Tag Archives: holidays

SJW Lyrics – Oh Average Night (Formally Oh Holy Night)

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Oh average night, the stars are brightly shining!

And the night is just normal because it isn’t holy because we will no longer be subjected to the patriarchy’s puritanically rigid belief system that forces the ignorant into modifying their behavior in accordance with the whims of a fictional man in the sky who simply isn’t there.

Fall on your knees!

But only if you want to take a rest.

But if you don’t, that’s ok.

In fact, don’t because then you’ll get grass stains on your jeans!

A night that is not divine!

No, it’s just another night as usual except is it just me or is this night hotter than usual? Damn it, when will you all learn that global warming is real, people?!

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SJW Christmas Carols – Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

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Rudolph the red nosed reindeer,

Had the unfair advantage of a shiny nose.

None of the other reindeer,

Had a very shiny nose.

All of the other reindeer,

Were made to feel bad about themselves when they gazed upon Rudolph’s shiny honker.

Knowing that someone was doing better than they were, really drove them nuts and bonkers.

Then one foggy Christmas eve, Santa came to say,

Rudolph take your nose so bright,

And get it away from the reindeer’s sight.

Then how the reindeer were happy,

And they shouted out with glee,

“Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, we’ll never be as good as you, but now we’ve dragged you down to be as bad as we!”

 

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In Case You Missed It – Stuff You Shouldn’t Buy Your Girlfriend for Christmas

Hey 3.5 readers.  I know, if you are reading this blog you are probably single but if you ever do get a girlfriend, here is some stuff you should not buy her for Christmas.

Female readers, let me know if I am right.  Do you want any of this stuff for Christmas?

 

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Baby, It’s Cold Outside – Super Politically Correct Modern Version

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HER: I really can’t stay.

HIM: That’s cool, you’re free to leave at anytime.  You’re a strong, independent woman in charge of your own agency, capable of making her own decisions and if remaining here is not your wish then I bid you adieu.

HER: I’ve got to go away.

HIM: No problem.  There’s the door.  Right there.  Good evening.  Drive safely.

HER: This evening has been…

HIM: I’m sorry, but I see you’re lingering.  Would you mind signing this memorandum indicating that you remained on the premises even though I distinctly said you were free to leave and I in no way impeded your exit?

HER: …so very nice.

HIM:  Don’t mind me.  I’m just going pull out my phone so I can stream us on Facebook live and, ok, here we are.  Hello, everyone.  Shout out to all my followers.  I just want to show the world that I’m being a total gentleman and I am not keeping this strong, independent woman from leaving.  See?  Right there’s the door.  Nothing is blocking it.  I’m all the way over here.  She’s free to go whenever she chooses.

HER: I ought to say, “No, no, no, sir!”

HIM: You have and I respect that.  Just a reminder you are more than welcome to walk out the front door and I will not interfere in any way.

HER: At least I’m going to say that I tried.

HIM: Yes, and as loudly as possible I am telling all 257 of my Facebook friends that I am trying to make sure that you are aware you are free to vamoose.

HER: My mother will start to worry.

HIM: Hold on, I’m going to get on my landline because I’m one of the last few people ot have one of those and I’m calling your mom and, “Hello Her’s Mother how are you? Him here.  Say, just wanted to clue you in on the situation. Her is fine. Totes fine. She’s here. I’m being totally respectful and I would never keep her here against her will.”

HER: My father will be pacing the floor.

HIM: You know, it dawns on me that maybe you aren’t leaving because you don’t have cab fare.  Now, please don’t take that the wrong way. I understand you are a very powerful, strong, independent woman who earns her own living and doesn’t need a man to pay her way but please, my treat, let me call you an Uber on my account and we’ll have the driver take you home or anywhere you want to go.  By the way, I will also pay a private detective to run a full background check on the driver and I will hire two armed guards to accompany you in case anyone tries to touch you during your ride.

HER: My sister will be suspicious.

HIM: Nope, she’s fine.  Hi, sis!  Thanks for friending me.  See?  Your sister’s A-OK. Hey I’m just going to step outside myself and I don’t even care if there’s 6 feet snowdrifts out here I’m just going to step out here on the front porch and, ah, that’s better! There we go! Now you’re safe in the house, and I’m out here so as to avoid the appearance of impropriety.  No one can say anything unsavory happened if you’re in there and I’m out here.  See that, Facebook? Everything’s totally legit.

HER: My brother will be pacing the floor.

HIM: I’m just going to send my carrier pigeon to your brother with a note in his beak informing him that you’re fine and if he or any of your other family or friends would like to come over and verify that you’re OK, they are welcome to come here and do so.  Away you go, pigeon! In the meantime, I will keep speaking to you through the open door but I will remain outside in these arctic conditions so that you remain safe.

HER: Your welcome has been…

HIM: Oh thank god, it’s a police officer out on patrol! Officer!  Yoo hoo!  Would you be a pal and stand next to me to verify that I am not doing anything to harm this strong, independent female and Her, just an FYI if you feel unsafe I’m sure this officer would be willing to escort you past me just, again, to be on the safe side.  You can never be too careful.

HER: …so nice and warm.

HIM:  Shit!  She won’t leave.  Let me get on the phone again.  Hello?  Ajax Public Relations Firm?  Look, there’s going to be a huge story about me tomorrow and we need to get ahead of it ASAP.  Cancel all your business. I’m putting you on retainer because it is going to be blasted all over the inter webs and I’ll need your full staff ready and waiting to field press inquiries 24/7. I want to tell you right up front I did not lay a hand on this strong, powerful woman and in fact, I streamed our entire evening on Facebook from outside the house while a police officer was present and what?  Well…no, of course I’m not calling her a liar!  I’m not saying that tomorrow, she might believe that something bad might have happened, I’m just saying that I will not be the culprit.  What?  What do you mean that’s as good as calling her a liar?  No, I don’t believe all women lie.  Yes, I believe all women…

HER: So really I’d better scurry.

HIM: Officer, if you’d be so kind as to handcuff me and yes, there we go.  My hands are now restrained behind my back.  Officer, if you wouldn’t mind to use my phone to keep the Facebook stream going.  Wait, let me shout to my neighbors.  NEIGHBORS! COME OUT AND BE MY WITNESSES, PLEASE!

HER: But maybe just a half a drink more.

HIM:  Oh no.  There’s no alcohol here, ma’am.  I’m not implying that you, as a woman, would somehow be prone to abusing alcohol or that women should not feel free to imbibe, I’m just saying I do not keep alcohol in the house so as to prevent a situation where a woman might become inebriated because then she would be in a state where she could be taken advantage of.  You are welcome to get some tap water but please keep your hand over your drink at all times as you never know when someone might slip a mickey into it.

HER: My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious.

HIM: That’s fine.  See? My neighbors came outside so I have over a dozen witnesses on the scene who can testify I did no wrong here.

HER: But maybe just a cigarette more.

HIM: I’m sorry, there’s no smoking allowed here.  By the way, it just dawned on me that maybe you are not leaving because you fear reprisal if you do.  Please rest assured that no harm will come to you, should you decide to leave.  There will be no harm done to you at any time in the future, whatsoever.  I will not say anything bad about your reputation and we don’t work in the same field so I have no power to get you blacklisted or drummed out of your profession and you know what?  I’ll put this in writing.  Let me just write this down.  OK.  Here’s a fully binding legal document indicating you are free to leave and there will be no repercussions for doing so and I will not interfere with your livelihood if you go and hey?  Isn’t one of my neighbors a notary?  Fred, you’re a notary, right?  Cool.  Fred just notarized this.

HER: You’ve really been grand…

HIM: By the way, just now, I wrote that all behind my back.  I trained on how to write while handcuffed just for occasions like these.  Her, it now dawns on me maybe you’re not leaving because you think you want to engage in voluntary sexual congress with me right now but perhaps thirty to forty years in the future you will regret having sex with me and will consider the act a violation of your person.  It just so happens, one of my neighbors is a fortune teller so I’m just going to let her…

MADAME OLGA: By the light of the full moon, I gaze my eyes upon the wonders of my crystal ball and I look forward into the mists of the great beyond.  Oh spirits, tell me if sex that happens today will be appreciated or despised in four decades time.

HIM: You know what?  Cut that, Olga. I’m just going to refuse to participate in any sex at all.  You hear that, everyone?  I refuse sex.  There is absolutely no way to tell if this woman, who has gotten all naked and is lying spread eagle on my bearskin rug, licking her lips and beckoning me to come hither with her finger whilst a bright, flashing neon sign points to her vagina that says, “OPEN FOR BUSINESS!” Yes, to the untrained eye, it looks like this strong, independent woman desires sex but there’s no way to know for sure.  Anyone could have put that sign there.  I’ll just decline.  Fred, draw up a legal memorandum indicating my declination of any and all possible sex acts this evening.

HER: But can’t you see?  Baby it’s cold outside…

HIM: Oh my god!  She’s coming this way!  Quick, officer!  Shoot my dick off!  I beg of you! I don’t want to be declared the next sex pervert du jour on the inter webs tomorrow! Please!  Shoot my dick off!  I beg you!

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Monica Duncan, Professional Bad News Breaker: Top Ten Reasons Why Santa Claus is Not Real

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By: Monica Duncan, Professional Bad News Breaker

Hello 3.5 readers.  I’m Monica Duncan and when people have bad news they can’t bear to break, they call me to do the dirty work for them.  My highlights include:

  • Informing all 57 girlfriends dating a Milwaukee bartender, Fred Sistack (none of the girls knew about each other) that they may have a long laundry list of diseases, including, but not limited to: herpes, the clap, anal warts, syphilis, crotch rot, vaginal gangrene, and eternal butt itch.  Fred has been paying off my services on a monthly installment plan for the past twelve years.
  • I was the one who told Saddam Hussein that he was about to be pulled out of his hidey hole.  He was very disappointed about it, but he was glad to get a shave.
  • In the 1990s, I told John Wayne Bobbitt that that numb feeling he felt in his groin was due to the fact that his wife had removed his penis with the aid of a knife.  Remember people, if you ever have to tell someone their penis was cut off, always hire a professional bad news breaker to tell them.  You don’t want a man to find out his junk is gone when he reaches for it only to find it is not there.

Alas, I am now here to break some bad news to the children of the world – Santa Claus does not exist.

Nope, he does not exist at all.

Yikes, what bored people you Christians are.  You have a holiday based on the idea that Jesus was the Son of God (umm…well, OK nevermind I’ll talk about that in another column) and that still doesn’t keep your attention.  You still need a tale about a fat man who brings presents.

Let me dispel the many inaccuracies:

#1 – No one likes fat people. 

Even fat people don’t like fat people.  It is impossible for a real fat man to be loved by the entire world, ergo, a universally beloved fat man could only exist as a fictional character.  If Santa were real, it would not matter how many good deeds he did.  He could bring everyone toys, cash money, cures for AIDS and cancer, homes for the poor and everyone would still be all like, “Fuck you, you fat fuck, lose some weight!”  I’m sorry, but it’s true.  You know it’s true.  Think about the nicest fat person you know.  Maybe there was some fat person who did you a good turn, helped you out in life.  Maybe this fat person paid your rent one month to keep you off the street.  Maybe this fat person saved your life.  Maybe this fat person recommended you for a job when you were down on your luck.  You still called that person a fat fuck behind his/her back, didn’t you?  You couldn’t help it.  No one likes a fatty, no matter how nice the fatty is.

#2 – It is not possible for a fat fuck to squeeze down your chimney.

Your fat Aunt Edna knocks shit down with her fat ass because she’s so fat she doesn’t think she’s bumping into things but you think a fat fuck in a red suit can squeeze his fat ass down every chimney in the world?  Bitch, please.

#3 – Reindeer can’t fly.

Have you ever seen a non-winged animal fly?  Stop being stupid.  Oh, and Rudolph’s nose is red because he hits the sauce…hard.  At least he would if he existed, but he doesn’t.

#4 – Why do bad kids get presents?

Kids have pretty short attention spans.  A parent says, “Be good or Santa won’t bring you any shit!” and then the kid will be good for five minutes and then forget and be naughty again.  If Santa really has a naughty and nice list, he must not be paying attention to it, because everyone knows at least one little shit who is making his parents’ lives miserable and yet this little monster is getting ridiculous amounts of loot under the tree every year.

#5 – Why doesn’t Santa give out gift certificates?

You know what?  It is actually, theoretically, possible for every kid in the world to be given one gift a night.  A cash gift.  If you’re Santa, why would you go riding your fat asss around the globe when you can just get one of your elves to click a button on a computer and email every kid a toy store gift certificate?

That’s a lot, mind you, but hey, one of these rich pricks might actually be able to become a real, live Santa Claus.

I don’t know.  Do the math and tell me if it’s possible, nerds.  Estimate how many Christian kids in the world x how much and factor in if there’s anyone that rich.  Even so, I bet that person couldn’t do it every year.  It would have to be a one cent gift certificate.

However, we aren’t talking about the average billionaire.  We’re talking Santa Claus.  If that fat fuck can fly around the world in a night, then surely he could pop a redeem code for 1,000 bucks to every kid’s inbox and then Amazon could do the rest.

Seriously.  Bezos would have taken over Santa’s operation by now.  Maybe he already has.  You parents out there, where’d you kid those kids you’re slapping the fat man’s name on?  A site that starts with “A” am I right?

#6 – Your parents slap Santa’s name on gifts.

They work hard all year, selling their souls to employers who provide them no personal satisfaction, then slap a fictional fat man’s name on the gifts bought with the proceeds of their slave labor just to make your childish fantasies come true.  God, you little brats make me want to puke.  Somebody staple my uterus shut.

#7 – Santa could never be married.

Because, remember, no one likes a fat fuck, even a bitch as fat as Mrs. Claus is dreaming about losing weight and getting spit roasted by a duo of hunky male dancers.

#8 – Elves aren’t real.

You think any large group of workers would work that much for free…without organizing a union?  Bitch, please.

#9 – Intellectual property

You really think Bill Gates wouldn’t be suing Santa into oblivion for giving out free X-Boxes?

#10 – It’s impossible to fly around the world in one night.

Have you seen all the cell phone shot videos on the news lately?  People can’t fly across the country without some crazy ass fight breaking out and delaying the flight, but you think a fat man can fly around the world and stop at every house in one night?

CONCLUSIONS

Sorry to break it to you, kids, but Santa isn’t real.  Was it hard for me to tell you this and ruin your childhoods?  No.  Because I’m a professional news breaker.  This is what I do.

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“Baby It’s Cold Outside” – Sexual Harassment Version

BQB NOTE:  Last year, I wrote “Politically Correct ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside.‘  Now, given the latest news, it’s time for the Sexual Harassment version.

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HER:  I really can’t stay…

HIM…but baby it’s cold outside.

HER: I’ll call the media right away!

HIM: Oh my God!  No, please, I’ll put down my hands today!

HER:  This evening has been…

HIM:  …I’ll stop bothering you then…

HER:  The top story on CNN!

HIM:  Look, I’m sorry and my abuse will cease.

HER:  I’m drafting a press release.

HIM:  I’m so embarrassed I want to be dead.

HER: Hello operator, put me through to Gloria Allred.

HIM:  I didn’t mean it, I’m so ashamed.

HER:  The pundits will give you the blame.

HIM:  I just wanted to grab a boob.

HER: And now you’re off to jail, so grab the lube.

HIM:  Oh my God, I’m so screwed!

HER: I really can’t stay.

HIM: No more argument here.  So sorry to offend.

HER: Your perversions are now the top Twitter trend!

HER: I really can’t stay.

HIM: Then get the hell out of here!  Please, for the love of God, I still want a job on Monday!

HER:  Wow, it really is cold outside!

 

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Bookshelf Battle Cast – Episode 002 – “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens – Stave 2 – “The First of the Three Spirits”

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Dang, 3.5 listeners.  Old Scrooge is going through some serious shit.

In Stave 2, the Ghost of Christmas Past visits our favorite crusty old prick.  Scrooge is tortured to see how happy he used to be, how much hope and promise his life once held, and how he lost sight of that happiness in pursuit of the almighty dollar.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS:

#1 – The Ghost of Christmas Past is an odd looking mannish sort of creature, with flames glowing out of his head.  He carries a hat that looks like a candle snuffer, a little piece of metal that in the olden days, people would put over a candle to put the light out.

Is the past like a candle?  Intangible – you can’t really hold it without experiencing the physical pain of the flame.  Similarly, thinking about the past can bring about some good.  There are beautiful moments that shine like a candle flame.  However, there are sad moments, regrets, things we wish we had done differently.  If we reach out and try to make those memories real in our minds, we are burned, just as if we touch the candle.  The past cannot be changed and yet we often wish it could be, because we grow older, we realize how all the mistakes we made add up and how if we had just made different choices, our lives would have turned out better.

Are there any choices you currently face that might have an impact on your future?  Think as yourself as Scrooge in the future, observing your actions right now with the help of the Ghost of Christmas Past.  Would your future self have any advice to give? What would it be?

#2 – Fezziwig was Scrooge’s former boss.  This is a case where Dickens exceeds at “show, don’t tell.”  In Stave 1, we received a rather dour discussion of Scrooge’s counting – house.  Ice cold, grim, Scrooge working on business until the very last second of the day, excoriating his clerk for the slightest error.

Was such heavy handedness necessary?  After all, we learn that Scrooge’s old boss, when Scrooge was a young man, was Fezziwig.  Fezziwig too was rich, yet he managed to get his business done and still find time to play.  In modern parlance, “Fezziwig worked hard and played hard.”

Whereas Old Scrooge cursed his clerk for wanting Christmas off, Fezziwig bars the doors of his office, has everything moved to create a dance floor, and brings in fiddlers and dancers and food and fun, inviting Scrooge and other employees to quit work early and dance the night away.

Is Dickens trying to teach us about having a balanced life?  Is it possible to work hard and play hard and be successful at both, or must one give way to the other?

#3 – Scrooge was once engaged.  Alas, his fiancee grows weary over the fact that Scrooge spends more time chasing money than he does doting upon her.  This seems to be an issue in relationships.  Couples often fight over money, which means one spouse must work more to obtain it, but then they often fight over quality time, which means a spouse must work less to gain it.

How can couples work together to achieve a balanced relationship, one where there’s enough money and enough time to be happy together?  Is such a notion possible?

#4 – Clearly, the past pains Scrooge.  He thinks about his old life in the countryside, his sister, his old boss and work friends and parties, his lost love.  The past cannot be changed and yet regrets have a tendency to eat away at us.

To get older is to be peppered with constant spoilers.  To be young is to have all of life ahead and to be comforted by beliefs that things will get better.  To be old is to be aware of how things turned out yet to have no comfort in thinking that things will get better as there is much less time left.

How can we live our lives so as to be regret free?  Is that possible?  If we have regrets, how can we learn to live with them so that they don’t weigh us down?

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Bookshelf Battle Cast – Episode 1 – “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens” – Stave 1 – Marley’s Ghost – Discussion and Study Questions

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Huzzah, 3.5 readers!

The Bookshelf Battle Cast lives!  Yes, on this fine blog, I’ll be reviewing pop cultural happenings, attempting to be funny, and telling you all about my adventures as a magic bookshelf caretaker, yeti fighter and so on.

The podcast will be very different.  I am very, very far from being the world’s greatest vocal talent, so I’ll be playing it straight.  Each episode, I’ll be reading a piece of public domain literature.  After you listen to me read it in my mush mouth voice, stop by this incredible blog for a discussion and study questions.

FYI – apologies.  I’m new to this.  There were some technical difficulties.  I said I’d let my spokeswoman tell you all about who I am, but for some reason, Garageband did not like that file.  It became a big production to try to re-record the podcast, so I’ll try to figure out that for the next one.  Forgive me people, I’m learning as I go.

Oh well.  Check out what my spokeswoman would have said here:

In Stave 1 – “Marley’s Ghost” we begin with a classic line in literature – “Marley was dead to begin with.  Scrooge pops the joyous bubble of his nephew and local charity collectors, only to be warned by the ghost of his fellow usurer Jacob Marley that if he doesn’t change his ways, he’ll be a ghost too, forced to trudge the world with chains attached to him, lamenting the life he wasted on counting coins instead of helping the less fortunate.

STUDY QUESTIONS:

#1 – Dickens really, really, really wants the reader to know up front that Jacob Marley is dead, engaging in humor to insist, almost to a ridiculous degree, that he’s dead.  What’s the point of that?

#2 – Scrooge’s nephew states to his uncle that there are things that exist that bring him no monetary profit, but they make his life better just the same.  Christmas, says the nephew, is one of those things.  Is the nephew a positive thinker, a man who knows how to build spiritual wealth, or do you side with Scrooge, i.e. the wealth in your piggy bank is all that matters?  Can you think of some things that don’t bring you a monetary profit but still enrich your life?  Would you give those things up in order to make more money?  Can money buy happiness?

#3 – The charity collectors attempt to separate Scrooge from some of his dough, arguing that men of means have a duty to provide aid and comfort to the poor.  Scrooge counters with the claim that he supports prisons, union workhouses and so on (through taxes) and thus doesn’t owe the poor anything else.  What say you?  Are taxes enough, or should people with bucks to spare share them with the poor as well?

#4 – Jacob Marley is a ghost.  Chains and cash boxes and other monetary related devices are attached to him.  He must drag them around wherever he goes.  Further, Jacob spent his life never venturing past the counting-house, collecting money and ignoring the plight of the poor.  His punishment, like the punishment of the many souls Scrooge sees outside, is that in death, he must wander the world, seeing all the things he could have experienced and enjoyed in life, but now is unable to do so because he’s dead.

Will you be a ghost one day?  That’s a bigger discussion.  You will be old one day though…and your body will eventually give out on you.  When you’re old and gray and your knees fail, your body gives up and it exhausts you to walk more than five feet, what will you wish you had done in your youth?

CHALLENGE: Make a list of things you want to do before it’s too late to enjoy them…then DO THEM!  Picture your afterlife as a Jacob Marley-esque ghost, forced to drag chains and wander the world.  What would you like to see and do so that, if you ever become such a ghost, you can be happy knowing you got to do those things when you were alive?

Thanks for listening, 3.5 listeners.  The second stave will be out as soon as possible.

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be Ebenezer Scrooge

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Ahh, Ebenezer Scrooge, that rich old prick that everyone loves to kick around come Christmas time.  Worked his ass off to earn all those duckets, but everyone acts like the old man’s fortune was just somehow magically given to him.  Oh well, screw it.  Haters gonna hate.  Am I right?

Your boyfriend.  He’s super cheap.  He’s never picked up a tab, and he’s always swiping all the coins from your car’s change tray.  But, is this dude really Ebenezer Scrooge?  Better check out my handy top ten list to be sure.

From BQB HQ in fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be Ebenezer Scrooge:

#10 – He’s extremely cheap.

Clips coupons.  Takes a penny from that little dish by the cash register but never leaves one even when he has many pennies to spare.  Re-uses toilet paper seventeen times before he throws it away and demands you do the same, limiting you to one and only one square.  Opened his wallet once.  Moths flew out.  Yup, that’s right.  It’d been so long since he had opened his wallet that two moths were able to crawl into it, fuck in some bizarre, freaky moth sex, have babies and raise a family, all inside the wallet.  Alas, the rare opening of said wallet led to their eviction.  Where will the moths go now?

#9 – Never lets you turn up the heat.

Girl, you have any idea how much oil costs?  You better get your damn hand off that thermostat and grab a sweater.  If Cratchitt wasn’t allowed an extra lump of coal for his fire, then you can just forget about turning up that knob.

#8 – He is a 19th Century, Elderly British Man

This really should have been a dead giveaway.  Seriously, girlfriend, I don’t want to start rumors, but everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was all like, “How that girl not see his old ass face and his big ass top hat?  Is she on drugs?”

#7 – Sees Ghosts When He Sleeps

If he sees them on Christmas Eve, he’s Scrooge.  If he sees them all year long, he’s tripping balls on acid, so get him to a doctor posthaste.  If he sees ghost on Christmas Eve and he’s not a 19th Century Elderly British man as discussed in #8, then he’s tripping balls on Christmas Eve and needs a doctor.

#6 – Says “Bah Humbug!” to Everything Except…

…pussy.  Yeah, I don’t care how grumpy Scrooge is, no man is ever gonna say, “Humbug!” to pussy.  Scrooge was a notorious pussy hound.  He really didn’t get enough credit for it.

#5 – Hates His Nephew

That could be a sign that he’s Scrooge but then again, I don’t care who you are, everyone has at least one asshole nephew…you know, that white kid that comes to every family gathering, you’re not really sure how he’s related to you and if you ask, your older relatives spend three hours explaining it, and he kind of has a rat face and a dirt beard and, oh Lord, he’s wearing dreadlocks.  He’s a white kid with dread locks!  But, OK, he’s family so don’t say anything…

#4 – Shitty to His Employees

Is your man a boss?  Has he ever complained about his underlings when they take off Christmas?  Yup.  He’s Scrooge.

#3 – Rocks a Nightshirt and Sleeping Cap

No one else can pull off that look.

#2 – Buys the Fattest Goose

Probably gonna give it to that girl that the street though, the one who is way hotter than you.  Sorry.  You don’t need him, girl, you can do better.

#1 – Saves Tiny Tim…Eventually

Is your man the type of person who could be aware that his trusty assistant’s son will soon die a horrendous, agonizingly painful death without swift and urgent medical care…and still need three ghosts to talk him into opening up his wallet?  Yup, your man is Scrooge.

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Things That Really Frost My Ass – Fun Sized Candy Bars Are Not Fun at All

By: Uncle Hardass, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Grumpy Old Man Correspondent

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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.

CONCLUSIONS:

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.

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