IN ENGLISH:
Hello. I am Bookshelf Q. Battler.
I have a blog with 3.5 readers.
I read books. I write novels. I fight yetis.
My best friend is an alien named “Alien Jones.”
Alien Jones’s boss is the Mighty Potentate. He is an intergalactic dictator.
EN ESPANOL:
Hola. Soy Biblioteca P. Battler .
Tengo un blog con 3,5 lectores .
Leo libros. Escribo novelas . Lucho yetis .
Mi mejor amigo es un alienígena llamado “Alien Jones .”
jefe de Alien Jones es el Poderoso Soberano . Él es un dictador intergaláctico .
NOTE: Anyone know why it changed the Q to a P?
Moving on…
IN ENGLISH:
The Mighty Potentate has demanded that I either write a book so fabulous that it convinces all of mankind to give up reality television or else he will send an army of aliens to conquer the world.
So in other words, the world will probably be conquered by aliens as I take too long to write.
EN ESPANOL:
El Mighty Potentado ha exigido que sea escribir un libro tan fabuloso que convence a toda la humanidad a abandonar televisión de la realidad o de lo contrario se enviará un ejército de alienígenas de conquistar el mundo .
Así, en otras palabras, el mundo probablemente será conquistado por extranjeros como tomo demasiado tiempo para escribir.
IN ENGLISH:
I live in BQB Headquarters with Bookshelf Q. Battle dog, Video Game Rack Fighter, and other assorted characters.
Frequent Blog Contributors include the Yeti, Dr. Hugo Von Science, Anti-Suck Expert Vinny Baggadouchio, Search Engine Optimized Poet, Nerdstradamus, and the exceptionally cranky Uncle Hardass.
Thank you. I hope you will be one of my 3.5 readers.
EN ESPANOL:
Yo vivo en la Sede de BQB con el estante P. Batalla perro, películas y videojuegos en rack de combate , y otros personajes variados.
Colaboradores de blog frecuentes incluyen el Yeti , el Dr. Hugo Von Ciencia , Anti – Suck Experto Vinny Baggadouchio , motor de búsqueda optimizado poeta , Nerdstradamus , y el mal humor excepcionalmente tío Hardass .
Gracias. Espero que sea uno de mis lectores de 3,5 .
NOTE: I cut and pasted this all from Google Translate, so I apologize if any of it was wrong or if any of it translates into something terrible. I hope I didn’t imply your mothers wear combat boots or anything.
:::Bongo Drum Beats:::
Hey there all you hep cats and hep kittens. Come on down to the East Randomtown Java Bean, where the poets always stink and the cups are never clean.
Next on the mic is the one and only Search Engine Optimized Poet…the only rhyme-smith whose beats bring in the Googler’s feets, ya dig?
Playboy Mansion! Whoa, Playboy Mansion!
Who in the hell purchased you?
Is Hugh Hefner’s reign really though?
I heard Hugh’s neighbor bought you.
To combine both properties and make one out of two.
Your new owner owns Twinkies, the snack cake filled with cream.
I feel like with that mansion, there are jokes to be made about cream.
Dare I dream?
No it would be too obscene.
Charlie Sheen.
He probably would have liked to live there.
I hope I don’t get eaten by a bear.
What is the best brand of underwear?
Can I go to IKEA to buy a chair?
Stare.
At BQB’s web hits as they go up.
Why does that guy at Starbucks write my name on my cup?
I know who I am. I don’t need to be told twice.
If I borrow my friend’s hat, will I come down with lice?
Nice. Is that a good way to be?
I wouldn’t know.
I spend all my time up a tree.
Yippee. It’s time to take a snooze.
Can someone tell me what is the best brand of mattress to use?
I suppose whichever one I choose.
What is happening in the daily news?
The election.
I should give it an inspection.
To determine the country’s ultimate direction.
Wait a minute. I just found my old playboy mags and got an erection.
Damnation. This whole poem needs an entire course correction.
Confection. It’s a sugary snack.
Can you believe that Jon Snow is back?
I’m the worst poet ever. Truly, a hack.
Talent is something that I utterly lack.
Will Fox ever bring Firefly back?
What are the lyrics to Love Shack?
It was the B-52’s greatest hit.
Back in the 90’s. So long ago. I can’t believe it.
Holy shit. Where did the time go?
Can anyone recommend a site that will teach me to sew?
I don’t know. But I know I ripped my pants.
Because I watched So You Think You Can Dance?
And fooled myself into thinking, “Yes. I do think I can dance.”
Like Lady Gaga, I’m trapped in a bad romance…
…with myself. I don’t know how to leave me.
I have dumped myself a thousand times but I inevitably go back to retrieve me.
I shouldn’t take myself back. I will only deceive me.
Perhaps myself and I should get a divorce.
I could drive away. Myself could leave on a horse.
The Norse. Aren’t they from Norway?
I have hit rock bottom. I have nothing left to say.
I am BQB and I am the Greatest Blogger who ever lived. I type a butterfly and post like a bee, you cannot ignore the words that your eyes already see.
I am the world’s fastest blogger. Fast with my fingers. I type so fast I make flames jump out of my keyboard. I keep the fire department on standby whenever I feel a musing coming on.
I write faster than a cheetah can breakdance. The other day I wrote a post so fast it broke the space time continuum. People read it before I even finished writing it.
If you match my typing fingers up against a bullet train, I’ll beat the bullet train every time.
I once blogged so fast that I made the earth rotate backwards just as Superman did when he turned back time.
The only way it could be fair for me to blog against the rest of you bums would be if I were to tie my best blogging hand behind my back. Tie them both back there for all I care. I can type better with my nose than most people can with their digits.
My blog posts are intriguing. They’re so intriguing that if you took every episode of Murder She Wrote, wrapped them up in soft taco shell made out of flour ground from the collective works of Stephen King and sautéed the whole mess in a sauce comprised of Agatha Christie’s sweat, the entire ensuing entree would not contain one quarter of the intrigue found in one of my posts.
People always be talking about The Huffington Post. You reporters are more crooked than an MC Escher staircase for writing that The Huffington Post puts my blog to shame.
The Huff Po may talk a lot of jive but I got the best readers and they number one, two, three point five.
I will blog circles around Huff Po. I’m up posting ten articles before the Huff Po drags its stinking ass out of bed in the morning and I’m tweeting the links to my stuff before the Huff Po has its morning coffee.
That’s right I also tweet like a butterfly too.
People always be talking about how Perez Hilton is a better pop culture blogger than me. Perez Hilton couldn’t blog his way out of a wet paper bag. Man draws dicks on celebrity faces and he acts like that makes him a comedy genius or something. I can draw a better dick on a celebrity face any time anywhere.
All you reporters asking me if I think I can out blog Icanhascheesburger?
Please. I don’t care how cute and adorable those kitties are. I will slap the cheeseburgers right out their stupid mouths and send them to bed without supper.
No, you furry bastards, no you cannot have cheeseburger.
Can I out gawk Gawker? You better believe it. I have never been sued by Hulk Hogan and even though that’s because Hulk Hogan is not one of my 3.5 readers I can still say I have never been sued by Hulk Hogan. Pretty much everyone else out there can say that too but still. It’s a miraculous accomplishment to not have been sued by Hulk Hogan. I wear my lack of a Hulk Hogan suit like a badge of honor.
The Drudge Report? “Oh look at me I’m Matt Drudge I’ve been HTML coding my own blog since the 90s.” Dude, please. I’m too busy creating blogs that break the surly bonds of the stratosphere to code my own HTML. I let those turkeys at WordPress do all my HTML coding for me.
I’ll hand it to Matt that he blew the lid off the whole Monica Lewinsky scandal but had I been around in the 90s there would have never been a scandal because Monica would have been too infatuated with me, as most women are.
TMZ? No. People prefer BQB. And when I say people, I’m talking about your wives, because once you go nerd, it’s the best you’ve ever heard.
3.5 hits may be the only clicks I gets but they’re also the only clicks I’ll ever need.
Because when you have the greatest 3.5 readers in the world then you are truly the greatest.
And finally, every blogger other than me is ugly. The greatest blogger in the world should be as pretty as me.
BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: Seeing as how his mind contains a wealth of scientific information that can be shared with my 3.5 readers, I have decided to let bygones be bygones and reinstate Dr. Hugo Von Science as a Bookshelf Battle columnist.
I’m nothing if not a turner of the other cheek.
Dr. Hugo Returns!
Guten tag, Herr 3.5 Readers!
Dr. Hugo Von Science here, finally out of zie dog house with mein old student Bookshelf Q. Battler and ready to educate you once again with mein column, You Can’t Argue With Science!
You really can’t, can you 3.5 readers? A meteor will always have the upper hand no matter what you do.
Perhaps you might remember me from one of mein many fantastic inventions:
Undt last but not least…
Anyhoodles, das Zika virus!
Those pesky little mosquitos have really been wreaking havoc across Brazil, threatening to even ruin the upcoming Olympic Games.
Zika virus can even cause microcephaly which, long story short, can cause women to give birth to babies with small, deformed heads.
Undt now, das news outlets are reporting that scientists believe the virus may even be transmitted through the oral sexenheisen.
To prove that Bookshelf Q. Battler and I have buried das hatchet and set our differences aside, I shall now relay all the jokes that BQB told me when he heard this discovery:
Finally, 3.5 readers, scientists have even suggested that deep kissing could lead to the Zika virus.
So, as if you all didn’t have enough to worry about, watch out for those mosquitos and also, what you’re putting in your pie hole, you terrible, terrible perverts.
Dr. Hugo Von Science is the Bookshelf Battle Blog’s Science Correspondent, as well as an Esteemed Professor of Science at the Advanced Science Institute of Science University. Additionally, he may or may not be a mad scientist attempting to conquer the world through the power of science in his spare time.
And now, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, the Astounding Nerdstradamus shares his confounding prognostications of the future of nerd kind…
Step forward, nerds, and do not be afraid for I, the Astounding Nerdstradamus do now make my predictions known:
World Renowned Motivational Speaker, Anti-Suck Book Author and Bookshelf Battle Blog Columnist, Vinny Baggadouchio
Hello 3.5 Suckers.
I’m motivational speaker Vinny Baggadouchio and I won’t rest until everyone and everything in the entire world is one hundred percent suck free.
Is a suck free world a lofty, unattainable goal? Maybe. But if we can’t hold out hope for a suckless tomorrow, then why bother trying not to suck today?
If you’re tired of being an economy sized suck face, check out one of my many anti-suck books:
Journey to the Valley of the Suck
Desuckify Now! Ask Me How.
50 Ways to Stop Sucking
A Long Day’s Journey into Not Sucking
I Used to Suck But Now I Don’t
I Sucked but Now I’m Free
How to Spot a Sucker at 50 Paces
A Suckface Says, ‘What?’
The Sucktastic Voyage
Zen and the Art of Sucklessness
Bookshelf Q. Battler tells me this is a blog where writers are free to drop in and discuss ways to improve their writing skills.
As the world’s foremost anti-suck coach, I have counseled many writers on how to perfect their craft and stop writing in such a sucky manner.
MY FORMER WRITER CLIENTS AND HOW I HELPED THEM TO NOT SUCK:
Steven King – In the first draft of Carrie, Carrie and the school bullies learn to resolve their differences over cookies and milk. Carrie’s mother is so moved by this that she seeks professional psychiatric help and vows to become a better, less abusive mother.
I got up in Stevie’s grill and was all like, “Throw a bucket of pig’s blood on your protagonist and get the party started!”
RESULT: Steve’s book sales did not suck at all.
Suzanne Collins – Suzanne originally set out to have Katniss and friends compete in a friendly game of checkers of in order to determine who got to eat the last chocolate chip cookie.
My advice? Add in an evil dictator, give Katniss a bow and arrow and instead of checkers, make all the kids fight to the death.
RESULT: Four part movie deal. Boo-yah!
GEORGE R.R. Martin – GRRM’s had a vision of a fantasy world where a mere three characters agreed to disagree in a polite manner and followed all the rules while resolving their differences.
“Georgie Boy,” I said. “Try 9,072 main protagonists. Add in lots of backstabbing, violence, betrayal and gratuitous boobs. Dragons and more dragons. Make a slave girl march across a fantasy continent for like 20 years while she gets set on fire all the time and shows everyone her jugs. Oh, and be sure to make everyone think the good guy is about to win and then boom, he doesn’t. Also be sure to explain who the bad guy ended up becoming the bad guy so people have no clue how to feel about anything. Finally, throw in a brother and sister who do it and their doing it destroys all peace and stability in the realm.”
RESULT: George is one rich ass nerd.
DISCLAIMER: Mr. Baggadouchio may or may not have made up the above mentioned anecdotes but in all likelihood he probably did.
So, you want your writing to not suck?
Here are my steps to Desuckifying Your Writing
Climb aboard the anti-suck train as we go through these steps one by one:
If you’re reading this, chances are English is your first language. It could be your second. If you’re new to the English language and this blog is one your first experiences with the English tongue, my condolences, and allow me to recommend this cat named William Shakespeare. That dude’s book sales are legendary. Some very not-sucky numbers.
You might think you know all there is to know about the English language but you don’t. Some know more than others but overall, even the experts are learning new rules every day. It is difficult to master them all.
To complicate matters, there will always be rules where experts disagree.
The more you write, the better your writing will become. You didn’t learn how to ride a bike without wiping out a few times and you won’t learn how to write churning out a few sucky turd nuggets on paper either.
Can you learn how to ride a bike by watching someone else ride? It does help. Thus, you may not realize it at the time, but when you read a book, you learn how another author has handled a scene, dialogue, or other predicament.
Will practice make perfect? Perfection is in the eye of the beholder, but I can tell you that practice will make you suck less.
2. Rewrite
Rome wasn’t built in a day and your novel won’t be either. After you write it, you’ll need to rewrite it.
You didn’t know who your characters were when you started. Now you do. You have had time to think about it and you realize certain details need to be added in the beginning. Perhaps a scene isn’t working. Maybe a sentence is clunky.
A good rewrite will knock the suck right out of your book.
Think of your book like a steak. Sure, you could plop a piece of meat on a plate and serve it up to your guest. They’ll eat it. They’ll go away with a full tummy. They might be left with the notion that you’re a sucky cook due to your poor presentation.
But take that same steak, drop a sprig of parsley next to it, garnish it with some garlic salt and smother it with a nice creamy bearnaise and your guest will be singing your praises.
3. Seek Help
Your book is like your child. You’re too close to it. You’ve tried your best but you can’t identify every way it sucks.
Sometimes this is because you’ve grown so used to the suck you can’t tell the suck from the non-suck.
Other times this is because what you believe to not suck does, in fact, suck.
There are editors out there who can help you desuckify your book.
They won’t be cheap and you need to be careful. Shop around. Seek recommendations from authors whose books you like. Do your homework.
But just as a good counselor will be able to analyze your kid and tell you all the ways you can help that kid to stop being such a giant suck bag, so can a good editor check out your book and advise you how to suck the suck right out of that draft.
Remember – once you click the publish button on Amazon, the eyes of the world (well at least the people who come across it) will be on your book.
You want to make a good impression. You want to do all you can to make it so your book does not suck.
4. Don’t Be So Hard on Yourself
Unfortunately, I’ve a very busy anti-suck coach so I can’t advise you all on a one on one basis.
Some of you may believe that your writing sucks and you may very well be right. You could be correct in assuming that a drunk blindfolded llama with a pen stuck in its mouth could write a better novel than you.
Then again, some of you may be so wary of the need to not suck that you have mistakenly convinced yourself that your writing sucks when it actually does not suck.
Is your novel idea too far fetched? Maybe. Is it so far fetched that it sucks? Possibly.
But consider that the most popular show on television today features a drunken dwarf advising a dragon queen how to conquer a land being fought over by bastards, incestuous families, and ice zombies.
Yes Game of Thrones is on HBO, the same network that aired True Blood, a show about vampires who just humped and made funny quips all the time.
Does your farfetched idea suck? Maybe. But if you can honestly visualize it being turned into a show in the HBO lineup, then maybe its just the right kind of suck that people will love.
People, do you realize that for years now, a series of films about a man in an iron suit working with a green rage monster, a Norse God and a well-preserved World War II hero have been the most bankable box office busting flicks?
Let me share a piece of advice that entertainment insiders don’t want you to know:
Most book/movie ideas suck!!!
Do you know what is realistic?
Real life. You wake up. You poop. Brush your teeth. Take a shower. Eat a bagel. Go to work. Deal with assholes all day. Come home. Wash your laundry. Watch TV. Go to bed.
REPEAT THAT SHITTY SUCK FEST FOR 60 YEARS!!!
No one wants to read realism in a book. No one wants to see realism in a movie.
Do outrageously farfetched ideas suck?
In theory, yes.
But they’re a special kind of suck that, if discovered by enough people, could put some fat stacks in your bank account.
CONCLUSIONS
That’s all the desuckification advice I have for you today, 3.5 suckers.
Stop sucking around. Grab your laptop, start clacking your keys and get to work on desuckifying your writing career.
If you still need help, you can always pick up a copy of my book, Suck Free Writing: A Guide for Beginners Who Really Suck at a bookstore that doesn’t suck.
In case you haven’t seen it, random lady Candace Payne now dubbed “Chewbacca Mom” made a video of herself trying on her brand new Chewbacca mask and laughed so uncontrollably that it became an instant viral video sensation:
Come on. That mask is cool. It is a marvel of modern engineering that we have masks now that can make you sound like Chewbacca.
I watched this video and my naturally skeptic self wondered, “Hmm. Is she really that happy? Did she really find this that funny? Was all that laughing just to up the video’s silliness factor?”
No. Not at all. Clearly she really is that happy and I now envy her as I’m one of those people who can’t find that much joy in the smallest of things.
And she even ended up on the Late Late Show with James Corden and met JJ Abrams:
So here’s to you, Chewbacca Mom.
Your nerdyness inspires us all, and that’s saying a lot, seeing as how this is a blog run by a nerd for 3.5 readers.
Hello 3.5 readers.
It’s graduation season and for those of you about to matriculate from any kind of school of higher learning, you’ll probably have to sit through a well-thought out speech delivered by a distinguished scholar.
No offense, but F%&K that guy. Pop on your phone and read Uncle Hardass’ graduation speech instead.
Class of 2016, please join me in welcoming your graduation speaker Uncle Hardass, a retired employee of Salt Mines, Inc. and esteemed grumpy old man correspondent for the Bookshelf Battle Blog.
Uncle Hardass, Your Distinguished Graduation Speaker
Hello graduates. OK. Yes. Thank you. Stop the clapping please. Some of us have more important things to do than bake in the hot sun like an asshole on a perfectly good Sunday afternoon, so let’s get down to business already.
First thing’s first. GET A JOB!
Seriously. The Salt Mines are always hiring. Sure, finish up with your silly little ceremony, drink some juice and toss a piece of cake in your cake hole but if you don’t have a job by the time your head hits the pillow tonight then you’re an utter failure and you always will be for the rest of your miserable pathetic lives.
What? Why’s everyone giving me the stink eye? Oh. Right. I’m supposed to be upbeat and encouraging.
Sorry graduates. I meant to say that while you’re failing miserably at life, you’ll do an excellent job of keeping your parents’ couch from spontaneously floating off into outer space because you’ll be on it for most of the day watching Ellen and old reruns of TV shows that were made before your grandparents were even born.
Look, if you want encouraging and upbeat, you should have invited…I don’t know…some guy who had his arms and legs blown off but he still competes in marathons by bouncing up and down on custom built metal springs or something.
If you want to be told how it is, then I’m your man. And frankly kids, between your parents, your teachers, and every other adult in your lives, you’ve all had way too much smoke blown up your asses for your own good.
So it’s time to gather ’round, take a knee, and let your old Uncle Hardass give you the first dose of reality you’ve ever had.
GRADUATES: UNCLE HARDASS, WHAT SHOULD WE DO WITH OUR LIVES?
Graduates, a lot of goody two shoes folk are going to tell you things like “save the whales” or “save the environment” or “end poverty” or some such hullabaloo.
These thoughts are all very nice but alas, I have the misfortune of being the first adult to tell you that if you set out on a mission to save the world at 20, the world will still be the big garbage heap that it is when you’re 30 (except trashier) and you’ll be ten years older with no savings, no job, no employable skills and your parents will probably hate your guts because they had to spend the money they saved to travel the world in their old age on subsidizing your bullshit.
Poor people will always be fucked. Whales and the environment will always be fucked. They were fucked when I was your age and they’ll still be fucked when your kids are your age.
The world is new to you kids so every time you hear about someone or something getting fucked, you automatically assume it’s the first time a fucking has ever gone down.
Trust me kids. It’s all been fucked up before and it will all get fucked up again.
Stop wasting your time on nonsense that you can’t change.
Get a job. Make the money. Clock the grip. Stack the cheddar cheese. Cash money bling dolla dolla bill make you sing y’all.
Get a job doing something important to you if you can’t cure yourself of that do-gooder nonsense. Find some organization that will pay you to clean oil out of whale blowholes or some bullshit.
Whatever you do, and here’s the important thing here, GET A JOB THAT PAYS.
Volunteering isn’t free, kids. For as long as you volunteer your time to dopey causes for free, Mom and Dad are spending the the money they would have spent on visiting Hawaii one time before they get tossed into a pine box on feeding, clothing, and sheltering you.
Bye bye Mommy and Daddy’s retirement dreams. Bye bye. Mommy and Daddy can’t go to the luau because little Billy and little Suzy want to change the world one oily manatee dong at a time.
GRADUATES: UNCLE HARDASS, WHAT SHOULD WE DO WITH OUR MONEY?
Graduates, have you seen the news lately? The world is fucked and it’s only going downhill from here. You think the economy is bad today? There may not even be an economy tomorrow.
Like a miserly hermit, horde every cent you can and never lend anything to anyone. I don’t care if your own mother is short one penny for a life saving operation, no deal! Sure it’s only a penny today but pretty soon the word gets out that you’re a softy and before you know it you won’t be able to walk three feet down the street without every jackass in the neighborhood treating you like you’re their own personal ATM.
Avoid spending your money on useless nonsense like bubblegum, comic books, and Miley Cyrus records.
Bank that scrilla. Invest it wisely and when you hit your first “What is the meaning of my life?” crisis in your 30s, you’ll have the dough you need to travel the world.
Hell, when you have enough money banked up, you might even dabble in that “save the world bullshit” that you’re all so interested in. Don’t worry, kids. The world will still be fucked by then. The fucked-ness won’t be going anywhere. If anything, the longer you wait, the more fucked there will be for all you do-gooder bleeding hearts to remove. Plenty of fucked, no waiting.
Save enough money today and when you’re older, you can spend your time pulling plastic soda can rings out of walrus butt holes or whatever gibberish your professors have been getting paid over $100K to spout into your mushy little brains.
Point? Mom and Dad can’t take care of you forever and the older you get, the less acceptable it will be for you to be broke as hell.
Make the fat green wads today and you’ll be able to polish all the oily otter testicles you want tomorrow, two at a time if need be.
GRADUATES: BUT UNCLE HARDASS, WE WANT TO BE WRITERS, ACTORS, POLITICIANS OR INSERT OTHER PIE IN THE SKY HIGHLY UNLIKELY PROFESSION HERE
Oh Jesus H. Christ. Are you guys sure you graduated? Because that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.
What? Who is this lady trying to get my attention? No ma’am, I will not stop using profanity in front of the graduates. I have a constitutional right to swear in public. George Washington did not karate chop the King of England’s scrotum so that I could NOT swear in front of young adults, I’ll have you know.
Where was I? Oh right. The terrible, terrible choices you have made about your future professions.
First of all, let me talk to the wannabe writers. You know who else wants to be a writer?
My dumbass nephew, Bookshelf Q. Battler. He just entered year three on his blog and he only has 3.5 readers.
Do you want to end up as a blogger with only 3.5 readers? I don’t think so.
What happened, wannabe writers? Your English teacher slapped a sticker on your report about Hamlet and you’re already polishing your Pulitzer in your mind?
Forget about it. “Oh look at me I’m a writer. I’ll change the world by publishing a record of my thoughts and feelings!”
Sorry. The world was fucked before writers started writing. The world be fucked after writers stop writing.
Where are my wannabe actors? Hello there. Look at you. You’re the kids in the drama club that starred in an off-off-off way off broadway production of Rent.
Look kids, your parents only told you that you did a good job because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings. In actuality, your performance was so awful that by the end of the second act they started praying to catch AIDS just so they wouldn’t have to listen to any more of your horrible singing.
What? What? Why’s everyone booing? You can’t make AIDS jokes still? Jesus, what’s it been, like 35 years?
Fine. Fine. Have it your way, PC police. No AIDS jokes until 2050.
My point is, you wannabe actors might think you are hot shit because you gave a lukewarm performance in your school play, but Hollywood will crush your soul and all your dreams. Just take it from me and assume your soul will be crushed and report to the Salt Mines for a nice, steady minimum wage job instead.
What else do you kids want to be? Politicians? Eh, I suppose that’s somewhat doable but remember, only run for office if you’re doing it for the money. If you’re doing it to change the world, don’t waste your time.
The world is a whore, kids. It enjoys the deep fucking that it has been getting for many, many years. It obviously does because if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be so difficult to stop it.
So remember graduates, only run for office for all the fancy perks and underhanded graft opportunities. If you want to change the world, you’ll have a better shot at it by signing up to wash oily polar bear gonads.
IN SUMMATION
Graduates, I see my time is up, not just by the clock, but by the sight of the security officers headed my way to throw me off the stage and that’s understandable, because no one likes getting a truth bomb dropped on them.
But that’s just what I do. I’m Uncle Hardass and I keeps it real, playa.
If you forget everything else I said, remember:
Finally, I’d just like to say this whole experience of speaking to you today was a complete disaster. A real misuse of my precious time. Time that I will never get back because I spent it talking to a bunch of losers like yourselves.
Let me drop the mic. OK it’s been dropped. Uncle Hardass out.
I’m not going to write a very in-depth review, but it was cute, funny, and they took the concept of an app based video game that requires you to shoot birds with a sling shot at pigs and make a whole movie about it.
Worth checking out.
Bookshelf Battle 