Tag Archives: Comedy

Common Ground with the Yeti

We both like waffles.  If only all the nations of the world could come together in a united love of waffles, peace, prosperity, tolerance, and a heightened sense of understanding would spread across the globe.

Except for those pancake loving SOBs.  Patooie, I say.

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A Reply from Bookshelf Q. Battler

The Yeti is an idiot and a smelly beast.  Continue to read this blog, 3.5 readers.

Sincerely,

Bookshelf Q. Battler

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A Message from the Siberian Yeti

Hello 3.5 readers.  Please stop reading this blog.

Sincerely,

The Siberian Yeti

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Celebrity Retweet

Hello 3.5 Readers.

As you know, I am in quite a struggle against the Yeti, who for no practical rhyme or reason, refuses to leave Bookshelf Battle HQ until I receive 4000 twitter followers.

Now, I’m no name dropper and in fact, I pride myself on my humility.  I’ve got humility by the truckload.

Imagine my delight when I saw a tweet I wrote about Irish Author James Joyce on St. Patrick’s Day was favorited by a prominent Hollywood entertainment lawyer.

Further, when I tweeted that I was honored by my tweet being favorited by this tremendous legal scholar, said barrister further honored me by retweeting said tweet:

You don’t recognize prominent Entertainment Attorney Jeff Cohen?

Perhaps a photo from his younger days will refresh your memory:

warnber_bros

Truffle Shuffle 4-Life!

Honestly, sometimes it’s the little things in life that get you through the day.  Chunk.  The guy who played Chunk favorited my tweet.  And the guy who played Chunk rose past childhood stardom to become a professional attorney.  Good for him.

My 3.5 readers know I am incredibly sarcastic.  Please know this post has no sarcasm whatsoever.  I remember watching Goonies when I was a kid, thinking it was a perfect blend of comedy and adventure. That someone who starred in that movie noticed something I wrote (and yeah, it was just a stupid little tweet and for all I know he hit the favorite button by accident) brought a smile to my face.

So, it is with full sincerity and without my usual brand of sarcasm that I say, “Thank you for making my day, Jeff Cohen.”

That’s all the superfluous name dropping I’ll do for today.  I won’t even mention that I am still followed by @TayeDiggs, probably because his assistant clicked my follow button by accident.

Checkmate, Yeti.  Checkmate.

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In Case You Think I’m Making this $h#t Up…

There is an actual Yeti journal…

Yeti Researcher

I wonder if they’ll do a story on the one I have living on my couch, eating all my snacks, writing on my blog without permission and in general, being a major pain in the wazoo.

Yetis.  I hate Yetis.

I hate to beg, but 400 more follows for @bookshelfbattle on Twitter brings me to the goal needed to free Bookshelf Battle HQ from unjust Yeti occupation.

Think about it – your follows not only aid me in my mission to spread literacy across the globe, they also help me foil the plans of a stupid Yeti.

I hate Yetis.

“Yeti Researcher” Image via a Creative Commons License by Dan Germain

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A Memo from the Mighty Potentate

Behold, the official memo from the Mighty Potentate, Supreme and Undisputed Emperor of Planet Name Redacted ordering Alien Jones’ to become a columnist for bookshelfbattle.com

I don’t mean to brag or anything but, you know, I have 3.5 readers and one alien emperor reading this thing.

A Memo from the Mighty Potentate

Reminder – submit your questions for the Esteemed Brainy One by midnight Friday (as in midnight Friday wherever you are in the world, for my international readers) for a chance to have your questions (and a plug for your book, blog, whatever project you are working on) featured in his Sunday Column.

Tweet your questions to @bookshelfbattle, leave them in the comments on this site, or on my Google Plus page.

And remember, 4000 twitter followers will get the Siberian Yeti out of my Headquarters, so if you haven’t followed yet, please do!  (Not trying to guilt you or anything, but if a follow could free you from Yeti captivity, I’d totally follow you.  Just the kind of guy I am).

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MOVIE REVIEW – Olga’s Stewstravaganza Part II – Electric Stewgaloo (2014)

By:  The Siberian Yeti, Self-Appointed Ruler of Bookshelfbattle.com Until Further Notice

Hello pitiful 3.5 readers.  The Siberian Yeti here.  I have heard that the American loser known as Bookshelf Q. Battler has occasionally escaped my surveillance and found ways to post onto this blog behind my back.  Worse, his Intergalactic Correspondent, Alien Jones, has some kind of super computer that is able to post onto this blog without even having access to it.  He must have a Commodore 1,064.

It is my understanding that this website is some kind of entertainment blog, operated by a lowly attention seeking nerd with nothing better to do with his free time than tell 3.5 people about his interests in books, film, and television.

This is apparently some kind of trend in the Western world.  “Oh!  Look at me!  Here is a picture of my lunch!  Oh, look!  A picture of my feet on the beach!”

Blah.  You know what they feed us for lunch in Siberia?  Better you not know but let’s just say, you don’t want to see a picture of it.

All criticism of your annoying “look at me” American ways, I suppose if I am going to be the Self-Appointed Ruler of this Blog (forever apparently, since Hell will freeze over before BQB reaches 4000 Twitter followers), then I had best, how do you say, “go with the flow” and review some of my favorite Russian entertainment.

First up is Olga’s Stewstravaganza II – Electric Stewgaloo.

First, a warning.  THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.  Yes, pitiful Americans.  All of the world there are people dying in shallow graves from all manner of diseases but the only thing that gets your ire up is when someone tells you what happens in one of your precious shows before you see it.

Second, if you have yet to see Olga’s Stewstravaganza Part One, I suggest you drop everything and go see it.  Ha, one guy just googled it to see if it exists.  That is funny.

But seriously, if you have not witnessed Olga’s antics in one, then you will never be able to comprehend two.

Part II picks up directly after the events of Part One.  Frumpy peasant woman Olga, who wears a coat fashioned from cow hide and chicken feather stuffing (the height of elegance in Siberia) has just vanquished all of her enemies, the degenerate low lives who tried to get between her and her pot of stew.

Now, she is left to simply cook her stew in peace.  And I must say, the suspense is unbearable.  In the opening scene, we see Olga’s hand holding a paprika shaker.  Will she add the paprika?  Won’t she?  Will she add oregano?  Will she add the floor sweepings?

Answer to all three questions?  Yes.  I told you there would be spoilers.  Stupid Americans.  You never listen.

By the middle of the film, we are introduced to Olga’s love interest, Ivan.  Ivan is a dedicated farmer.  Here, I will translate his first scene for you:

INTERIOR – POLLING PLACE

Ivan, a tall burly man with a mustache that reaches to his chest, picks up a ballot.  It reads:

ELECTION FOR PRESIDENT OF RUSSIA – PLEASE PLACE AN X NEXT TO YOUR SELECTION

1)  Putin  ___

2)  Putin  ___

3)  Putin ___

4)  Write-in Vote for Candidate Not Putin (Please attach instructions to your home, as well as times of day when you are asleep and at your most defenseless).

I won’t spoil it for you.  OK I will.  He votes for Putin.

Ivan then makes the long ride home to his village on a sleigh pulled by a team of twelve mangy, drooling oxen with flies swirling around their heads.  The ride takes two hours, and the director ensures we are not spared one moment of it.

Upon arrival at the village, Ivan realizes he forgot his wallet at the polling place.  We are left to watch the two hour journey back to the polling place, followed by the two hour return trip.

After six hours of driving oxen through the snow (a brisk 807 inches and therefore a mild winter for Siberia), Ivan passes out in front of Olga’s humble abode.

Olga brings Ivan in and revives him and the following scene transpires:

IVAN:  Olga, this stew is delicious.  What kind of animal did the meat come from?

OLGA:  Do you trust me, Ivan?

IVAN:  Da.

OLGA:  Good.  Because sometimes love means not knowing what kind of animal the meat in the stew you’re eating comes from.

“Sometimes love means not knowing what kind of animal the meat in the stew you’re eating comes from.”

I just wanted to repeat that for effect.  What a wonderful, beautiful film.  And you evil Americans give the Oscar to Birdman.  Patooie.  For shame.

Thank you 3.5 readers.  I will try to be a better ruler of this site and bring you more reviews until BQB reaches 4000 twitter followers.  And let’s be honest.  That will never happen.  Miley Cyrus will join a convent before that loser gets that many followers.

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Ask the Alien – 3/15/15 – Why I Can’t Vaporize the Yeti, Vaccinations, Crooked Lawyers

Greetings Earth Losers.

The Esteemed Brainy One

Alien Jones here, beaming the answers to the great questions of the universe straight to your laptops, cell phones, iPads, Kindle Fires, Samsung Galaxies, and yes, even to you oddballs who still cling to your blackberries, desperately trying to party like it’s 2003.

First, let us address the proverbial elephant in the room.  Our esteemed Blogger-in-Chief, one Mr. Bookshelf Q. Battler, has been taken captive by the Siberian Yeti, after having his compound overtaken by the same aforementioned ne’er-do-well snow monster.

Truly, this is a sad state of affairs.  Already, I anticipate your first, second, and third questions:

Q.  Alien Jones, you are the most badass alien in the universe, a master of all manner of lethal technologies and advanced weaponry.  Surely, you can remove a Yeti from Bookshelf Battle HQ.

A.  Certainly I could.  However, have you ever heard of Star Trek’s “prime directive?”  In short, it is a rule that prevents Star Fleet officers from interfering with the advancement of alien civilizations, thus allowing beings to develop on their own.  My home world has a version of that rule.  It goes by the less interesting name of the “Don’t Help Aliens With Stuff Rule.”

Q.  Why are you referring to humans as aliens?  You’re the alien.

A.  To me, you’re the alien.

Q.  If you have a rule against helping alien civilizations, why are you writing a Q and A column on a book blog with 3.5 readers?

A.  My illustrious emperor felt that humans were so colossally stupid that there was some wiggle room.  Either I nudge humanity in the right direction or cheese stuffed crust pizza and reality television will spread across the universe.  We scientists refer to this much feared event as “The Great Dumbening.”

Now then.  I didn’t receive any questions this week, which is surprising.  Not to be rude or anything but to borrow a line from The Simpsons, “what you people don’t know could fill a warehouse.”  So, I’ve decided to ask myself a series of questions surrounding a topic that some of you Earth creatures have been wrestling with lately.

Q.  Alien Jones, should I have my kid vaccinated?

A.  If your Doctor advises it, then yes.

Q.  But vaccines cause autism!  I’ve heard so many anecdotes about kids getting vaccinated and then becoming autistic.

A.  Anecdotes aren’t science.  Your kid wears diapers.  Do diapers cause autism?  Your kid breathes air.  Does air cause autism?  Your kid watches Barney.  Do people in purple dinosaur costumes cause autism?

Q.  But we live in such healthy times compared to the days of long ago.  Surely, small pox or measles can’t be that big a deal.

A.  Picture me slapping my three fingered hand against my cranial dome in disgust, as I realize I know more about your world’s history than you do.  In the dark ages, long before vaccinations were invented, various plagues and diseases swept through one country after the remigho-syringenext.  Every village had a man who would push a cart through the streets just to collect all the corpses.  The reason why you don’t see people dropping like flies these days is due in large part to vaccines (the idea of which we aliens beamed into the minds of your most prominent doctors because it made us sad you were all croaking like frogs on a log).  Ultimately, it makes no sense to this alien why humans would put their children at risk for contracting a medieval disease that was put out of commission by medical science long ago.

Q.  But my doctor’s medical opinion might be that my kid should not be vaccinated.

A.  That is entirely possible.  There are some kids with medical issues where a vaccine could pose a problem.  But at least you based the decision not to vaccinate on a medical professional’s advice, and not a comment made by Jenny McCarthy on a day she decided to wear pants.

Q.  But you can’t prove that vaccines don’t cause autism.

A.  I can’t prove that you’re not wearing invisible underpants forged from solid gold.

Q.  And why should I take your word for this?

A.  You should absolutely not take my word about any of this.  In fact, if any crooked lawyers are reading this, be aware that I am a fictional alien that exists in the mind of a blogger, and therefore my word should not be relied upon as medical advice.  You should contact a doctor, who will be able to give you a medical opinion as it applies to your individual kid’s situation. Bookshelfbattle.com, its nerdy proprietor, and this Alien Correspondent do not in any way, shape, or form hold anything written on this site as medical advice that should be relied upon.

Q.  Why do you dislike lawyers?

A.  Because they are the same people who made a world where a car company that put out an obviously fictional advertisement in which a car is driven on top of a train felt it necessary to add a clause warning people against trying such an obviously ill-advised and impossible endeavor.

*Nissan Rogue “Commute” Commercial

No offense, but my esteemed emperor wrote humans off as a lost cause at the exact moment that he realized you are all so stupid that this commercial required a statement at the bottom of the screen that read “Fantasy, do not attempt.  Cars can’t jump on trains.”

I’m doing my best not to insult humanity but it’s just that, you know, on my world, we’re able to watch this commercial and already understand that we should not attempt to jump a car onto a train.

But I suppose companies must provide ample warnings to assist the simplest of a simple species.

One more question likely on your mind:

Q.  If this site is occupied by the Siberian Yeti, how are you posting on it?

A.  My species invented intergalactic space travel.  I’m pretty sure we can get a post onto a blog.

HONORABLE MENTION

While I received no inquiries this week, shout outs to:

  • Anita Lovett of Anita Lovett and Associates for tweeting a request for the twitosphere to help Bookshelf Q. Battler raise the 4000 follower ransom required to remove bookshelfbattle.com from unjust Yeti occupation.  The rest of you were content to allow BQB to waste away as a Yeti hostage.  For shame.  For shame, I say.
  • Krissy Penner of cricketsareok.com for submitting video proof of alien existence (I could be wrong, but that guy on the left looks like a colleague I met as a cadet in the Intergalactic Exploration Corps).  Counterargument – this video may have nothing to do with aliens but rather, is a rap performance.
  • Bookshelf Battle Blog Followers, you might notice that BQB has been promoting some of you through other forms of social media.  He has been on a real “pay it forward cosmic karma” kick lately.  If you aren’t cool with it, just let him know, but I assume it’s his way of thanking those who aid in his quest to double his readership from 3.5 to a whopping 7 readers.

Thank you for your time, 3.5 readers.  I must now travel to the planet known as Moikro.  I am on a very sensitive diplomatic mission, namely, to convince two separate alien species to stop bogarting each other’s space snacks.  They’re about to go to war over who gets to keep the planet’s supply of buffalo wing chip dippers, and my friends, it will not be pretty if diplomacy fails to win the day.

Alien Jones is the Intergalactic Correspondent for the Bookshelf Battle. Do you have a question for the Esteemed Brainy One? Submit it to Bookshelf Q. Battler via a tweet to @bookshelfbattle, leave it in the comment section on this site, or drop it off on the Bookshelf Battle Google + page. If AJ likes your question, he might promote your book, blog, or other project while providing his answer.

Submit your questions by midnight Friday each week for a chance to be featured in his Sunday column. And if you don’t like his response, just let him know and he’ll file it into the recycling bin of his monolithic super computer.  No muss, no fuss, no problem.  

Alien Image Courtesy of “Marauder” on openclipart.org

Syringe Image Courtesy of “Remigho” on open clipart.org

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Happy Friday the 13th (or BQB’s Top Ten List of Mistakes Made by Horror Movie Victims)

Hello 3.5 readers!  Are you stuck in a horror movie and being chased by a fictional psychopath?  (Then why are you reading this blog?  RUN!)

But, if you have a minute while said psycho is taking a breather, then Bookshelf Q. Battler is here with the top ten helpful tips to get you through this Friday the 13th, based on all of the horror movies I’ve seen:

10)  Don’t go upstairs.  Only go upstairs if there is no other direction to go in.  If you can go out of the house, then go out of the house.  Really, what do you think will happen when you get upstairs?  The killer just corners you because the only way out of the house when you are upstairs is via a fatal drop to the ground.

9)  Don’t be rude.  In horror movies, rude people tend to buy the farm in epic ways that make the audience feel a great catharsis.  At least one person watching the film will shout out, “Oh my God I’m glad that guy’s dead!”

8)  Don’t choose this particular time to confess your love to someone.  Yes, they’ll be so glad that you finally made a move after waiting so long.  And yes, an overly ironic writer will take great delight in turning you into murderer fodder.

7)  Skinny dipping.  Don’t do it.  Night.  Naked.  Stuck in the water.  You’re a sitting duck.  And honestly, have you looked in a mirror lately?  You shouldn’t be skinny dipping anyway.  (That’s just a joke.  My 3.5 readers are all supermodels).

6)  Don’t tempt fate.  Has an old gypsy woman told you that if you say a magic phrase while rubbing an ancient talisman, a murderer will come to life and murder everyone?  Well, here’s a thought then, STOP RUBBING THE TALISMAN!!!  Why let curiosity get the better of you?  Whenever someone warns you against doing something, don’t do it!

5)  Trip and fall while running.  WTF?  Seriously, you pick now to be a klutz?  Steady those feet, there’s a madman on the loose!

4)  Get separated from the group.  I don’t care how badly your friends stink.  This is not the time to be a loner.

3)  Perform routine maintenance on your car.  Cars have a tendency to quit whenever a bloodthirsty fiend is on a rampage.  Get your car inspected.  Check your tire pressure.  Change your oil.  Get your battery checked.  Take your ride to a competent mechanic once in awhile to make sure everything is in order.  Honestly, murderous fiend or no, you should be doing all this stuff anyway.  You don’t want to get stranded on the side of the road, do you?

2)  DON’T ASSUME THE KILLER IS DEAD.  This is literally the main horror movie trope that gets me worked up every time.  The murderer is clearly a massive, hulking juggernaut of a beast.  The protagonist of the film gives him a little tap with a stick or something and assumes the murderer is a goner.

NO!  Assume nothing!  Drop a grenade in his pants!  Set him on fire!  Shoot him twenty times in various places!  Go to town on him with a ginsu knife!  Dance the Texas Two-Step on his face!

(NOTE:  Bookshelf Battle does not condone violence and this discussion is for fictional purposes only.  You never know, one of my 3.5 readers might be a greedy corrupt lawyer).

1)  DON’T GO IN THERE!  Hey, you!  Yeah, you.  The guy going in there.  Stop going in there!  Can’t you hear everyone in the theater telling you to NOT go in there!

Thank you, Bookshelf Battle Readers.  Happy Friday the 13th.  I must now return to the basement, where the Yeti is holding me captive, yet somehow I manage to blog whenever he’s not looking, because he’s kind of stupid.

Follow me on twitter to help me escape unjust Yeti occupation and don’t forget, Alien Jones is taking your questions until midnight Friday night.

Did I miss your favorite horror movie trope?  Add it in the comments.

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Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Ridiculous Technology

By:  The Siberian Yeti, Newly Self-Appointed Ruler of the Bookshelf Battle Blog

A question for you, 3.5 readers.

Is Bookshelf Q. Battler some type of wizard?  Is he a mage?  Does he dabble in the black arts?  Surely you, his trusted 3.5 readers, could shed some light on the subject.

I ask because I once assumed that with our Commodore 64, which allows us to play Tapper all the live long day, we Yetis were ripe with technological prowess.

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Behold!  The Commodore 64 in all of its glory.  It allows us to play Zork, Galaga, and Tapper.  So much Tapper.  We cannot get enough of Tapper.

But as I survey the Bookshelf Battle Compound, I notice many devices that make the Commodore 64 look like a pile of Yeti droppings.

Did Bookshelf Q. Battler create these using magic?  Or, do you all have these devices and we Yetis just did not get the memo?  Perhaps you did not share news of this technology with us because you lousy Americans wish to conquer Siberia and put a Hooters restaurant on every street corner.  You would probably even build street corners.

Bookshelf Q. Battler has a device not much larger than standard pad of paper.  It is a single piece of glass with a few buttons and when I press them I am able to watch movies.  Movies and television shows all day long.  Does anyone in America work?  Is everyone in your country an actor?

This magic glass device has a picture of an apple.  I don’t get it.  Is it supposed to tell you where you keep the apples?  In Siberia, we are only allowed three apples per year.  I usually barter mine for more toilet paper squares.

Plus, Bookshelf Q. Battler’s computer has a game on it called Skyrim.  Apparently, Mr. Battler was pretending to fight dragons and marry peasant wenches all day.  And yet he whines about having no time to write.  Typical American cry baby.

I must procure a copy of this game to bring back to Siberia.  All other Commodore 64 games pale in comparison, except Topper.  Nothing can beat Topper.

We Siberian Yetis do not appreciate being kept in the dark about your technology, America.  You will be hearing from our Yeti lawyers.

I must go now and check on Bookshelf Q. Battler.  I am forcing to watch Olga’s Stew-stravaganza Part II: Electric Stewgaloo.

Commodore 64 Image Courtesy of Flickr User Pete Brown via a Creative Commons License

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