Tag Archives: humor

Toilet Gator Sundays Continue…

Just when you thought it was safe to drop a deuce…


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And Now a Word From My Spokesperson…

Hey 3.5 readers.  Your old pal BQB here.

You know, this March will mark the third year anniversary of this fine blog, and though I love you all,  I must admit that in all of this time I have been sitting back and wondering when one of you readers would get off your shiftless, lazy hides and record a video testimonial of my greatness.

Seeing no such incoming video testimonials, I turned to Fiverr and found this delightful spokesperson, who was happy to educate the masses of my astounding brilliance.

In conclusion, this was the best five dollars I have ever spent and had I known it was possible to get women to say nice things about me by paying them I would have started doing it a long time ago.

Thank you, spokesperson.  That was an awesome testimonial.  In all humility, I truly deserved all of those wonderful compliments.

Meanwhile, this was my first time using Fiverr and I recommend it.  There are all sorts of talented folks waiting there to help you do awesome things with your website, blog, business, etc. so check out Fiverr.com

And finally, my spokesperson did such a fantastic job that I’ll give her a plug.  If you have a gig you’d like to throw her way, you can check out Stayingvintage on Fiverr.com

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 1


After the show, a tired, sweaty, worn-out Countess Cucamonga walked through a backstage hallway. She was flanked on each side by her burly, bald-headed, sunglass sporting security goons. Meanwhile, her dutiful manager Irving, a spindly little twerp stuffed in a designer suit, heaped praise on his client.

“Outstanding performance, Countess,” Irving said. “Positively outstanding. Butt Peace is climbing the charts even faster than Buttstravaganza ever did.”

“What fabulous news, darling,” the Countess replied.

“I think we’re going to see a dramatic decline in violent outbreaks across the world thanks to your song,” Irving said.

“Yes, well, I do what I can darling,” the Countess said. “I really do.”

Irving craned his neck to see that his client was being followed down the hall by Natalie Brock. Struggling to keep up behind the affiliate reporter was Walter, her hefty, huffing and puffing cameraman.

“Goddamn it, Walter,” Natalie said. “Hurry up. We’re going to lose her.”

“I’m union,” Walter groaned. “I don’t care.”

“Countess!” Natalie shouted. “Countess!”

The entourage came to a halt. The two goons formed a human wall.

“Countess,” Natalie said. “Natalie Brock for NN1’s Miami affiliate. Can we get a few words?”

“This is a secure area, ma’am,” the first goon said.

“We need to ask you to leave,” the second goon added.

Natalie struggled to look around the goons but they blocked her at every turn.

“Irving!” Natalie yelled. “Irving! I know you’re back there.”

Natalie and Irving resorted to having a conversation between the goon wall.

“Natalie, this entire floor has been blocked off for the Countess’ safety,” Irving said. “I could have you arrested and carted off to Guantanamo Bay on celebrity harassment charges.”

The intrepid reporter belted out her question. “What would you say to critics who believe that Butt Peace is just an example of the Countess recycling her same old tired buttsploitation songs into a faux humanitarian package?”

“The Countess does not have to answer such outrageous accusations!” Irving said. “Get out or be thrown out!”

“No,” the Countess said as she pushed her way through the goons to Natalie’s side. “I want to speak. ‘Faux,’ you say?”

Natalie held her microphone up to the Countess’ mouth. “Yes, some say that you really don’t care about world peace, that this song is just your way of scamming the public into thinking you care about the world while still raking in the dough from perverted men who love to pretend that you are singing directly to them about your butt, as well as women who wished they had the kind of butt that would motivate perverted men to give up all of their many. Is your interest in world peace fake?”

“I assure your there’s nothing fake about it, darling,” the Countess said. “What is war other than a conflict over limited resources and why do men fight over limited resources in the first place? I submit that men go to war in order to prove themselves worthy of women with fabulous butts. All I’m trying to say to those angry men is that they should abandon their violent ways, for whenever they feel like committing mass genocide in order to placate their feelings of sexual inadequacy, they should just put on one of my butt songs instead. My butt doesn’t just belong to me, it belongs to the world, and as long as everyone has a chance to stare at it, there’s no reason for us not to come together in the spirit of peace and harmony.”

Natalie blinked. “That was actually the nicest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you,” the Countess said. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

The Countess and her contingent pressed forward down the hall.

“Tell me you got that, Walter,” Natalie said.

“Uh huh,” the grumpy cameraman replied.

The entourage reached the Countess’ private dressing room.

“Countess,” Irving said. “We’ve got to talk about your stop in New York. The choreographer was thinking about switching things up a bit, maybe adding at least seventy-percent twerking. Our focus groups can’t get enough of it.”

The Countess’ stomach gurgled. “Ugh. Not now, darling. I think all that twerking shook something loose. Ta ta.”

The pop star entered her dressing room and slammed the door. Her goons took up their positions.

“Wow,” Irving said as he squeezed the first goon’s arm. “That’s solid. You guys must work out. You work out?”

“Ergh,” the first goon replied.

“Do some curls, work on your biceps?” Irving asked. “Triceps? Lats? Delts? Quads. Yeah, I like to lift myself. I’ve got these little red dumbbells that I…”

“Ergh,” the first goon said.

“OK,” Irving said as he lightly slapped the first goon’s arm. “Good talk.”

As the manager walked down the hallway, he spotted Natalie going over her notes.

“You ever pull a stunt like that and you’ll never work in broadcasting again, capiche?”

“Oh, don’t you ‘capiche’ me, Irving,” Natalie said. “Besides, this is a win for you. For once in her life, your girl didn’t sound like a total moron.”

Irving’s face turned red. “That’s the image we’re going for and if you ever publicly imply that she is anything but a total moron I will sue you for slander!”

Meanwhile, the stoic goons were unable to maintain their rugged facades as loud fart noises emanated from inside their client’s dressing room. “Pbbbht…pbbhht…pbbbhhhhttt!”

“Huh huh,” the first goon chuckled.

“Must have been that chimichanga,” the second goon said.

Back down the hallway, the manager continued to lock horns with the reporter.

“I want that recording erased,” Natalie said.

“Not happening,” Natalie said. “She gave a statement voluntarily and it’s going on air.”

Walter stared at the back of his camera, slapped it a few times, then scratched his head. “Hey, Natalie…”

“I am her agent,” Irving said. “All press inquiries must go through me. That statement was unauthorized.”

“She authorized it herself,” Natalie said.

“Hey Natalie,” Walter repeated.

“Fine,” Irving said. “You want to go tit for tat on this? Mano y mano? Tit for tat? You want to bring down the god of thunder to make it rain all over you?”

“Knock it off, Irv,” Natalie said.

“Let’s get nuts,” Irving said. “I’m not afraid to go to court over this. I love going to court. I live for litigation. You call your Jews, I’ll call my Jews.”

“That’s racist and offensive,” Natalie said.

“That’s not racist to say that Jews are good lawyers,” Irving said. “Do you know how long it takes to go to law school?”

Walter interrupted again. “Natalie…”

Natalie snapped. “What?!”

“I didn’t get the thing where the girl with the big butt was talking,” Walter said.

Irving grinned. Natalie clenched her fists. “Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah,” Walter said as he stared at his camera. “I mixed up the buttons. There’s so many of them, you know.”

“Damn it, Walter,” Natalie said. “You know, I try my best to be nice to everyone. I try not to be one of those catty news bitches who thinks their shit doesn’t stink and they have a God given right to shit all over everyone, but damn it Walter, a monkey could do your job. A literal, honest to go, chimpanzee could work that camera and save the station a lot of money.”

“Take it up with my union,” Walter replied.

Irving laughed and laughed.

“Oh, blow it out your ass, Irv,” Natalie said.

Suddenly, the hallway was filled with a loud rumbling sound, followed by the noises of porcelain and drywall being smashed and bashed. Then there were screams. High pitched, blood curdling, female screams.

“What’s going on?” Irving asked.

The first goon tried the door knob, but it was locked. The second goon threw his weight against the door again and again until finally, he broke it open.

“Stay back!” the first goon shouted to everyone in the hallway. He drew his sidearm and followed the second goon into the room. Irving ignored the command and entered.

Natalie wagged her finger in Walter’s face. “Look at me Walter. You’re going to turn that camera on and you’re going to record every single thing that happens and if I find out that you didn’t, I’m going to drop kick you in the balls until you can’t father children anymore.”

“I’m filing a grievance,” Walter said.

“There,” Natalie said as she pointed to a red button on the camera. “That’s the record button. Push that one, then don’t push anything else. Got it?”

Walter pushed the red button. “Got it.

Irving’s shocked voice carried out into the hallway. “Jesus H. Fuck!”

Natalie’s eyes lit up with the twisted delight that only a reporter gets upon learning that something has gone awry. She and her cameraman entered the dressing room, where Irving was holding his hand in his hands.

“I don’t get it,” Irving said. “How is that even possible?”

The goons stepped out of the bathroom. The first goon dialed 911. “We need everyone you’ve got down here now…yeah…Sunnyside Arena…I don’t know how to describe it…there’s been a murder…”

Natalie sidestepped the men and poked her head into the bathroom. There, she saw that the toilet had been smashed to smithereens, little pieces of porcelain everywhere. A hole had been ripped open in the floor. The pipe leading to the sewer system had been split apart.

Worse of all, every square inch of the bathroom was covered in blood and guts. Ever so timidly, Natalie walked into the room, being careful not to get any blood on her clothes. She waved for Walter to follow.

The news reporter kneeled down and stared at a blood soaked plastic bag filled with gloppy silicone.

“What is that?” Walter asked.

“Ungh,” Natalie said as she pulled a kleenex out of her pocket and wiped the blood away. In doing so, she revealed some writing.

“Plastilox Buttock Implant – Left – Patent #10999428432”

“I knew that ass was fake,” Natalie said.

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Toilet Gator – From the Desk of Bookshelf Q. Battler


From the Desk of Bookshelf Q. Battler

Dear Noble Reader,

Your butt. Yes, I want to talk about your butt, for your butt is the most important part of your body. If you’ve got a great one, people tend to stare at it. If you’ve got a flat one, you’ll need to put a pillow under it. If you’ve got an itchy one, you’ll need to scratch it. Sooner or later, some annoying problem is going to crawl up your butt the wrong way and don’t even get me started if you work in a stressful environment filled with backstabbing, duplicitous coworkers. In that case, you’d better cover your butt.

Speaking of covering your butt, do you know where your heiney is the least protected? The toilet. That’s right. The toilet. You go to work, you make sure you do the right thing so the boss doesn’t theoretically bite off a piece of your butt as he fires you. On your way home, you look over your shoulder to ensure that no one is trying to kick your butt. Alas, when you drop your trousers and take a seat in order to make a cheek squeak, your butt is left completely defenseless as it sits upon the porcelain throne.

“But BQB,” you will surely say. “What could possibly go wrong while I’m sitting on the toilet?”

I’m sorry. I know you are my beloved noble reader, but that’s a stupid question. Really. Pull your head out of your butt and get in the game here.

Have you ever thought about what happens to a turd after you flush it? You probably haven’t, you inconsiderate prick. That poop that was once food that nourished you goes down on a pipe, gets transferred through a line going underneath your property, where it travels until it reaches your community’s sewer system. From there, it makes the long journey to your local sewage treatment facility.

In other words, there is a whole freaking subterranean highway lurking below your ass crack and you’ve never even thought about it because you’re all like, “La dee da, look at me, my life is so important that I don’t have to think about what is going on underneath my butt while I’m pooping.”

Snap out of your self-obsessed existence, noble reader, for there is a whole other world full of devastation, death and intrigue going on in the lowly depths beneath your butt. Close your eyes, push with all your might, then wipe and get the hell off of the bowl as fast as you can because just when you thought it was safe to go number two, I present to you, Toilet Gator.

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How to Get Rich Quick

Hey 3.5 readers.

Bookshelf Q. Battler here.

People always ask me, “BQB, is there a way to get rich quick?”

I’m not sure why people ask me this.  I have holes in my underpants, for crying out loud, do I look like John D. Rockefeller or something?

Hard work.  Patience.  Sticking to your goals.  These are, in general, the often cited and well respected ways to get rich over a long, long period of time…usually such a long time that by the time you get your hands on that money you’re too old to enjoy it and you end up croaking and leaving it to your spoiled children who, let’s face it, won’t appreciate it.

But, ok.  I get it.  You want money now.  NOW!

So, I’ll level with you.  There is a way to get your hands on big time money at a young age, for doing very little work.  Zero risk.  Ultimate reward.

I’ll share this secret with you now, 3.5 readers.

If you want to learn how to get rich quick, click here.



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BQB is Back!

Wonderful news, 3.5 readers.

My special Valentine’s Day song moved Video Game Rack fighter so much that she took me back, allowed me to return to BQB HQ and has returned my glorious blog to me.  Also, she returned custody of you, my 3.5 readers.

Thank you for sticking with us during this tough time.  Every couple has their ups and downs, but it’s nothing but up from here on out.

Also, having to spoon with Leo McCoy in the Random Motel for warmth was truly a low point of my life.  Please don’t tell anyone.  This should be fine as only 3.5 people read this blog.

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Top Ten Most Embarrassing Entries in BQB’s Private Journal


Hey 3.5 readers.  Video Game Rack Fighter here, still angry with BQB for his douche-tastic behavior.

In fact, after being awarded BQB HQ, Bookshelf Battle Dog, 99.99% of BQB’s Beige Corp. paychecks and BQB’s action figure collection in the divorce, it dawns on me that BQB got out of this pretty easy if you ask me.

Therefore, from BQB HQ (technically, VGRF HQ now) in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Most Embarrassing Entries in BQB’s Private Journal.

Sidenote: if you get kicked out of your headquarters, be sure to take your private journal with you.

#10 –  I Can’t Get Enough of the Ketchup Girls

“Goddamn it.  I can’t get enough of the Ketchup Girls.  There were like the latina Spice Girls of my generation and they should really come out with more songs.  I have no idea what they are saying but they sure know how to make me shake my wonderful, apple shaped heinie.”

#9 – Buffy Fan Fiction is Way Better than Firefly Fan Fiction

“Got into a ten hour long debate on the nerd boards with some loser who thought that writing Firefly fan fiction is better than writing Buffy fan fiction.  What an idiot.  Everyone knows that my story about how Buffy and Faith get into a fight over me while I convert Willow from lesbianism with my machismo is the best piece of fan fiction ever written.”

#8 – Jaleel White Needs a Comeback

“I’ll never understand why Jaleel White isn’t raking in the Oscars left and right.  Sure, he played Urkel on Family Matters but he was so much more talented and versatile than that.  I wish Jaleel White would make a thousand movies so I could just watch them all day long.”

#7 – I Don’t Think My 3.5 Readers Really Love Me

“My 3.5 readers seem like they’re just phoning it in these days.  I wonder if they are cheating on me and reading other blogs behind my back.  Is it me?  Am I not pretty enough?  Should I try harder?  Maybe if I wore skinny jeans.  Sigh.  I love my 3.5 readers but sometimes I wish I had never started a blog in the first place.  It isn’t easy keeping the attention of 3.5 readers.”

#6 – The 2000s Suck

“I miss the 1990s.  I really do.  I feel like pop culture peaked in 1999 and it’s all been a downward spiral of crap ever since.  I wish I could live in an alternative universe where the Spice Girls, Nirvana and Gwen Stefani play on a continuous loop, dressing like a lumberjack is considered fashionable and the news stories are constantly about the latest broad that Bill Clinton boned.  This is the last time period I can remember where I felt like the world was a safe place.  It was all a downhill shit storm after that.”

#5 – Face/Off is the Best Movie Ever Made

“Face/Off was the best movie ever made about two men who trade faces using highly experimental face trading surgery.  John Travolta becomes Nicolas Cage and Cage becomes Travolta.  Awesome.  The only thing I didn’t understand was why did Travolta have the weight put back on when he traded Cage’s face for his own at the end.”

#4 – My Farts Frighten Me

“It was very quiet in BQB HQ.  So quiet you could have heard a proverbial pin drop.  Suddenly, I farted and the unexpected noise made me leap out of my chair.  I thought BQB HQ was under attack by an entire battalion of renegade troops until I finally realized the noise was coming from my butt.”

#3 – Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog is the Best Dog Ever

“Oh Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog, you are the best dog ever.  You are my furry friend for life.  I wish I could sit with you forever and braid your fur and just let all of the problems of the outside world just float away.”

#2 – The Yeti Isn’t So Bad

“Once in a blue moon, I admit to myself that the Yeti isn’t so bad.  He’s an epic butt face and wrong about everything, but he believes he is right and people and/or hairy beings who believe in something, anything at all, are a rarity these days.  I just hope he doesn’t find out I said this or else he will think we are friends or something.  I don’t want that to happen as I continue to despise yetis and all that yetis stand for.”

#1 – I Want to Create an Army of Super Strong Warrior Women to Protect Me

“Lucy Lawless aka Xena: Warrior Princess. Ronda Rousey.  Gina Carano.  I want to create an army of super hot MMA/Wrestling/Action Movie babes who will defend BQB HQ by day and then beat me senseless with their incredibly muscular vaginas at night.  I think Video Game Rack Fighter would be cool with it.  I would put her in charge of this army as I don’t know anyone else who has a more muscular vagina.  I mean, she can crack walnuts with that thing.  She’s really been going to town on the old kegel exercises lately.”

VGRF’S EDITORIAL NOTE:  OK, that last one was sweet, BQB.  But it doesn’t matter.  You will never get your blog back.  It is mine forever.

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Bookshelf Battle Blog Under New Management


Good Day, 3.5 readers.

Lead Counsel for Mr. Battler, Delilah K. Donnelly here.

It is my unfortunate duty to inform all 3.5 of you that Mr. Battler and his longtime girlfriend, one Miss Video Game Rack Fighter, have split up over irreconcilable differences.

Although terrible news, this normally would not be a matter of legal concern.  However, as it turns out, Ms. Fighter was an incredible legal researcher and was able to convince a court of law that by virtue of East Randomtownian Law, she and Mr. Battler had established a common law marriage by living together in sin for so long.

After an intense, seventy-eight hour negotiation session, a divorce agreement was reached and the property of the Bookshelf Battle Blog shall be divided as follows:

  • BQB HQ – Goes entirely to Ms. Fighter in recognition of the two years she lived there, even though Mr. Battler lived his entire life there and it was gifted to him by his beloved Aunt Gertie.
  • The Magic Bookshelf – Goes to Mr. Battler as Ms. Fighter views it and the characters who live it as little more than a nuisance.
  • Ms. Fighter’s Video Game Rack – Entirely to Ms. Fighter, though Mr. Battler may borrow her copy of Car Thief Mayhem once a month but only if she is not playing it.
  • Mr. Battler’s Action Figure Collection – Entirely to Ms. Fighter, not because it has any monetary value but because Mr. Battler believes that he will not be able to attract anyone with a vagina if he retains it.
  • Mr. Battler’s Collection of Used Whoopie Cushions and Rubber Chickens – To Mr. Battler in an effort by Ms. Fighter to show that she is not a total monster.
  • Mr. Battler’s Vintage 1990s Pornographic Magazine Collection – Sold at public auction and distributed evenly between the parties.  Now the property of ex-mayoral candidate Leo McKoy, who has been known to enjoy photos of half-naked women wearing nothing but flannel lumberjack shirts and hair-dos reminiscent of Rachel from Friends.  Mr. McKoy’s only public comment on the matter was, “I’ll be there for you…ugh.”
  • Alimony – Ms. Fighter retains the right to garnish 99.99% of Mr. Battler’s earnings as an assistant to the assistant of the vice-president for corporate assistance at Beige Corp., the world’s premiere producer of beige products and accessories.
  • Bookshelf Q. Battledog – Full legal custody with Ms. Fighter.  Court supervised visits for Mr. Battler every third leap year.
  • The Yeti – Full legal and physical custody to Mr. Battler.  Ms. Fighter will be within her rights to sue for mental pain and suffering if Yeti visitations are attempted.
  • Alien Jones – Retains his position as Mr. Battler’s intergalactic advisor.  Will continue to nag Mr. Battler until he writes a novel that inspires the masses to abandon reality television so that the Mighty Potentate will not conquer the planet.
  • Dr. Hugo Von Science, Uncle Hardass, Vinny Baggadouchio, Search Engine Optimized Poet, Nerdstradamus and Other Assorted Bookshelf Battle Blog Columnists – Will now be employees of Ms. Fighter.
  • The Bookshelf Battle Blog – Full ownership goes to Ms. Fighter.  Mr. Battler will no longer be allowed to post on penalty of being shot into the sun via a high velocity cannon.  Ms. Fighter will be able to post whatever she wants.
  • Mr. Battler’s 3.5 Readers – Now the property of Ms. Fighter.  They are not allowed to read anything written by Mr. Battler under court order.


This is indeed a horrendous development, 3.5 readers.  Mr. Battler did so enjoy posting for your enjoyment, and even when you did not enjoy it, which by my understanding was most of the time.

I understand that you know me as one of the finest attorneys in the land and therefore you may wonder how Ms. Fighter was able to reach such a one-sided settlement.  All I can say is, she started high and sold low.  The alternative to this agreement was that Mr. Battler would have been required to slam his genitalia in a steel loading dock door from now until the end of his life and record every slam and post the footage on YouTube.

All things considered, I’d say Mr. Battler got off easy.

As for Detective Dashing and myself, Ms. Battler has issued no decrees as to whether or not she will utilize our services at this time.  As far as I am concerned, I shall remain Mr. Battler’s attorney until further notice and will continue to advise him as he begins his new life in the roach infested Random Motel, East Randomtown’s premiere pay-by-the-hour lodging resort.

Mr. Battler thanks you for being his 3.5 readers and asks that you do not weep for him, for, as he bravely put it, “It was better to have had 3.5 readers and lost them than to never have had 3.5 readers at all.  Also, Video Game Rack Fighter Sucks Yeti Butt.”

His words, not mine.  I do not say such vulgarities.

Enjoy the rest of your day, 3.5 readers.

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Top Ten Pieces of Investment Advice


Ahh, money.  It makes the world go round, doesn’t it?  You know they say money can’t buy love, but if you ask me, those losers have never tried it.

Love it or hate it, you’ve got to have a base line amount of it to make a go of it in this world.

Stocks?  Schmocks.  Savings?  Schmavings.  There are plenty of investment advice blogs out there, written by, you know, people with investment credentials and shit.

My advice will get you absolutely nowhere fast and my lawyer urges that you not follow it at all.

Stupid lawyers.  Always the buzzkill.

Anyway, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, MA, here are BQB’s Top Ten Pieces of Investment Advice:

#10 – Buried Treasure

Withdraw your cash, stick it in a tin box, wrap it in plastic wrap and bury it in the backyard.  If the worms, gophers and weather don’t destroy it, you’ll have a fun time digging the shit out of your yard when you do actually need it.  Don’t forget to draw yourself a map that you won’t understand in the future and/or will most likely lose anyway.

#9 – Electronics

Stock up on cell phones, computers, etc.  They aren’t making any more of that shit.  It’s not like they aren’t coming out with a new updated version of your phone every three months.  Oh, wait.  They are?  Sorry.  You are the owner of a crate full of useless phones now.

#8 – Gold!

That crusty old bastard William Devane is always telling me to buy gold in those TV commercials and damn it, if you can’t trust a man who played the president in a season of 24 as well as The Dark Knight Rises then who can you trust?  Eh, in theory, and I’m totally spouting shit out of my ass here, a little bit of gold in your safe might not be a terrible idea.  I’m sure super rich actors, celebrities and politicians all have a bunch of frigging gold bars stored somewhere in case the economy collapses and chaos reigns supreme.  My gut tells me not to buy more than I can afford to lose though because, you know, there are thieves about and I have so much to do that I don’t have enough time to sit around BQB HQ with a shotgun just to ward off gold thieves.

#7 – Pez

I believe Nerdstradamus when he says that Pez will be the currency of the future.  Buy up all the little candy bricks and cartoon dispensers you can so you can be rich as all get out in the future.

#6 – Time Shares

It’s a home that you own for a week a year!  What could possibly go wrong?

#5 – Join a Tontine

It’s simple.  You and your friends put all of your money in a big concrete box and bury it or hide it somewhere.  Then, you all live your lives and the last one who dies gets the money.  Just, you know, don’t be a dick and kill all your friends.  And don’t join up with friends who are dicks.  You know what? Just don’t do this.

#4 – IOUs

Every time you buy something extravagant that you don’t really need, write an IOU to your future self.  Don’t worry.  You’re good for it.

(SPOILER ALERT:  You’re not good for it).

#3 – Loan Sharking

The good news?  You can “help” people by lending them money with usurious, ridiculously high interest rates attached.

The bad news?  A) It’s illegal and B) You’re going to have to break some legs.  You don’t want to break legs.  You’re too nice and also it makes a terrible mess.  My lawyer and I don’t advise you to do this at all.

#2 – Farts in Jars

In the future, man will evolve into a butt-less species.  Thus, you should shoot every toot into a jar and store those jars in your basement so that one day, when a butt-less society becomes nostalgic for fart smells, you can clean up.

Note that if this does not happen before you grow old and die, the grandchildren you leave behind to clean up your house will think you were insane.

#1 – Wise, Prudent, Solid and Cautions Savings and Investing Plans

Invest wisely in solid, reputable mutual funds, savings accounts, IRAs and so on.  Seek the advice of competent investment professionals.

I mean, you could do all that shit but will that be as fun as going on a treasure hunt and/or farting in jars?  I think not.

REPEAT:  My lawyer and I urge you to not waste your money doing any of the horrible things mentioned in this ridiculous blog post.  Really, you should be ashamed of yourself for even reading it.

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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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