hades’s turd hatch,” Odysseus said as he finally managed to bite the hangnail clean off.

“They can’t be trusted,” Castor said.

“Exactly,” Pollux said. “A pair of ruthless backstabbers.”

“Can we reopen the Ajax discussion?” Odysseus asked. “Even if the guy doesn’t have a great big jumbo wang, he’s still a pretty loyal hombre. It’ll be like giving Helen her own gigantic puppy dog.”

“Anyone would be better than Menelaus,” Castor said.

“Literally anyone,” Pollux added. “Anyone at…”

The king looked up and banged his fist down on the table so hard that it knocked everyone’s wine glasses over, spilling the delicious fermented grapey goodness everywhere.

“Enough!”

The trio of young men were aghast. They’d never seen the kind hearted old king angry before.

The king sighed and sat back down. The tone of his voice returned to normal.

“Don’t you three think I have agonized over all of this?” the king asked. “The situation remains that Agamemnon, through violence and guile, has consolidated twelve of the most powerful nations in Greece into the Achaean League. The kings of these lands bow to him. Their warriors fight for him.”

“Oh whatever,” Odysseus said. “Tell Agamemnon he suck my big ole Greek…”

The king interrupted his guest. “I already denied Agamemnon once when he requested Helen’s hand. To deny his brother would be just the excuse he needs to declare war on Sparta.”

“Let him try it,” Castor said.

“The mighty Spartan army is oiled and waiting,” Pollux added.

“Guys,” Odysseus chimed in. “Did you all not hear me? Ajax the Great allegedly has a great big jumbo wang. I say we invite him to court and demand that he drop his drawers so we can put this mystery to rest once and for all.”

“Be serious for once, Odysseus,” Tyndareus said.

“I’ll be serious when you say something that deserves a serious response,” Odysseus said.

The king sneered. “What did you just say?”

Odysseus threw his arms out. “Well, what did you expect us to think about this idea? You know we hate those two jerk holes.”

“When we were young, they used to run around the palace strangling rats and torturing small animals,” Castor said.

“Sick, twisted shit,” Pollux added.

“Yes,” Tyndareus said. “The lads of Mycenae did indeed have an unpleasant childhood.”

“Unpleasant?” Castor asked.

“Their father killed their cousins to get back at their uncle for banging his wife,” Pollux said.

Odysseus snickered. “Then, as if that weren’t enough, their father cooked up his nephews and tricked his brother into eating his own children. Classic Atreus.”

“Indeed,” Tyndareus said. “And when Thystes discovered what was in his supper and slew Atreus, I took in Agamemnon and Menelaus until they were of age and able to return to Mycenae, murder their uncle and take back the throne.”

“Those two dip shits owe you big time,” Odysseus said. “If anything, you should be making demands of them.”

“Agreed,” Tyndareus said. “And yet my heart calls on me to pity them, for surely having your uncle bone your mother, then having your father murder your cousins and feed them under false pretenses to your uncle only for your uncle to then turn around and murder your father is not only a very complicated tragedy to experience, but one that would no doubt turn the best of us into a heartless beast.”

Odysseus sighed. “It is no wonder that Agamemnon’s thirst for power can never be satiated.”

“It truly can’t be,” Tyndareus said. “Agamemnon is now stuck on a course where he will continue to seek a limitless amount of territory as salve for his childhood wounds.”

Odysseus picked up his goblet and poured fresh wine into it.

“Someone really needs to give ole Aggie a hug and tell him to just cry it out because no amount of land will ever help him get over the fact that his uncle fucked his mother and then his father killed his cousins and fed them to his uncle and then his uncle retaliated by killing his father.”

“If only they made a greeting card for that,” Tyndareus said.

“Father,” Castor said. “You might recall that when Agamemnon took our sister Clytemnestra as his wife in Helen’s stead, he agreed that there would always be peace between Mycenae and Sparta.”

“He did,” Tyndareus said. “But that was before he established the Achaean League. Now his power knows no bounds. Will he personally feel offended if Menelaus is snubbed? No. But Agamemnon is crafty. He bides his time, looks for the perfect excuse for war and when it presents itself, he strikes with cunning precision and furious vengeance.”

“What an asshole,” Odysseus said.

The Dioscuri looked downtrodden.

“Father,” Castor said. “It feels as if…

Pollux interrupted his brother. “It feels as if Castor and I have spent our entire adult lives saving Helen from danger only for you to deliver her into danger.”

A tear trickled out of Castor’s eye. He lost control and hugged his brother.

“Oh Pollux! Finally, you have added something useful to the conversation!”

The king nodded. “I know selecting a husband for the most beautiful woman in the world is a horrible task, but I see no other way. By marrying Helen off to Menelaus I can die knowing that Helen will never again be kidnapped as no one would dare cross Agamemnon and…”

The king reached across the table and took Castor’s hand. “…I can rest assured that you, Castor, will be able to preside over Sparta as king, leading our country in a time of peace and prosperity thanks to a renewed truce with Agamemnon.”

Castor’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh father…I…I….”

Tyndareus stretched his other hand out and took Pollux’s hand. “I am sorry, son.”

“Quite alright,” Pollux said.

“We never were sure which one of us came first,” Castor said.

“’Twas definitely Castor,” Tyndareus said. “Popped out of your mother’s womb like a greased goose ready to take the world by storm.”

Castor blinked his eyes, trying desperately to curb his tears of joy.

“And Pollux,” the king said. “Know that when your brother serves as king, you shall be…”

“Oh my gods,” Pollux said as a grin took over his face.

“Champion of Sparta!” Tyndareus said.

Pollux hyperventilated. “Oh my gods! Oh my gods! I’m so happy!”

Father and sons jumped to their feet and embraced.

Meanwhile, Odysseus guzzled a gulp of wine, then interrupted the three-way hug with an obnoxious belch.

“I hate to break up this family schmaltz-fest, but this plan will not bring about peace.”

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The Illiad Rebooted – First Meeting Transcript

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The following is the transcript of the first production meeting held between Homer, legendary ancient poet of Greece, and Bookshelf Q. Battler, proprietor of a website with 3.5 readers.

Homer:

Sir, while I appreciate the lengths your diminutive friend, the odd looking short being your refer to as “Alien Jones,” took to restore me back to life, I must protest the absurd changes you have made to my seminal work, The Illiad.

You took my most eloquently selected words, hacked them to pieces, and replaced them with profanity, vulgarity, and worse, references to the so-called pop culture of your time that those from my time would nary understand.

You are a charlatan and I demand that you cancel the publication of this work entirely.

BQB:

Homie…bubie…baby…are you kidding me? You’re kidding me, right?

Look, you’ve been stone cold dead since before Jesus was born. I appreciate you are history’s most accomplished poet but with all due respect, no one wants to learn shit about the past anymore.

Readers want T, A, and TNT. Its all about the TANT, baby. Titties + Ass + Explosive Action = peeps buy the shit out of this book and Jeff Bezos flies one of his funky ass drones over to drop off a fat ass check, son.

Homer:

Well, as long as its fat…

BQB:

You know it, Home Slice. Look, Hollywood’s already filmed all of the original ideas twice, even three or four times in some cases. Sequels and reboots are the name of the game now.

Homer:

What is a reboot?

BQB:

Its like a do-over. The Illiad is the same old bland tuna casserole people have been served for centuries now.  In order to sell people the same thing they’ve bought before, we need to add a little spice, a little razzle dazzle.

Homer:

It’s the razzle dazzle that worries me.

BQB:

Will you stop? Just go put your feet up, take a nap, use that sweet fifty dollar advance I gave you to score some babes and I’ll take care of the rest.

Homer:

I have your word that additional profits will be forthcoming?

BQB:

Of course. Fifty bucks a year from now on. You will be rolling in portraits of Ulysses S. Grant.

Homer:

You are too kind sir. Fifty dollars continues to remain an exorbitant sum of money in your time?

BQB:

It’ll get you fifty trips to the main stage at a nudey bar or approximately twenty-five candy bars, take your pick. That’s more than most writers get these days.

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Who Wins a Fight Between…

…a unicorn and a shark?

…a cornered honey badger and a zombie?

…a werewolf and a direwolf?

…a ninja and a guy that just works out a lot?

…your mother or your mother-in-law?

…a pegasus and a weasel?

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The Illiad Rebooted – About the Authors/Project

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About the Authors

Homer

Long before Cher, Sting, or Sia, there was Homer, the first artist to rock the “I only have one name” style. Scholars disagree on when exactly this accomplished scribe was born, but best guesses put his life somewhere between 800-700 B.C. (That’s eight hundred years before Christ and therefore a long ass time ago.)

Homer is the author of two bestsellers:

  • The Illiad – a chronicle of the siege of Troy, which began as a result of a dispute between Greek and Trojan forces over which one of their leaders had the best claim to the cooter belonging to the Grecian beauty Helen, first of Sparta and later of Troy, or simply “Helen of Troy” as she is typically remembered.
  • The Odyssey – the story of the warrior Odysseus’ adventure filled journey from Troy back to his home in Ithaca after the conclusion of the Trojan War.  During this voyage, Odysseus encounters nymphs, cannibals, and monsters until he finally arrives home and gruesomely murders all the dudes hanging around his house attempting to get all up in his wife’s lady business because they assume he was killed by Trojans and thus his wife’s snootch is up for grabs.

Nope. No lie here. That’s totally what this is about and your English teacher was a total perv for assigning it to you all those years ago. Then again, you would have known that if you had read it but you didn’t and FYI your parents were only being nice when they told you “a C minus is better than nothing, dear.” In truth, they were very, very disappointed in you and still are to this very day.

Bookshelf Q. Battler

Bookshelf Q. Battler (or BQB) was born in the late 1970s as God’s response to the terrible malaise that President Jimmy Carter warned was encompassing the nation.  Mr. Battler popped out of his mother’s womb, surprised hospital staff by shouting, “Cheer up, muttafuckas!” then never spoke another word until 1984 when he felt the need to praise the original Terminator film.

Though by all accounts, Mr. Battler was the dopest of all late 1970s babies, he didn’t fully shine until he became the proprietor of a blog with 3.5 readers in 2014.

If you would like to be one of Mr. Battler’s 3.5 readers, you are more than welcome to visit. BQB’s blog, “Bookshelf Battle” can be found at bookshelfbattle.com

There you will find a chronicle of Mr. Battler’s life and times as a world renowned poindexter, epic nerdventurer, reviewer of pop cultural happenings, champion yeti fighter and magic bookshelf caretaker.

Mr. Battler does not like to brag but he maintains that he is more accomplished than Homer. While Homer may have written two bestsellers that were drawing in readers long before Jesus was born, Mr. Battler’s blog does steadily attract the attention of 3.5 readers, which is no small feat in this day and age where every schmuck in the universe has their own blog. In fact, in the time it took you to read this one paragraph, an estimated 5,298 blogs were just started and most of them are terrible.

About this Project

Believing it to be “total bullshit” that Homer never saw dime one of the sweet, sticky cash produced by the thousands and thousands (possibly even millions) of high school and college English students who have been forced to purchase copies of The Illiad and pretend that they knew what the hell was going on during class over the years, Mr. Battler has taken it upon himself to reboot one of the most lauded books in Western history for fun and profit (mostly profit.)

To that end, Mr. Battler dispatched his trusty little green sidekick, Alien Jones, to locate Homer’s tomb and resurrect him using top secret, highly classified alien technology. An agreement with the U.S. government prevents Mr. Battler from publicly sharing the specifics of this technology, but rumor has it that it involves ground cumin, a swizzle stick that can be found at any reputable coffee shop, and 9,000,000 AA batteries held together with duct tape, super glue, and most importantly, love.

Initially, Homer had some difficulty adjusting to the modern world. However, due to his scholarly nature, he was quickly able to learn and adapt, though duck face selfies, social media posts about what people eat for lunch and the continued existence of Kristen Stewart’s acting career baffle him to no end.

Mr. Battler and Homer met regularly throughout late 2016 into early 2017 to reboot Homer’s Illiad. Homer was reluctant at first, but once Mr. Battler plopped down a fifty dollar signing bonus, Homer wasn’t able to refuse.

Oh and FYI if you happen to see Homer walking down the strip, you need to do Mr. Battler a solid and pretend like fifty bucks is an astounding, life altering amount of money.

Mr. Battler thanks you in advance.

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