Tag Archives: funny

Daily Discussion with BQB – Hamster Marriage

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3.5 readers, a very important discussion today.

Should hamsters be allowed to marry?

Specifically…should hamsters have the right…

  • to marry other hamsters?
  • to marry people?
  • to marry cats?
  • to marry dogs?
  • to marry frogs?
  • to marry gophers?
  • to marry chimpanzees?
  • to marry platypi?
  • to have straight hamster marriage?
  • to have gay hamster marriage?
  • for three hamsters to get married?

This is truly the great question of our age.  And I don’t ask it lightly.  Frankly, I dont know where all the hamsters in the pet store are coming from, but I can only assume that all those hamsters are the result of some very hardcore hamster fucking and I am tired of these hamsters living in sin, having all kinds of freaky hamster sex without exchanging vows and making it all official in the eyes of God.

Further, and please, stop being a bigot, folks, OK?  It’s 2018, so I really think that if we are going to let straight hamsters get married then we should let gay hamsters get married to.  It’s time, folks.  OK?  It’s time.

If hamsters want to marry outside of their species, I’m fine with it.  If a hamster wants to marry a duck or a mongoose or something, that’s fine.  Who am I to tell a hamster that he or she can’t love a penguin?

And I’m not going to tell a hamster that he or she can’t love an inanimate object either, so if a hamster wants to marry a deck of playing cards or a bag of chips or a tasteful rendering of Wayne Newton, bare chested and riding a unicorn into outer space, who am I to say no?

Now, you might wonder, how could a hamster fuck an elephant or a goat or a donkey or a bucket of extra crispy fried chicken or a roll of wet paper towels.  While I applaud your inquisitive mind, I remind you that this is none of your business.  You don’t need to know.  Hamsters aren’t taking notes about your sexual habits so you don’t need to take notes about theirs, OK?  Sheesh. 2018 people.

Anyway, please let me know your thoughts on the important issue of hamster sex and/or more importantly, hamster marriage and whether or not you support hamster matrimony.

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #251-275

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (but hey, the century is still young) will share his great musings…

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#251 – Sundays are for sleeping in.

#252 – He who stands out in the rain without an umbrella is likely to end up all wet.

#253 – Col. Mustard is guilty of all “Clue” related crimes.

#254 – I’ve never seen a geyser.

#255 – All the hot older female celebrities I used to jerk off to in the 1990s have AARP cards now.  Eat a dick, time.

#256 – “Rutabaga” is fun to say.

#257 – Chivalry may not be dead, but it’s on life support.

#258 – It’s been awhile since I’ve taken part in tomfoolery.

#259 – Sigh.  Whenever I fly, I’m inevitably stuck between a fat man and a crying baby.  Just once, I’d like to be stuck between a fat baby and a crying man.

#260 – I wonder if Zeus is still around.  Wait, what’s that thundering sound?

#261 – I put my pants on the same way as anybody else:  two legs at a time after I jump off a trampoline and land a perfect dismount into them.

#262 – There goes the neighborhood.

#263 – End the drug war today and let big box stores sell crack already.

#264 – Thanksgiving must be an interesting time at the Fett household.

#265 – Show me a man who writes “Firefly” fan fiction and I’ll show you a man who can make a vagina drier than the Mojave.

#266 – I wonder what my old baseball cards are worth today.

#267 – I’ve never made love in an elevator.

#268 – Most foods are improved with a little sprinkle of parmesan cheese.

#269 – No one wears spurs anymore.

#270 – If asked by the local sheriff, I feel like it would be hard to turn down a request to join a posse.

#271 – I don’t need to be told how to get to Sesame Street.  I have a navigation app on my phone, thank you.

#272 – Skydiving will never be my bag.

#273 – I could go for a good episode of “NCIS” and a bowl full of cherries doused in a heaping helping of whipped cream right about now.

#274 – The first draft of the Declaration of Independence begins, “Yo, King, slurp on our big, fat, hairy colonial…”  Well, it stops there.  Assumably, Jefferson started over after that.

#275 – If “oranges” are orange, why aren’t grapes, “purples?”

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century- #225 – #250

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (but hey, the century is still young) will share his great musings…

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#225 – Politeness should come back in style.

#226 – Kung-fu should be a mandatory high school class.

#227 – Is this all just an elaborate attempt to make fun of Larry King?

#228 – Once you have squeezed a pair of DD’s, it’s hard to go smaller.

#229 – Napkins are fancy paper towels.

#230 – I’m going to change for the better…tomorrow.

#231 – Pumpkins are delicious all year long, not just October.

#232 – I should be nicer and count my blessings.

#233 – I bet you $100 I can quit gambling anytime I want.

#235 – I like the smell of my own farts.  I would spend all day in my own personal fart cloud if I could.

#236 – Firecrackers are just explosive devices on a smaller scale.

#237 – Does God ever pray to himself?

#238 – Squash is the only vegetable with a name that tells you how to prepare it.

#239 – Despite what the song says, it is impossible to walk on sunshine.  Anyone who tries to walk on the sun would burn up.  No one could ever get close enough to even try.

#240 – The word “moist” turns vaginas dry.

#241 – Memories are like the mind’s reruns.

#242 – Never befriend a shark.

#243 – I wonder if anyone has ever glued their nads to their leg before.  In the entire history of glue, surely it has happened once.  Why the alleged nad gluer put glue on his nads is anyone’s guess.

#244 – I miss rotary phones.  Old fashioned?  Yes, but no one was ever butt dialed with a rotary phone.

#245 – I’ve never seen the inside of my own butt so I can’t confirm its existence.

#246 – Leprosy is not a good time.

#247 – Oh boy.  Another superhero movie.

#248 – Change the subject and change your mind.

#249 – Any reality TV show camera crew that follows me around all day would be very bored.

#250 – No one carries handkerchiefs anymore and they should.  It’s sad.  People of the past cared a lot more about booger control than people of today do.

 

 

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #201-225

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (but hey, the century is still young) will share his great musings…

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#201 – I wrote a whole slate of musings to put into this post and then I clicked the screen off by accident and they are gone forever…or are they?  They probably are.  I don’t think they are coming back.

#202 – Carrier pigeon is an efficient way to send a letter.

#203 – Yogurt looks like semen but tastes better, I assume.  Please note that I said, “I assume.”

#204 – I could go for a nice bowl of soup.

#205 – An unrowed boat will never go ashore.

#206 – Fish are nice pets, but it’s not a good idea to pet them.

#207 – Cheese can be grilled but it doesn’t boil well.

#208 – If it were possible to run around the world fast enough, you might, for a split second, catch a glimpse of your own ass as it runs away, visible to you as you round the bend and finish your global circumnavigation.

#209 – Beers sure can get you drunk if you guzzle enough of them.

#210 – Whenever you see a labradoodle, assume it’s the product of Labrador retriever on poodle fucking.

#211 – Wombats are neither bats nor woms.  Discuss.

#212 – Weeds are the douchebags of the garden.

#213 – It saddens me that saying, “Hey baby, nice dumper!” has gone from being considered a pleasant compliment to a rude, inappropriate statement.  What has the world come to?

#214 – When you need to chew something, you can’t go wrong with gum.

#215 – Coins are outdated.

#216 – I’m thinking about becoming a Navy Seal.  I can slap my fins together, but catching an uncooked fish in my mouth will take some doing.  That’s the kind of seal the Navy is looking for, right?

#217 – Ties are weird.  Who decided a long piece of cloth hanging down from a man’s neck is necessary?

#218 – Heists would be fun if they weren’t illegal or dangerous.

#219 – Whenever I’m at the end of my rope, I find more slack.

#220 – Barbecue sauce is the best of all sauces.

#221 – It’s a shame that bears look so huggable, and yet hugging them is such a bad idea.  What a waste.

#222 – What is foo and why do the Foo Fighters fight it?

#223 – How old do cowboys have to get before they become cowmen?

#224 – Between bacon and sausage, bacon is the superior breakfast meat.

#225 – A straw is the best way to get liquid into your mouth without having to touch your lips to the container holding the liquid in question.

 

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #176-200

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (but hey, the century is still young) will share his great musings…

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#176 – Ladies, if you’re tired of men hooting and hollering, whistling catcalls as you walk by and making uncouth comments about your beauty, I’ve got the perfect solution that’s guaranteed to make sure all men will leave you alone: turn 40.

#177 – Why is there a maple leaf on Canada’s flag?  Is that what we’re doing now?  We just find items that can be found in a country in put them on the flag?  Why isn’t America’s flag a keg of beer?

#178 – I’ve never cared for spinach, despite Popeye’s longstanding PR campaign.

#179 – Why do they call it “talk radio?”  My radio has never talked to me.

#180 – You can bake a cake, but you’ll need eggs, flour and other ingredients I don’t feel like mentioning at this time.

#181 – Greece is a country.  “Grease” is a play.

#182 – I’m cancelling my subscription to “Vogue.”

#183 – Nougat is the best of all candy fillings.  Frankly, they should just sell big bars of nougat, sans chocolate.  It’s good on its own.

#184 – “Sassafras” is a fun word to say.

#185 – Did dinosaur farts cause earthquakes?

#186 – You just can’t find a good submarine sandwich anymore.

#187 – Who makes these plastic packages that store bought items are placed in?  I swear, the last time I bought a men’s shaving razor, it was like breaking into Fort Knox just to get the package open.

#188 – Well, there goes the cultural zeitgeist.

#189 – Germans spent the first half of the last century trying to conquer the world in the name of white superiority and the last half of the last century dancing to disco music while wearing leather pants.  Jesus, pick a lane already.

#190 – When it comes to bovine sex, I’m against it…but to be clear, I’m against human on cow intercourse, whereas it comes to cows having sex with each other, I’m fine with it, as long as the cow and the bull are both consenting bovine adults.

#191 – I could fight this feeling some more, but I don’t want to.

#192 – I hope no one ever slips me a Mickey.

#193 – Why do I sweep my floor?  It’ll just get dirty again.

#194 – The best time to take out a loan is when you need to buy something and you can’t afford to pay for the price of whatever that something is up front in cash.

#195 – Basketball players like to dunk their balls in baskets.  I like to dunk my chocolate chip cookies in milk.

#196 – Brushing your teeth after every meal is a good habit to get into.

#197 – Of all the things to rub on your taint, poison ivy is the worst.

#198 – Is duck sauce made by squeezing juice out of ducks?

#199 – The good thing about riding a train is it is hard to get lost.

#200 – I can never remember where I left my shoes.

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #151 – 175

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (but hey, the century is still young) will share his great musings…

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#151 – A dollar doesn’t buy much anymore.

#152 – Alcatraz was a formidable prison.  Why’d they close it down?

#153 – Reece’s Pieces are like M and M’s, except the candy shell covers peanut butter instead of chocolate or a chocolate covered nut.

#154 – No one ever screams for ice cream anymore.

#155 – Ferret is an oft underutilized meat source.

#156 – English is a language that is easily understood by those who speak it well.

#157 – I’d rather not contract syphilis if I can avoid it.

#158 – Barbie has so many jobs.  Where does that bitch find the time?

#159 – Somewhere on another planet, there is a guy writing on a blog as poorly read as this one.

#160 – Television is fun to watch.

#161 – A hat is the best thing to wear when your head is cold.

#162 – See #161 but replace “hat” with “gloves” and “head” with “hands.”

#163 – I’ve never thought much about mitochondrial DNA.  The subject is over my head.

#164 – A stranger is just a person who may or may not lock you up in a secret room they have hidden between two walls in their creepy old house.

#165 – I use an alarm clock to wake up in the morning, but I’d prefer a soldier playing “Reveille” on a trumpet.

#166 – Whenever you want to smoke, you never have a lighter.  Isn’t that always the way?

#167 – Humans are shaved apes.  Apes are furry humans.

#168 – Whenever my house is dirty, I clean it.

#169 – Nobody says, “Talk to the hand” anymore.

#170 – Neon colors aren’t used enough.

#171 – I like to start my day with a big bowl of oatmeal with some raisins mixed in.

#172 – If I could travel through time, I’d go back to two seconds ago, and rewrite this musing.

#173 – All animals should be required to wear pants.

#174 – There goes Don Quixote, tilting at windmills again.

#175 – It must be hard to be crazy.

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #76-100

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (but hey, the century is still young) will share his great musings…

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#76 – When my garbage bag is full, the best thing to do is to take it out to the curb.

#77 – It’s always a good idea to carry a roll of quarters in your pocket.  You never know when you might need to do some laundry or pay a toll.  Twenty years ago, I would have added that you might need to make a call from a pay phone, but they don’t have those anymore.

#78 – All those male Smurfs must have run a train on Smurfette.

#79 – Lifting weights can make you stronger.

#80 – “The Wolf” in “Pulp Fiction” didn’t provide much help at all.  Think about it.  He’s built up as this big fixer that can use his ingenuity to make the worst problems go away, but then all he does is show up and tell Vincent and Jules to clean up the car with household cleaning products.  Shit.  I’ve never shot a guy in my car but if I did, I would, as a novice, think of the fact that I should probably spray some Windex on the blood in the hopes that it will go way.

#81 – Nobody knows what it’s like to be a sad man…except other sad men.

#82 – Shorts keep your legs cool in the summer.

#83 – No one makes VHS tapes anymore.

#84 – Is it possible to suck and blow at the same time?

#85 – Were Groucho Marx and Richard Marx related?

#86 – Plants must be watered.

#87 – “Ransack” is an interesting word.

#88 – Bell and Biv were carrying Devoe.

#89 – It’s hard to eat many foods without a fork.

#90 – Do ghosts fuck?  How does that work?

#91 – The average person inhales 4,582 spiders a night.

#92 – Cars have four wheels for a reason.

#93 – What’s black and white and read all over?

#94 – Paris is lovely this time of year.

#95 – I once discovered the meaning of life, but I forgot it.

#96 – Low hanging fruit is the best kind of fruit.

#97 – I’ve never gone Commando, on the battlefield or in my pants.

#98 – Swans are just fancy ducks.

#99 – Waffles are delicious.

#100 – The big ball drops on New Year’s Eve, but my balls drop a little lower every Tuesday.

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #51-75

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (although hey, it’s still young) will share his great musings…

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#51 – Call me old fashioned, but soda pop tastes better when it’s cold.

#52 – Men will always like big breasts.

#53 – Does the Pope ever wear a derby when he’s alone?

#54 – If you have vision problems, glasses will help you see better.

#55 – A hot take is the worst possible take.

#56 – Why are hamburgers called “ham-burgers?”  I’ve never asked for pig meat on my cow patty in my entire life and I’m not about to start now.

#57 – Middle aged white soccer moms who practice yoga are engaging in cultural appropriation.

#58 – Cookies are fun to eat.

#59 – Cancer is the worst drag of all.

#60 – Licking a sidewalk can’t be fun or healthy.  I don’t advise it.

#61 – Ever since my doctor told me I was sterile, I’ve wondered if the 9,832 hot pockets I cooked in the microwave throughout the course of my life were worth it.

#62 – Board games should be called “bored games” because they are boring.

#63 – Always bring exact change to a strip club.  I’ve never met a stripper who can break a twenty dollar bill.

#64 – Cinnamon goes good with everything.

#65 – Canada is America’s whiney little brother, the one that Mom makes us hold hands with on the way to school even though we really don’t want to.

#66 – Pancakes are neither pans nor cakes.  Discuss.

#67 – If Capt. Kirk and company are able to beam their way to a distant location, then why don’t they beam their star ship to Barbados every time the Klingons come onto the scene, looking to start some shit?

#68 – Whenever I have a stain on my shirt, I find the best course of action is to get it laundered.

#69 – Do cockroaches fuck?  I mean, they have to, right?  Because like, where else would all those cockroaches come from?  Damn it, I wonder what cockroach fucking looks like.

#70 – I don’t like to eat pizza crust.  I would prefer it if my local pizza parlor would simply attach wooden handles to my pizza, as well as a self-addressed, stamped envelope I can use to mail the wooden handles back to the pizza parlor when I am done using them to hold the various and sundry slices of my pizza.

#71 – Whenever someone asks me what is the one item I would wish for if I were left alone on a deserted island, I inevitably ask for a power drill…because how else are you going to fuck a coconut?

#72 – Words are the building blocks of sentences.

#73 – People who are lonely should seek the company of other people.

#74 – Candy is delicious, though not very nutritious.

#75 – An apple a day might keep the doctor away for awhile…until the day comes when you cut off your hand with a miter saw and then, well, I don’t give a shit how many apples you ate that day, the doctor is still going to want to examine that shit.

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century – #25 – 50

And now, Bookshelf Q. Battler, one of the greatest minds of the Twenty-First Century (although hey, it’s still young) will share his great musings…

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#26 – If an after life does indeed exist, you can be assured to a mathematical certainty of one-hundred and fifty-eight percent that one of your deceased relatives has gazed down upon you from the heavens to check in on how you are doing only to be repulsed upon seeing you engaged in a full scale, no holds barred, down and dirty masturbation session.

#27 – Time is a construct and we need to construct more of it.  A lot more.

#28 – If I could do it all again, I’d be a farmer.

#29 – Genes decide if your butt looks good in jeans.  Jeans, on the other hand, decide nothing about your genes.  On an unrelated note, my Cousin Gene owes me thirty-seven dollars and a carton of menthols.

#30 – Did Samurais eat rye bread?

#31 – The first best way to get a free book is to go to your local library and get a library card.  The second best way to get a free book is to politely ask a friend who happens to be getting rid of a book if you can have the book.  The third best way to get a free book is to jam a Glock into a bookworm’s ribs and shout, “Give me your copy of Wuthering Heights right now or you’ll eat lead, motherfucker!”  For legal and/or moral purposes, I do not advise the latter.

#32 – The show, “Saturday Night Live” should be called, “One Half-Hour of Saturday Night and One Hour of Sunday Morning Live.”  I hate to be a stickler, but facts matter.

#33 – String is good for tying things up.

#34 – No one has any cash anymore.

#35 – Do Chinese people call their food, “food?”

#36 – I’ve tried and failed several weight loss programs over the years.  I’ve found the only regimen that works is to be locked in a cage like a werewolf on a full moon and to be zapped in the nut sack with a cattle prod whenever I ask for pizza.  For legal and moral purposes, I don’t advise this.

#37 – If your parents die at age 80 when you are age 50, will that make you an orphan?

#38 – Chips go good with dip.

#39 – I’ve never understood people who put ketchup AND mustard on one hot dog.  It’s an either/or decision, jackass.  Make a choice and live with the consequences.

#40 – The first caveman who saw a lobster and decided it looked delicious must have been a bonafide asshole.

#41 – Croutons are like speed bumps for salad.

#42 – Couples who want to have a baby should do so before age 35.  It’s a scientific fact that after age 36, the inside of a woman’s uterus bears a striking resemblance to the knight’s tomb in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” complete with spiders, cobwebs, bats and the bones of unlucky explorers from long gone ancient civilizations.

#43 – Polish makes objects shiny.

#44 – How does the guy who writes “YOU ARE HERE” on the giant, oversized maps at various public attractions always know where I am?  Stalk much?

#45 – I’m against gay marriage, not because I have anything against gay people, it’s just that I think they’ve been through enough already.

#46 – Am I the only one who goes to a baseball game and wonders why 50,000 people are watching a bunch of dummies throw a ball around?

#47 – You may laugh at the idea of bidets, but I’ve never met a Frenchman with hemorrhoids.

#48 – Nobody writes letters anymore.

#49 – Toaster ovens are the microwaves of yesteryear.

#50 – Winter is the best time of year to wear your heavy coat.  If you wait until August to put it on, it will be too hot.

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BQB and the Search for Culturally Appropriate Food – A Short Story of One Man’s Search for Elusive Woke-ness

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Can’t prove you’re from the boot?  Don’t even think about it.

I was hungry tonight, 3.5 readers.  I should have skipped dinner because I’m fat but screw it.  My tummy wanted foody, yum yum.

I went to a strip mall, where there was a pizza joint and a Chinese restaurant.  Normally, I would enter one or the other place, order, stuff my face and leave fatter than ever and none the wiser that I had committed a hate crime that made me worse than Hitler, namely, that I ate food that did not hail from my culture.

You see, I’m not Chinese.  Of that, we can be certain.  And even though that nice Chinese couple who moved to town and spent their savings to open up a business in which they would utilize their skill in cooking and serving their native dishes to anyone willing to pay, I knew better than they did.

Up until yesterday, I didn’t know better.  I thought it was OK for me to stuff orange chicken and pork fried rice and beef teriyaki and won ton soup and crab rangoons and moo goo gai pan and chow mein into my pie hole with reckless abandon.

But then, yesterday, I read about that girl who wore a Chinese dress to her prom even though she was not Chinese and I realized that I was a monster for eating Chinese food all of this time without being Chinese.

So I stuck my head in the doorway (I didn’t think I deserved to even enter a restaurant that was decorated in a Chinese style because again, I’m not Chinese) and I told the nice couple that I would not be able to purchase their food again because I am not Chinese.  They looked at me and smiled and then when I tried to explain further, the wife grabbed a broom and whacked me in the ass and told me, “Get lost, hipster scum!”

Anyway, so the other place at the strip mall was a pizza joint.  I go there often.  They have good pizza.  However, it dawned on me that I am not Italian.

I thought about it for a moment.  Although I am not Italian, I am of English, Scandanavian and German ancestry.  As you might be aware (you probably aren’t because you attended public schools), there was a time when Europe was conquered by the Roman Empire.

So…I guess you could make the argument that I am the descendant of subjects who were under the rule of Ancient Italians.

But then I thought, “Well…I can’t really prove that.  Maybe my ancestors were aware they were subjects of Ancient Italians, or maybe they were tree people who just danced around in the forest and had no idea about what was going on.  Further, I can’t draw a map of what the Roman Empire looked at during any one point in time, let alone during various times as it lasted a long time, and don’t even get me started on the Holy Roman Empire…”

Oh well.  I decided not to chance.  I got in my car.  By the way, my car is American made, so I think I’m OK, but I’m going to put a call into the manufacturer tomorrow to ask if I share the same heritage as the people who assembled the car on the manufacturing line.  I mean, if the car was made by a man who isn’t English, Scandanavian, or German, then I’d be culturally appropriating this individual’s work and that would be wrong.

I drove for hours until I found a Norwegian Restaurant.  It was called “The Viking’s Helmet.”  Finally, I would be able to dine without it being a hate crime because, remember, I’m part-Scandanavian.

Once inside, I was greeted by a waiter dressed in full Viking battle regalia, horny helmet, battle axe, long beard and all.

“By Odin’s taint, I’m Uncle Sven and I’ll be your server,” said he.

“Glad to be here,” I said.  “I’m a descendant of the Ancient Viking peoples and I just learned it’s cultural appropriation to eat any food that my ancestors didn’t eat.”

Sven and I got to talking and found we were pissed off about the same offenses to our culture.  We were pissed that Marvel was making bank off of cartoonizing our deity, Thor, for he is the God of Thunder and to turn him into a superhero is apparently fine to everyone, yet everyone would shit solid gold bricks if Stan Lee were to churn out a series of comic books called, “The Stupendous Jesus!”  See Jesus cure the lepers in a single bound!

Further, we were pissed that there was an NFL team in the current year called the “Vikings” even though the Ancient Scandanavian heritage of any of the players had not been verified.  The Vikings were a proud lot of warriors who beat the shit out of their slaves to get them to row their long ships faster so they could get to foreign lands and steal their shit, pillage their villages, set their huts on fire, and abscond with their women so…unless you did all that and still looked good in a horny helmet, I’ll thank you to not refer to yourself as a “Viking.”

Soon enough, Thor brought me a steaming hot plate of salted codfish gonads, which surprised me because a) I didn’t know Vikings ate those and b) I didn’t know fish had gonads.  I mean, I guess I knew that but I didn’t know they were anything you could make a meal of, or that anyone would want to.

“Our ancient kinsman would spend many a night looking at their plundered booty and enjoying a plate of salted codfish gonads,” Uncle Sven said.

“Yeah,” I replied.  “It’s just that…well…up until now I was more of a pizza and/or beef teriyaki kind of guy.”

“That’s crazy talk, you un-woke, bigoted, unmitigated pile of whale shit!”  Uncle Sven said.  “You’re not Chinese OR Italian!!!”

“I know,” I replied.  “And had I know it was a hate crime to have eaten anything other than the salted codfish gonads that my Viking ancestors consumed while they burnt the villages of their enemies to the ground and defiled the women folk to prove their manliness, then I never would have developed a penchant for pepperoni and spare ribs.”

“Oh well,” Uncle Sven said.  “At least now you know you were a disgusting monster and now you can change.  What part of Scandanavia did your people hail from?”

“Beats me,” I said.

Uncle Sven gasped.  I explained that my family always told me we were part Scandanavian, but never specified which country.  Uncle Sven told me the specific country matters, for this was a Norwegian restaurant and Norwegians always cooked and salted their codfish gonads.  Meanwhile, the Swedes prefered unsalted codfish gonads and the Finns liked to mix their codfish gonads with a jelly-like substance made out of crushed radishes and the excised tumors of pickled herrings.

Thus, since I couldn’t prove I was a bonafide Norwegian, Uncle Sven could not risk taking part in cultural appropriation, because for all he knew, I could have been the descendant of Finns and he was fresh out of cancer laden pickled herrings.

I told Uncle Sven there were no hard feelings and set off for a German restaurant.  I am, part German, after all.  I found a restaurant called “Haus of Der Wunder Schnitzel.”

There I met a waiter in leiderhosen named Herr Gunter, who told me he would happy to serve me a delicious, hot pretzel, a frothy stein of German beer, bratwurst, as many weiner schnitzels I could eat, all doused with a heaping helping of sauerkraut.

I told Herr Gunter that all sounded delicious and I could eat all of this guilt free because I’m part German.  Alas, Herr Gunter gasped and cried, “Only part?!”

Yes.  I asked if “only part German” was good enough and said it wasn’t.  You see, at this time, there doesn’t exist a process that would allow a doctor to determine which percentage of my stomach was German so there was no way to know how much food my stomach would be able to carry until it filled up the German part and overflowed into the English and Scandanavian parts.  The idea of German food mixing around in a stomach that shared ancestry with non-Germans was morally abhorrent and a definite act of cultural appropriation.

I thanked Herr Gunter for his time and left.  I had a similar exchange at Sir Nigel’s Kidney Pie Factory.  Sir Nigel was willing to sell me a kidney pie until I explained that I could not explain which part of my stomach was English, and then he told me I was banned from eating pies made out of the organs that eliminate toxins from the bodies of farm animals because, hey, that’s better than pizza I guess.

I asked Sir Nigel if he knew what a man of mixed heritage like me could do, because I was hungry and hadn’t eaten all day.  The kind man handed me a box of crackers, which he explained, had been invented by the Brits, for like the British, they are dry, tasteless, and have a history of invading your mouth and leaving crumbs in areas where they didn’t belong.  Hence, why my people would always be known as “Crackers.”

The catch was that I had to promise to eat only one cracker every four hours.  Thus, I’d be able to ensure the cracker would only stay in the English part of my stomach and not mix with the German and Scandanavian parts.

I agreed.  Sir Nigel also gave me a jug of water.  It was ok for me to drink water, the Brit noted, because all cultures have enjoyed water since the dawn of time.

I returned home, where I sat on the front steps to my house.  I ate a cracker, then checked my watch.  I took a sip of water.

A few minutes later, an angry, blue haired feminist wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt slapped the cracker box out of my hand, then seized the water bottle from my other hand and dumped it all over the sidewalk.

“Hey!”  I cried.

“Cultural appropriating scum!”  the angry feminist said.

“I’m not!”  I said.  “I researched this thoroughly!  I can eat crackers because I am a British cracker and also I have agreed to only eat one cracker every four hours so as to not allow the cracker to inter mingle with the non-British parts of my stomach.”

With a triumphant grin, the SJW pointed my direction to the bottom of the cracker box, which was prominently stamped, “Made in Taiwan.”

I looked to the heavens and, much as Capt. Kirk screamed the name of his nemesis, Khan, so too did I cry, “Damn you, Pacific Trade Partnership!!!”

I composed myself.  “But why did you dump out my water?  All cultures enjoy water.”

“Yeah,” the SJW said.  “But uh…hello?  Most anthropologists are in agreement that the first humans were born in Africa and so they were the first people to discover water so unless you’ve got a Ugandan passport on you…”

I sighed.  I told her I didn’t have such a passport and laid down on the stoop.  As the SJW walked away, I lost all hope.  The hours passed, the night went by, and in the morning, my throat was so dry.

As the time rolled on, various helpful social justice warriors stopped by to inform me that my hat, belt, shirt, pants, shoes, socks, and underwear had all been manufactured in other countries, none of which I could claim kinship with.  They were nice enough to take all of my clothing, throw them into a dumpster, pour gas on them and set my duds ablaze.

I returned to my front steps, where I laid their naked…until one of the women who complained about the origin of my clothing accused me of exercising male privilege and/or engaging in Harvey Weinstein-esque activity and so, she called the police.

Not wanting to go to jail, I found a sharp object and was about to stab myself to death when another SJW pointed out that if I were to do so, I would be committing a form of the ancient art of hare kare, i.e. the Ancient Japanese tradition of killing yourself in order to preserve your honor when you have engaged in an epic fail.

So, I wrapped myself in a burlap sack.  I felt bad because I could not figure out which country had invented burlap, but it was my only option.  I headed South, all the way to Antarctica, where I found peace…

…until the world’s only talking penguin accused me of appropriating penguin culture by trying to catch a fish with my mouth.

The End.

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