I was surprised Hitler had that much time to worry about me:
I was surprised Hitler had that much time to worry about me:
Yo. 2017. Time to grip the green. Lay down some treble and crank up the bass. Bookshelf Q. Battler all up in this place, gettin’ ready to blast some beats in your face. Let’s do this shit.
Sometimes a man just got a dream…a vision in his eye and a song in heart.
But the world do all it can to rip him apart.
So he falls to the floor, his body feels spent.
Then he checks his account, sees he’s got seventy cent.
Oh seventy cents! You are a dream come true!
Gonna travel the world spending you!
Oh seventy cents! I’m rich as fuck!
What did my ass do to deserve all this luck?
Yo, I was in the bodega, and something struck me as funny.
A girl was all alone and she was a fly ass hunny.
So I said, “Girl you wanna get with me? I got a lotta money.”
And soon we were going’ at it like a couple of bunnies.
And then the girl was like, “How much money you got cuz I’m feeling pretty fine?”
And I was like, “Girl, relax, cuz I got seven dimes.”
Oh seventy cents! For a book that I spent like 600 fuckin dollars to print!
Yes, to see that money you gotta squint!
Seventy cents! Lift me outta my rut!
And Jeff Fuckin’ Bezos gotta take his cut!
Oh seventy cents, yes you are true!
Three quarters minus a nickel, I love you!
DISCLAIMER: We here at the Bookshelf Battle Blog always love it when Jeff Fuckin’ Bezos takes his cut of the proceeds from the book we put out that like 3.5 people have read. We hope Mr. Bezos puts the money to good use, most likely to become the Supreme Overlord Ruler of Us All. Hail Bezos!
It’s the end of the world…but that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of your love life.
Let’s face it. Anyone could be eaten by a brain biting bastard any second. So, I mean, even though you’re a total CHUD and weren’t able to pick up pussy with a handle in real life, you might be able to score with a chick during the end of days. After all the fear of death around any corner is a total turn-on.
So, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Ways to Pick Up Chicks During a Zombie Apocalypse:
#10 – Tell her you are sorry her husband was eaten by a zombie.
Maybe you are actually sorry her husband was chomped. Maybe you liked the guy. Maybe you thought he was a dick and cheered the zombie on. Maybe you were jealous that such a big doofus had such a hot wife, so you pushed the prick right in the way of those undead choppers. Doesn’t matter. She’s sad her man is dead, so be a gentleman, give he some condolences and wait at least until sundown before you make a move. Any earlier than that is disrespectful to the dead, unless her husband became a zombie after he gotten bitten. In that case, fuck that guy, because he’s a damn zombie now and he deserves no human pussy.
#9 – Lie About Your Heroic Feats
Your mother told you not to lie? Oh, that’s adorable. :::slaps you::: Bitch, get real! The newspapers are out of business and no one’s keeping score, so feel free to embellish your resume.
NO – “I have been hiding in my closet with a baseball bat for three years, leaving occasionally to pee.”
YES – “I single handedly saved 100 orphans by fending off 1,000 zombies with nothing but a bottle opener and a toothpick. I then taught the orphans kung fu and trained them into a vicious zombie army and together, we kicked the heads off of 10,000 zombies. I then found a town that was being abused by a cruel dictator. So, I told him to leave or I kick his face off with a roundhouse kick. He refused to leave, so I indeed removed his face with a kick. All the women of the village were so turned on that they allowed me to impregnate them. In short, I kill at least 500 zombies a day before breakfast and I have saved the lives of 500,000 people.”
#8 – Share your rations.
Bitches love rations.
#7 – Pay women to spread rumors of your sexual prowess.
Women will often ignore a guy until they hear another woman wants him. It’s called having stank on your hang-low. So, just give some extra rations to some ladies and tell them there’s more where that came from if they tell every woman they meet about the hot time you had together.
#6 – Punch the biggest guy in the survivor camp in the face.
Chicks dig manliness.
#5 – Be fashionable.
Free shopping in all clothing stores. There is no excuse for your tired ass look now.
#4 – Grow some shit.
It’s the zombie apocalypse, bitch. Po-po has more to worry about than your herb garden. Get yourself a green thumb and become a weed farmer. Bitches love weed, especially during a zompoc. Helps them get their minds off of potentially being eaten by zombies.
#3 – Get some ringer zombies.
Like, don’t take on some strong ass zombies who were weightlifters in their previous lives. Get a couple of slow, fat zombies, turn them lose and karate chop their heads off. All the babe will see is that you saved her ass and won’t realize that these were ringer zombies. Never be too proud to fix a human vs. zombie fight.
#2 – Lie about your past.
Remember #9? Guess what? There are no fact checkers in the zombie apocalypse, so feel free to lie about your past too.
NO: Baby, I was a jizz mopper at a gentlemen’s club.
YES: Baby, I was a NAVY seal. I killed 10,000 men with my pinky finger.
RULE OF THUMB: Smarter the babe, the more realistic the lie. If you’re a flabby fat fuck, a smart babe will not believe you were a NAVY seal. But that’s OK. You can just tell her you had your own Silicon Valley startup company and made a fortune. Hell, promise her if the government and economy are ever restored, you’ll share some of your dough with her. (Don’t worry. People are lazy as fuck. It’ll take like thousands of years for the government to be restored, so you’re in the clear.)
#1 – Don’t tell her if the government and economy are restored.
You’ve whisked her away to a secluded shack. One day, she goes out in search of berries. Suddenly, there’s a power surge. The TV and lights turn on. A news anchor says all the zombies are dead and the world has been restored.
I mean, yeah, you could tell her that shit’s fine now so she can go back to her old boyfriend or…dude, please, you know I’ll lose all respect for you if you don’t rip that fuckin’ TV cord out of the wall, find the fuse box and turn all that shit off and tell her she better get her ass back here where it’s safe and don’t even think about looking for no berries again. But be cool, just let her know it’s safe in that cabin, and only in that cabin, and you’ll protect her.
DISCLAIMER: This was all just a joke. You should be nice to women and considerate of their feelings and do not trick them and so forth. Don’t call them bitches and so on. They are more than just their vaginas. You should also be nice to women during a zombie apocalypse. Share rations because you worry they are hungry, not because you think it might get you laid. Be honest about your past (though she won’t, let’s be real) and if the zompoc ends…tell her…
…seriously, if the zombie apocalypse ends, tell her…within 5-7 days. OK, fine, immediately.
Hey 3.5 readers.
If you’ve read this blog for awhile, then you’re aware the Yakuza and I have never been fully simpatico. A shame really because I am a fan of the martial arts and could teach them a thing or two if they would just be cool and listen.
Alas, they are always after my magic bookshelf. So currently, I am in Japan, fighting dozens of Yakuza assassins, defeating them all as they come at me with swords, nunchaku, throwing darts, spears, sai, and yes even grenades and machine guns and all I have to fight them off with is my pinky finger and some chewed bubble gum that I didn’t even get to chew myself, go figure.
So, I’ll be at this for awhile. While I figure out the Top Ten Ways to Defeat a Yakuza Assassin, why don’t you take a good look at my Top Ten Lists? They are hilarious, if I say so myself, and you’ll be glad you did. Or maybe you won’t be. Maybe you’ll be sad you wasted so much time of your life. Oh well. Do it or don’t. I don’t care. I’m too busy fighting Yakuza assassins.
By: Uncle Hardass, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Grumpy Old Man Correspondent
Hello 3.5 degenerate readers.
Your Old Uncle Hardass here. Still trying to be writers I see. Oh well, I guess it’s good it’s Halloween then. Your parents can just gorge on some Halloween candy to distract themselves about how disappointed they are in you. Can’t say as I blame them. Get jobs, losers!
Anyway, I suppose I’ll wish you a Happy Halloween though I don’t know why. All this holiday is, is an excuse for dummies to put on fake costumes so they can pretend to be something they aren’t but wish they were while putting their hand out, demanding I give them free shit. In other words, Halloween is basically what the world will look like everyday if the blasted Democrats take over. Mark my words. Seriously people. Don’t I pay enough taxes? You all need my candy too? Shiftless clowns.
I mean, maybe it’s ok for five year olds to participate in this waste of time, although really, by four, I had a job and a mortgage and my first case of the gout but whatever, I guess we just spoil young people until the end of time now. Whatever.
So I want to talk to you 3.5 turkeys about “fun sized candy bars.” What a big time hoax this bull shit is. The candy companies sell these bags of little candy bars, call them fun sized and then they basically have figured out a way to charge you more for less candy.
Honestly. What do you dum-dums do every year? You buy one bag but then you worry that your house will be overrun by little turds so you buy five bags. Then, at best, five kids show up, so you then you just eat the rest of it like the fat fuck you are and then you resolve…never again! You’ll only buy one bag next year. Then you’ll do the same thing next year.
Look, just take the same amount of money, buy five regular sized candy bars, the first five kids who got to your door first get the big candy bars and the rest of the little monkeys get Jack Squat. Teach ’em an important life lesson. People who get there early get a reward. People who take their time and fuck around get a big heaping handful of nothing. Really, you’re not doing them any favors by delaying this important lesson.
Are small candy bars fun? No. That’s because nothing in the history of time that is fun has ever been small. Disagree? I knew you would, you contentious freak of nature. Consult my handy list of things that are only fun if they are large:
Titties – Small titties are not fun. Females with small titties, I’m sorry, but your boyfriend is just lying about liking your tiny knockers and is simply waiting for a broad with jumbo jugs to come along.
Santa Clause – No one wants a small, skinny Santa. Christmas is only happy if that fat fuck laughs and shakes his belly like a bowlful of jelly. Fun sized Santa’s belly is flat as a board. Get Santa off Jenny Craig immediately.
SUVS – I see these tiny bitch SUVS all the time. You know how that shit got started? Big men used to buy big trucks. Then they put covers on the back. Then they started putting seats in the back. Then women started driving them and they wanted them smaller and smaller and smaller until you’ve got a little shitbox that’s high off the ground. No fun at all!
Texas – Everything is bigger in the Lone Star State. Try asking for small sizes there. See how fast you get laughed outta town.
Movies – You know what they call a fun sized movie? A TV show. And if you ask me, most TV shows suck. They haven’t made good television since 1959.
Nothing is fun when it is small. Just ask a midget. Midgets are not happy. Their size is not fun. Sure, they’re still people and should be treated as such, but their size is not fun when no matter where they look, they’re staring at a full sized person’s crotch. That’s not fun at all, unless you’re a midget pervert, then I guess, yeah, you’re having a blast. So OK, that’s the only case where being small is fun, i.e. if you are an over-sexed little person.
Any other time, small is not a fun size. So, just buy five full sized candy bars, reward the early bird children who did not rest on their laurels, then tell the other kids to head down to the food stamp line where apparently they will be for the rest of their miserable lives because they can’t get their costumes on time and report for trick or treating at a reasonable time.
Happy Halloween, 3.5 jackasses, though what’s so happy about it I’ll never know.
They stink. See, the Millenials aren’t aware of this. If you tell them a C.H.U.D. stinks, they’ll just be all like, whatever, you should just be nicer to the C.H.U.D. or hug him more or try to understand where the C.H.U.D. is coming from.
But if you’re a Gen Xer like me then you know C.H.U.D.s are no joke, and you certainly don’t want to be dating one. Ergo, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be Dating a C.H.U.D.
#10 – Lives in the sewer.
Dead giveaway. There is no reason for anyone to live in a sewer. Sounds like your boyfrined might an “underground dweller” who puts the “UD” in CHUD. Yeah, I’m lazy. I will no longer put the period after each letter.
#9 – He is cannibalistic.
You saw him frying up a nice hand sandwich? No, that wasn’t a typo. I didn’t mean ham sandwich. I meant hand sandwich. Look, the dude’s eating a damn hand and you’re trying to make excuses for him. “Aww, the poor guy, he just had a bad childhood. If I love him more, he’ll stop eating people.”
No, bitch! You in love with a damn CHUD! Run bitch, run!
Also, he puts the C in CHUD.
#8 – He is a humanoid.
Always date an actual human. A human is a human. A humanoid is a creature that has a head and arms and legs and many of the same features as a human but is not a human. Just because it moves like a human doesn’t mean it is a human. Get some self-confidence. Don’t settle for humanoid. You deserve a full blown human.
He puts the H in CHUD. That’s right. He is a Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller.
#7 – He is super ugly.
Well, let’s be practical. A lot of people are ugly. Sure, we all wish we could date supermodels but after the sex, would we have anything in common to talk about? Probably not. So ladies, perhaps you might want to give a guy a break if he’s bald or pudgy or not so handsome but….yeesh…holy shit girl, that dude not just ugly, he a damn CHUD!
Only you can tell the difference between ugliness and CHUDness.
#6 – Smells bad.
Most men do. We take pride in our farts. But is the stench natural or CHUD-like? You be the judge. If you have to ask, you know the answer. Run bitch, run.
#5 – Has bright yellow eyes.
Eyes aren’t supposed to glow. Get out of there before you’re a snack.
#4 – Has pointy teeth.
We’re not talking just a lack of quality dental care. We’re talking pointy, human biting teeth.
#3 – The best soldiers and police officers of the 1980s don’t seem like they’d be able to stop him.
But then again, they never could in any 1980s movie.
#2 – It’s like you’ve heard of him, but don’t really know him per se.
Yeah, I’ve heard ugly people be called CHUDS hundreds of times and have even been on the receiving end. I understand the reference but to this day I have not bothered to watch the actual movie. It’s one of those movies where you must be a real weirdo if you’ve bothered to seek it out and watch it.
#1 – He tried to eat you.
You’re better than that. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Just run and also know that you’re worthy of love that doesn’t lead to you ending up in a CHUD’s colon. I know, that’s the most beautiful thing that’s ever been said to you. What can I say? I have a way with words.
Yup. It’s Halloween so we know what that means. Crazy SJWs are flipping their shit over the fact that someone, somewhere in the world might wear a costume for one night for a few hours that might offend somebody, somewhere.
Redbook published this article, breathlessly warning of the dangers of the epic sadness and woe that could spread across the globe if parents allow white daughters to dress like Polynesian princess Moana this Halloween.
First, the article is an example of what is wrong with journalism i.e. the drumming up of a faux controversy. I mean, it makes it out as if there are a legion of little girls dressing up like Polynesian princesses and an equally large legion of Polynesian girls who are beside themselves with misery and woe over this. I mean, maybe, just maybe there’s one Halloween party somewhere where this could happen, but is it a scenario worth an entire article? Probably not.
Second, the article contains this quote:
The original article, written by Sachi Feris, discusses how her white daughter was torn between dressing as Elsa, from Frozen, or the titular character from Moana. Feris expresses concern that while an Elsa costume might reinforce notions of white privilege, dressing up as Moana is essentially cultural appropriation — the act of reducing someone’s culture to stereotypes, and thereby belittling it.
So if you’re a little white girl, don’t dress up like Elsa because Elsa has white privilege but also don’t dress up like Moana because you aren’t Polynesian at all.
In other words…don’t dress up like a character that has any kind of ethnicity? So…if you’re a white kid, just don’t dress up like a human. Be an inanimate object. Go as a rock. Better yet, just stay home, you little cracker devils. Your ancestors got all the candy for far too long and it’s time you took a breather.
You know I’ll meet the SJWs half-way and realize that yeah, when there are tons of other costumes out there, a costume that calls for a white kid to change ethnicity isn’t the greatest.
Then again, if a white girl just wants to wear the Moana dress, isn’t she just idolizing Moana? Isn’t a little white girl so in awe of a non-white person that she wants to emulate and be just like her hero? That non-white people can be role models for white people to look up to and be like, isn’t more of that what we want?
Plus, if they harangue the costume companies enough, won’t they discontinue the costume? And then what will all the Polynesian girls who want to dress like Moana wear?
Do I think kids should be changing their skin color to become another ethnicity for a Halloween costume? No. Is it ok if a white kid wears a costume worn by a non-white character? I mean, I can listen to why you might find that offensive, but I’d counter that if you are white and feel this strongly, then run to your closet immediately and throw away your kimono and your Hawaiian shirt.
Shit. I’m not Hawaiian and my goal in life is to move to a tropical environment and wear nothing but a vast array of brightly colored Hawaiian shirts with parrots and palm trees on them. Oh well. #WorseThanHitler
Cultural appropriation. It’s when you venture outside of your culture. Yup. We used to be segregated. Whites stayed on their part of town, blacks on theirs, different ethnicities to their own. Then the SJWS of the 1960s called on us to become the melting pot. Everyone mix and mingle. Date outside your race. Get ideas from other cultures. If culture X has good food, eat it. If culture Y has good booze, drink it. If culture Z has good music, listen to it. If culture A has cool clothes, wear them.
Ironically, today’s SJWs, though I don’t think they realize it, are returning us to segregation. Everyone stick to your own culture and never let your cultures mingle with other cultures lest you offend.
With all that being said, here is my handy list of what your kid SHOULD NOT be wearing this Halloween season, lest they offend someone, somewhere:
Smurf – No. Offensive to short people with oxygen flow problems that make their faces blue.
Devil – Offensive to Satanists.
Witch – Offensive to Wiccans.
Batman – Offensive to Bats and/or grown men still grieving over the loss of their parents.
Superman – Offensive to intergalactic travelers. You may only wear this costume if the lack of a red sun gives you super powers.
Wonder Woman – Are you an Amazon? No? Stop being worse than Hitler.
Spooky Ghost – Offensive to spirits who are trapped here and unable to move on.
Zombie – Offensive to dead people. Many kids have dead Grandmas who have been in the ground a few years and look like zombies. Stop offending kids with dead Grandmas.
Cat – Only if you are a cat.
Pirate – Offensive to 17th Century sea-dwelling criminals.
The Little Mermaid – Offensive to mermaids.
Mickey Mouse – Only if you are a mouse that walks like a man.
Donald Duck – Offensive to pantsless ducks with anger management issues everywhere.
Goofy – Only if you are a dog that walks like a man.
Nerd – offensive to smart people.
Caveman – Offensive to those with evolutionary issues.
Mike Myers – Offensive to escaped mental patients who want to kill their sisters or Canadian comedians who had a good run in the 1990s, depending on which version you go with.
Hippy – Offensive to 1960s protesters. Only wear if you were at Woodstock. Must carry photographic proof of you at Woodstock.
Bunny – Offensive to anyone with big ears.
Sexy nurse – Offensive to people who actually put the time in to get a nursing degree.
Iron Man – Offensive to billionaires turned super heroes.
Spiderman – Offensive to nerds who have been bitten by radioactive spiders.
The Incredible Hulk – Offensive to people with anger management issues.
Nun – Offensive to Catholics.
Shaggy from Scooby Doo – Offensive to drug addicts.
Belle – Offensive to French women.
Beast – Offensive to hairy French men.
Wolverine – offensive to people who have had a complex surgery to have their bones replaced with super strong steel.
Catwoman – Offensive to cats and catwomen.
That Costume Where One Friend is the Front of the Horse and the Other Friend is the Back – Offensive to horses everywhere
That Costume Where the Husband Wheres the Plug and the Wife Wears the Slot – Assumes that sex is the only benefit of marriage. Very offensive. Also offends people who use electricity.
Count Dracula – Promulgates the stereotype that all Romanians want to suck your blood. Recent studies indicate 99.999 percent do not.
Frankenstein – Offensive to people who are comprised of body parts taken from other dead bodies.
The Mummy – Offensive to Egyptians.
The Wolfman – Offensive to hairy people.
Clown – Let me see your Child Party Entertainer’s license buddy.
Flapper – Were you alive in the 1920s? Only Great Grandma can wear this shit.
Ancient Knight – I’m going to have to see the Queen do that thing where she touches your shoulders with the sword.
Harry Potter – I need to see your Hogwart’s diploma. Otherwise, offensive to actual wizards who worked hard to earn their wands.
Hobo – Do you want to make rail yard dwellers cry?
People, really, there’s no costume you could possibly wear that will not offend anyone. I mean, you could go as a rock, but I’m telling you, you are just begging for a geologist to come up and give you a piece of his mind.
So just stay home, wear clothing consistent with those of your ancestors and only YOUR ancestors, and watch TV and eat candy that you buy and pay for yourself. Thank you.
When Jon Snow bangs his Auntie, he gets…
Meanwhile at BQB HQ…(don’t even think about it, Aunt Gertie.)
3.5 readers, I am so excited to tell you that I have begun the long, hard slog toward finishing a second draft of my beloved novel, “Toilet Gator,” which really and truly is the best novel ever written about toilets, gators, or toilet gators.
My goodness, 3.5 readers. Isn’t that a wonderful cover? Anyway, this is the first time I have begun a second novel draft. It seems like it will be a long, arduous process. The novel is approximately 140,000 words and so far I have rewritten 7,000 of them. It is nice to be able to start solving problems I saw as I wrote the first draft but felt it would just slow me down to fix them, so now the time to fix them has come.
I hope when this book comes out, you will all support it and tell your friends, because if Toilet Gator is a success, then I can really bank some cash on the sequel, Son of Toilet Gator:
You don’t even want to see what the cover of Book 3 will look like.
3.5 readers, I’ll be honest. I’m no spring chicken and the older I get, the more I just want to stop and smell the daisies, then lie down in the dirt and wawit for the moss to grow over me.
So, if this blog makes you happy, and you think that being able to read wonderful books like Toilet Gator and Son of Toilet Gator would bring joy to your life, then please, do what you can to support my little enterprise here.
Read this fine blog. Tell your friends. Help get me some traffic. If I can make money off this, then I can put more time into entertaining you, my beloved 3.5 readers, who I would never want to see be eaten by a toilet gator.
Do watch out for toilet gators, 3.5 readers. They’re everywhere and in greater numbers than you’d think. Frankly, I have taken my life into my hands by publishing their secret, so much so that I get scared every time I sit on the throne to poop now, and not just because I’m a burrito fan.
Stay tuned, 3.5 readers.