Tag Archives: funny

Jan 31 2017
3 Comments
top ten lists

Top Ten Reasons Why Your Butt Hurts

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Hello 3.5 readers.

Many of you may be unaware of this, but in my spare time, I dabble in the fine arts of proctology and have even been named an Amateur Proctologist by a noted correspondence school.

Does your butt hurt?  If it does, you’ve got to get on that.  A hurt butt left to chance is a disaster, not only for you but for anyone unlucky enough to be standing within your blast radius when it goes off.

Note that I’m talking about “hurt butts” and not “butt hurt.”  Butt hurt is when you experience emotional pain so deep that you end up feeling it in your butt.

I’m talking about actual hurting butts.  From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, here are the top ten reasons why your butt might be hurting:

#10 – Alien Probes

Alien Jones informs me that this experimental method of human butt research has been banned, but there are aliens who have been known to go rogue all over human butts.  If your butt hurts, it may be because aliens snuck into your room and inserted all kinds of devices filled with bells, lights and whistles.

If you think it is possible that you have been probed by aliens, I would suggest that you set up surveillance cameras.  If, in the morning, your butt hurts, check the footage to see if any aliens were in your room.  Note that some aliens have Predator style cloaking devices, so you will have to look at the footage closely for the tell tale shimmer.

#9 – Wrong Toilet Paper

Take a look at your supermarket’s butt wipe aisle and you’ll find a smorgasbord of toilet paper.  Butts are like Goldilocks – sometimes they’ll find a paper to be too soft or too hard.  Your butt needs to keep looking until it finds the paper that is just right.  If you are using coarse sandpaper on your butt, you’re doing it wrong.

#8 – Parasites 

I told you not to drink that rain puddle water and/or to not make out with your dog but you just didn’t listen, did you?  Report to your doctor for immediate tapeworm removal.  Don’t look at me.  I’m just an amateur.

#7 – Getting Your Butt Kicked

Did you hit on someone else’s girlfriend?  Did you stick your nose some place where it didn’t belong?  Did you insult someone?  Then problem solved.  That giant shoe that connected with your butt is the reason why your butt hurts.  Put some ice on your butt and learn some manners.

#6 – Wiping Revisited

You might be doing it wrong.  Maybe you have the right toilet paper but the wrong technique.  Your butt is very sensitive so you must gently caress your butt as if you are touching it with the wings of an angel.  Don’t just stick a wad of toilet paper up your butt and go all jackhammer style.  That’s a good way to end up with a bad case of roids.

 #5 – Lightning Infused Toaster Pastry Toilet Death

Totally happened to me.  If you shoot a lightning bolt out of your butt, you will destroy your toilet, your life, and your butt.  Beware breakfast foods that have absorbed lightning, hurricanes, tornadoes or other catastrophic weather events.

#4 – Olympic Flatulence Competitions

Pictured above is East Randomtown Mayor Harvey Smotchenbocker.  Though he is a world class athlete who is able to shoot fire out of his butt, he has undergone years of training, thus allowing him to flex his butt muscles so as to shoot fire out of his butt without causing himself any damage.  I advise you to leave such flatulence theatrics to the professionals and to not try this at home.

#3 – Ingrown Butt Hairs

It happens.  Sometimes a butt hair grows rogue and causes all kinds of damage.  My best advice is to find a trustworthy friend who is willing to do you a solid and keep your butt hair trimmed.

#2 – Brazilian Wax 

Ah, the Brazilians.  They have given us so much.  Restaurants where they serve meat on swords AND super clean nether region waxing.  It’ll hurt today, but your butt will be totally smooth tomorrow…or the next day…or the day after that…whenever the swelling goes down.

#1 – Botched Colonoscopies

You don’t get to eat for a day before, you’ve got to take all kinds of laxatives or do whatever your doctor instructs you.  Then a giant camera attached to what can only be described as a leather octopus tentacle is shoved up your butt.  Done just right, it won’t hurt at all.  However, if your butt doctor just jams it up there and wiggles it around like he’s beating a bowl full of cake batter, then it will probably hurt.  Luckily, butt doctors go to school to practice their butt inspection techniques to avoid this problem.

CONCLUSIONS

I’m just an amateur so don’t take my advice.  If your butt hurts, seek the wise counsel of a professional butt doctor.  Women, you never know what’s going in your butts and the men staring at them can only tell you what’s going on outside of your pants.  Men, you’ve got those prostrates so get them checked before the Big C sets up shop.

A good butt doctor can save your life and keep you being one of my 3.5 readers for many years to come.

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Jan 30 2017
4 Comments
Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio

Stop Sucking with Vinny Baggadouchio – The Power of Positive Sucking

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World Renowned Motivational Speaker, Anti-Suck Book Author and Bookshelf Battle Blog Columnist, Vinny Baggadouchio

I’m Vinny Baggadouchio and I’m an anti-suck robot sent from the future to teach you present day suckers how to not suck anymore.

Perhaps you’ve read one of my fine anti-suck books:

Six Sigma Certified Non-Sucking

Raise Your Hand if You Don’t Want to Suck

Hug it Out, Suck it Out

De-Suck Your Way to Greatness

The Good, the Bad and the Sucky

Get this Suck Out of My Life (and Into My Car)

The Art of the Non-Sucking Deal

A Million Little Suck Pieces

Sucks to Be You

Suck No More

Suck or Suck-cess?

3.5 readers, today’s question comes from Larissa Smatchencraft from East Buttfork, Wisconsin:

Dear Vinny,

I am a huge fan of your anti-suck books.  I have attended all of your seminars and worked through all of your anti-suck lessons.  I want you to know you have helped me to stop sucking at my job, my marriage and in so many other aspects of my daily life.

I have a question though.  Is it ok to suck at certain things?  For example, the other day I was walking down the street and I found a wallet just lying there on the sidewalk.  It contained a hundred dollars in cash, but the idea to take it for myself never even crossed my mind.  Instead, I used the ID inside to track down the wallet’s rightful owner.  He was pleased as this was the only money he had and he needed it to purchase his prescription strength anti-anal wart flare up cream.

As I walked home, I was pleased with myself for having done a good deed.  Then it dawned on me: “I suck at dishonesty.”

You’ve always taught me that I should not suck in all things and yet, it seems like dishonesty is something I should suck at.

The question blows my mind but I’ll go ahead and ask it anyway…is it possible that not sucking at certain bad behaviors is a good thing?

Congratulations, Larissa.  The student has finally become the master.

Make no mistake about it:  the general rule is that it sucks to suck.  It sucks so much to suck that I have dedicated my life to helping suckers all over the globe in their efforts to suck the suck right out of their sucky suck bag lives.

Most of the time, my clients come to me in extremely dire, sucky straights.  They are lonely, poor, addicted to a variety of unsavory behaviors and more often than not, huffing anything from soiled ladies’ undergarments to model airplane glue.  I actually had a client who would dip the ladies’ undergarments into the model airplane glue, but that’s a terrible tale for another day.

The point is that I usually try not to bog down the sucky minds of big fat suckers with confusing concepts.  When you suck so much that you can’t even tie your shoes without sucking it up, you can’t handle the more complex lessons found in my advanced courses of anti-suck studies.

What I am about to tell you is such a giant piece of vital, crucial information that frankly, I should charge you for it.  But I won’t.  Because I don’t suck.  And I don’t want you to suck so you must have this knowledge.

Here we go:

Sometimes it is good to suck at something.

I know.  Sounds like blasphemy, right?

But follow me on this.

THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT SUCK AT:

  • Your job.
  • Your marriage.
  • Maintaining your health.
  • Raising your children.
  • Financial stability.
  • Maturity.
  • Responsibility.

Makes sense right?  There are so many good things in this life that you should not suck at.

Then again, and here’s where we swallow the red pill and follow Alice down the rabbit hole so hang on, there are many things that you SHOULD totally suck at if you want to be a decent, well-adjusted, happy and productive non-sucking citizen:

THINGS YOU SHOULD TOTALLY SUCK AT:

  • Dishonesty
  • Deception
  • Adultery
  • Alcoholism
  • Racism
  • Hate
  • Theft
  • Murder
  • Kidnapping
  • Arson
  • Selling Your Spouse to a Sex Slavery Ring Run by Foreign Businessmen/Perverts
  • Addiction
  • Gambling
  • Selling Your Body to Pay Off Your Gambling Debts
  • …and so much more!

Think about that time when you found the wallet, Larissa.  You’ve followed my anti-suck lessons and turned your life from sucking to non-sucking.  You didn’t want to suck it up by doing something that sucks, like stealing money from a stranger who needs it for his anti-anal wart flare up medication.

You were confused, so listened to your gut – a gut you have trained through my many, many anti-suck lessons.  Though, in theory, you have learned that in most cases, you should NOT suck at something, you realized in this case, it would, indeed, suck to be good at something…dishonesty!

In my advanced courses, the ones I reserve for only the creme de la creme of folks who have utterly mastered all of my anti-suck lessons, I teach about “The Power of Positive Sucking.”

Sometimes referred to alternatively as, “Next Level Sucking,” this skill essentially means that you are able to figure out when you MUST suck at something in order to not suck at something.

I know.  You feel like getting out a flow chart and a slide rule, but trust me, the more you dabble in the world of the non-sucker, the easier this all becomes.

Sure, you could have not sucked at dishonesty.  You could have kept the cash, thereby sucking as a human being.  If anyone asked you where you got the money, you could have not sucked at lying and told them it’s yours, that you withdrew it from your bank account or what have you.

You would have not sucked at lying but by not sucking at lying you actually end up sucking at not sucking.  Only filthy degenerate suckers take something that does not belong to them and lie about it.  Non suckers suck at lying in order to not suck at life.  If you suck at dishonesty and theft, you’ll avoid going to jail, ruining your reputation, and ending up with a sucky suck ass life.

I know it is confusing but there so many instances in which you must suck in order to not suck.  For example:

YOU MUST SUCK AT RACISM:  I know.  This is hard.  You’ve spent thousands of dollars and hours on my books and seminars and you know that is time and money well spent.  I’ve etched into your brain the need for you to not suck at most aspects of life.  However, here you must suck at racism.  Sure, you could shout inappropriate names at those outside your ethnic group, but then you’d be sucking up your reputation.  You’d be making others feel like they suck and the suck that you put out into the world always returns back to you two fold.  Suck karma exists.

YOU MUST SUCK AT IMMATURITY:   You are an adult.  You must suck at staying up late.  You must suck at eating junk food.  You must suck at paying your bills late.  You must suck at procrastination.

YOU MUST SUCK AT INFIDELITY:  In the moment, it would feel not sucky at all to rip the clothes off of and go to town on someone other than your spouse.  You wouldn’t suck at adultery at all but by not sucking at cheating you, in fact, are sucking at marriage.

YOU MUST SUCK AT ADDICTION:  Sure, you could learn all the ins and outs of addiction the hard way and become the best addict ever, but if you did, you’d end up poor, downtrodden, unhealthy, alone and most likely, dead – all outcomes that suck.  So, when someone offers you drugs, be sure to suck at saying, “Yes.”

YOU MUST SUCK AT HATE, DEPRESSION, ANGER, SADNESS

If you don’t suck at these emotions, then you will never not suck at being happy and content.

CONCLUSIONS

3.5 readers, there are so many things you MUST suck at in order to not suck in life.  We’ve scratched the surface of these aspects today, and if you are a beginner to my anti-suck lessons, then do try to put the Power of Positive Sucking out of your mind for now and once you have learned to not suck at tying your shoes and putting your pants on, we’ll be able to discuss the more complicated concepts, i.e., the things you must suck at.

Thank you for stopping by.  In fact, you might say you sucked at ignoring your favorite blog, which, if you think about it, is an example of positive sucking.

Don’t forget to suck at not checking out my anti-suck books, available at a book store that does not suck near you.

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Jan 29 2017
3 Comments
Nerdstradamus

The Prognostications of the Astounding Nerdstradamus – Robot Hookers, Unsavory Acts with Hobos and Orange Sherbet Monsters

And now, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, the Astounding Nerdstradamus shares his confounding prognostications of the future of nerd kind…

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Come forth, 3.5 readers and bask in my all seeing glory for I, the Astounding Nerdstradamus, shall open your eyes so that you might peer deep into the future of nerd-dom:

  • Humanity will come to an end in the year 2105, due to a sharp decrease in worldwide reproduction.  Will it be a coincidence when cheap and affordable robot hookers are invented in 2030?  Maybe, maybe not.
  • Nerds of the future shall one day invent a time phone that will allow your present self to call your past self.  However, due to concerns about the integrity of the space-time continuum, you will only be able to ask your past self if he or she has Prince Albert in a can.  For an extra fifty dollars, the time phone company will allow you to ask your past self if his/her refrigerator is running.  Under no circumstances will you be able to finish the joke by telling your past self to catch the running fridge.  If you were too lazy to catch the running fridge in the past, you’ll only screw up world history if you try to fix that past mistake now.
  • The good news about video games of the future?  You will be able to be a character in one of them.  The bad news?  Only an asshole would want to smash bricks with his head and murder poor, defenseless turtles.
  • Doctors will invent an anti-flatulence pill that causes the body to store farts and save them until later.  Unfortunately, the entire Western Hemisphere will go up in flames when Esther Thompson of Phoenix, Arizona lets her anti-flatulence pill prescription run out and lets out ninety years’ worth of gas at once.  Whoa nelly.
  • Pez will become an international currency.  Alas, many will be murdered in the ensuing war over who can collect the most plastic cartoon character dispensers.  Also, politicians will fight each other with phrases like, “The top 99% of all Pez owners need to share their Pez with the rest of us” and “What is this, Communism?  If you want Pez, you need to jerk off hobos at the bus station for Pez like the rest of us.”
  • That reminds me:  in the future, all jobs will be performed by robots.  The only means of income for humans will be jerking off bus station hobos in exchange for Pez.
  • “That’s What She Said” will become America’s official motto.
  • President Robo Trump will step down from his rule in the year 2782 in order to spend more time doing what he loves: grabbing hot ass robot supermodels by their fuel injectors.  He will hand dominion over his kingdom to Queen Ivanka, First of Her Name.
  • Note that President Robo Trump will not still be ruling in 2782 due to any dictatorial actions but rather, because Robo Hillary Clinton will never, ever, ever stop running for Emperor of Earth and literally no one, not even Robo Bill Clinton, will be willing to pull her aside and tell her that it is time for a fresh robo face.
  • Not gonna lie – Robo Bill will also be totally into the aforementioned robot hookers.  Then again, who won’t be?  They will be programmed to perform wild acrobatics in the boudoir…and then bake you a pie afterwards.  Word peace through artificial sex and delicious pie, because literally no one will have time to fight, what with all of the robot sex and robot baked pie and all.  Ah, the robot sex pie era shall truly be a magnificent time period to live in.
  • “Yo Mama” jokes will be considered a serious art form.  Nelson Chatsworth of Scranton, PA will win a Pulitzer for telling a friend that said friend’s mother is, and I quote, “So fat her blood type is rocky road.”  Alas, Nelson will be forced to return the award when it is determined that a) this joke has been told for centuries and b) it is scientifically impossible for someone to bleed rocky road ice cream.  However, by the year 4102, it will be possible for people to bleed orange sherbet, but I don’t want to keep you up at night with tales of the half-human/half orange sherbet monsters that will be created.  Let’s just say, “Oh it’s ok.  You can eat me!  Technically, I’m not ice cream so its not really cheating on your diet!” will take on a whole new meaning.
  • Bloggers will beam their posts directly into the minds of their readers.  Alas, BQB will only be beaming his posts to 3.5 minds.

What prognostications do you have of the future, 3.5 readers?  Share them with the Astounding Nerdstradamus in the comments!

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Jan 15 2017
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BQB's Favorite YouTubers

Miranda Sings Makes Her Own Hatchimal

This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.  You might think it is just her hatching the toy, but as she explains, she couldn’t find one, so she made her own by putting her cat in a paper bag.

Funny stuff.  The cat is very well behaved.  Any other cat would have gone nuts.

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Jan 14 2017
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Self Publishing

Glengarry Glen Ross: Self-Publishing Edition (Or, Always Be Self-Publishing)

BQB’s EDITORIAL NOTE:  3.5 readers, I heard a rumor you guys are struggling with your self-publishing ventures lately, so I invited a special guest speaker to come in and motivate you.  Please welcome a young Alec Baldwin in his prime.

Blake:

Let me have your attention for a moment!  So you’re talking about what?  You’re talking about…(puts out his cigarette)…bitching about that book launch you shot, some son of a bitch reader that doesn’t want to read your book, somebody that doesn’t want to read what you’re writing, some broad you’re trying to screw but she won’t screw you because writers never get laid and so forth.  Let’s talk about something important.  Are they all here?

Williamson:

All but one.

Blake: 

Well, I’m going anyway.  Let’s talk about something important.  (To Levene) Put that coffee down!  Coffee’s for self-publishers only.  (Levene scoffs).  Do you think I’m fucking with you?  I am not fucking with you.  I’m here from downtown.  I’m here from a primo e-book sales site.  I’m here on a mission of mercy.  Your name’s Levene?

Levene:

Yeah.

Blake:

You call yourself a self-publisher, you son of a bitch?

Moss:

I don’t have to listen to this shit.

Blake:

You certainly don’t, pal.  ‘Cause the good news is you’re fired from my platform.  The bad news is you’ve got, all you got, just one week to regain your jobs as self-publishers, starting tonight.  Starting with tonight’s word count session.  Oh, have I got your attention now?  Good.  ‘Cause we’re adding a little something to this month’s self-publishing contest.  As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac El Dorado.  Anyone want to see second prize?  Second prize is a box of steak knives.  (Holds up box of knives).

Third prize is you’re fired.  You get the picture.  You laughing now?  You’ve got words.  That fuck who wrote the dictionary went to a lot of trouble to get you those words.  Think about the right word combinations and write them!

You can’t finish writing a book with the words you’ve been given then you can’t write for shit.  You ARE shit, so hit the bricks pal and beat it because you are going out!

Levene:

The words are weak.

Blake:

‘The words are weak.’  The fucking words are weak?  You’re weak. I’ve been in the self-publishing business for fifteen years.  That’s right.  I went back in time and told myself to start self-publishing before any of this shit was even invented.

Moss:

What’s your name?

Blake:

Fuck you!  That’s my name.  You know why, Mister?  Because you wrote your novel tonight on a bargain basement, second hand Dell and I wrote my novel on a state of the art, top of the line Mac Book Pro.  That’s my name!

(To Levene) – And your name is “you’re wanting to self-publish but you’re too chicken shit to get off your ass and do it.”  You can’t play in a man’s game.  You can’t close out a book.

(To Everyone) – Because only one thing counts in this life!  Get readers to read your books!  Do you hear me, you fucking losers?

(Blake points to a blackboard.  Two sets of letters are written on it:  “ABS” and “ADIY.”)

Blake:

A-B-C.  A-always, B-be, S-self-publishing.  Always be self-publishing!  Always be self-publishing.

A-D-I-Y.  Always Do It Yourself.  Stop waiting for those traditional publishing pricks to give you the keys to the golden kingdom because it’s never going to happen.  Are you going to do it yourself?  I know you are because it’s fuck or walk.  You self-publish or you hit the bricks!

Do it yourself!  Who else are you going to do it for?  Christ?  Take action.  Get out there!

You’ve got the readers coming in.  You think they came in to get out of the rain?  The guy doesn’t come to your online book sales page unless he wants to read.  He is sitting out there waiting to give you his money!

Are you gonna take it?  Are you man enough to take it?  (to Moss) What’s the problem pal?  You!  Moss!

Moss:

You’re such a hero.  You’re so rich.  Why are you coming down here just to waste your time on a bunch of bums?

(Blake takes off his gold watch and shows it to Moss).

Blake:

You see this watch?  You see this watch?

Moss:

Yeah.

Blake:

This watch costs more than your car.  I made $970,000 on self-publishing last year, mostly on one book that had a really descriptive scene about a giant pair of titties.  How much did you make?  You see, pal, that’s who I am.  And you’re nothing.  Nice guy?  I don’t give a shit.  Good father?  Fuck you.  Go home and play with your kids.

(To everyone) – You want to self-publish here?  Finish writing a book!  You think this is abuse?  You think this is abuse, you cocksuckers?  You can’t take this, how are you going to take it when your book gets a one star review?

You don’t like it?  Leave.  I can go out there tonight with the words you’ve got and write myself fifteen thousand books.  Tonight!  In two hours!  Can you?  Can you?  Go and do likewise!

A-D-I-Y!  Get mad!  Get mad, you sons of bitches!  You know what it takes to sell books?

(Blake pulls a set of brass balls out of his brief case and dangles it in front of his crotch).

Blake:

It takes a set of brass balls to sell books.

Go and do likewise, gents.  The money’s out there.  You pick it up?  It’s yours.  You don’t?  I have no sympathy for you.  You wanna go out on those word count sessions tonight and rack up big counts then those words are yours.  If not, you’re going to be shining my shoes.

Bunch of losers sitting around in a bar.  (Speaks in a sad tone).  “Oh yeah, I used to be a self-publisher.  It’s a tough racket.”

(Blake takes a stack of index cards out of his briefcase).

These are the new words.  These are the Glengarry words.  And to you, they’re gold.  And you don’t get them.  Why?  Because to give these words to you would be to just throw them away.

These words are for self-publishers.  I’d wish you good luck but you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it.

(To Moss) – And to answer your question, pal.  Why am I here?  I came here because the book sales site asked me to.  They asked me for a favor.  I said, ‘The real favor?  Follow my advice and fire your fucking ass because a loser is a loser.’

(Blake heads into interior office).

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Dec 16 2016
5 Comments
Tomfoolery

Who Was Mommy Kissing in the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” Song?

3.5 readers, drop everything you are doing.  Seriously, I don’t care if you’re in the middle of brain surgery, either performing it or having it performed on you.

Today, we are, once and for all, going to figure out who Mommy was kissing in the song, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

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The year was 1952.  The baby boomers were booming and everyone liked Ike.  Sock hops and malt shoppes were frequented by youngsters and every woman’s middle name was “Sue.”  Becky Sue.  Peggy Sue.  Annie Sue.  You get the picture.

A young lad by the name of Jimmy Boyd records a song written by Tommie Connor.  The song is a hit and an instant Christmas classic.  It is unlikely you’ll get through the holiday season without hearing it at least one time.

But forget all that.  Is Mommy having an affair with Kris Kringle?

I’ve got to know.

The lyrics:

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
She didn’t see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep
She thought that I was tucked up
In my bedroom, fast asleep
Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.

POSSIBLE THEORIES:

#1 – Mommy Kissed the Kid’s Father, Who Was Dressed Like Santa Claus

Once in awhile a father will go the extra mile and don a Santa suit to surprise his stupid little children.  So perhaps this kiss was innocent.  Perhaps Mommy was kissing Daddy.

EVIDENCE:

  • “Then I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus, underneath his beard so snowy white.”

Hmm…inconclusive.  Maybe it was a fake white beard and Mommy tossed it up to give Daddy the old tickle action.  Or then again, one would have to move Santa’s beard in order to tickle his belly.  Who knows?

  • “Oh, what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.”

This line is typically cited as evidence that that Daddy was just dressed up like Santa.  The songwriter may be trying to give the listener a clue where the listener goes, “Oh OK this was just a stupid kid who saw something he didn’t understand and then basically accused his mother of being a whore under false pretenses.”

Personally, I can buy this, but I would like to know whether the husband was known to work late or be out late and whether or not the couple was having problems.

Were other holiday icons known to frequent the house late at night?  Did the kid ever see his mother kissing the Easter Bunny or engage in lesbian kissing with the Tooth Fairy?

The song just doesn’t give me enough info.

#2 – Mommy Cheated on Daddy With Santa

So, the kid is pretty convinced this is Santa.  Kids are stupid.  I can’t condemn Mommy just on the word of a little kid.  Yet, it is noteworthy that the kid does seem pretty sure. Yet, due to his youthfulness, he doesn’t appear to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Oh what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Clause last night.”

Ahh.  So sad.  The words of a little mush brained child who doesn’t understand how the world works.  No, Daddy would not have laughed to learn that his wife was unfaithful.

I’d like to know if the kid told Daddy about this.  If Daddy laughed then, ok.  Daddy’s in on the joke.  Daddy dressed up like Santa and he laughs because the kid didn’t realize what was going on.

If Daddy doesn’t laugh upon being told this information, then he’ll surely question Mommy as to who she was kissing.

#3 – Mommy Was Kissing a Random Obese Bearded Man (Or, Mommy Might Be a Biker Bitch)

The kid doesn’t say he saw a red suit or any reindeer.  Sure, a long white beard and a fat stomach is Santa’s signature look, but it is also the look of your average, run-of-the mill, unfriendly neighborhood motorcycle gang.

Do we know for sure that while Daddy is out working to support the family, Mommy isn’t making out with random bikers who look like Santa in exchange for her meth fix?

I’m not saying this is happening, but I’d like to know more.

#4 – Mommy and Daddy Were Role Playing

Daddy dressed up as Santa, not to spread holiday cheer, but because Mommy and Daddy are perverts who work costumes into their perversions.  Today Daddy dresses up like Santa and asks Mommy to sit on his lap.  Tomorrow Mommy dresses up like an Amazon warrior princess and gives Daddy a spanking.

Huh.  Now I know why the 1953 sequel, “I Saw Daddy Getting a Spanking From an Amazonian Warrior Princess” was a total flop.

#5 – The Kid’s a Liar

Maybe he’s just a little turd that was naughty so Mommy sent him to bed without supper and so the kid got his revenge by recording a hot track in which he falsely accuses his mother of infidelity.

#6 – Daddy’s a Cuckold

Daddy knows Mommy kisses Santa Claus.  Daddy likes to hide in the closet and watch.

#7 – The Kid Dreamed It

Maybe the kid isn’t a liar per se but maybe he has a wild imagination.  Maybe he ate too many cookies before bedtime and the sugar rotted his brain.

#8 – Mommy Kissed a Bearded Woman

I’d have to know if the circus was in town at the time to be sure, but Mommy may very well have been kissing a portly bearded woman.

#9 – Daddy Looks Like Santa Claus

Maybe Daddy is also fat and has a white beard.  Maybe this is an older couple who had kids late in life or maybe Daddy is like Trump and Mommy is like Melania where you have a couple with a large age difference.

And finally…

#10 – Mommy is Straight Up Kissing Santa Claus Behind Daddy’s Back

Maybe Mommy’s a shameless floozy.  Maybe Daddy is a jerk and has been denying Mommy his affections so Mommy sought comfort elsewhere in the form of an obese, bearded holiday icon.  Perhaps Daddy has been giving it to Mrs. Claus on the regular so Santa and Mommy conspired to seek revenge and this is the best they came up with.

All I know is the kid seems pretty sure about what he saw.  That’s all I’m saying.

Who was Mommy kissing in the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” song 3.5 readers?

Discuss in the comments!

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Dec 09 2016
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Tomfoolery

Giraffe Sex Song

Hey 3.5 readers. BQB here.

I was filled with dismay to read on CNN that giraffes are in danger of going extinct.

Giraffes are such wonderful creatures that I felt an immediate need to do something.

So, I made some calls to some of the music business peeps I met in my Funky Hunks days and to my delight, I am now going to turn this post over to Barry Yellowspots, the only giraffe in the world capable of singing 1970s Barry White style love ballads.

Barry, take it away.

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BARRY:

Aww, yeah thank you BQB.

:::Cue 1970s love ballad music:::

Do you readers know what time it is?

ALL FEMALE CHORUS:

What time is it?

BARRY:

It’s time to get freaky!

CHORUS:

Oooh, freaky!

BARRY:

It’s time to get nasty!

CHORUS:

Nasty!

BARRY:

It’s time….for giraffes to fuck!

CHROUS:

Start fuckin’ giraffes!

BARRY:

Girl, I see you across the savannah.

It’s like I’m in heaven and you are my manna.

We’re just a couple of spotted sheep-horse creatures.

And everyone knows our long ass necks are our greatest feature.

CHORUS:

Greatest feature!

BARRY:

We’re living proof that Darwin was right!

Because all those short ass little necked giraffes who couldn’t reach the highest leaves on the tree sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ tonight!

CHORUS:

Dead giraffes don’t fuck!

BARRY:

Now girl, no means no and if that’s your answer I’ll take it.

But if you’ve sworn a vow of chastity, please, oh please won’t you break it?

We’re the closest thing the world has to a unicorn.

And once we’re gone, the world will surely mourn.

CHORUS:

The world will mourn!

BARRY:

So girl, let me turn you on with my manly neck muscle flex.

‘Cuz it’s time for us to have…some hot and sweaty giraffe sex.

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Whoa, uh oh Giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

You thought we giraffes were all shit out of luck.

But don’t worry world, cuz we’re totally gonna fuck!

Whoa, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Girl, don’t you know this is what the world needs?

CHORUS:

The world needs it!

BARRY:

For all of us giraffes to get together and breed!

CHORUS:

Giraffe breeding!

BARRY:

Now girl, just be cool as I get into position.

For giraffes are endangered and I’m on a reproductive mission.

This ain’t about you or me baby it’s about the world.

And all the baby giraffes we’re about to unfurl.

Whoa, uh oh giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Don’t you know it’s the only way?

A bunch of horny ass giraffes must save the day!

CHORUS:

Save the day!

BARRY:

Damn baby, you wouldn’t know it because I got my neck leaned so far backwards it’s in the next county.

But if you could see my face, you’d see me smiling because of all of that sweet lady giraffe booty bounty.

CHORUS:

Giraffe booty bounty!

BARRY:

Don’t even worry about giraffe fellatio.

I’d have to climb up onto a damn tree just to make that a go.

Oh and girl, don’t even get me started on giraffe cunnilingus.

CHORUS:

Giraffe cunnilingus!

BARRY:

That would require an entire football field between us.

CHORUS:

So much between us!

BARRY:

Whoah, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Look, I swear this isn’t an elaborate scheme to get all up in that giraffe cooter!

CHORUS:

Giraffe cooter!

BARRY:

Whoa, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Giraffe extinction is real, just look it up on your giraffe computer!

BQB:  Thank you Barry and thank you 3.5 readers for educating yourselves on the need for giraffes to start fucking.  If you know a giraffe couple, please, I urge you, encourage them to fuck.

Put on a slow jam.  Set the mood lighting.  Pour them some wine and then politely tell them that they shouldn’t wait around for “the perfect giraffe” to come along because, hey, there’s a giraffe right there to fuck.

You know me, 3.5 readers.  I’m all about charity.  I’m against Lightning Infused Toilet Pastry Toilet Death.  I’m a proponent of #OscarSoPretty and now, I’m taking on a new cause…giraffe sex!

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Dec 08 2016
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Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio

Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio – Desuckifying the Holidays

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World Renowned Motivational Speaker, Anti-Suck Book Author and Bookshelf Battle Blog Columnist, Vinny Baggadouchio

I’m Vinny Baggadouchio and like a giant vacuum cleaner with a stuck “on” switch, I’m sucking all of the suck right out of this sucky world, one sucker at a time.

Perhaps you have read one of my fine anti-suck books:

Six Ways to Suckday

When a Problem Comes Along, You Must Suck It

Suck Less Now…Ask Me How

Have You Ever Tried to Not Suck?

Suck Free in Sixty Days

Sucky Suckers and the Sucky Suckers Who Suck Them

Get the Suck Outta Here!

Don’t Hate the Suck Game, Hate the Suck Player

The Path to a Suck-Free Life

The Super Suck Cure

Help!  I Suck!

Sucker Says What?

3.5 readers, let me tell you, the holidays are great but sometimes they can suck…especially for a person who already sucks.

Think about what a person who doesn’t suck is doing this time of year.  The non-sucker is putting up twinkly lights with his kids and setting up the Christmas tree.  He’s going shopping with his wife, putting on a tacky yet festive, drinking egg nog and singing carols around the fire with family and friends.

Alas, the average sucker does not have such a wonderful life.  The average sucker is alone.  He’s warming up a six month old TV dinner he found in the back of his freezer and Netflixing a sucky movie that was made specifically for Netflix.

That poor sucker.  Due to his sucky life, he has no one to snuggle with,n o kids to give presents to, and few prospects, if any, of turning his life around.

And yes, as that poor, downtrodden sucktastic sucker falls asleep at his computer, his mind drifts off to the promises he made to himself last Christmas.  “By Christmas of next year, I won’t suck!  I’ll have a wife who doesn’t suck and be on my way to having kids who don’t suck!”

Perhaps the sucker has some extended family he can visit, but a self-aware sucker won’t be happy.  He’ll be miserable.  No one wants to be the sucker with a pity invitation.  Non-suckers throw Christmas parties at their lavish, suck-free homes.  Suckers are invited to them so they can sit in the corner and think about all the mistakes they made to lead to the present day where the holidays suck so bad for them.

You know who else has a hard time on Christmas?  The sucker who wrote me this letter:

Dear Vinny B,

The holidays sure do suck.  My wife divorced me five years ago because I sucked up our marriage by playing hide the turnip with her sister’s best friend’s cousin’s dog-walker’s wife’s sister.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but not so much now.

Christmas used to be a great time for me.  I’d grab a cup of coffee, snuggle up with the missus and watch the kids open their toys.

Now I live in a sucky single-bedroom apartment on the corner of Crack and Meth Streets.  I owe a ridiculous amount of alimony and child support and my children are being raised by their step-dad/my ex-wife’s former yoga instructor.

Every year, from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day, I feel like shoving my head in the oven and cooking the suck right out of myself because I just don’t know if I will ever be able to climb the anti-suck hill in order to get back to the kind of suck-less life I used to have.

Sincerely,

Big Time Sucker in Jacksonville

Wow.  That’s a lot of suck to de-suck and dissect.

You know Big Time, I play it straight.  I don’t sugar coat things.  I’m not going to suck all over your leg and tell you that your leg doesn’t suck now.

What you did was a sucktabulous thing.  There’s no excuse for it.  That’s the bad news.

But wait.  The good news is that you realize you did a sucky thing.  So many suckers just suck their way through life with nary an understanding of why they suck so much.

You, on the other hand, feel suck shame and that means you are a self aware sucker.  You are mature enough to know the difference between what sucks and what doesn’t suck and that means there is hope for you.

So the first thing I want you to do is to take a look at yourself in the mirror and forgive the sad, depressed sucker staring back at you.  Yes, the sucker staring at you in the mirror sucked up your life.  He looked at all the non-sucking goodness you had and like a skunk in heat, squirted it with a thick layer of suck spray.

That really sucks, but it has been five years.  The mourning period is over and at this point, there’s no use crying over spilt suck.  Once that suck is out of the bag, you can’t contain it. You just have to manage it.

The second thing I want you to do is apologize to your ex-wife.  She signed up with a man she thought did not suck and did not get the non-sucker that she wanted.  Let her know you’re sorry and you know there’s no fixing the suck you brought into her life, but you want to be a man and be a father to your children.

Third, you’re going to put your foot down on the suck and de-suck your life.  Be the non-sucker you used to be again.  Getting angry at yourself for past sucky behavior is normal.  In a way, it is even healthy.  However, at this point, you’ve reached a critical mass where anger, self-hatred and self-loathing will get nowhere.

These negative feelings won’t get your wife back.  They won’t get your kids back.  If anything, they’ll just keep sucking you down, down, down deeper into the suck pit of your sucky life until one day, you find yourself so deep that you can’t crawl back to the suck-free shore and there isn’t a single non-sucker around who would be willing to throw you a suck-free life line.

Improve and take care of yourself.  Curb your sucky habits.  Exercise.  Eat right.  Take care of yourself.  Work hard at your career and find some passions that don’t suck in your spare time.

When you get time to spend with your kids, be the best, least sucky father you can be.  Be a positive role model and maybe, when they’re old enough, apologize to them.  Tell them you’re sorry you sucked things up and want to make sure they don’t repeat your mistakes so they can go on to become productive, non-sucking members of society.

Whether you are Big Time Sucker in Jacksonville, or just one of BQB’s random 3.5 readers, keep this in mind.  The holidays are a celebration of joy, happiness and love.  They are a time to reflect on the past year’s accomplishments and to plan exciting things for the year ahead.

If you feel none of that this season, it is because your life sucks but remember, you are aware of the suck.  You are not ignorant of the suck and realizing that you suck is the first step one must take on the long road to not sucking.

Most importantly, remember how bad you feel this year.  Don’t ball those sucky feelings up and bury them deep inside.  Let them out with a good cry or a loud scream, then spend the next year doing your damnedest to de-suck your sucky life so that next year at this time, you won’t feel depressed.  You won’t feel sad.  You will be one of those non-sucking people who puts on a dopey sweater and hugs his family over the holidays.

Rome wasn’t built in a day or a year, so no, you won’t fix your sucky life in a day or most likely, even in a year.  But a year is long enough to suck a lot of the suck out of your life and you never know, if you put the work in, there just might be a lady who doesn’t suck in your life next Christmas.

Just don’t suck it up this time, Big Time Sucker.

Until next time, I’m Vinny Baggadouchio, wishing you a Suck Free Christmas and a Happy New Year that Does Not Suck.

Don’t forget to buy my one of my anti-suck books at a book store that does not suck near you.

DISCLAIMER: Mr. Baggadouchio is an expert on nothing and has no credentials of any kind.  Nothing he says is to ever be relied upon as advice or taken seriously.  Those with sucky problems are advised to seek out real experts who are trained in the arts of de-sucking the lives of total suckers.

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Dec 05 2016
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Tomfoolery

An Interview with Krampus, the World’s Most Notorious Ancient Germanic Yuletide Demon

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

So, as you know, I’m a hostage of the yeti, but he is allowing me to interview my next guest because he is such a fan of his work.

I’m not a fan per se but, you know, the blog must come first and I need the clicks.

Without further ado…Krampus.

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Krampus: Vile Ancient Yuletide Demon/Denier of the Power of Facial Scrubs

BQB: Your Evil Hornyness, welcome.

KRAMPUS: Thank you, BQB. I’d say it’s good to be here but I’ve been thrown out of places much classier than your pitiful blog.  Hell, I had way more than 3.5 followers in the olden days when computers hadn’t even been invented.

BQB:  Right.  So, can you tell my 3.5 followers who you are?  I don’t mean to be rude.  I’m just not sure that they have heard of you.

KRAMPUS: That’s cool, bitch.  First of all, I am hella old.  I date back before pre-Christian times.  Second, I’m the antithesis of everyone’s favorite fat man, that rotund wishy washy do-gooder Santa Clause, or as I call him, “Old Saint Dick.”  See what I did there?

BQB: Yes.

KRAMPUS:  Because he’s really Old Saint Nick but I called him Old Saint Dick because I think he’s a dick.

BQB: Punny.  But we all know what Santa does.  He brings toys to all the good little girls and boys of the world.  What do you do?

KRAMPUS: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone and stop the presses, Cochise.  Santa does not bring toys to good girls and boys, so let me just straighten out your bent propaganda there.

BQB: He doesn’t?

KRAMPUS:  No, he doesn’t.  Oh sure, he’s got you all hoodwinked with all the, “He sees you when you’re sleeping” and the naughty/nice list but really, honestly, truly, we all know that shit is a scam.  That fat bastard will bring a toy to a kid no matter what and he does not give a shit whether or not that kid has been naughty or nice.

BQB:  Really?

KRAMPUS:  You know it, bitch.  Look, parents love to get their misbehaving little turds to straighten up by warning them that they will get jack shit when Santa finds out all the heinous shit they’ve done, but Santa doesn’t care enough to actually cross-reference a naughty/nice list of every damn child in the entire world.  And you think the elves are going to help him do it?  Those little freaks are union.  They have like nineteen smoke breaks a day and the fat man is lucky if he can get those pointy eared butt goblins to do a half-hour’s worth of work in a day where he pays them for eight hours at a rate of fifty bucks an hour.

BQB:  Wow.

KRAMPUS: I know.  If I were that fat ass crushed red velvet suit wearing diabetes patient, the first thing I would do is send all of those Keebler cookie rejects packing and ship the entire North Pole operation to China.

BQB:  I think we’ve gotten off topic.  You still haven’t told my 3.5 readers what you do.

KRAMPUS:  Well, nothing right now, but back in ancient times, I did Santa’s job.

BQB:  Oh.  So you delivered toys to good little girls and boys?

KRAMPUS: Say what?  Bitch, please.  If a kid was good, I walked my demon ass right on by that kid’s house without giving him a reward.  You’re supposed to be good and to channel my inner Chris Rock, you’re not supposed to get a “cookie” for doing something “you’re supposed to do.”

BQB:  Oh.  And the bad kids?

KRAMPUS:  Beaten with chains.

BQB: Umm…

KRAMPUS:  Yup.  “Hey Gunter and Greta,” all the ancient Germanic parents would say.  “Be good and do your chores and clean up the cave and wipe all the moss off the rocks and don’t talk back or else Krampus will throw you in his sack, beat you with his chains, then drag you off to Hell.”

BQB:  This interview has taken a turn for the worse.

KRAMPUS: Oh please, don’t feed me that namby-pamby bleeding heart shit.  The ancient holiday season was fun.  Ancient folk would even sing songs.  “Krampus Carols” we used to call ’em.

BQB: Please don’t sing one.

KRAMPUS: “Jingle chains, jingle chains, Krampus has got his chains…”

BQB: Stop.

KRAMPUS: “Over the river and through the woods and into Krampus’ sack we go…”

BQB:  Stop.

KRAMPUS: “…it’s slung over his back and down through the cracks of the earth and into the underworld we go-ah-oh!”

BQB:  We get the picture.  So obviously, you don’t do that anymore.

KRAMPUS:  A shame really.  So many children deserve a good in-sack, chain beating.

BQB:  Wow.  OK, just for the record and not just because my lawyer is advising me to say this…I do not condone or approve of violence against children in any way, shape or form.

KRAMPUS:  Fine, fine.  We can nix the chains and the sacks and the dragging naughty children off to Hell now that we live in quote unquote modern “enlightened” times.  But at the very least, that little shit that keeps pulling his sister’s hair and treats his parents like cash machines and personal servants should not get a present from the fat man, don’t you agree?

BQB:  Eh…kids are kids.  Sometimes the worst kids grow up, realize the difference between right and wrong and live good lives despite youthful naughtiness.

KRAMPUS:  Yeah, and like I said, no more sacks, chains, and/or draggings off to the underworld, but maybe instead of a new bicycle, Tommy can pay his penance for bullying all those nerdy kids at school by being forced to watch a week’s worth of incredibly dry documentaries.  “No Tommy.  No presents for you.  No trip to Grandma’s house to play with toys and stuff your face with cookies.  You will now watch programs about how wicker furniture is made until New Year’s Eve.

BQB:  I’m not really for it but I guess it is way better than the chains and the sack and so on.

KRAMPUS:  I’m a hip demon.  I get with the times.  I can find all kinds of new age punishments that twenty-first century hipster millennial parents will be down with.  “What?  You didn’t do your homework?  No presents for you until you eat this bowl of vegan, gluten-free tofu.”

BQB:  I think I know the answer already but I have to ask.  Why aren’t you as well-known as Santa?

KRAMPUS:  Ah.  Where do I start?  Rumor has it that Hitler had me banned.  I can’t confirm or deny that because we evil demons have to stick together, but between you, me and your 3.5 readers, I was such a shit heel that even the dude who was all like, “Hey, maybe shipping off six million people to their doom isn’t such a bad idea” heard about me and was all like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Krampus!  Enough with the chains and the sack beatings already!”

BQB:  So it was Hitler?

KRAMPUS:  Eh, you could say that but really it was commercialization.  The gift and card industry.  Those advertising pricks on Madison Avenue.  I mean, really, around this time of year, whose face do you want to see on your box of cookies, or on your soda-pop bottle or on your television?  Me and my jagged razor sharp teeth of Fatty McGoody-Two-Shoes, what with his chubby angelic cheeks and his professor glasses and his red suit and his warm smile and his overall aura of, “Hey, you all do your best, so here’s some free toys and shit and you know what?  I’ll even let you naughty kids fool yourselves into thinking you were nice all year long because that’s just what the Grandpa of the World does.”

BQB:  Well, when you put it like that…

KRAMPUS:  There’s just no way I can compete with that adorable walking “Before Jenny Craig” model.  I might be getting soft in my old age because there are times when even I want to let bygones and bygones and give old Fatty McManTits a big hug.

BQB: Why don’t you?

KRAMPUS:  Eh, Mrs. Claus and I used to date.  Santa is kind of a dick about it.  It’s all very awkward. I’ve said too much.

BQB:  It’s cool.  Only 3.5 people read this blog anyway.  So what do you do with all your free time now that you have hung up your sack and chains?

KRAMPUS:  Oh, let’s see.  What don’t I do?  Yoga.  Knitting.  A little bit of crocheting.  Spin class.  Pottery Barn.  I can’t even get within five feet of a Pottery Barn without destroying my credit rating, let me tell you.

BQB:  They do have some nice stuff at Pottery Barn.  Krampus, that’s all the time we have and I’d like to thank you for this interview, but I won’t, because it was truly awful and will no doubt give my 3.5 readers nightmares, which they don’t deserve because they are all nice people.  Before you go, do you have any last words?

KRAMPUS:  Don’t be good because an obese, raging pizza addict at the top of the world will give you a free video game if you do, because he will give it to you even if you’re a total asshat anyway.  Instead, be good because you’re supposed to be good.  And if you’re good for the right reason, then good things will come to you throughout your life.

BQB:  Wisdom found in a surprising place.  Thank you for reading, 3.5 readers.  Good night and Merry Christmas.

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Dec 05 2016
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TV

Saturday Night Live – Sump’n Claus

I’ve always laughed at this sketch.  Even if you’re too naughty for Santa, Sump’n will get you a little sump’n:

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